#my plans to post this one on halloween will definitely go down the drain i hate myself 🙃🙃

[wehelddarkness]

x

[zigtheeortega]

redeemed

pairing | m!raleigh x mc

word count | 6.6k

warnings | cursing, innuendos, mentions of sex

tags | @natesewell, @choicesarehard, @empressazura, @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @pixelsandkink [tagging people who usually ask to be tagged !] 

author’s note | i’ve talked about this before but i’m not a huge fan of the platinum mc’s personality, so i’ve kind of crafted my own that’s quite a bit more rebellious than canon. i’m obsessed with the idea of an mc who’s romancing raleigh and falls into the same pattern of behavior and it genuinely concerns them – so yeah i play with that idea here! i deviate from canon some but not too much ! this is my submission for day 2 of @platinumweekend as well ! also i had no idea how to end this so i apologize for the fizzle out at the end lol

•─────────────────•

As soon as he stepped off stage, he was shuffled to his tour bus, Fiona on his heels. She looked like the human embodiment of rage in a grey blazer, a look in her eye that made him thankful he wasn’t the one it was directed at – or at least he hoped he wasn’t the reason she was two seconds away from a murderous rampage.

She slammed the door behind her, locking it, running to the windows and closing the curtains, peeking out at the paparazzi that no doubt had already tried flocking at the edges of the blocked off area where the bus was parked.

“Damn, what’s the problem? Can’t I at least get my food from craft services? Jesus,” he complained, grabbing a bottle of water from the fully stocked mini fridge, downing it while Fiona frantically ran around the bus, turning off every electrical device in sight.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

She wheeled on him, a few strands of her hair sticking to her lips. “We’ve got a problem.”

“Yeah, you won’t let me go get my fuckin’ overpriced grilled cheese that I know is waiting for me,” he jabbed his thumb towards the venue. “At craft services.”

She eyed him, pupils wide, her anger nearly palpable. “It’s bigger than food.”

He ran a hand through his damp hair, some strands completely drenched in sweat. “Lay it on me.”

And the three words that fell from her lips were soul crushing, his post-show high wearing off in an instant.

“Dom’s been arrested.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He sat up, posture rigid. “What happened?”

“Not here. We’ll talk on the plane,” Fiona said, twisting the knob of the closet door, grabbing the black duffel bag on the ground. She tossed it at his feet, motioning for him to stand. “The jet leaves in an hour. I packed for you.”

“The plane? Where is she?” He was getting more and more frustrated, nearing hysterics. He should’ve felt a bit more shame about how worked up he was getting, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Fiona took notice, her fiery gaze softening at the edges, the blue flames flickering across his face. “Not here, Raleigh.”

He slung the duffle bag on his shoulder, walking to the door.

“Wait –” Fiona said, leaning over the couch to pull the curtain to the side, peering out again. “I paid off a security guard to distract the paparazzi. And when he does, we have to run to the car that’s gonna pull up any minute now – undetected,” she shot back at him, her icy gaze warning.

Within minutes, a security guard with a similar build to Raleigh sprinted towards the venue, jacket over his head, paparazzi on his heels.

With the camera’s flashing finally pointed away, they were able to slide into the back of the cab, thankful that Hank had connections everywhere. The driver rolled up the barrier without question as soon as Fiona tossed him a wad of cash that she’d fished out of a plain leather pouch.

She shook the pouch, her lips set in a thin line. “You know what this is?”

“A purse?” He asked, brows furrowed. “Is this some kind of fuckin’ trick?”

“It’s an emergency fund. Cash. Not traceable.”

She shook her head, dropping the pouch into her lap, before pinching the bridge of her nose. “When Dom first started getting into trouble, I had to pay off a few people here and there, but when it became more frequent, I had to actually sit her down with her accountant and sort this out.”

“Sort… what out?”

“How much money she needed to allocate to her… antics,” she rolled her eyes, propping her elbow on the back of her seat, hand pressed to her forehead.

She looked drained. Fiona never looked disheveled, but he sensed this was the closest she’d be to it.

“If it’s money she needs, that’s fine. Lemme call my agent –”

“There’s only so much cash I can hand people under the table before it becomes a problem. Not just financially, put publicly,” she sighed, chewing the inside of her cheek. “I’ve been able to cover up the smaller mishaps, but this, I’m afraid, might be the start of something… much worse than disorderly conduct.”

“You gonna tell me her charges?” His jaw set in anticipation, already running through a list of the best lawyers in L.A. that got him off from potentially hefty lawsuits.

Her short locks swayed as she shook her head. “I don’t think it’s my place to tell you.”

He blew air out of his cheeks, leaning into the corner of the cab, legs splayed wide as he tried to take a nonchalant stance. “Can you at least tell me where we’re going?”

“You’ll be glad you have a bedroom, shower, and fridge on the plane,” she said with another shake of her head.

––––

Raleigh laid in bed, aimlessly scrolling through his burner account.

He never really cared for social media under the public eye. Every post of his was either related to tour or the series of brand deals for products he never used. Each page was a personified advertisement – some shit he regretted signing up for.

One drunken night, his curiosity got the best of him and he found himself making a pretty inconspicuous profile, following some funny internet personalities and political commentators. And although he had plans to delete it, once Dom came into the picture, he unabashedly lurked.

He followed her on all platforms, and when he had the chance, he watched her stories, voted in her daily polls, and occasionally scrolled through her old instagram photos.

This time in particular, though, he was looking for something specific without really knowing if there was an answer.

He scrolled to her first post, hundreds down, smiling at high school Dom. Thick eyeliner, layered hair, brace-adorned grin – she was a poster child of adolescence.

Photos of her with Shane at pep rallies, in Halloween costumes, in prom formal wear filled the screen, later transitioning to senior portraits, graduation photos, and dorm photos. A setting of picturesque normality as Dom grew into herself, growing out her choppy layers, softening her makeup, her gleaming smile lighting up each photo.

She grew more beautiful with each year, each little phase of her life coming with a new style, a new little identity or association, Dom’s willingness to try new things the reason she was able to break free from her small town.

God, was Raleigh so fucking envious of this imperfect little portion of her Instagram. If someone were to look this far back for him, there’d be photoshoots and magazine spreads and paparazzi photos all neatly planned. The shaky off-guard photos, the unedited red eyes, the off guard photos, the expressions they made in them… it was something Raleigh never had the chance to do.

Being in the business for ten years, everything was pristine, crisp – always smiling or smoldering, no in between. Sexy and rugged or smiling and happy. Like he had two modes and he wasn’t ever able to exercise those other parts of himself because being in front of the camera was restrictive – while Dom was able to be unabashedly herself.

He was breaking shit just to feel something, to have some range of emotions even if it was a stupid fucking publicity stunt where he damaged property or made out with another politician’s daughter or attempted irreparable blows to his public image.

The more recent the posts, the more calculated her photos got, the phrase “ad” showing up more and more. But even with a skincare brand deal, her step-by-step skincare routine video was on brand for Dom, her bright smile and wit always present in everything she did.

But Raleigh couldn’t help but feel like parts of her were slipping away.

Her online persona was still pretty crisp, except for her style shift – tattoos, a couple piercings, and some edgier photoshoots signified a tonal shift in Dom’s aesthetic, but nothing he hadn’t seen before.

Hell, when he used his first innuendo on his solo album, there was widespread outrage on Sunset Skatepark fan forums, ripping into him for singing about using his dick (even though he was definitely an adult and definitely not a virgin).

But other than her general style, nothing was different. Nothing to indicate this downward spiral that Fiona kept a secret.

Where’s the shift? He thought to himself as he scrolled to the top. When the hell did she start changing for the worse?

She’d come a long way from her clean songs that didn’t require a radio edit. He felt a pang of something in his chest –– regret, maybe? Was he the reason she’d changed?

The questions sent him into a near tailspin, his pulse quickening at the realization.

He was the problem.

She’d since deleted her photos with Raleigh, because their breakup was so public, but he could tell that the shift happened right around the time she started spending more time with him.

He’d been a mentor of sorts, opposite of Avery, showing her the ropes… which meant that he was teaching her how to evade the press, fuck with the paparazzi, pick out industry plants – the whole nine yards.

She was impulsive, daring, adventurous, fearless – all the qualities he liked in himself. But he never thought those traits would take a negative turn, morphing her into a rebel with an affinity for breaking laws.

He could blame himself all he wanted, but he couldn’t blame her for taking the same route he took. 

He knew it better than anybody – it was hard to shift the public’s persona of you. Once you did something horrible to make them hate you, either the rebrands and ass kissing worked, or you get written off by everyone.

Raleigh Carrera was a special case, a wild card of sorts who toed the line, unpredictable, both with his craft and his behavior. The nastier his lyrics, the crazier his publicity stunts were, the more polarizing he was.

And that was no doubt the route Dom was on, heading towards an inevitable press nightmare – if people were to find out the home grown rags-to-riches Dominique Avalos dove headfirst into her rebellious phase with no smooth transition, she wouldn’t be able to Google herself for months without having a panic attack.

She’d changed drastically, but that’s what fame did to people. Some people cracked under the pressure, or they rebelled to show the public they were in control of their narrative… or that they desperately wanted it back.

He took a shaky breath, swiping out of the app.

He wasn’t sure if he could save her, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t gonna try.

––––

The moment the jet touched down, Fiona was in full manager mode, adamant on abandoning his phone, stressing the importance of going off the grid.

“If anyone finds out you’re here, they’ll be able to put two and two together. Why else would you be in the same country as Dom when you’re supposed to be heading towards New York for your next show?” She asked, hand outstretched.

“I hate it when you’re right,” he grumbled, tossing his phone into her palm. “Where are we exactly?”

“I can’t tell you,” she sighed, looking exhausted. He had a gut feeling she hadn’t slept a wink since they’d boarded the plane.

“Why not?”

“It’s a bit safer that way.”

He scoffed. “You’re serious? Look, I’m not exactly thrilled to pull the A-List celebrity card, but this is borderline kidnapping.” 

“Let’s just say you might be able to pick up on some of the language,” she said, turning on her heel to exit the plane.

Within minutes, they were pulling onto a dirt backroad, the small houses they passed barely casting shadows onto the ground.

The town itself was seemingly innocuous – the tiny brick houses riddled with dust, the stone paths lining the road cracked and deserted. The tiny town had turned in for the night, their old Sedan sticking out like a sore thumb despite the old model.

Raleigh squirmed in his seat, twisting the expensive watch on his wrist. He fucking hated this.

No matter where he went, he was noticed in some capacity – so wearing a Rolex and Cartier rings in a small village in the middle of nowhere just made him look pretentious.

He slipped the rings and watches off, shoving them deep into the pocket of his jeans, ignoring Fiona’s calculating side eye (one he knew all too well).

The only light, other than the gas lamp posts and their high beams, came from the building at the end of the road.

The car pulled around the side, flicking their lights off, the driver peeking around before motioning for them to exit the car.

“Throw the hoodie on, Raleigh,” Fiona ordered while slipping on a ball cap of her own, her casual t-shirt and leggings wildly different from her normal outfit.

“Sure,” he murmured, tugging the hood on.

The walk from the car to the dusty glass front door was short, Fiona breaking into a light jog to keep up with Raleigh’s brisk pace.

The makeshift “waiting room” in the front corner of the station was empty, the scratched up folding chairs in crooked rows. The front desk was occupied by a sleeping form, head buried in the crease of his elbow, snore muffled by the counter top.

The other officer stood at the back near an old vending machine, sliding coins into the slot, the clink of each piece ringing out against the brick and linoleum.

No cameras, he thought, after a quick scan of the room, shoving the hood back in its place at the nape of his neck.

The holding cells were farther back, but he couldn’t see her.

He stepped up to the counter where the man was sleeping, giving a gentle knock to the top. The man stirred, unfurling his arms, while the other man in the back glanced up from where he was, elbows deep in the snack machine as he fished out his bag of chips.

Raleigh offered a basic greeting in Spanish, frowning just a bit when both officers’ eyes lit up – the phrase “famoso” and “celebridad” falling from their lips almost as soon as they recognized him.

Yeah, he was gonna use his notoriety to their advantage, but that didn’t mean it still didn’t sting when people immediately tried gauging what they could get from him when they realized who he was.

For a long time he’d been waiting for the day where name dropping himself didn’t get him out of deep shit.

And the day he met Dom, when he assumed she knew who he was, all she did was raise her brow as if to say “Why the fuck should I care?”

It startled him, truthfully. But it was such a breath of fresh air. He couldn’t remember a time before or after that someone showed no interest in him.

The officer in the back jogged to the front, pulling his phone out of his back pocket while asking for a picture.

He looked to Fiona, who was shaking her head furiously, stepping up next to him like her 5’5 stature was enough to shield him. “Nobody can know we’re here.”

He nodded, turning back to the men, trying to negotiate with them.

Yes, Dom’s here.

No, you can’t see her.

He racked his brain trying to figure out how he was gonna get himself – and Dom – out of the situation unscathed if he couldn’t give them a photo or autograph.

“Dom bought me the Rolex and Cartier rings, right?”

Fiona’s brows furrowed. “Yes. She gifted them to you on your birthday. You know this –”

“No, what I mean is, she has the receipts? Or you do?”

“I don’t have them, but I have access to them,” she said, still confused.

“Get rid of ‘em. I haven’t told anyone she bought them for me.”

Her face lit up in recognition, and she nodded, encouraging him to go on.

He dug in his pockets, fishing out the watch and thin bands.

After a quick exchange, the officers took two rings each, and began rapid fire arguing over the Rolex. They tossed Raleigh the keys, stepping out the front door.

“I’ll keep watch,” Fiona said, turning towards the door.

“Hey –” Raleigh said, laying a hand on her shoulder.

She quirked a brow at him. “What?”

“You’re not coming with?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Why not? I’m not even sure what the fuck I’m supposed to say –”

“She specifically asked for you.”

He took a step back, resting his palm on the countertop behind him. “What the – are you… are you serious?”

She nodded once. “She might’ve been slurring, but she was clear as day. She wanted you.”

He blew air out of his cheeks, running a hand through his short waves.

Fiona’s gaze softened, her eyes still piercing. Fiona was a lot of things – steadfast, headstrong, determined – but she wasn’t soft. She didn’t sugar coat shit.

“She’s missed you. She doesn’t confide in me much, but even I can tell she’s unhappy. Be gentle with her,” she said, gaze tearing right through him.

The walk to the holding cells felt miles long – his resolve was shrinking with every step.

He wasn’t afraid of seeing Dom, not at all. He was afraid of whatever part of himself that might’ve been reflected in her.

The cell was empty, save for the curled form on the bench, long dark hair cascading over the edges of the seat.

“Dom?” He called, hearing her sharp inhale of breath as she stirred, bending into a long stretch, her limbs unfurling until she was lying on her back on the bench, tilting her head towards his voice.

God, even when she looked like life had torn her to shreds, she still looked beautiful.

“Raleigh?” She croaked, her eyes squinting to adjust to the low lights. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

She arched her back, stretching again, her long frame covering the bench. It was almost the right level of distracting to stop the creeping annoyance at her question.

“What do you mean? I’m here to bail you out, obviously.”

“Where’s Fiona?” She asked groggily, rolling off the side of the bench awkwardly, trying to gain her footing.

“You asked for me, didn’t you?” He raised a brow, sliding his forearms through the bars, resting them there.

“She told you?” She asked, voice raising in betrayal, a scoff following his silence. “I was drunk.”

“And? You still asked for me.”

 “Oh, fuck off,” she murmured, crossing her arms as soon as she was balanced.

He dangled the keys between his fingertips, gently jingling them. “I’ll let you out if you tell me what happened.”

Her lip curled in annoyance. “You’d really leave me here?”

“You don’t want to find out.”

She ran a hand through her hair, blowing air out of her cheeks. “Alright.”

He unlocked the door and slipped in, the heavy door creaking as he slid it wide enough for him to fit through.

She backed up, plopping back onto the bench, arms lowering to curl around her sides.

He followed suit, sitting a couple feet away from her on the other end of the bench, shoving his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie.

She stared at the floor, clearly waiting for him to make a move.

“So…”

“So, what?” She grumbled.

“So… how’d you end up here?” He asked, trying to remain as relaxed as he could since she was clearly on edge, ready to tear him a new one at a moment’s notice.

“I was drunk. I got in a fight. Here I am.”

He sighed. “Look, you don’t have to tell me everything, but I can’t help you if I don’t know if you’re ankles deep or neck deep.”

She chewed her lip, chin dipping lower, strands of her hair falling forward, creating an inky veil. “Fine. I’ll tell you but… can you not… look at me?”

Raleigh’s face contorted in confusion, but he listened, swivelling until he was facing the back wall, propping one leg up on the bench.

He waited for her to speak. The break in conversation was a bit too long – but before a quip could fall from his lips, she spoke.

“I did get drunk, and I did get in a fight. I’m telling the truth but I, uh, left out some details,” she started, her voice low.

“I, uh, was passing through this town after my last show because I wanted to go to a bar without being noticed. Like the old days. I know it was stupid, but I didn’t think anyone would find me here.”

That was her first mistake. Smaller towns surprisingly had the most dedicated fans – maybe because they’re bored or nothing exciting happened in their towns, but most of his die hard fans came from the middle of nowhere. 

“The first hour was fine, and I was able to drink and dance with strangers. Most of them were a lot older than me and spoke zero English – and I speak a little bit of Spanish as you know, so I could make some small talk, but I was on my own just… enjoying myself and my freedom,” she said, and he could almost see the grin tug at the corner of her lips.

“I noticed someone taking photos of me with their phone, so I got a bit paranoid and sat in a booth in the back drinking for a little while longer so I could figure out my next move,” she continued, before sighing loudly. “I guess they told the local news or something, because by the time I decided to leave, I ran smack into a reporter on the sidewalk.”

Silence ensued again, this time more deafening than the last.

“I didn’t mean to give her a black eye. Or break the camera. Or elbow the camera man in the face when he tried restraining me. I just… couldn’t think straight. I was mad. Intoxicated and wrong, but still mad.”

“I know Fiona’s trying her best to get me out of this mess but… I think I went too far this time.”

Raleigh stared at the wall, racking his brain for something. He was a little dumbfounded that she spilled to him so fast. He figured it was gonna take a bit more digging to get her to open up, but she blossomed in front of him; despite the wilted petals, he was relieved to know she still trusted him enough to confide in him.

“Are you gonna say something?” She asked, a bit timidly.

“Not if I can’t look at you.”

“Okay, then don’t say anything.”

He sighed, settling into his spot on the bench, waiting again for her to speak.

“Why did you come?”

Instinctively, he shrugged. “You asked me to.”

“But you don’t owe me anything. We’re not together.”

“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t drop everything to come help you. I mean, I’d like to think we’re at least acquaintances, if not friends,” he joked, resting his arm over the back of the bench.

“Sure,” she said, voice straining just a bit. Just enough for him to notice.

Dom was a special kind of resilient – one trait that Raleigh was sure she didn’t copy from him.

He knew that being a woman in the industry was already hard enough – everything from beauty to body standards to raging misogyny was enough to give people reasons to hate her, as stupid as they were.

Raleigh benefitted from the standards in place for men. He was young, attractive, talented – didn’t matter what he did wrong. He’d bounce back.

But he’d seen some vile shit since he’d ascended to fame. So many celebrities fading into obscurity after one mishap. One bad album. One bad interview. One rude encounter. One rumor.

For some reason, despite diving headfirst into troubled waters, Dom bounced back every time, fire in her eyes, her jaw set in determination, her face painted with the look she got when she was ready to face the world.

But whatever she was feeling in that moment, in that jail cell in the middle of nowhere – was enough to break her. 

He heard her take a deep, shaky breath, and he started to turn, but he felt her warm palm on his shoulder, holding him in place.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

He listened to her labored breathing, likely struggling to hold back tears, while he stared at the cracks in the wall, trying to think of something – anything – to console her.

“Did Fiona seem… upset?” She asked, seeming a bit nervous.

“It’s kind of hard to tell, to be honest. She’s pretty intense all of the time,” he laughed, not really meaning to.

He was relieved to hear a light chuckle from behind him.

“Yeah, I figure she’s pretty mad at me. I don’t blame her,” she sighed, another break in conversation ensuing. A couple beats later, she asked, bluntly, “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” he answered with zero hesitation. “I know you’d do the same for me.”

She laughed again, a bit more genuine that time. “Not sure where you got that impression.”

“You wouldn’t leave me here to rot if I asked you to come, Dom. You’re not that heartless,” he teased gently, glad that things were taking a lighthearted turn.

“I’m just glad you’re not gonna lecture me. I already know I’m gonna get an earful from Fiona, not to mention the shit I’ll get from Shane and Avery. I couldn’t handle one from you.”

He grimaced. “Uh, well, you’d rather hear it from me than Fiona, right?”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” she mumbled under her breath.

“You know I normally don’t care what you do, because it’s your life, and you should be able to do whatever the fuck you want, but Dom…” he trailed off, trying to choose his words carefully.

“I know I fucked up, Raleigh. I don’t need you making me feel more guilty than I already am,” she said defensively, voice raised.

“I’m not gonna make you feel guilty. Just offering some advice.” God, did those words feel foreign to him. Offering advice. He never did shit like this for anybody.

He took her silence as a green light. “You’ve just gotta slow down, Dom.”

Whatever impact his words made, he couldn’t see it, since he was still facing the damn wall. “Can I please turn around? I can’t talk to you like this.”

“Sure.”

He adjusted himself on the bench, trying to look attentive without staring. She was stunning, even with the smudged makeup, the dark circles, the red eyes  “You don’t have to do anything and everything you’re asked to do, but you gotta find some kind of balance.”

She wrung her hands in her lap, picking at her cuticles absentmindedly. “Yeah, I know.”

“I mean balance the good and bad, Dom. There’s a line for people like us and you can’t cross it often. You can get close, but you can’t just dive over it and not expect there to be some fallout.”

“I know,” she said, bluntly, looking a bit more annoyed with each word that came from his mouth.

“You can cause some chaos, but some of it isn’t acceptable,” he said, watching her expression contort in anger. “For them. Not acceptable for them. The average person, I mean.”

“Oh, you’re one to fucking talk!” She rolled her eyes. “How are you gonna sit here and tell me that your brand of shit stirring is okay, but mine isn’t?”

“I’m not the one sitting in a jail cell right now, Dom,” he said, calmly but firmly. He wasn’t used to being the rational one, but he had to be level headed. He was trying to save her.

She ran a hand through her hair, leaning back against the back of the bench. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“Trust me, I know.”

“You’re hypocritical.”

“Not necessarily,” he said, propping his arm up on the back of the bench. “I was in the industry for years before I started dirtying up my image. You just got here.”

“And you’ve been here too damn long to act the way you do,” she nearly spat, lashing out.

“I’m too far gone,” he simply stated, keeping surprisingly calm through it all.

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

“I’ve been here for a long time, which means, I’ve got a lot more fuck ups under my belt. Irreparable damage, if you will.”

“People love you,” she said, matter-of-factly, like that solved it – it honestly relieved him. A bit of Dom’s naivete from when they first met was shining through.

“People also hate me, because I’m a little shit who sets fires for fun,” he grinned. “For legal reasons, my lawyers insist I clarify that I’m joking.”

She rolled her lips, trying to suppress a smile. “People who hate you don’t know you.”

He nodded. “You’re right, and you’re so close to the point I’m sure you can taste it.”

“I’m too far gone to save. No matter how hard I try for the rest of my career, I can never get away from the wild card label. Plenty of people don’t wanna work with me. I’ve damaged business relationships. Lots of artists don’t want to collab with me because of how it’ll make them look.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because I know you don’t want this. You’re too good for whatever baggage comes with being a ‘rebel’, Dom. I don’t want to see you turn out like me.”

For the first time that night, she stared at him – really stared at him. Her deep brown, nearly midnight eyes searched his for any sign of insincerity.

“You’re… serious?” She asked finally, brows furrowed in confusion.

“One hundred percent honest,” he said, nodding.

She sat back in her chair, chewing on her lip, contemplating.

“Can you turn back around again?”

He nodded, wordlessly facing the wall again.

“I left out a few details,” she said from behind him.

“I’m listening,” he affirmed.

“I, uh, was pretty hammered by the time I left, so it was even harder for me to understand what people were saying,” she said before he could speak. “I heard the reporter say ‘Raleigh’ and ‘novio’ and I saw red… so… I, uh… swung.”

His chest clenched, tightening until it was difficult to breathe. He was thankful she’d asked him to face the other direction, because he knew his reaction betrayed his cool demeanor.

“I guess I’m not over it,” she laughed humorlessly.

He ran a hand over his face, racking his brain for a response, but coming up short.

“You, um, don’t have to say anything if you don’t feel the same. I shouldn’t have gotten attached. It’s on me.”

That made him turn, swivelling around before she could finish speaking.

She flicked her head towards the bars of the cell, raising a hand to cover her face. “I said ‘don’t look at me’, Raleigh. Goddamn.”

Years and years of PR training and interviews and he had no idea how the fuck to console her. Partially because he was trying to get a grip on whatever the hell was going on in his brain as well.

Instead, he answered her with a question of his own, a tactic he’d used anytime he wanted to deflect in interviews.

“Why can’t I look?”

Dom tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, slowly rotating to meet his gaze. She sank her teeth deep into her bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

“Fuck,” she cursed, rubbing the backs of her hands under her eyes, the dried black mascara under her eyes beginning to liquidate again. “Because I’m crying, Raleigh. And I don’t cry.”

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong? I know there’s more to it than you’re telling me,” he asked, holding up two of his fingers in a solute. “No judgement.”

She sighed, crossing the room to put some distance between them. She began pacing, taking slow steps as she spoke.

“I might’ve fucked up my career and I keep letting people down and I’m destructive because this whole fame thing isn’t what I signed up for and I didn’t think I’d cave under pressure like every other mid twenties child actor who goes through a premature mid-life crisis, but here I fucking am,” she said, nearly out of breath by the end.

His legs carried him across the room before he could think twice, pacing towards her while she strode across the room in the opposite direction.

“God, I’m so fucking stupid –”

“Stop. You’re not stupid.”

“I am,” she said, wheeling on him. “And – and I’m embarrassed. I’m embarrassed that my manager and – and my ex –” She stopped in her tracks, rubbing a palm over her forehead, shutting her eyes.

He reached out to her, but let his hand fall almost immediately.

“My acquaintance had to fly out to a fucking village in the middle of nowhere to bail me out –” 

“Dom, stop –”

“– because I fought a fucking reporter over not being able to handle my fucking feelings –”

“Dom –”

“– like an adult with a functioning frontal lobe all because I love someone who –”

Her eyes popped open, her expression horrified. “Oh my god, I’m – I –”

She dug the heel of her hands into her eyes, dropping into a squat. “Fuck, fuck, Goddammit –”

“Did you just –”

“Yeah, Raleigh, I did. Don’t make me feel worse, alright? I know I fucked up,” she groaned from her heap on the ground.

“You just said you love me, Dom. I think I’m allowed to react,” he said, a slight teasing to his voice.

She glanced up, glaring. “Okay, then, react.”

Her gaze was fiery, her deep brown irises challenging – something else a bit more vulnerable lying beneath.

She was terrified.

He leaned down, gripping her around the waist to pull her back up, wrapping his arms around her upper back, hugging her to his chest.

She melted into his arms, relaxing and leaning into his embrace.

“I didn’t mean to say it,” she murmured into his chest.

“So do you?” He asked, chin gently balanced on her head.

“What?”

“Do you love me?”

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully, voice small.

“You don’t have to know. I don’t know either,” he said, just as earnest, feeling her tense in his arms. “But I do know that I like you enough to want you around, and that counts for something, right?”

She laughed (as genuine as he’d heard it), leaning back to look at him. “Yeah, it does.”

Their bodies were still pressed together, Dom’s chin tilted upwards towards him, their faces nearly touching.

“If this gets out, don’t let anyone make you feel like you’re a bad person,” he said, voice low. “You’re the best person I know –”

Dom closed the gap between them, capturing his lips in an intense kiss. He cupped her face in his palms and held her in place, moaning into her parted lips.

God, there was nothing that compared to kissing her. Nobody matched up. He’d made out with a lot of people since he was flung into stardom at sixteen, and no one – absolutely no one – left him in a daze like she did.

She gripped the strings of his hoodie, pulling him closer, sighing contentedly against him.

The smell of her shampoo mixed with the sweet scent of her skin and the warmth of her hands and her chest flush against his – it was the next best thing to being inside of her.

He pulled back, trying to catch the dreamy, half-lidded look she always got when they parted.

“So… did you take your jet here?”

He smirked and rolled his eyes. “Out of context, that sounds so superficial.”

She grinned, her first genuine smile that night. “Oh, but you’re not? Hanging around a rising artist to cling to relevancy?”

He laughed, the sound reverberating off of the walls. “I really am rubbing off on you, aren’t I?”

“Yep. The good and bad,” she agreed, still smiling at him.

“The good?” He shook his head. “Nah, I’m not so sure about that.”

“You’re literally the reason I haven’t walked out on my label and moved to bum fuck nowhere and lived off the land,” she said, shrugging. “You taught me how to have fun. You were the only one keeping me sane.”

He thought he was the one encouraging her to leap over the edge, but he was the one tugging her arm back.

The whole time he was convinced he was a bad influence, but he was doing some good – for her.

But with that revelation came the guilt at her words.

“‘Were’?”

“Well, we don’t really talk anymore. I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

“Yeah,” she chewed her lip, stepping back, unraveling herself from his embrace. “I’m sorry.”

That was a slap to the face. Dom rarely apologized, because if she felt she was right, she wasn’t going to budge. She was stubborn as hell.

“Huh? Why?” “I don’t want to guilt you into spending time with me… or feeling things for me,” she said, rubbing her arm. “I didn’t mean to corner you.”

“You didn’t. I wanted to come.”

She glanced up, blinking at him. “No, you didn’t –”

“I did,” he emphasized, slipping her hand into his, intertwining their fingers. “I kinda missed being forced to hang out with you. Feels like old times.”

She couldn’t stop the laugh from ripping from her, this one louder than the last. “Oh, shut up.”

“No, but seriously, I’m here for you. Whatever you need. Always.”

“Thank you.” With her free hand, she punched his shoulder lightly. “You’ll regret that sooner or later.”

“Nah,” he said, lip curling into a smirk. “I don’t think I will.”

––––

[keichanz]

Another Day in Hell || Ch. 4

I was gonna post this chapter on Halloween, but between moving into my house, cleaning, moving the last of my crap outta my apartment, and just generally running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to get everything done, I completely forgot about it lol. Better late than never, I suppose. 

Read on AO3. Ch. 1 || Ch. 2 || Ch. 3 || Ch. 4

And with that, Inuyasha strapped his black bladed combat knife to his hip and retrieved Tessaiga from its designated resting place on the wall, tying it with practiced ease at his opposite hip.

“Training won’t start right away for a number of reasons,” he said, reaching onto the top shelf of the bookcase and bringing down the shotgun. “The first being your shoulder, so for now I just want you to rest and concentrate on getting better. We’ll work out the details after you meet everyone and get settled at the dojo.”

Kagome nodded as he slung the firearm over his shoulder so it hung across his back. Her eyes followed him as he picked up some trash bags propped against the wall and when he started for the door in the ceiling that opened into the back room of the store, Kagome’s blood turned to ice and the color drained from her face. Oh, god—was he going somewhere?

“I gotta take this trash and dump it in the pit,” Inuyasha announced, confirming her fears as he reached up and shoved the door open with a grunt. “If I don’t the basemen will start to reek, you and I both don’t want that, and I can’t leave it outside the store either. The stench will attract unwanted attention from both undead and demons sniffing around for a place to take over, and I wanna avoid that if possible.”

A distressed sound echoed in her throat as Kagome hastily stood up as Inuyasha tossed one bag then the other up and out the door.

“I won’t be long,” he continued as she stumbled over to him as fast as her weakened body would allow. “Just fifteen minutes or so, twenty tops. Stay here and—”

“No!”

Small hands latched onto his shirt and Inuyasha stumbled back in surprise, looking down to find Kagome holding onto him for dear life and he was alarmed to find genuine fear in those dark eyes of hers.

He frowned. “What—”

“Don’t go, please,” she begged him, her grip so tight on his shirt her knuckles were white.

Inuyasha sighed and shook his head. “I have to take this trash out, Kagome. My nose is a little more sensitive than yours and—”

“Then take me with you,” she urgently beseeched, her voice holding a desperate edge that gave him pause. Pleading brown locked onto thoughtful amber and she swallowed thickly. “Please, Inuyasha, don’t leave me here.”

His frown deepened and his stomach clenched uncomfortably when he detected a trace amount of fear underlining her scent. What the hell?

“I can’t, Kagome. Not with your shoulder like that. You won’t be able to hang on, and I’ll only be on a few minutes—”

“Please.” Kagome looked on the verge of tears and he stiffened. “Please, Inuyasha, even if it is only for a few minutes, I can’t...I can’t be alone again. Don’t leave me alone, please.”

Her grip tightened on his shirt, her bottom lip trembled, and Inuyasha’s resolved broke. Fuck.

Heaving a sigh and thrusting a hand through his short hair, Inuyasha’s features twisted into a light scowl, not entirely happy about this, but figuring he had no choice. Obviously there was some mental scars that she’d hidden well until this point and he’d feel like a colossal asshole if he left Kagome like this when she obviously didn’t want to be alone for any amount of time, even going so far as to beg him to take her with him. So he’d just have to make some slight adjustments is all and be extra vigilant.

Damn those big brown eyes and full pink lips.

“Fine,” he grumbled, his disapproval evident in the scowl he directed at her, but she was unaffected, face brightening into a pleased smile. “You can come with me but you have to listen and do exactly as I say, alright? Do not question me. If I say run, you fucking run. If I say grab my gun and shoot, pull the trigger and shoot. Understand?”

Nodding eagerly and trying not to think about what could happen if he told her to do any of that, Kagome beamed at him, relieved that he’d agreed and she wouldn’t be left alone. Perhaps it was ridiculous, especially when he’d said he’d only be gone for about fifteen minutes, but Kagome didn’t think she could take the solitude for even that short amount of time. She truly hoped she’d be able to get over this unfounded fear of being alone fairly quickly, and with Inuyasha’s help, along with his friends, Kagome was confident she would.

“I will,” she told him, dark eyes earnest as she gazed up into his stern face. “I promise. Thank you, Inuyasha. I just...” She sighed. “Thanks.”

Whiskey colored eyes studied her quietly, searching, calculating, and he gave a curt nod.

“Wait here.”

Her eyes widened and before she could object, he said, “I’m just going up to put the bags outside, get the four-wheeler ready, and get rid of any roamers that are too close. Five minutes, Kagome. I’ll be quick.”

Kagome bit her lip, clearly hesitant, but she nodded and released him, stepping back.

Nodding, Inuyasha didn’t spare her another glance before bending his knees and launching himself up and out of the basement.

Already Kagome could feel the silence pressing in on her, the cold seeping into her bones and to distract herself she searched for something to secure her arm and keep it stabilized. If they were going to be riding on a four-wheeler, no doubt it was going to be bumpy and she was going to need her other hand to hold onto something so she didn’t fall. She didn’t think Inuyasha would let her, but she didn’t want to seem completely helpless.

Wrinkling her nose, Kagome dug around in his box of clothes and pulled out an old button down flannel that would have to do. She sat down and had just managed to fashion the shirt into a homemade sling when Inuyasha returned as promised.

He raised his brows in surprise when he saw what she was doing then nodded his approval, walking over and helping her situate her arm. He tightened the knot, made sure her arm was tight against her side, and studied his handiwork.

“Good thinking,” he praised and his face softened at her proud smile. “You ready?”

“Wait.” Digging around in her jean’s pocket, Kagome withdrew a hairband and using only one hand, she tried to gather her hair and pull it up into a haphazard ponytail. “I don’t want it flying in my face and hindering my sight.”

Inuyasha watched, slightly amused, as she tried and failed to gather up her mass of thick raven hair to secure it together before finally taking pity with a sigh and moving behind her.

“Give it here,” he mumbled, batting her hand away and wiggling his fingers for the band. Sheepishly and with a grumble she handed it over and he slipped it around his wrist before combing his claws through her hair in an attempt to get some of the tangles out.

Kagome figured he’d just shove it all up into a ponytail liked she’d originally planned, so when she felt him divide it into sections and begin to plait it, she blinked in surprise and couldn’t stop the pleased smile from curling her lips upward.

“I didn’t peg you for someone who knew how to braid,” she said, only half-teasingly.

“Used to have long hair,” Inuyasha grunted, eyes focused on his task. “Before it all went down. While I wasn’t an instructor at S and S, occasionally I gave demonstrations for the lessons and I learned to braid to keep it out of my face. Then shit hit the fan and it was just easier to chop it all off then to continue braiding it.”

Kagome made a sound of acknowledgement as he took the band around his wrist and twisted it around the end of the thick braid he’d created. It definitely wasn’t the best since he was a little out of practice, but it would hold together and that’s what mattered, he supposed. Especially since she was going to be in front of him and not behind him on the AVT. He didn’t want her hair in his face and impeding his own sight.

“There,” he rumbled and gave her hair a soft tug. “You’re all set. Ready to go?”

Running her hand down the length of her new braid, Kagome beamed at him over her shoulder and nodded.

“Ready.”

He led her over to the door and wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her in front of him. Inuyasha glared down at her, eyes drilling into her own.

“Exactly. As. I. Say. Capeesh?”

Kagome rolled her eyes but nodded. “Yes, Inuyasha, I will do exactly as you say. I promise.”

Grumbling under his breath, and hoping he wasn’t making a grave mistake, Inuyasha tightened his hold around her and launched them both up into the storage room, ignoring her squeak of surprise and the way her arm snapped around his neck. He landed softly on his feet, released her, and gestured her to follow with a jerk of his head before heading toward the loading docks.

Kagome dutifully followed behind, quickening her steps to catch up to him and for the first time noticing the dried blood that stained the concrete floor. She blanched and forced her eyes up, landing on Inuyasha’s board back in front of her. She was going to have to get used to that, she realized; all the blood and other unpleasantness that accompanied death.

Kagome valiantly hoped she’d be able to stomach it.

Inuyasha was waiting for her at a metal door beside the closed truck bay doors and Kagome frowned when she reached them.

“Wait, if this place has a back door, why do you need the one on the roof?”

“The roof door is plan B if this exit gets compromised,” Inuyasha answered lowly, cracking open the door and peering outside. He’d checked beforehand, but it was always better to err on the side of caution. “Also some of the others are human and can’t jump like me, so this is their primary entrance and exit. I just use the roof door because it’s faster and easier.”

She blinked. “Oh.” Well, that made sense.

“It’s clear,” he rumbled and shot a look at her over his shoulder. “ATV’s just outside. You good?”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Kagome nodded and took a step closer, trying to calm her nerves. Perhaps it would have been a better idea if she’d stayed behind...

Easily sensing her distress, Inuyasha frowned and hedged, “If you wanna head back...”

Kagome closed her eyes, deliberated, and shook her head. “No,” she mumbled. “No, I—I’m okay. Let’s go.”

He still looked like he didn’t believe her, but thankfully didn’t make her go back, so Kagome counted it as a small victory. She waited for him to open the door, but when he continued to stand there and frown at her, Kagome raised her brows in wordless inquiry.

Inuyasha sighed, made a face, and thrust a hand through his short hair. “One more thing.”

Kagome resisted the urge to groan, however she did roll her eyes. “Inuyasha—”

“Just shut up and listen. I wouldn’t say anything if it wasn’t important.”

Rolling her eyes again, Kagome gestured for him to continue with a wave of her hand and went to cross her arms, belatedly remembered she couldn’t, so settled for propping her hand on her hips as she waited for him to say whatever he thought was important.

“Look, since the world has gone to shit, who you are, your identity, is pretty much the only thing you have left that you can really call yours anymore,” Inuyasha began, not bothering to beat around the bush. “It’s extremely important that you protect it at all times when you’re not around those you trust.”

Kagome’s brow furrowed. “Who can’t I trust?”

Even as she said it, Kagome wanted to kick herself. She’d already made the stupid mistake to trust somebody right off the bat and ended up with a freaking bullet in her shoulder. So basically, trust no one but Inuyasha.

“Anyone that’s not me or the others,” Inuyasha replied, confirming her thoughts. “I know you haven’t met them, but I can vouch for them. It’s dangerous out there, Kagome, and I’m not just talking about the undead. Just because you don’t see anything doesn’t mean it’s safe; demons are excellent at concealing their presence and like to eavesdrop. I’ve also run into a few murder-happy whackjobs that masquerade as a deadie to get close before springing a surprise attack you aren’t expecting coming from something that’s not supposed to have any higher brain function.”

Kagome’s mouth dropped in astonishment and he grinned wryly.

“Yeah. I know. So you have to constantly be on your guard, because if someone knows who you are, who you really are, they will take everything you hold dear to you and use it against you. Family, friends, a lover—anything they can think of.”

She could feel the color draining out of her face as her eyes went very wide. “B-but...my family...I don’t even know—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Inuyasha cut her off, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Evil things have resources we don’t. They aren’t afraid to play dirty to get what they want, use tricks, blackmail, and bribery to obtain otherwise unknown information. Never underestimate your enemy because it could mean your death.”

Kagome gasped and Inuyasha grimaced, but he didn’t take it back. “I don’t mean to scare you,” he rumbled, lifting his hand to rub her arm soothingly. “I just wanna prepare you. Do you understand? Why you can’t reveal your name or who you are?”

Swallowing the sudden lump in her throat that was making it a tad harder to breath, Kagome nodded.

Inuyasha didn’t like how pale she looked, but continued anyway.

“Alright. One more thing: when we’re out there, you can’t call me Inuyasha. I’m Ash outside these walls. Likewise I won’t call you Kagome, and I don’t have a name for you yet, but it doesn’t matter right now. Everyone at the dojo has an alias too, and we use them while radioing as well. The channels aren’t secure and anyone could be listening in so better to be safe than sorry.”

Inuyasha gave her a minute to digest everything and watched her face carefully, really hoping that it wouldn’t dissuade her from wanting to come back with him and learn how to protect herself. Probably he could have gone a little lighter on some of the details, but he needed her to understand the importance of what he was saying, stressing that a slip of the tongue could mean life or death.

And maybe he should have been alarmed that it hadn’t even been a full twenty-four hours and she was already growing on him, but he didn’t allow himself to dwell on that for long. Kagome was still staring up at him with wide cinnamon eyes, clearly trying to come to terms with this new information, and he opened his mouth to tell her that maybe it wouldn’t be a good idea for her to go with him after all if she was still shaken.

But then she blinked, took a deep breath, and her expression cleared before she gave a curt nod.

“Okay,” she breathed, locking gazes with him. “Yes. I understand. I’ll...be careful, be on my guard and vigilant. Trust no one but you and your friends. Assume nowhere is safe. I got it.”

Relaxing slightly, relieved she was taking this seriously, Inuyasha asked, “What’s my name?”

Her lips twitched. “Ash.”

Finally he allowed a small grin to surface and he nodded in approval. “Good. I don’t think you’ll have to use it since you won’t be out of my sight, but again, better to be safe.”

Kagome nodded and giving her shoulder a squeeze, Inuyasha finally opened the door the rest of the way and gestured for her to go first. Kagome slipped outside and he followed, closing it softly behind him. He walked over to a dirty forest-green four-wheeler just a few paces away with a small utility trailer attached behind it holding the trash bags.

“You’ll be sitting in front of me,” he told her, eyeing a few scattered roamers that were too far away to notice them. “I don’t like that you only have one hand to hold on, so being in front will—what?”

Frozen to the spot just before the door, Kagome wasn’t looking at him but somewhere in the distance, her pale face stricken and dark eyes wide. He followed her gaze and cursed. She’d noticed them too, the undead wandering aimlessly around, unaware of them – for now – and he hoped it stayed that way.

Walking back over to her, Inuyasha put himself in front of her, blocking her view of them, and took her shoulders in his hands. Kagome started, gasping as her gaze flew up to his, and he frowned at her pale face and wide eyes.

“Don’t look at them,” he murmured and gently guided her over to the four-wheeler. “Don’t pay them any attention. They haven’t noticed us yet, and even if they do, they’re far enough away where we can easily outrun them. They’re slow as hell and we have a four-wheeler and guns. I’ll keep you safe. I promise. Just trust me, alright?”

Willing her heartbeat to calm and her trembling to stop, Kagome closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, her good hand fisting in his shirt. Inuyasha kept an eye on the undead until she regained her composure and was glad when just a few seconds later she relaxed and released a shaky sigh.

“Okay,” she breathed, nodding once. “Okay. I’m sorry, I just—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, shaking his head. “I get it. Now c’mon, before they see us. You first. I’ll sit behind you to keep you from falling, and it’ll make me feel a little better because I can see you, besides.”

Something warm bloomed in Kagome’s chest at that and she hid her smile by quickly turning and climbing aboard the ATV, swinging her leg over and settling in the cracked leather seat. Inuyasha swung up behind her and she blushed at having him so close, his chest pressing against her back, and she tried to regulate her breathing so she didn’t have to answer any awkward questions. She succeeded for the most part and now only had to worry about her red face.

“Good?” he rumbled in her ear, trying very hard to ignore how nice it felt to have her pressed against his chest, his thighs cradling her small form and her scent in his nose.

“Yes,” Kagome squeaked and satisfied, he leaned forward, turned the key, and shifted into drive.

“Hang on,” he growled and eased up on the throttle, feeling Kagome tense against him and her hand fist in his jeans as they took off.

Keeping half of his attention on where they were going so he didn’t end up running over something dead and end up showering both in blood and guts, Inuyasha kept the other half of his attention trained on the woman in front of him. Pressed so closely against him, he could feel how tense she was and a quick glance at the small hand fisted tightly in his jeans at his thigh revealed a white knuckled grip. Unsurprisingly the bitter smell of fear stung his nose, but it was a trace amount, a minor footnote in the natural pleasantness of her scent that he’d already become accustomed to. It was clear she hadn’t bathed in a while – in all truthfulness neither had he – but it did absolutely nothing to take away from pleasing aroma teasing his nose, and anyway Inuyasha always preferred a woman’s natural scent rather than that perfume shit.

Inuyasha blinked and shook his head when he realized where his thoughts were straying. Preferred? He didn’t prefer anything, and sure, Kagome smelled nice, and yeah, maybe her scent was ten times better to take in than the stench of decay and death, but it didn’t mean anything. And fine, she was attractive. So what? He was a healthy adult male with a pair of working eyes; of course he’d noticed her slim figure, her perfect legs, shapely hips, and decent rack. He’d have to be blind to not see how damned beautiful she was with big brown eyes that reflected her soul, luscious raven hair that was a stark contrast to the pale smoothness of her skin, and full, pink lips that he just knew would be soft against his own—

Inuyasha cursed and jerked the handles hard to avoid mowing over a deadie that had wandered into his path. Kagome emitted a soft cry of alarm and shoved herself back hard against him and abruptly he decided that that was enough thinking for the day. Because clearly thinking was dangerous when he was around a certain dark-haired woman and so forcing himself to focus on the task at hand so he didn’t make the same mistake twice – Kagome was already a nervous wreck; she didn’t need him killing them by way of ATV accident – Inuyasha muttered an apology and stole a quick look at her to see how she was faring.

White as a ghost and clutching his wrist now instead of his jeans, Kagome’s concentration was centered on the roamers that they passed as he maneuvered through them, anxiously darting amongst them as she bit down hard on her lip. It was clear she didn’t like being so close to them, but it couldn’t be helped; this was the fastest way to the pit, and he couldn’t take the street because that’s where most of them congregated.

Inuyasha hated to admit that the more time passed, the smarter the damned things seemed to get. They learned, they adapted, and more and more Inuyasha found that he had to use wit to fight his way through rather than brute strength alone. It was astounding, especially since they were nothing more than a rotting meat suit of never ending hunger, but it was apparent they retained enough of their previous cognitive functions to understand roads were a good source of flesh.

It was bizarre and absolutely fucking terrifying, if Inuyasha were being honest.

Kagome emitted a stifled whimper when he dodged yet another roamer and Inuyasha resolved to distract her with the first thing that came to his mind.

“What do you know about ‘em?” he asked, bending his head to be heard over the wind in their ears.

Kagome started at suddenly having his voice in her ear and she turned her head to shoot him a wide-eyed glance of confusion.

“T-them?” she squeaked.

He jerked his head, gesturing to the roamers that reached out to them as they whizzed by. He hadn’t failed to notice either that more were trailing behind them, attracted to the noise of the AVT. That noise meant food and once again Inuyasha cursed the fucking rotters.

Kagome blinked at the question but thankfully it seemed to do the trick, her brow furrowing as she gathered her thoughts. She hadn’t noticed the increasing group stumbling after them yet and Inuyasha was grateful for that. They wouldn’t have time to catch up to them anyway, so at the moment, they didn’t warrant his concern.

“Just that they’re freakishly strong and they can smell us. Or our blood, or something,” Kagome answered.

Inuyasha nodded, unsurprised. That was about the extent of what he knew when everything went south.

“They won’t die unless you get ‘em in the head,” he tacked on as the pit came into view ahead. “Kill the brain, kill the zombie. They don’t get winded or tired, but they’re slow. Noise attracts them; screaming, gunfire, explosives, things like that. For some fucking reason they have hearing as well as any demon’s so even the sound of someone running will grab their attention. They’re drawn to warmth, so if you’re out of options, set something on fire and fucking run. They can’t climb as far as I know, so anywhere up high is a safe bet. If there’s a ladder, knock it down.”

Though looking slightly ill, Kagome nodded and he knew she’d remember everything. He smiled grimly. He wished he could spare her all of this, but the truth of the matter was, it was unavoidable if she wanted to survive.

And Inuyasha really wanted her to survive.

“We’re here,” Inuyasha rumbled in her ear and Kagome looked ahead to find they were entering what looked to be a construction site.

Abandoned utility vehicles, bulldozers, and a large pile of steel beams were some of the things Kagome spotted as Inuyasha maneuvered the four-wheeler toward a sizeable dip in the ground. Kagome suspected some sort of building or large structure had been in the making when the end of the world came about and unsurprisingly, just like literally everywhere else, bodies littered the ground, old blood staining the dirt and the smell was enough to make Kagome gag.

Hastily she covered her mouth and held her breath while Inuyasha merely clenched his jaw and tried very hard not to breathe it in.

“We won’t be here long,” he told her through gritted teeth, ears flicking forward when familiar groaning sounds floated up to him. “Try and bare it—ah, fuck.”

Kagome felt the bottom drop out of her stomach as her eyes widened and her blood turned to ice.

Fuck, indeed.

Somebody had very recently dumped numerous dead bodies into the large hollow and a number of undead were feasting on them.

“Shit,” Inuyasha swore again and he could feel Kagome start to tremble as several of them noticed the arrival of fresh meat and warm blood. They started stumbling toward them up the slight incline and once more Inuyasha swore colorfully under his breath.

“In—Ash,” she whimpered, head whipping around as more roamers encroached. Oh god, they were everywhere!

Heaving a sigh – dammit, this was supposed to a simple trash dump with no incident – Inuyasha wordlessly climbed off behind her and intercepted Kagome’s panicked look with a reassuring one of his own.

“Calm down,” he murmured and slid the combat knife out of its sheath. “Nothing I can’t handle. Here.” He took her hand and slid the handle into her hand. “You won’t need it, but just in case. In the head. Hard.”

Automatically Kagome wrapped her fingers around the weapon but her gaze remained on him, her eyes impossibly wide and the fear a hard knot that was slowly working its way up into her throat, suffocating her.

“B-but—Ash—please—”

Grimacing, Inuyasha forced himself to turn away and slid Tessaiga from its scabbard in one fluid movement. The blade transformed in a brilliant flash of light and then with nary a word he slid down the incline and neatly hacked off the heads of the deadies coming toward him.

With a death grip on the knife in her hand, Kagome watched in a sort of morbid fascination as Inuyasha sliced and diced, cleaving through rotting bodies and spilling rancid blood. He was calm, not an ounce of fear or distress as he almost casually strolled around and stabbed a few more in the head, silencing grating moans.

In what seemed like no time at all he was climbing back out, his sword dripping blood but miraculously not even a single drop stained his clothes or skin.

Okay. Kagome could admit: she was impressed.

Flicking the blood off, Inuyasha dropped Tessaiga back into its scabbard and strolled by to grab the trash bags in the trailer. Kagome gawked at him, wondering how he could be so nonchalant about the whole thing. Didn’t he realize how unreal that was? How amazing he was? There must have been at least ten of them and he’d dispatched every one without batting an eye!

Inuyasha tossed in the garbage, turned around, and gave Kagome a cursory glance before shifting his gaze behind her to the dead figures that were getting closer with every second. Making up his mind, he started toward them, ignoring Kagome’s alarmed cry of his name. Using his speed to his advantage, he zipped between each one and drew his claws through decaying flesh, hacking off heads and outright tearing some of them off when a few managed to catch him off guard.

The whole thing lasted only about a minute and he was dismayed to realize he hadn’t gotten away from staining his clothes that time. He scowled down at the dots of dark red on his jeans before snatching up a random head that was still clicking its jaws at him and wandered back over to Kagome.

She looked absolutely horrified as he stopped beside her and tossed the head onto the ground.

“C’mere,” he said, waving his hand and gesturing her over.

Kagome turned her wide-eyed gaze to him. “Why? What are you gonna do with that?”

He rolled his eyes. “Just get over here already.”

She hesitated, biting her lip as she stared between the moaning head – gross – and him as she deliberated on whether or not to do as he said but then finally gave in with a grimace when Inuyasha pegged her with an impatient glare. Mindful of her arm, she scooted off the four-wheeler and shuffled over to him, looking very uncertain and casting nervous glances at the head as if it would suddenly grow legs and leap at her.

When she reached him, Inuyasha crossed his arms and nodded to the lump of flesh on the ground.

“Kill it.”

Her mouth dropped. “W-what?” she squeaked, aghast.

Inuyasha returned her incredulous stare with an unwavering one of his own. “I want you to get a feel for the kind of force that’s needed to penetrate through the skull to get to the brain. Use the knife and stab it as hard as you can.”

Fervently Kagome began shaking her head. “A-Ash, no, I can’t—”

“You can,” Inuyasha interrupted firmly, “and you will.  Would you rather I get one with the body still attached? I can assure you it won’t be nearly as easy.”

She blanched at the thought.

“No,” she grumbled, wrinkling her nose.

“Then c’mon,” he urged and jerked his head toward the dead eyes and snapping jaws on the ground. “You said you wanted to learn. Back it up and show me.”

Kagome shot him a look but when all he did was raise his eyebrows at her, she sighed and begrudgingly knelt down beside it.

Five feet away.

“Ya gotta get closer than that, babe,” Inuyasha drawled and Kagome huffed before slowly inching her way closer, knife clutched in her shaking hand. She eyed the head, grimacing at the blood that oozed from the neck and the loose flaps of skin that hung off the face, revealing the torn muscle beneath.

Inuyasha caught a glimpse of her face and grinned. “Yeah, it ain’t pretty,” he agreed. “But it’s harmless. Just stay clear of the mouth and you’re good. Try to get it in one; multiple stabs tend to get messy.”

“I’m gonna be sick,” Kagome whimpered but nonetheless poised the business end of the knife above it. Teeth clicked and snapped, gurgled sounds emitting from the mangled throat that Kagome tried very hard to ignore.

“Get a good grip,” her half-demon teacher instructed, voice low. “Don’t want your hand slipping and getting close to the mouth.”

Kagome tightened her hand and swallowed thickly before taking a deep, bracing breath. She could do this. She could do this.

Face screwing up in determination, Kagome grit her teeth, raised her hand, and jabbed viciously down.

The knife went about halfway into the right side of forehead and blood welled up around the ebony blade. But it must not have been deep or hard enough because it was still making those awful gurgling sounds and with a low moan, Kagome jerked to the side and threw up the Poptart she’d had for breakfast.

She felt something warm land on her back, rubbing up and down, and her face burned with shame. God, she was so pathetic. How did she ever think she could do this? She was weak, a failure, surely Inuyasha didn’t want to waste his time on someone so pathetic—

“It was a good first try,” he told her and reached out with his free hand to jerk the knife free. “A little harder and you would have had it. You okay to try again? We can call it a day and try again tomorrow if you want. We got time to kill.”

Spitting a few times and using her shirt to wipe her mouth, Kagome sat back and turned wide eyes his way, a little stunned with how patient he was being. He didn’t sound or even look disappointed, amber eyes regarding her steadily without a hint of judgment.

“Why are you so...understanding?” she asked, shaking her head. “I thought you’d be...I don’t know, annoyed, or something, because I’m...well, weak.”

Inuyasha sighed. “Everyone has to start somewhere, K—uh, kitten,” he said, coming up with the name on the fly and finding he sort of liked it. “You think I was as good as I am now right off the bat?” He snorted. “Hell no. I didn’t have anybody to teach me when shit hit the fan so I had to teach myself through trial and error how to kill these assholes. But I learned from my mistakes, got stronger, and yeah it was hard at first, but when you’re fighting for your life, you get over it quickly.

“It’s only the first day,” he told her, grabbing her braid and giving it a gentle tug. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ll get there, I promise. After all, you have me showing you the ropes. It’s a guaranteed success.”

He grinned arrogantly at her and Kagome let loose a watery laugh. His words actually did make her feel a little better. He was right; of course she’d fumble and make mistakes during the first try. She had literally zero experience, but now she had a general idea of how hard she had to jab down, so perhaps she was jumping the gun a bit.

She wasn’t weak. She could do this.

She will.

Offering a genuine smile and straightening her back, Kagome nodded and steeled herself.

“Again.”

With a smirk, Inuyasha handed over the knife and watched with no small amount of pride as Kagome sucked in a breath, poised the knife once more above the head, and drove the entire blade home.

He was surprised, but happy to oblige when she requested she get the other gurgling heads and one by one Kagome silenced the bleeding craniums. With each one it became easier and easier until, by head number twelve, there was zero hesitation as she raised the blade and drove it into the temple in one smooth jab.

Even the puddle of blood she was kneeling in wasn’t enough to stop the proud grin from spreading across her face, brown eyes bright and exuberant as she gazed up at a smirking Inuyasha standing next to her, arms crossed and the approval evident on his face.

Kagome was covered in blood, her left shoulder and arm were screaming at her, and her right arm was sore from overuse, but she didn’t care about any of that as Inuyasha drove them back to the store. Unpredictably deadies chased after them with their slow stumble but that didn’t bother her either now that she knew she had what it took. There was a new confidence instilled in her, a hidden reserve a strength Kagome wasn’t even aware she had, and it was all thanks for the half-demon pressed against her back, strong arms bracketing her body, keeping her safe, and didn’t that give her all the warm and fuzzies.

Inuyasha parked by the back door and after Kagome climbed off, he moved the AVT into a hidden alcove she hadn’t noticed before. Obscured by a large green dumpster and gray tarp that had several holes in it, at first glance it looked like just a heap of garbage from all the trash bags around it and Kagome had to admit it was rather clever. She waited for him at the door and together they headed inside.

Kagome was still on cloud nine as they descended into the basement, unable to wipe the smile off of her face. Inuyasha merely shook his head and rooted around in his box of clothes for something for her to wear since her jeans were ruined. He found a pair of jersey shorts, shrugged, and tossed them at her, saying something about heading back up to check if anything had happened in their absence to give her privacy to change.

Inuyasha disappeared and as fast as she could considering she only had one arm, she peeled herself out of her ruined jeans with some difficulty and muttered a curse as her shoulder protested. She was tying the drawstring of the shorts into a knot when Inuyasha returned and sitting on the bed, she watched him shrug off the shotgun on his back and put it back onto the shelf before setting both blades, his sword and the knife, onto the table to be cleaned.

The rest of the day was blessedly free of anymore zombie stabbing, much to Kagome’s relief, and the two passed the time in a mixture of idle chatter, Kagome’s endless questions about his friends, Inuyasha’s exasperated replies, and several demonstrations on how to take apart, clean, and load the Glock. Inuyasha managed to convince Kagome to stay behind when he left to do a quick perimeter check, but only after promising her that he’d only be gone for ten minutes and would come straight back. She was an anxious mess, but when he returned eight minutes later, the brilliant and relieved smile she gave him had the sarcastic retort on his lips instantly dying.

When Kagome went to bed that night, lying on her side and drowsily watching Inuyasha doze comfortably in the recliner not too far from her, she randomly remembered what the half-demon had called her earlier that day and she smiled.

Her last thought before drifting off to sleep was, Kitten, huh...?

Fun fact: For those of you who are fans of The Walking Dead or watch the show, I swear to you that I wrote this chapter weeks before I saw the episode in season 9 when the Whisperers are introduced 😂 Honest to God I had no idea the Skins/Whisperers were an actual thing when I wrote about the part where Inuyasha is explaining to Kagome about the people who disguise themselves as zombies and attack people lmao 

Ch. 5

but me a coffee? :)

[weeklyfangirl]

Frat Boy Pt. 13

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12

HI WOW TIME HAS SERIOUSLY FLOWN BY FOR ME - enjoy your fratty frat boy in all his angsty glory ;) Let me know what you guys think I miss you!!

“Down to watch Hocus Pocus and pass out candy to wee ones? My parents invited me down.”

Renny’s eyes softened, imagining the cuteness of last year when a toddler showed up dressed as a magnet with an attached note card saying “chick.”

“Okay, usually, yes, but the-”

“DG’s,” I groaned.

Midterms were creeping up and I was slowly dying between late night grading biology tests and the stress that’d been building up wondering about what in the fuck Harry had going on in his mind. He was hot, he was cold, and I wasn’t sure if this was all a massive game to him. It’d been relatively silent on the Harry front ever since the day of island paradise. The memory of his penetrating eyes examining me on the pier, and the twinge of electricity between us had inspired my wandering fingers more than once. I wouldn’t admit that to him, hell, I could barely admit that to myself.

I’d been too stubborn to text him, but not too stubborn enough to wear his sweatshirt out this morning. If we were friends, wearing his sweatshirt wouldn’t be weird. Technically he’d just invited me to meet his dad, which I admit, stung a bit, but a part of me couldn’t give up that he wasn’t into me. Could eyes lie so easily?

The ball was technically in my court to tell him whether or not I’d be going, so…

I slurped a scalding sip of tea, cringing at the inevitable. “Welp, if you’re going to ditch me for the DGs then I might as well go to Harry’s.”

She smirked, “I know.” 

I smacked her arm. “Is that why you’re ditching me?!”

“Hey, I’m not ditching you. It’s a thing for new recruits. You were invited, too.”

My ear still ringed with my mom’s shrill scream on the other end of the line when I’d told her - though I’m not sure if she’d be more excited by the fact that her daughter was going to visit the Styles residence or a sorority party.

Renny continued, “And please, as if you’d really go hang out at your parent’s alone when you have an offer to play co-host with Mr. Hunky Mystery Man. We’re sad sometimes, but we’re not that sad. Actually…”

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just… I’m surprised Harry isn’t going to be at the frat’s party.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “He said it was a family tradition.”

Renny’s brows rose at the F word. 

“Okay, but their house is also huge, I doubt it’s going to be an intimate affair.” Truthfully, I was excited to see how their house would be decorated. When I told my mother I probably wouldn’t be coming home to pass out candy, she’d told me not to worry. The neighbors were coming over and they had a couple of cheap wine bottles to drain. I’m sure not telling her I was going to the Styles's house wasn’t going to be that big of a deal.

“Are you kidding me? If Harry hands out a grand to cabana men then I can’t imagine what they’re going to spend on this party. Honestly, I’m kind of jealous.”

“Wait- what? He gave Ben a thousand dollars?”

 “Is Ben the cabana man?”

 “Yes.”

 “Then yes. Or about a grand, I mean I didn’t count it myself but it was a thick. Stack.” Renny’s brows shot up. “You seriously didn’t see that?”

 No wads of cash were in my memories. I was too busy retreating away to the golf cart to notice any grandiose money exchange. Ben’s words when he was saying goodbye to me at the golf cart suddenly flashed in my mind - tell him thank you for me.

 Thank you.

 I hadn’t even assumed the reason why. Probably because out of all things, I wouldn’t have guessed that.

 Renny tapped on her lips, signalling to mine that I painted a nice neutral. “Like the shade. What’s it for?”

 I looked to my watch. “Zayn. And I’m actually going to be late.”

 “Ugh, not fair!! Why can’t I have an artist draw me?”

 “Please, Felix was practically drooling over you last year, and he’s a graphic designer, right? I’m sure he has some sketches of you locked away in a cabinet somewhere.”

 Something that resembled a blush spread on her cheeks.

 “Oh my god. Does he?!”

 “He probably got rid of it by now.”

 I shook my head, scooping up my tea and 50 pound school bag with me. Leave it to Renny to have a collection of men up her sleeve at any given time. Even the beautiful brainy boy.

 “Tell Niall to try drawing,” I called back. The mention of the frat star turned a few heads at the crowded campus coffee shop, and I bit my lip at the scene, skirting across campus to the art studios where people wishing to escape found their haven.

 ---

 “A little to the left,” he murmured. His golden brown eyes peered over the white canvas, tirelessly scrupulous as they focused on each feature, and I felt my heart beat faster at the intensity of attention. “A little up.”

 My head tilted to his command, my exposed neck feeling even more naked as I noticeably swallowed.

 Did he hear that? Did the music need to be played louder?  

 “Beautiful.” He reached for another charcoal pencil in his kit. “Have you been in here before?” His voice gently rose over the Coldplay softly playing from the speaker system.

 “No, not yet,” I admitted. “I was going to take a ceramics class, but I dropped it the first week. Not exactly the sculptor type.”

 “So you’re not the artist, more the painting?”

 My brows furrowed. “What?”

 “I’m taking ceramics,” he said, not bothering to clarify.  

 “Yeah? You like it?”

 He didn’t answer, sweeping his pencil across the page - the aesthetic lulling of the way it scratched along the paper making me realize that yes, he’d definitely heard me gulping earlier.

 The soothing noise didn’t stop, and he didn’t answer for a time that seemed much longer than a minute. I wonder what Harry was doing right now? Was he in class? Practice? Not that I should even be thinking about him.

 The little smug version of me was dancing in my brain, delighting in the fact that somebody else was paying attention to me, that there were other people who found me desirable besides Harry. Sure, this was solely for Zayn’s assignment, and yeah, Harry could easily have any number of women he merely glanced at - but me? I could get by without him just fine, and-

 “Your face comes across so soft on paper. Gentle,” he said, glancing first at his work, then up to me, as if trying to see if the reality mirrored the copy.

 I shifted nervously, but the swivel chair was more sensitive than I’d thought and I almost went flying off the other side. He laughed a bit, before taking his top lip between his fingers.

 “Look, I’ve nearly got this one finished right. I’ve got your basic outline to finish the rest on my own, creative liberties ‘n that, but I’ll need a few more still lifes from you if that’s…”

 “Yeah! That’s fine.”

 “Might be a longshot with the holiday, but do you mind coming in this weekend?”

 Plans of the Styles’ Halloween bash rang as a reminder, and it buzzed throughout my entire body. “I can’t, actually. I’m going to a party, I think.”

 “Really!” he set down the pencil dramatically. “Am I going to see you in a plaid skirt up your bum again, missy?”

 “Ouch, no! But fair. Cringeworthy, but fair.” I slid down the chair, crossing my arms. His eyes didn’t change in their intensity even if he wasn’t holding a pencil. “It’s the Styles’ Halloween bash Saturday. I’m guessing it’s a family-friendly affair so no, I will not be in anything showing any skin, anywhere. I guess they do it every year.”

 Realization sunk in, but it seemed a bit of a show. “Harry, yeah, that’s right. Are you two…?”

 I shook my head, thinking of what Harry must say when (or if) he got asked the same question. There was no doubt in my mind.

 “No.”

 It was some weird “in between” with us, but no was a much easier answer.

 “Right, well, that’ll be interesting then.” He bit his cheek, mulling over something he wasn’t quite sure he should say.

 “What?”

 He opened his mouth, closed it again. “Nothing, it’s just… I can’t imagine what it’s like to be a part of that family. It’s got a lot of history.”

 “Yeah? Like what?”

 “Let’s just say there aren’t that many British boys that get adopted by Americans.”

 I tilted my head back, put off at the slight arrogance in his tone. There was a protective side of me that wanted to rear its head and bristle whenever somebody talked down to Harry, and I wasn’t sure how to put it away.

 “I’m not sure what you mean.”

 “You can look up the story, but-”

 A knock at the door, and a petite black-bobbed Asian girl peered her head in.

 “Hi, I have the room at 5:30.”

 I glanced to the clock on the wall, just a little past.

 “We’re finishing up,” he said. She nodded, not budging. A little territorial over the studio space. Which, I completely get. Once midterm season hits, the library starts to resemble a refugee posting with people camped outside cubicles and “quiet rooms,” hoping for the prior group to leave a little earlier if they didn’t have reservations of their own.

 “Yeah, we’re done.”  I picked up my bag, and put my beanie over my head.

 “Well, I’ll be in touch then. Sometime next week?” He followed me to the door, and placed a hand to my lower back. I stopped, trying to discern if there was something else behind his eyes. Maybe this hadn’t just been for a project.

 But his hand was removed just as quickly, and with a little “See ya,” he closed the door behind me.

 -----------

 Lines of vintage cars parked outside the Styles’s home wasn’t what I’d been expecting when Harry had shot a text that it was a masquerade gala. Maybe it should’ve, but it wasn’t. I squinted my eyes at a woman in a neon vest waving around her flashlight to the approaching cars and signalling them to available spots along the street.

 How was I meant to find him in this madness?

 “Here is fine,” I told the Lyft driver. I’d bit the bullet (or rather, my wallet) to get a ride. I thought I’d bypass the embarrassing “car dying” scenario again and just play it safe. Not that I was expecting to spend the night again… the toothbrush I’d stuffed in my purse screamed otherwise, and seemed to burn a hole into my thigh.

 But still, totally not expecting to spend the night.

 Totally …. not ….

 The sound of the Uber leaving made me realize I was doing this. Again. Willingly walking into the lion’s den simultaneously with at least ten other well-dressed individuals.

 Expect me tonight, I’d sent. It was a little bold. I had to refrain from sending any emojis, but I’d done it. Played it cool.

 Wear a mask, he’d replied. And I felt my stomach drop a little bit. He hadn’t said-

 Cool! Gee, thanks for letting me know! Wow that’s so nice to hear! You made my day!

 No.

 Just a simple three word request. Actually, more like demand. I bristled the same moment my phone buzzed.

 Please.

 I sighed. I guess it was four words.

 Of all the themes to pick though… I rolled my eyes at “masquerade.” Renny had done the opposite, and flew to her dresser, opening a drawer full of toys and masks and - oh my gosh was that a leash? She handed me one, black lace over the eyes that could lift up and over the cat headpiece. I didn’t ask any questions for why she had this so readily available, because guessing from the other contents in the drawer, I already knew the answer.

 “You look-” Renny kissed her fingertips- “Bellissima.”

 Older, sophisticated silver foxes arm-in-arm with their wives took the time to glance at the young woman approaching the estate.

 I blamed it on the deep red dress Renny stole from the theater department (or borrowed as she insisted). It fanned out with dramatic flair like an 18th century production of Shakespeare would - or how our school’s production of Much Ado About Nothing would (which was now short one costume).

 The doors opened to the tinkling of a piano.

 Amidst cocktail waiters weaving between the masked strangers, someone was actually playing it. He had brown curly hair and I practically raced to his side to avoid standing in the foyer alone any longer.

 “I didn’t know you could play.”  

 The man quirked his face, his hands not stopping.

 Even with the mask I could tell it wasn’t Harry.

 “Oh, sorry,” I said, stumbling back.

 Hands gripped my shoulders, as lips went to my ear-

 “Not well.”

 Twisting in his grasp, the familiar curve of his smirk appeared. His green eyes were highlighted by golden flakes etched into a black mask, and my breath quite literally caught in my throat. Somehow, each time, I forgot the magnetism they held. And somehow, each time, I forgot that I was absolute putty in his hands.

 “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

 Something flashed in his eyes and I knew it didn’t come out right. “The house looks… amazing.”

 I was floundering, FLOUNDERING.

 His nose crinkled the same time he placed a hand to the small of my back. “Too many cobwebs.”

 And without a word, he started leading me through the crowded rooms. Cobwebs over the banister and scary paintings of haunted people replaced the usual art in their home - except for the centered family portrait, intimidatingly framed in gold. The cobwebs were a fitting touch. I wondered how many secrets these walls held, how many years things have been kept in the dark, or swept under the rug.

 Every family had them, but something told me this place had enough storage in all its rooms to hold more than I could imagine.  

 We passed a room set-up with aisles of empty chairs and a projector screen that read “Jane Foundation.” Pamphlets and envelopes were lain on each of the chairs, but we walked too quickly for me to get a closer read.

 “What’s that for?”

 “Later. You don’t know?”

 I shook my head. He slowed to a halt in the hallway.

 “My parents put on a fundraiser every year for the children’s hospital. It’s how we end the evening.”

 My mouth opened and again- floundering. He scratched behind his ear.

 “Yeah, I thought.. I don’t know, I thought everyone knew. But I shouldn’t assume I guess.”

 I just shrugged my shoulders, accepting that his family had the capacity to pull something like this off. That the were pulling this off. That I was even here. Clearly living ten minutes away was certifiably living under a rock.

 He paused, a slight quirk in his lips. With the distraction of the music and the people, I hadn’t had the chance to really look at him. Or him, at me. If anyone ever asked, I’d call him shameless, but I wouldn’t even call it that as he drank me in. It didn’t seem as intentional as that. It was instinctive.

 I drank him in as well, and even if it was just a brief moment facing each other in the hallway with masked strangers streaming through, it felt like it was just him and I. How long had we been like this? Broad shoulders in a nice suit, a tall frame that could cover and protect, brown curls that looked so soft to touch, and eyes that spoke of scary pasts and a soft heart that locked me still in place. He was walking poetry and as much as it made me sick, I didn’t want to stop. I wanted him closer, to lean in closer...

 “Come on,” he murmured, but this time he was in front of me.

 I followed, straight to the dining room.

 “Oh, you are trying to get me to not fit into this dress,” I said. It was full of catered food from the nicest restaurants in Coast Hills. Last time I’d been in this room, it hadn’t been the most comfortable encounter. Now that the corset was digging into my ribs and I was a little short of breath, I predicted I was in for Awkward Dinner Part II.

 “You aren’t hungry?” He faltered, turning to face me.

 I gave a coy smile. “Well I didn’t say that…”

 “Hey! So good to see you.”

 Gemma burst through a small cluster of people, Charlie right behind her. His navy suit matched her slip dress, tapering off at the ends like the foam from a wave.

 She embraced me, Charlie soon after. But it was the same side-hug squeeze that made me remember him. Harry noticed my grimace. Charlie noticed Harry noticing me.

 “All good?” Charlie pulled back.

 “My brother did that all the time,” I said. Harry handed me a glass full of champagne, and I took it, happy to have something else occupy my mouth. I hadn’t expected to say that at all.

 “I didn’t know you had a brother,” Harry said.  

 “You don’t know a lot of things.”

 Gemma perked up. “That’s right, put him in his place.”

 “He’s not around much so, I don’t think to talk about him much.” I left it at that, a slight offering to make Harry feel less offended. His expression was impossible to read, and I wasn’t sure if my words had actually helped or hurt.

 “I have a sister like that. Moved to Lisbon with her boyfriend. We see her on holidays though.” Charlie jumped with a chill. “Jiminy- it’s cold in here, isn’t it?”

 “Have more wine babes, it’ll cheer you up,” Gemma said. And just like me, a champagne flute was suddenly in his hands.

 “Well we were just headed to get some food,” Harry mentioned, eyes slightly widening when they locked with mine - a silent plea to take his cue.

 “Wait! Let me take a picture really quickly.”

 “Gemma,” he sighed.

 “Just a little one! Just a quick...second...” She dug in her purse, struggling to juggle the wine and the mini plate of couscous and falafel.

 I took a step to the side as soon as she pulled the camera out.

 “Hello? Where do you think you’re going? Get back in there.”

 Harry raised his brows to me, both in annoyance and apology. I stood next to him, and he placed an arm around me. It was just for a moment, but I still felt him. Always.

 Gemma smiled at her phone. “Aww, this is perfect. I’ll send it to mom, too. She’ll like it.” She said the last bit cautiously.  

 Harry’s face turned unreadable, his eyes complete stone.

 “One for me now,” she said, reaching down for something else.

 “I swear, she can hide an elephant in that bag and the only reason someone would know is because it’d trumpet during the previews.”

 She pulled out a polaroid camera. Somehow, in the past five seconds, he’d gone from mildly annoyed and embarrassed to deadpanned over it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually growled.

 She held up the camera so I smiled, but as the flash went off and I looked beside me - he was gone.

 “Oh! Harry,” she scolded, but he’d already walked too far away. I saw him weave his way towards the windows of the house and look out.

 “You shouldn’t have mentioned her.” Charlie kicked his shoe. He saw Harry too, looking vigilantly out the window. A second longer and he turned on his heel. He stood taller as he made his way back.

 “Well, at least it’ll be a good picture of you. I’m creating a little collage of the evening.” Gemma put the camera away in her big bag. She reminded me of a mom on prom night and suddenly I felt like I should send that photo to someone, too.

 “That’s so cool! I’m sure it’s going to look so… cute.” Through the crowd, Harry motioned to the food. Clearly, he wasn’t in the mood to say brief goodbyes to his sister.

 “We won’t keep you. Get the pasta pops though. To die for,” Gemma said. “Charlie and I were going to take a stroll by the pool if you want to join us after.”

 “Yes! Oh, and would you mind sending me the photo, too? My mom wants proof I’m alive tonight.”

 “God, of course. Here.” She gave the champagne flute to Charlie, typed in my number, and sent it off.

 “We’ll see you later,” Charlie said.

 “The pasta poppers!” she exclaimed, flute in the air as they weasled their way out to the patio.

 Before I could wonder where Harry was, he met me by the Sprinkles cupcakes stand.

 “Going for dessert first?”

 “Looking for the moon?” I picked one of the mini cupcakes and plopped it in my mouth to spite him. He bit the inside of his cheek and looked away for a split second before looking back. His smile grew.

 “Damn it.”

 My heart picked up its pace.

 “You caught me.”

 He held another cupcake to my lips but I shook my head. “I’m hungry for real food right now.”

 He nodded, and without me saying another word, he took my elbow to bring me to his side. It was comforting to have his hand at my back as we walked through the spread of food. Even if it was lightly placed, in a crowd full of people I didn’t know, at least I had a place with him. My eyes widened when I saw them. The glorious, innovative Pasta Pops. AKA rolled up ball of pesto pasta on chopsticks… I grabbed four.

 “So, when am I seeing your dad?”

 “What?” He piled more food on top of the mountain already growing on his plate.

 “Your dad. The reason why you invited me.” I didn’t believe it. Not anymore. The host of the party wasn’t going to sit down and talk about a potential internship at his own full-fledged party.

 I put a Pasta Pop in my mouth. His attention broke and he watched my lips go over the ball, puckering as I pulled it to the tip. It’s when my lips came off with a “pop” that he sucked in a cheek, smirking.

 “You won’t be talking with Lionel long. Doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself in the meantime.”

 But when I reached over someone’s arm to grab a slider, they stopped me.

 “Hey, you.”

 His eyes lit up and instantly I was drawn in for an awkward hug. Behind his back, I mouthed did you plan this?

 He shrugged his shoulders and looked away with a sly look.

 Lionel pulled away from our quick embrace and looked to my pile of food. It was my turn for the awkward shrug.

 “No, it’s good! Keep going! We have enough food here to feed a small country. Are you still thinking about medicine?”

 “Yeah, not much has changed in the past couple of weeks. Same old, same old.”

 He paused, raising a finger. “I gave you my card, right?”

 How could I forget the card that’s been burning a hole through my dresser…

 “Yes. I’ve been meaning to call you, but I’ve been so busy studying with these midterms, and work, too...” I let my voice fade.  

 “What do you do for work?”

 Harry slowed as he picked up a napkin, and I knew he was listening in even if he wouldn’t stop and join the conversation. I watched his eyes skirt across the table close to where my hand toyed with the serving spoon.

 “Well, I’m a T.A. right now, but I’m also working in the physical therapy room on campus. It’s pretty easy for the most part, blood doesn’t scare me.”

 “Good. You’ll need a strong stomach for most cases.” A man tapped him on the shoulder, stealing his attention. “Give me a call when you can, we’ll set something up at the practice.”

 He leaned in behind Harry, both hands on his back. “Take care of her tonight.”

 Harry stiffened. I’m not sure why. Lionel had such a warm look in his eyes, I automatically trusted him. As he left with his friend, he flashed us one white smile, and I felt loved.

 What the heck was in this family. What kind of beauty steroids did they take?

 “Penny for your thoughts?”

 The quip sounded weird coming from Harry, the Vogue Italia model, leaning against the table. But then again, I was looking after his father with a dazed look on my face that was screaming “I wish I was 40 and you weren’t married.” I snapped out of it and mimicked his pose, equally skeptical.

 “If I hadn’t seen your dad here just now, I swear I wouldn’t have seen him at all. I barely recognize the place with so many…”

 “People?”

 I nodded.

 “I promised that you’d talk to him.”

 “Riiiight.”

 “You don’t trust me?”

 My brows rose. “That’s a loaded question.”

 A spark of indignance puffed up his chest. “What? You actually have to think about that?”

 “I’m just saying. Communication is usually the key to building that up. Just, you know, a friendly tip to help you with those future relationships.” I tapped his chest, and he reached for my wrist. A bold move, sober. He thought so, too, for he dropped it a second later. I was waiting for a, “You can trust me,” but instead he turned serious.

 “Smart girl.”

 He looked at me that way again. A little too deep, a little too long, and I cursed myself for not knowing what to do. He took a bit of his bottom lip between his teeth.

 “I didn’t know you worked in the therapy room.”

 “That’s because you never noticed me before.”

 “Ah, ah,” he raised a finger like his father. “That’s because I’ve never been injured before.”

 I let out a short laugh. “You’re an arrogant thing, aren’t you.”

 “Just honest.”

 Honest.

 But would you answer if I asked, Harry? Would you answer if I asked you what in the heck we were doing? Did I even want to know the answer?

 “I’m really glad you’re here,” he said. And it looked like there was something more swimming behind those eyes.

 “I am, too,” I said. “Much better than a sorority party...” My eyes narrowed. “What in the-”

 “Y/N?”

 Clearly, Viv was just as surprised to see me. Mary Styles was beside her, and she raised her glass to me in a distant hello before giving Viv a kiss on the cheek, excusing herself.

 “What are you doing here?” The silver blue dress she wore was glued to her skinny frame like snakeskin. Harry shifted his feet as she came closer and I wonder if he noticed how tight it was.

 “I followed the noise and traffic directors and decided to hop the gates,” I said.  

 “You didn’t get the initiate invite?”

 An almost pitiful look befell Harry. “You had somewhere else to be?” His puppy dog eyes confused me.

 “Technically, yes. I just, um” - I looked to Viv - “decided to spend my evening somewhere else. You didn’t care to go either?”

 “Oh, I come every year. I practically live in the guest room anyways.”

 I pictured Viv laying poolside during summer barbeques, coming around for Christmas parties, and waking up in her silk pajamas to Sven handing her delicious pastries.  

 “Well this’ll be fun anyways. We’ll have our own little sorority party here.” She turned to Harry. “Can I speak to you for a second?”

 “Yeah.”

 She looked at me apologetically, then back to him. “Alone.”

 His eyes narrowed just the slightest, but he didn’t even have to think about it. He placed a hand at my back. “I’ll just be a second.”

 Viv gave me a half-smile as she interlinked her arm through his, and they left, abandoning me in a swarming crowd with cold sliders. Without him beside me, I fought the ever-present urge that I didn’t belong, but wandering to the glass doors, I saw the red gown in the reflection, the black lace of my mask. I didn’t look like regular ‘ol me tonight. Nobody knew me tonight. A rush of confidence ran through me.

 I was somebody. With, or without Harry.  

 A twinkling bell carried through the halls the same time I stood a little taller. The piano music died down and everyone quieted.

 “I hope everyone is enjoying their evening,” the shrill voice of Mary Styles carried higher as she placed herself atop the spiral staircase. Some people clapped a little prematurely and she smiled at them graciously. “If everyone could please begin filing into the foundation room, we are about to begin the programme.”

 I stole another flute of champagne. Programme.

 The twinkling sound rang again and people began handing their plates over so they could grab their wallets. Several men apologized as they bumped into me, trying to move around the cocktail waiters. Wherever Harry was, he’d just have to find me later. I followed the crowd when my blood ran cold.

 There was something sweet in the air.

 The air around me seemed thinner. I looked around, quickly, but all I saw were masks. Even if they didn’t have them on, their faces were starting to blur in my mind.

 But that too-sweet scent would never.

 It was the man from Kean’s.

 I inhaled again, but it was gone, carried away and overpowered by Dior perfume and Gucci cologne. Were they here? Were they watching me? Were they waiting to get me alone?

 They’d done it before. Maybe it’d be easier this time...

 My mind went to horrible places, and suddenly I was running against the sea.

 I scanned as I ran, but it was futile. I burst through the kitchen doors and froze. There, Mary Styles was heaving over the trashcan spitting out strands of pesto pasta.

 She looked up at me with the emptiest eyes I’d seen.

 “I’m-I’m sorry.”  I bumped into the counter, stumbling out the way I came. Her glossy eyes were haunting. Had I just seen Mrs. Styles eject the contents of her stomach?

 Alone, I shook it off, trying to calm my breathing. They couldn’t do anything to me here. Hell, Mrs. Styles was on the other side of the door. I would scream. People would hear me.  

 “Hey, you okay?”

 And even though I recognized the voice, when his hands were placed on my shoulders I flinched.

 “I smelled them,” I said, looking over my shoulder to the kitchen.

 “Who?” Harry’s eyes followed my gaze. He took a step toward the kitchen.

 “I wouldn’t,” I said.

 He stopped, confused. “I mean, you can, but I think your mom is sick,” I continued.  

 My tone wasn’t convincing. He bit his cheek. “Right.”

 And even though we both knew that his mom didn’t have food poisoning, that was a conversation for another time.

 “They’re here, Harry.”

 “What are you talking about?” He paused. His eyes saw the panic in mine and he swallowed, hard.

 “They can’t be. There’s security.”

 “I walked through the door, no one searched me or checked my name off a list.”

 “You’re a girl, it’s different. The security has a list of faces to watch out for, and trust me, they’d stand out.”

 “No- Harry,” I stammered. He wasn’t get it. “Their cologne. I haven’t smelled it since Kean’s.” The name tasted bitter on my tongue. “I was there- and your mom was talking and I was following these people but I smelled them. And it was so crowded so I ran and she was in the kitchen, and I don’t- I don’t know how, but they’re here. I didn’t imagine that. And no one else would be wearing that. No one else could smell like that.”

 I gasped for air, not realizing that I was on the verge of sobbing until Harry’s arms came around me.

 “Hey,” he soothed. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

 I let him hold me, but I wasn’t sure if I believed him. Their living area was too empty now. Too quiet. And even in his arms, even knowing what he’d done to them before, I didn’t feel safe. What was the point of having a massive castle if you couldn’t defend it? Your wealth just made you a sitting duck. A giant target.

 “Why would they be here?” I asked.

 “They wouldn’t be stupid enough to come here,” he reassured me.  

 “You probably think I’m crazy.”

 “No, don’t do that to yourself.” He pulled back just enough. “You’re not crazy.”

 And with no one to see, he took my hand, leading me past the foundation room. A part of me actually wanted to see the auction, but my mounting paranoia was stronger. We passed by the bar on the way to his room. It’d been empty for my last visit, but now the caterers were taking full advantage of its liquor storage capacity.

 “Let’s see,” his voice drawled as his fingers shifted through the bottles. He didn’t ask before pouring us two cocktails.

 “After you,” he said, nodding towards his room. By the time I’d sat down at the foot of his bed, he shut the door behind us with both drinks, and the vodka handle in the crook of his arm.

 “Is the foundation for your sister? Jane?”

 Harry avoided eye contact as he set the bottle down, pushing his hair back, brows raised.

 “Uh, kind of. I never knew her.” He turned to me finally, shrugging with an apathy that had taken years to perfect. “I mean it’s sad, we don’t have to talk about it now.”

 “Is it ever a good time?”

 He looked at me, giving me the chance to take back what I did. I didn’t.

 “She died before I was adopted.”

 “Oh.” My stomach dropped. There was so much I didn’t know, but I hadn’t been expecting this. His eyes didn’t hold any sadness, but guilt still pricked my heart. “I’m sorry.”

 He looked out the window again, distracted.

 “Again, I didn’t know her. It’s sad, but I don’t…” -he tried to find the right words, loosened his tie- “It’s not my grief.”

 I nodded; that made sense. It was his parents. The Styles. But the legacy of that pain couldn’t have had zero repercussions on their second child. There was more to the story than he was sharing, but I didn’t press. I walked closer, slowly toying with my drink.

 “So you find it hard to miss something you never had,” I clarified.

 He took a deep breath. “Cheers.” He raised his glass to me and I mimicked him, cringing at the stiff drink.

 “How are you feeling?” he asked.

 “Warm.”

 He nudged me, growing serious. “You know what I mean.”

 How was I feeling? The inner me cleared her throat and yelled from a soap box.

Jealous.

Scared.

Confused.

ANNOYED at how many windows this house had. I looked at Harry’s dark mask, the swirling madness in his emerald, the way the suit fit snug against his toned body… we were very much alone.

 Add turned on to my emotional cocktail.

 “I’m feeling a lot.”

 “Hm,” he hummed. “I’m feeling a lot too.” And it was so quiet. So bizarre to hear him say something even remotely close to feelings that I stood completely still. Was his drink as strong as mine?

 Our eyes were locked, but he didn’t turn away. I fought every fiber in my screaming to break the intense spell.

 He leaned in closer, tilted his head lower. Our noses brushed.

 Panic.

 “Are you and Viv…?”

 “I’m not up here with her am I.”

 Relief.

 But I didn’t have the courage to say she’d probably been up here before.

 “You know” - he pulled me closer, waists closing in - “I’m going to need a lot of help with that midterm,” he mumbled.

 Elation.

 An almost laugh that just lasted for a moment, because school seemed so trivial for what was happening in this house. There seemed to be split parts of me - the one I’ve always known and the one with him. Which one was more real to me now? I wasn’t sure if I was the same person that I once was - happy alone, solely immersed in school or netflix nights in. I’d been fine. I’d been safe. Maybe a little bored, but I hadn’t known there was more. With him there was a chaos that burned off his shoulders, that simmered in his eyes, and I drank in the warmth like a person frozen from snow.

 His hands squeezed my sides, and my eyes fluttered closed. “How are you feeling now?”

 “Good.”  

 He didn’t say anything more, but our breath was now in sync. It didn’t matter what he couldn’t say. What mattered was him, and the fact that when he looked at me, I felt everything he couldn’t say.

 Eyes couldn’t lie. Not like that.

 So I lifted my lips, and he went in for the kiss.

 It was like I’d been starved of oxygen when his soft lips encompassed my own. Oh God, I’d missed this buzz. I’d missed him.

 His hands cradled my face as he backed me up to the edge of the bed, lips never parting. A greedy hand shifted lower and he gripped the curve of backside. I whimpered a little, lips parting to allow his tongue to sneak in as he marked what I was so willing to give. He wasn’t pulling away this time. He wasn’t telling me no.

 I sat at the edge of the bed where he’d placed us, and leant back, his body falling atop mine. His delicious weight pinned me down, and he kissed down my neck, nibbling, biting. With a particularly hard suck, I moaned and when I looked down I saw him paused, hooded eyes looking up at me from the sound. His hands travelled down, slowly, from my waist to the ends of my dress. He was heavy but not crushing, deliberate but with respect. He waited for an answer.

 I nodded.

 He bit his lip in a smirk as he hitched up my dress. One hand clutching the soft skin of my hips, as the other supported him above me, Harry rolled his hips against me.

 Oh.

 Against the thin fabric of my underwear, I felt him harden between my folds. Gentle kisses were peppered along my chest and I pulled him closer.

 “Harry,” I whispered, lifting my hips against his. He groaned into my ear, a playful bite at the lobe.

 I shivered the same time his fingers travelled lower against my stomach. He stopped at the band of underwear, my breath catching when he cupped my sex.

 “Is this okay?” he whispered.

 I nodded, hummed, as his hand slowly rubbed against me. I could feel him watch me intently, but mostly I could feel him. Up, down, up... the friction against my bundle of nerves made my lips part. Again, and again, my breathing deepened and soon I was rutting against his hand. The damp patch he created was evident as he took several fingers and ran them against it. He applied pressure at my center and I wanted him to do more.

 He kissed my neck and a “please” stumbled out of my mouth. He smiled, letting out a small breath. He kissed my lips as his fingers pulled aside the lace. The cutest gesture of reassurance when there was nothing to reassure.

 I’d dreamt about this too many times for me to back out. This time I wouldn’t shy away. I took his bottom lip between mine. Go.

 But a glass shattering scream carried up the stairs.

 The commotion from downstairs grew louder, and I didn’t need to say anything.

 I’d already known.

 His hand retracted, and as quickly as it started, he’d rolled off to his side, my comforting weight gone.

 “What the fuck,” he muttered. He stood dead still at the edge of the bed but when he heard someone coming up the stairs, he lunged for the dresser, reached for the top drawer -

 From outside, “Harry! Harry, are you up here?”

 The door flew open.

 His arm fell to his side.

 Gemma stood at the doorway, slightly out of breath.

 “You need to come downstairs. Now.”

 I pulled my dress down, but Gemma wasn’t paying attention to me. There was a wild look in her eye only Harry could understand.

 He didn’t look back to me as he barrelled past her, she followed suit. I sat at the edge of the bed; alone, dishevelled, disoriented. I was scared to follow.

 Everything could change in a moment.

 There were footsteps at the door again and I looked up just in time to see Harry striding across the floor to me.

 “What are you-”

 His lips crashed into mine, and my breath was suspended again. There was an urgency in the kiss that hadn’t been there before. Deep, hard, a hand tangled in my hair when another hitched up my skirt. His fingers swiped at my entrance once and before I could kiss him back he pulled away.

 He let out an exasperated breath, and leant his forehead against mine.

 “I have to take care of this.”

 Unflinching, he drew the fingers that’d just pressed against my center up to his parted lips before swiping them against my own.

 He stood tall as he walked away, broad shoulders subtly moving beneath the suit as he drew a key from his pocket and closed the door behind him.

 There was no way in hell I was staying here.

 I shot up, running to the door - but it was locked. I pounded against it.

 “Harry? Harry let me out this isn’t funny!”

 I jiggled the handle again. Nothing.

 I wanted to scream, debated about screaming as I paced around the room. My eyes went to the top drawer of his dresser. I stopped. He’d reached for something there.

 When I pulled it open it was just some old band t-shirts, but my hand hit something in the back. Pushing aside the shirts was a black box.

 I quickly undid the clasp.

 A black handgun.

 I shoved the box to the back as quickly as I’d opened it.

 Fuck no.

 Frickity fracking fuck no.

 He’d been reaching for a gun.

 What kind of threats was he used to that he needed a gun?  

 I took a bobby pin from my hair, and with an expert skill that only growing up with a sibling could teach you, the lock was picked.

 It took me at least five minutes, but the door opened. I booked it downstairs, a flounder of red dress heading into a quiet commotion.

 I didn't see him when I made it down the stairs. There were too many confused bystanders huddled around their phones and switching social circles, whispering frantically about the scene before them.

I didn’t need to see anything in the crowd. For up on the wall, between collectors’ paintings was a vacant space.

 The family portrait was gone.

 And in its place was a snake that matched the one I’d seen tattooed on skin, the same snake that had been wrapped around my neck.

part 14

[iloveyouthree-thousand]

Stark: An American Musical

So this is an idea I dreamed up a while ago: a series of loosely connected one-shots based on the songs from Hamilton. I have no explanation for it other than, like, it sounded fun? And I kinda want to rip your hearts out with It's Quiet Uptown. Pre-Endgame. Post CACW.

Track #1 // Anthony Stark

"Holy mother of—you bastard, orphan, son of a—good God that hurts," Rhodes hissed through through his teeth as Tony tightened the metal device around his leg.

"I thought cripples weren't supposed to feel pain," Tony said, feeling Rhodey's nails sink into his skin, "and didn't you go through special ops training? Shouldn't this feel like nothing to you?"

"You want to try it on and see how it feels?"

"If it means I get to be the one digging my ridiculously long fingernails into your arm, then maybe. Seriously buddy, when's the last time you trimmed these talons?"

Rhodes dug his nails in deeper.

"Fu—okay, that was uncalled for," he winced as he rubbed his arm, "and you know what else was uncalled for? The orphan comment. Little soon, don't you think?"

"It's been over thirty years."

Tony frowned, now working on tightening the device on the other leg.

"God I'm old. Which means you're even older. FRIDAY, remind me to look at nursing homes for my geriatric pal here later this week." He grinned as Rhodey narrowed his eyes and smacked him across the chest.

"Just because I'm a paraplegic doesn't mean I won't kick your ass Tony."

He just laughed. "Alright buddy, all done. How does that feel?"

His friend stood up and took a hesitant walk down the hallway.

"You know, I feel like I should write down the date, maybe put it in a scrapbook. Rhodey's first steps. This is such a proud father moment for me. It's exciting for you, too, of course, but mostly for me."

Rhodes rolled his eyes. The injury was still fresh, and he was still coming to terms with his decreased mobility. It was hard, for both of them, but they had hope.

Tony had been working on the contraption, forgetting to sleep at times, designing and creating in a guilt-ridden, coffee-driven haze. A smirk never failed to light up Tony's eyes, but Rhodey would never not notice the dark circles drooping just below. He knew better.

He also knew better than to try and tear Tony away from a project, especially one driven by the overwhelming sense of responsibility he never seemed to shake.

"Save the proud father moments for your protégé. Don't think I haven't seen the new models of his suit lying all over this complex while mine, I might add, is still parachute-less. Traitorous bastard."

Rhodes had slid carefully onto the floor, the act of walking taking a lot more energy now that his limbs were rather uncooperative. It killed Tony a little bit, to see his best friend drained from a task that had once been so menial. At least it was progress.

He wordlessly joined him on the ground.

"Actually, I think it was bastard, orphan, son-of-a-bitch," he corrected. "I think that'd be a good title for my autobiography. Maybe I'll write it on my headstone... actually, that's definitely what I want. Make a note of that for my funeral plans. And as long as we're making plans, I want you to give the eulogy."

If there was a look for 'you've finally crossed the threshold to insanity', it was emanating off of Rhodes right now.

"You must be out of your damn mind."

Tony feigned hurt, pressing his hand over the spot where his arc reactor used to rest.

"Why? Because you think you'll die first? Come on, I've got a death wish and, like, zero regard for danger. You live ten years longer than I do, minimum."

"I don't have a parachute."

"Exactly! You didn't even have a parachute and you're still a living, whining, pain in the ass."

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Can't Pepper give the damn eulogy?"

Tony's face twisted exaggeratedly, like that was the most absurd comment he'd heard in his entire life.

"What, and put her through even more than she'd already have gone through? We both know I'm going to go out in spectacular, gut-wrenching fashion, don't tell me you'd actually make her get up there and give a whole speech after that. She'll have enough on her plate."

"Oh, so she'll be too emotionally vulnerable but, sure, let's make your best friend get up there and do it instead."

Tony's mouth pulled to the side of his face. "Careful, pal. I never fully committed to you being my best friend. I do live with Pepper, tell her all my dark, dirty secrets. You're easily a close second, though."

His eyes narrowed in a glare.

"You say something stupid like that again and I'll be the reason you're having a funeral."

"Rhodey, you know I love you both—just in different ways." A smirk was practically eating his face, but his friend was having none of it.

"Oh yeah? Who'd you give a suit to, Tony? I don't see Pepper up there kicking ass next to you."

"One—if I recall correctly, you stole the suit. Two—I'm pretty sure Pepper has killed at least half of the guys I've gone up against. And three—if we're basing friendships off of suits, as you mentioned earlier, then Peter Parker is my best friend... speaking of, he should be here any minute."

Tony lifted his watch to his face, the screen lighting up as he checked the time.

"Remind me again why the fifteen-year-old is always over here now?"

"He's helpful. He helped me design that," he pointed at the metal device Tony had been painfully tightening onto Rhodey's leg a few minutes earlier. "It's much more ergonomic than the last one."

Rhodes raised an eyebrow. "The kid helped you design this?"

"Don't doubt him, he's practically a genius—probably smarter than you."

He punched Tony in the arm.

"I went to M.I.T. too, remember? Degree in Aerospace Engineering? Give me some credit, man."

"Huh. See, I have vague memories of that, but I was busy having fun in college—,"

"You were busy destroying your liver."

"I was living out my glory days."

"Oh, trust me, there was nothing glorious about puking all over our bathroom every other weekend."

Tony pressed his lips together. "Yea... let's maybe not bring that up in front of Pete."

A look that Tony couldn't decipher passed Rhodey's face. "What exactly is the deal with you and this kid? Did some of that fun in college have some permanent, teenaged consequences?"

His friend had noticed several different trials of red and blue Spider-Man suits lying around for a few weeks now, but he hadn't questioned it because Tony had always outfitted the team and, well, the team was pretty sparse as of late.

Of course, Tony still had a new prototype for Captain America's shield in the works and some upgraded arrows for Clint lying around on a workbench somewhere, among other things.

He could only work on them for so long, though, before the gadgets just became glaring reminders of the faces that were now absent from the Compound.

Making suits for Spider-Man kept Tony busy. It made him feel productive. Worthwhile. He wasn't left with such an empty feeling in his chest.

Tony scoffed. "Jesus, Rhodey, he isn't mine. Thank God. I've already screwed with his life enough." He took his tinted glasses off and fiddled with them in his hands. "I just found the kid online, but no one was going to take him seriously in his homemade Halloween costume, so I gave him a little upgrade."

Rhodey might've believed that, if it weren't for the Midtown High sweatshirt draped across one of the couches or the newspaper clippings of the spandex-wearing superhero clandestinely taped to Tony's desk.

"That still doesn't explain why he's over here all the time."

"I was just going to give him the suit and let him go back to doing his own thing... but he managed to break all the security locks I set in a little over a week and then decided to single-handedly take on Sam Wilson's evil alter-ego."

"You gave a child genius a million-dollar toy and you didn't think he'd play with it?"

Tony turned to face him before deadpanning, "I don't have a lot of experience with teenagers, okay? It was stupid, I know, but I'm trying to make up for that by having him over here—letting him have a say in the design process and actually teaching him how to use it—because he has little regard for my built-in training protocols. And he's good help."

Rhodey was about to ask if Peter's more frequent visits had anything to do with the quiet silence that now haunted the compound whenever he or Pepper were out, but he was interrupted by one-hundred and forty-one pounds of pure excitement practically bounding out of the elevator.

"Mr. Stark! So there was this guy on the subway today who tried to swipe a phone from this other guy, and I saw the whole thing happen but I couldn't do anything about it because he was too far away and I couldn't squeeze through all the people, but—oh, h-hey Mr.—Mr. Col. Rhodes, Sir."

Tony looked amused.

"Pete, I'd like you to my best pal Mr. Col. Rhodes, also known as Rhodey, also known as War Machine... it is War Machine, right? We're officially over the Iron Patriot thing?"

He ignored Tony, pushing against his shoulder to stand up, before reaching out to shake Peter's hand.

"It's nice to meet you, Peter." He shot his attention over to the other man in the room. "And what happened to 'Pepper's my best friend', huh, Tony?"

Tony held out a hand to Peter, who obligingly helped him up to his feet, while maintaining eye contact with Rhodes.

"I mean, you are the one giving my eulogy."

"Am not."

"Rhodey, come on, you give the best speeches. Remember that one you gave in like 2009? At the White House? FRIDAY, play the speech."

"No. FRI—,"

"Playing Colonel Rhodes' Presidential Medal of Honor Introduction Speech."

Peter stood awkwardly in front of the two men, terribly confused, as a familiar voice rang out over the speakers in the compound.

"I've been asked over and over again if I ever suspected my best friend was a superhero. The answer to that is—I've always known that he was different, and not just because he's a hell of a lot smarter than the rest of us. He grew up in the legacy of Howard Stark. No one was surprised when he turned out to be a genius—at fifteen, they placed him in advanced classes at M.I.T-,"

"FRIDAY, mute."

"FRIDAY, override."

"...but there's more to Tony than just brilliance. He's a self-starter. The only thing standing between him and what he wants is himself. When he saw his future dripping down the drain in Afghanistan, brought to his knees by weapons his company he'd created, left with nothing but ruined pride—something new inside broke through. Anyone else might've been dead in a week but Tony—he wouldn't let himself go out like that."

"FRIDAY, stop."

"FRIDAY, don't even think about it."

"...he put a pencil to paper and with nothing more than some scrap metal and the help of a new friend he plotted his way out of hell. He overcame certain death in a cave, but he didn't stop with self-preservation. He rewrote the game in the defense private sector. He saved his own life and then he saved countless others, and because of him, the world will never be the same."

"FRIDAY—," Rhodes threatened.

Tony cut him off. "Oh, come on, this is the best part." The recording kept playing.

"I know you already know his name, but it is my honor to present the medal of honor to my best friend, Tony Stark... Or, as many of you may know him: Iron Man."

"FRIDAY, off," Rhodes said, and Tony finally didn't protest. "Tell me you don't keep that around just to boost your ego. You know I only did that because the President asked me to. It wasn't for you."

"You keep telling yourself that."

The two men kept bantering, but throughout it all, Peter was eerily quiet. It only took a few seconds of his silence for Tony to realize something was up.

"Hey Pete, you look like you swallowed a frog. Everything all right up there?" he asked, raising his hand to gently pat him on the head.

The kid shook as if coming out of a trance. "Yea—yea, everything... everything's fine, it's just... aren't eulogies, like, the things you say at funerals?"

Rhodey answered, "Yes, they are. See, Tony, he thinks it's weird too."

Peter still looked like he had gotten kicked in the shins.

"No... I mean yeah, kinda, but that's not—Mr. Stark... are you dying?"

Tony looked confused for a second before... oh.

"God, kid, no—I'm not dying. I was just trying to mess with Rhodey here, I didn't mean to—."

"Oh thank God," Peter said, visibly relaxing, "don't scare me like that."

Then, he did something that made Rhodey nearly slide to the floor. Again.

His deceptively small arms wrapped around Tony's torso, and Tony hesitated for half of a second before tentatively and quickly returning the gesture.

For a second, it was a picture-worthy moment. But the second passed and the moment came to an end as both parties seemed to realize instantaneously that they were crossing boundaries.

"Right," Tony coughed, "Peter, why don't you show Rhodey some of the new features you dreamed up. I'm going to go get... some coffee. Try not to talk his ear off, he's the only one who still sometimes listens to me around here."

James Rhodes had known Tony for what felt like an eternity. He fought with him. Trusted him. And if the situation ever arose, he would die for the damn fool.

But the man who exited the room as if the soles of his shoes had caught fire, a wisp of crimson warmth on his cheeks, looked like a new man entirely.

There were a million things he suddenly wanted to ask Tony, a million places to prod, and he couldn't wait to do exactly that after the boy returned to his apartment in Queens for the night.

Right now, though, the kid was showing him the new thrusters Tony had built into the heels of the devices.

"...and if you do this, then the repulsors activate—,"

Peter pressed a button, and the chorus of T.N.T. came blaring through the room as the repulsors sent Rhodey crashing into the wall behind him.

Tony sauntered back into the room, a cup of coffee in hand and a snort on his face as he surveyed the scene. A flustered Peter Parker tried to hold back a laugh as he attempted to help a cussing, high-ranking military official up from a muddled heap on the floor.

"Oh yea. There's a bit of a learning curve. You'll figure it out," he garbled, mouth stuffed with a muffin that he had hidden in his other hand, "For now... consider this recompense for the orphan comment." He clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder, ushering him toward the shop, his friend still lying in an annoyed mess on the ground.

He'd help him later, of course, but the look on Rhodey's face gave him a pure, childlike joy that few things could. If Rhodes kicked his ass later—paraplegia and all—it would have been worth it a hundred times over.

So he led a mildly concerned Peter Parker away, chuckling as his best friend's voice faded into the background.

"Don't you even think about walking away without teaching me how to use these things. Tony... Tony Stark you better not be walking away from me. Don't be a dick. Come back here, you heartless, pompous, snowflake... I know you know I'll get you back for this... quit acting like a teenaged punk... Anthony Stark!"

Tony laughed under his breath and kept walking. Rhodes always came up with the nicest things to call him.

[rhimorechill]

my bmc au's that are very, very closely linked to minecraft

for that anon who asked some time ago

a little context to these: i love minecraft fan content. roleplays, fanfics, alternate forms of gameplay, the like. and, of course, bmc is severely lacking minecraft content, so i decided to remedy that just a bit with these seven au's !

(please note: the endgame for every one of these is meremine, whether romantic or qpr. the other ships i'm not particularly picky on, but do keep in mind that that is the shipping context on those three. another thing of note is that jenna is aroace, and i tend to lean on making characters aro, just because i want to. they're all tight-knit, too, since i as an aro person desperately want them to be found family-esque. this "shippy" aspect is not up for discussion in any way)

1.

of course, a collection of minecraft au's wouldn't be complete without the ever-standard "they met online through a video game" au. i've got... quite a bit latched onto this au, honestly.

michael runs a faction, whereas jeremy plays on factions without one just raiding and doing whatever. jeremy and christine do a lot on creative, roleplaying their hearts out. and i feel the whole trio plays skyblock. i really like skyblock. it can't be helped.

the squip only appears momentarily in this au as a griefer. they're banned from minecraft forever for their crimes.

the whole squad eventually makes a town together. i forget what i decided the name was but it's funky and they have a blast !! towny is... a delight.

jake is a server staff member and mr. reyes owns the server ! jake enjoys some creative roleplay and he's probably in michael's faction.

eventually they do all meet up ! first they meet in their little mini groupings but they also definitely have a big old get-together where they're like hello fellow minecrafters !!!

it's honestly been a while since i've talked about this au, which is a shame, because it's great fun ! i adore it.

2.

the next au, one of my all-time fave au's, is based loosely on the pixel trapped series by ash schmidt.

i call it the earthcraft au, because the premise is that the worlds of minecraft and earth were once one world called earthcraft, but have since split.

jeremy, michael, rich, thomas (rich's brother), jenna, and chloe live in minecraft, while christine, dustin, jake, brooke, and madeline live on earth. squip is an evil wizard with an extended lifespan who lives in minecraft, but doesn't particularly interact with the squad outside of pulling them into different worlds or sending monsters that have been drained of personal magic after them.

eventually, squip gets shoved into the void, earthcraft is reformed (although.... it does have a bit of a split where all the people i don't want on earthcraft get to rot on a dying world), and the kids are reunited with their parents- except for jake and the goranskis, whose parents can rot in hell.

3.

this one is based off of the minecraft diaries roleplay series by aphmau ! i was a huge fan in middle school, and i'm quite fond of the premise and such. it might have some narrative decisions i disliked, but it was a good story, in my opinion.

so, jeremy wakes up in the middle of the woods, outside a village. he has.... no memory, of anything. in the village, he meets michael and christine, two guards who are glad he wants to join the village and help out.

the village's lord recently died, so they're trying to find a replacement while rebelling against a neighboring evil ruler that wants more territory who happens to be michael's brother (he has two)- squip.

there's also the whole shadow knights thing, which i don't feel like getting into right now, and also the thing where jeremy and his associates are literally godly beings.

(whether it be that they're the latest reincarnation.... or they wiped their memories recently in the hopes of not having to suffer as their closest friends died and reincarnated and died again.... the usual)

4.

this next one is a joyous adventure in learning ! it's based on the wonder quest series by stampylongnose, just the first season, really.

jeremy and christine are an adventuring duo on the search for cake ! just when they manage to find some, though, they fall into the world of wonderburg- a wonderful (hehe) town full of curiosity..... usually.

however, their sense of wonder has been stolen by a heinous wizard named squip, who desperately wants to be found funny ! his brother, another wizard named michael, has summoned the pair to help him track down the pieces of the wonder cube- a magical gem that provides wonderberg with its everlasting wonder- that squip broke.

there's many shenanigans, as squip tries to send his henchmen rich and jake after them- but they mostly just mess around,- and lots of learning ! it all comes to a close with squip realizing they can just subject themself to physical pain for laughs... which is, at the end of the day, all they really wanted.

(i feel i should clarify: the reason they haven't found another way to be funny is because they literally do not understand jokes. they just want people to laugh at their jokes. they do not care what it takes to get those laughs. if getting blasted with fireballs repeatedly gets laughs, they're down for it.)

5.

this au is also one of my all-time faves !! it's based on the fairytale fallout roleplay series by bbpaws and dangthatsalongname !!

(tw for: implications of/references to abuse, mentions of cannibalism, kidnapping, all particularly with children as the victims)

so, christine and michael are two friends that are trying to play some minigames in the multiverse of minecraft worlds, but when they try to jump through the portal into the lobby, they instead wind up in the world of misthaven. while trying to figure where they are and what's going on, the duo stumbles across a tower in the middle of the woods.

this tower is home to none other than jeremy heere, a kid with a really, really long scarf that he knit as a replacement for the lengthy hair he's chopped off. he sends michael and christine on a quest for enough dyes to change his scarf to rainbow, and in return he gives them a painting and joins them on their adventure.

as it turns out, misthaven has been cursed by a witch (note the pattern) so that all the fairytale characters who live there no longer have their happy endings. the town has also been left in ruin.

however, michael and christine were prophesied to arrive and save the land with the aid of jeremy so... now they're doing that. and what better way to fight evil magic than to help out its very victims ?

(rich and his brother are the witch's henchmen, but extremely unwillingly and only to the extent that they carry out her orders while also making it so they're essentially nonfunctional. the witch is rich's squip and her brother is the mother gothel to jeremy's rapunzel- and also jeremy's squip.)

6.

this one's a skyblock au ! i love them funky islands in the sky. basically, the whole squad lives in a skyblock version of the minecraft worlds, in a hub of islands. it's pretty simple, but it's nice. jeremy, michael, and christine are on a set of islands that are right next to each other, so they coordinate island expansion.

7.

this last one is a crack au. it's based off this one post by @/rockflavors, i believe, where minecraft diamonds are declared to have the taste of mountain dew baja blast. please, just... go with it.

naturally, i decided this meant jeremy could and would eat a minecraft diamond as an alternative to drinking mountain dew, given the chance. so, in this universe, minecraft is extra popular ! rock candy for minecraft diamonds that's made with mountain dew baja blast exists.

squip is activated Extra Chill™, fully decked out in vacation gear and a minecraft diamond shovel ! upgrade probably features jeremy eating a second diamond to upgrade the shovel into a sword.

the most important parts of this au are the kickoff and the party: the halloween party where everyone dresses up as minecraft mobs. and michael...... dresses up as a dolphin. the plan is to seduce jeremy into listening to him. i haven't actually thought about the showdown, so whether it works..... is up for debate.

to be frank with you, i have no idea how this one works out. it's weird and i really don't think about it all too much, but it is fun, too.

so that..... is the summation of my au's. i tried to not drown you in too much information, 'cause god knows i could. if you want to hear more about a specific one (not the crack au, though, since that one is mostly a throwaway i had fun brainstorming the basis of and not much more), you could hit me up in dms ? or send an ask. though, keep in mind, i prefer dms because i don't really like building posts about my au's. it makes me feel a lot more exposed.

[discovering-ellie]

August 29, 2021 - Post Four

Okay, okay, Day Sixteen.

I've got to admit, you guys, today was a pretty rough one for me. It was just one of those days where it felt like Murphy's Law was in full effect despite my best efforts to keep chugging along. I went through 3 big emotion cycles in the course of a couple of hours, so my motivation to do anything is pretty well down the drain. Admittedly, that's a little bit of a disappointment because I kind of wanted to take myself to the Halloween store today. Maybe I'll go tomorrow after my session with Kelly.

As it is, I've also been pretty down on myself for having a hard time with finding motivation to do things like keep up with my dishes or my laundry. I was doing so well with these things not that long ago and now I'm like "hahahaha, not doing it!" Hell, I haven't even taken my vitamins since Thursday. At least I can say that I'm still taking my meds, but I feel like so many of my other routines are starting to fall by the wayside again and I don't really know what I should do to pull myself back from that.

I know, I know. Healing is not linear. There are going to be high highs and low lows.

Anyway, yes. This card. Let's go!

Front: "Walk the walk"

Back: "Physical movement -- such as running, dancing, or active sports -- brings us into the moment. When our attention is resting with the body and its movements, there is less room for agitating thoughts to spin us into worry. This restful but dynamic state is available all the time, and the best way to encourage it is to put all your attention on how walking feels as you're doing it. Let yourself become the walking, and enjoy how connecting and peaceful that experience can be."

My Interpretation: I'm from New Jersey, you guys. Walking is FAR from restful for me. Walking is always done with PURPOSE and very, very quickly. I can't really remember the last time I've just gone for a leisurely walk around my block. I've been wanting to, but the weather has just been so very hot and I haven't remembered to clean out the bladder for my water backpack. Even a few weeks back when I went for a walk to some park, I found it hard to really enjoy myself because of how hot and sweaty I was. Damn, I need to clean out that water bladder.

Plan of Action: I need to make an effort to actually take more leisurely walks. Yeah, okay, I'm on my feet all day and I don't know how to slow down, but sometimes I really need to make myself do that. Step one: Clean the water bladder. Step two: Go for more walks outside.

DBT Skills Card Update: I mean.... does saying that I don't like being talked to like I'm not believed count? I don't know that it does, but I've got nothing else. Like I said yesterday, I might just switch this card up because I'm always going to have to work on establishing valued relationships anyway.

ACT Skills Update: OHHHHHH BOY, this is going to be a long one. I apologize in advance. Like I said in the beginning of this post, it's been a DAY and, yeah... Three big feels in one damn day.

#1 *What was the emotion? - Nervousness *How long did it last? - 15-20 minutes *What triggered it? - Honestly, I got too deep into my thoughts, second guessing myself. *How did it physically feel? - It was like a heaviness and tenseness in the center of my chest *What was my reaction? - I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly a couple of times and practiced my expansion technique. Honestly, after that first day, it's been pretty easy to remember to use defusion and expansion

#2 *What was the emotion? - Stress *How long did it last? - 15-ish minutes *What triggered it? - Technical issues involving the printer. This printer has been on its way out for a while and it essentially decided to give up today. I explained the issue with the printer after troubleshooting as best as I could with what I had, and then had to repeat myself a couple of times. After a while, it felt like I wasn't being listened to or believed, and that stressed me out. *How did it physically feel? - Tenseness in my shoulders. *What was my reaction? - I took deep breaths, stated that I felt like I wasn't being listened to or believed, and then quietly practiced expansion before stress crying. Yeah. There were definitely some stress tears.

#3 *What was the emotion? - Sadness *How long did it last? - 20 minutes or so *What triggered it? - I couldn't pick out a trigger in that moment -- I STILL can't even figure out what triggered it. Though, it was a pretty rough morning, so maybe I was just coming back down from everything that had gone on. *How did it physically feel? - Tenseness in my shoulders and in the center of my chest * What did I do? - Tried my self-compassion break phrases, practiced expansion, definitely cried (again). I even tried listening to some music to take my mind off of how the day had been going, but I couldn't settle on a song.

Overall, I'm just pretty disappointed with how this day has gone. I feel like I probably could've handled myself better but then, like, HOW? I didn't have any outbursts aside from when I said I didn't feel like I was believed. I didn't get into any arguments. I've completed my tasks despite setbacks. I've managed to get myself to do my dishes and now I'm finally writing all of this. While I -feel- like I could have and should have done better, I just don't know what that means, exactly. Like, calm down, Beyonce. There's always tomorrow.

Which leads us to my new affirmation for the week. Let's wrap up this sad girl ish with some words of affirmation, yeah? Let's go.

"I'm allowed to be happy. I'm allowed to be healthy. I'm allowed to have a wonderful life."

[craigrcannon]

Employee #1: Reddit

Employee #1 is a series of interviews focused on sharing the often untold stories of early employees at tech companies.

Chris Slowe was the first employee at Reddit. He worked at Reddit for five years, then Hipmunk for five years, and now he’s back at Reddit, writing code.

Discussed: YC’s First Batch, Meeting The Founders, Finishing a PhD While Working at a Startup, Keyser Söze, Reddit as Vocation, Maintaining a Life Outside a Startup, and Returning to Reddit.

Craig : You’re back at Reddit now. What’s your role at this point?

Chris : It’s kinda two things. I started off working on some front page redesign stuff that we’ve got planned. I’m also working on a new version of our algorithm. Our current version is about eight years old. I also wrote that algorithm.

Craig : [Laughter]

Chris : Practically speaking, we’re probably a hundred times bigger than we were when we wrote that, so that was my initial task. I’m also forging one of our new engineering teams, which we internally call “Anti-Evil.” We’re anti-spam, anti-abuse, and sort of anti-cheating. I guess we’re anti-everything. Pro-freedom!

Craig : Right on. And prior to re-joining Reddit you were at Hipmunk. How was it working there?

Chris : I really enjoyed it. I think the thing we learned most of all there was that breaking into travel is really hard. There are a lot of big players and most travel companies aren’t technology companies. I can’t tell you how many times I was on a call and the other person on the phone was referring to their engineering staff as “IT.”

Craig : [Laughter]

Chris : It was like, “Oh, we’re having one of those calls.”

Craig : “Let me get the nerds in here and they’ll figure it out.”

Chris : Yeah!

Craig : That’s hilarious. Ok, so could you give me the rundown of how you ended up at Reddit?

Chris : Sure. I was in Y Combinator’s first batch, along with Steve Huffman and Alexis Ohanian. I was working at a different startup and we were doing desktop search. This was at a time before desktop search was a thing. What kind of killed us that summer was Apple coming out with Spotlight, then Google Desktop came out so we had a hard problem with so many players in the field.

At the end of that summer, my cofounder decided to go to grad school. This was the first YC batch so it was totally different. It was sort of a three month trial to build a product and see what happens. We were at the first demo day, which was actually kind of fun. Something like 20 people showed up.

Craig : Wow. So how did you connect with Steve and Alexis?

Chris : By the end of the summer I had two free bedrooms in my apartment. I was good friends with both of them at that point. I think they originally planned to move back to Virginia but I believe Paul Graham talked them out of it. So they had basically given up on their flat and now needed a place to stay. My cofounder from YC, Zak Stone, was like, “Want to stay with Chris?”. And they were like, “Okay, great.”

Craig : And at what point did you start working on Reddit?

Chris : I want to say like three months later. I was in grad school at the time and I had much more grown-up hours, where I would wake up at 7 or 8 in the morning, go to work, and come back then work on projects at night. Steve and Alexis would sleep in then work until like 4 in the morning.

Because I was up early I’d check Reddit and when it was down I’d knock on Steve’s door and be like, “Hey, site’s down.” After the third time that happened, he just showed me how to log in and start it back up.

Craig : That’s great.

Chris : So I guess my first job at Reddit was in ops. But yeah, at that point it was still Steve writing code and Alexis doing everything else. We were friends and he asked me if I wanted to join, and I did. That was probably six months after Reddit started.

Craig : You were still in grad school studying physics, right?

Chris : Yeah. That’s when I was in my fifth year of grad school.

Craig : And did you have to pause everything to make that happen?

Chris : No. So I’d go to lab and work from 8 to 6 then come home, eat dinner, and join them in the living room to hack for a while. The nice thing is, I was given work that was sort of independent of what everyone else was working on so I wasn’t a blocker.

I think the first thing I worked on was traffic monitoring. This was at a time before Google Analytics. It was like processing access logs and generating summaries and trying to figure out how to do this at scale. I must have rebuilt that damn thing eight times in the first four years.

The thing about that time was we were all learning how to program web apps while we were building them and there wasn’t really a standard operating procedure or anything.

Craig : So you were essentially working part-time?

Chris : Part-time in startup hours but it was like a full-time job. I would normally work from 6 to 2. Then go to sleep, get back up, and do it again.

You know, your 20s are a magical period of time. I could get by on four or five hours of sleep without any major side effects. Basically it was like that for all of 2006. It was like two full-time jobs. The kicker is I somehow managed to meet my wife during that period.

Craig : That’s amazing. So what happens next?

Chris : Well, the four of us – Steve, Alexis, me, and Aaron Swartz – worked on it until the acquisition, which was around Halloween 2006. And it all happened really fast. We were a 15-month-old startup.

I remember the next night I was making pizza with my girlfriend, now wife, and I called Steve and was like, “Hey, we’re making pizza, Do you want to come over?” And he was like, “I am in California.”

Craig : Whoa.

Chris : Yeah. So I was like, “Oh, well, okay then.”

Craig : [Laughter] And so how long did it take before you moved to California?

Chris : I looked for apartments in January and we moved out early February. Part of the agreement with Condé Nast was that — I think it actually said this in the contract — “Chris gets to finish his PhD.”

So I got to the point where I could leave Cambridge and write my thesis remotely. It was kind of a fun transition, going from a full-time job as a researcher and a second full-time job in a startup to a full-time job at an acquired company where I could spend my nights writing a thesis.

Craig : So let’s step back a little bit. Did you think that you would be interested in working with the Reddit guys when they moved into your apartment? Or were you just buddies?

Chris : Probably a little bit of both. At the time it was just because they were buddies and they needed a place. I had no particular plans at all. I was coming off of the failure of my first startup. We were trying to solve this problem of basically like, “I can’t find anything on my hard drive. I have all these areas I can’t search!” What happened practically is that the problem doesn’t come up any more because there is almost nothing on my hard drive that doesn’t exist in some state online.

Craig : Yeah, exactly. So what about Steve and Alexis compelled you to want to work with them?

Chris : At the time it was actually interesting just to be working as a web dev to be honest. Getting into the web scene was kind of a neat thing. I also liked Reddit.

Here’s a funny story. That summer everyone in the first YC batch was a beta tester for Reddit. This was before comments existed, so it was just a bunch of links.

Eventually it kind of opened up and we got a few people Steve didn’t know personally. But for like four months most of the content on the front page was from one of the alt accounts Steve and Alexis had. They were basically populating it as a way to make it seem like there were more people there. Because nobody wants to walk into an empty room. Right?

Craig : Right.

Chris : So my username on Reddit is KeyserSosa, which is a misspelling of Keyser Söze, which is the Usual Suspects villain.

I remember a day, probably in November, when Steve took a day off. He came back a couple hours later and there was new content on the front page and he hadn’t done anything. It was like this moment of like, “Oh, my God! It’s walking!”

Craig : [Laughter]

Chris : And he’s like, “Great! There are actually people on the site who I don’t know and they are posting all the time. There’s this one guy, KeyserSosa, who’s super active!”

They we’re like, “KeyserSosa? Who is KeyserSosa?”

And I’m like, “Oh, hi guys.”

Craig : [Laughter] That’s so good.

Chris : Anyhow. I achieved my peak on Reddit probably in the first year, in terms of being one of the top posters. And then you know, it was all downhill from there.

Craig : Yeah. I was wondering what your relationship with Reddit is now. Not the company, but the community.

Chris : I’ve definitely become much more of a lurker. My use was definitely a side effect of working on it. When I was originally here for the first five years, at the time there was never more than four or five of us working on the site.

Craig : Oh, wow.

Chris : We were kind of professionally understaffed. At least at that point we were really understaffed and always growing at a really phenomenal rate–like doubling every six months. So we were kind of wearing a lot of hats as engineers. We were engineers, and also the community team, and also infrastructure.

I am an introvert who has become an extrovert via the Internet, or something like that. I feel like lots of talking and thinking in that vein is much more draining than sitting and doing engineering work. That definitely contributed to me leaving.

Craig : Yeah, that makes sense.

Chris : So when I left the first thing I did was go on a six-month Reddit detox. Essentially I was like, “Alright. I just can’t look.” And I didn’t look at it.

The thing is, it was and still is like my baby. And I can say that, I have kids now.

When one thing goes wrong, I take it personally. In 2010 I was basically in charge, so everything was either my fault or something I had to deal with. I think the only way to not feel completely attached to all the things that were happening, or whatever mistakes were being made, or whatever drama was happening, was to step away for a little while. You kinda have to do it.

Craig : So how did your relationship with the founders and the early team change over time?

Chris : I don’t think very much, actually. The team was always small so we were and still are a group of friends. I think there’s no other option than to be like comrades in arms in that case. At the very worst, we were the 300 holding back the hordes.

I think because we got acquired so early we had to really justify our budget and keep the team small. We couldn’t get an infusion of cash to grow because we were already bought and so it sort of stunted growth initially. Another side effect is that the look of the site has kind of been the same for a very long time. There’s a whole bunch we have to kind of rebuild.

The flip side of that is that we got really nimble and good at a bunch of things. But we’re now up to I think 120 people. And we’re independent again.

Craig : So now do you have startup-like growth goals?

Chris : We’re kind of acting like a three-year-old startup with ten years of legacy and some good standard operating procedures, which is nice.

Craig : When you look back and consider the early days, how do you feel about Reddit?

Chris : It’s overall positive. It’s been a lot of fun. I mean, it’s been a lot of stress, but it’s also been a lot of fun. Since I’m back now, it’s almost like it’s not so much a part of my career as it’s become my career. Maybe “vocation” is a better word. I still take a lot of the stuff really personally even though I’ve only been back for about six months.

Our fingerprints are everywhere. I think it is fair to say that the snarky tone that still pervades Reddit is an outcropping of Steve. That’s his personality and he kind of imprints it on the community. I think in the same way a company’s tone and culture is a reflection of the founders, so to is the community it creates.

Craig : You’ve been around so many startups. Do you ever have thoughts of doing your own thing again?

Chris : I am very content to be first employee in all things. I’m close enough to be able to hear about the fundraising, and the acquisitioning, and the business side of things. But I do not get invited to any of those meetings, which is just wonderful as far as I’m concerned. Right now, my job here is as an engineering manager. I have a team of like six and honestly, that is a good size for me. I would rather be an engineer who is a manager, rather than a managing engineer, or an office manager, or C-something. I actually enjoy doing the work.

Craig : Right on. Are there any signs that you would advise someone to look for if they are considering being a first employee?

Chris : I would say the first three to six months is gonna be a slog. It’s gonna be a tough slog. That said, startups have culturally matured in the last ten years and it’s been fun to watch. When the first batch started at YC, there was all this talk like, “Oh, yeah, you should work 16 hours and day and not feel bad.”

What’s really great to see is that all those people who were working 16 hours have now grown into their thirties and realized that, “Oh, sleep is really cool.”

Craig : [Laughter]

Chris : And, “You should probably date.” And, “Do you know what is also awesome? Kids. And do you know what kids don’t let you do? Work.” So there’s been this kind of progression from just working all the time to still working hard while also having a life.

Because there are only a few people around in the beginning you have to be willing to switch hats really quickly. Especially for the startups, traffic is irregular, and you’re not up-scaled, and you have to kinda deal with that stuff live.

You’ll also have a responsibility to set the tone for the company. The same holds true with the founders.

Craig : What about the founders? Do you think there any traits successful founders share?

Chris : It sounds trite but determination. Ideas are important. Luck is important. But follow-through is really important. This is sort of separate from the founders but there’s also timing.

After we started, everyone compared us to Digg for five years before Digg had its problems. But we didn’t even know about Digg when we started.

We were a dime a dozen for a while. It was actually funny. There was us and a bunch of Digg clones, which was amusing.

Craig : Right on. Let’s stop there. Any last words of wisdom?

Chris : The internet has a long memory!

[chloes-pirate-booty]

whats been your experience with top surgery? did you like your doc and all

Yeah! Top surgery went well for me! I mean, I would have liked a friendlier doctor - the guy I went to was pretty dull and quiet and was all business so at times I felt kind of uncomfortable with him. But he knew what he was doing. He seemed shady when I asked him to show me pictures of past patients’ results, but I realized that the reason he was hesitant was because almost all of the photo comparisons he had were of patients who had far more complicated chests than mine so it wouldn’t have been an accurate reference for me anyway. A couple of them had previous damage from improper binding so their results didn’t look too good but it was not the doctor’s fault, it was their fault for binding with tape.

So here’s the story of the actual surgery: My surgery was done at around 7:30 AM on October 3rd 2016. I was honestly pretty relaxed going in there. It wasn’t too busy or noisy at the little surgical center I went to (which was connected to a larger hospital) so I didn’t have to lay there on the cot waiting and waiting and waiting to go in. I went in the little curtained room thing, answered some questions, they had me change, the doc marked up my chest, they hooked me up with an IV, sat for a couple minutes, and then they pumped that happy drug in and rolled me through the doors. I remember getting into the surgical room. I was too high off that relaxant at that point to even be bothered by the fact that they’d already started strapping my arms down like Jesus on the cross. I remember looking around and seeing like 20 people which was not what I expected at all.  Then I was out like a light. The surgery took about 2 hours, and I woke up high as a kite in the same curtained room. There were two nurses. I remember being so fucking happy looking down at my chest and seeing it bandaged up. I lifted up the lip of the bandages and honestly couldn’t see anything underneath because it was so tight but I knew my chest was flat as a board. Nothing hurt (yet). I didn’t even notice the drains. I was just chilling there all loopy and I kept waving at people when they passed by the open curtains. Pretty sure I asked the same nurse how the surgery went like 10 times. Then my doctor came in and said everything went well and that he did need to put drains in (he told me to plan for them but it was never a promise that I’d need them.)At that point, I was awake enough that they moved me over to a big chair, switched me from the johnny to my flannel shirt + sweatpants, and gave me some water. I wasn’t nauseous, thank god. And I wasn’t loopy anymore either. I could feel the drains now that the hospital-strength pain meds were wearing off.Then I was literally ECSTATIC when I saw my Mom, Dad and (surprise) Grandma coming towards me. (Yes, Grandma was a surprise. I did not know she would be visiting. I guess my Mom and Dad went to hang out with her at her house nearby until I was done, and so she figured she’d come visit.) I was so excited and showing them how flat my chest was even with the bandages on and showing them how weird the drains looked. I’m really chill with my family. They were nervous about me getting the surgery, obviously, but there was definitely a good vibe in the room now that I had made it past the ‘big’ part. My Grandma impulsively bought my family the biggest party tray of cookies I’ve ever seen. After my Grandma left, the nurse showed my parents and I how to empty the drains and measure the drainage. They gave the little drainage chart and a little study guide about how the drains worked. Every 12 hours I would have to empty the fluids from the drains into a little measuring cup [PHOTO - blood warning] Then my parents helped me get my sneakers on and the nurse wheeled me out to the car. I was given my cell phone back at this point, of course, so I spent the whole ride home messaging my friends that I survived, lol. One unusual thing that happened though is that my seatbelt was too tight on the external portion of my right drain. About 5 minutes away from home, my right side started feeling very warm. And then I didn’t note anything of it until we were parked in the driveway and I unbuckled my seatbelt to find a gigantic patch of blood on the bandages. I went into panic mode thinking I broke the drain (I didn’t think something was wrong with my chest because there was no obvious pain). But after figuring out that nothing was actually wrong and that the blood was just unable to travel downwards through the drain (therefore traveling back into the drain port and leaking out from there), I was fine and just mildly pissed off that my ace bandages had a blood stain. [PHOTO] Thankfully, my Mom had foot surgery 3 months before and she had extra ace wraps that I just used instead. Be careful with seatbelts, guys.  

So once I was in the house, I basically stayed there for the next 5 days. I was upstairs 24/7 pretty much. The only time I went outside during that time was when my rat Ozzy died 3 days after my surgery and I went with my Dad to bury him in the yard. That fucking sucked. But aside from the dead pet, those 5 recovery days were aesthetic as fuck. Since it was October, I made sure to decorate the shit out of my room while I could still lift my arms. I had Halloween lights up every where [PHOTO], and I had a bunch of Halloween candy to pig out on [PHOTO]. I ate like a fat ass when I was hungry, but I wasn’t very hungry due to to percocet (oxy) that I was prescribed for pain. I actually ended up losing 5 pounds in 5 days due to not eating big meals (plus my high metabolism) even though I certainly ate a lot of cookies, candies, and Frostys (my aunt kept calling me and insisting she come visit and bring me Wendy’s, lol. She’s an occupational therapist and so she was very intrigued by how I was recovering and visited almost every night to talk with me). I’d also bought a new TV a few days before the surgery too. So I had my TV and PS4 set up right in front of my bed so I wasn’t ever lacking entertainment. I watched Breaking Bad during the day and then Bob Ross before going to sleep. The pain meds made me so sleepy so I usually would just pass out watching Bob Ross, haha. I made a habit of it too. 10/10 would recommend passing out while watching Bob Ross. Usually the end credit music would wake me up and remind me to turn the TV off, haha. Also, @xrdpan gave me this very cute little guy as a gift - [PHOTO]And yeah, this is getting a little off topic. But I definitely had a memorable week of recovery. Sometimes I wish I could do it again for another day or two. Cause despite how uncomfortable the drains were and how much weight my scrawny ass lost, I was so relaxed and got to watch a LOT of TV.

So back to post-op care - I was not given a binder after surgery. I had to use the ace bandages while I still had the drains in, and then I was given a prescription for a compression tank top (that i literally had to go to this lingerie store to get) once the drains were out. That was kind of annoying. I had hoped for a decent surgical vest like what most people get, but yeah. 

My drains were in for 10 days. They were uncomfortable, but I didn’t have any bleeding complications or any complications at all so they definitely did their job. It didn’t hurt when they came out either. It felt awesome once they were out and I could really get a good look at my chest. The drains caused snake-like lumps all throughout my chest and it looked weird. Drains in - [PHOTO]Drains out - [PHOTO]

And as for sensation, my chest was very numb for about 1 month including the nipples, and then was half-numb for another couple months. But after the 3 month point (which was around the time I didnt have to wear anymore compression), the sensation was coming back on it’s own very well. I’m 7 months post-op now and have all sensation back except for my right nipple which isn’t 100% numb but doesn’t really react to touch. I have a couple small fleshy spots, mainly on the left side, where they almost have too much feeling and are tender if pressed down on. It feels like a muscle thing. 

Uhhh so that’s an essay if I ever saw one! Hope you got something useful from it! I’m always down to talk about my experience and make everything more clear and possibly less scary for everyone who’s interested in top surgery. I had a good experience overall! No complications! 

Here’s some recent pics if you’re interested!

2 months - [PHOTO]4 months - [PHOTO]6 months - [PHOTO]

[craft-rose]

october (pt.1)

Title: October

Genre: Romance/Thriller 

Author’s Note: This isn’t fan fiction. This is an original story of mine, told in first person (kinda memoir style) and it has nothing to do with kpop or Harry Potter. If you choose not to read this story, I completely understand. No offence taken. Please don’t feel obligated to read everything I post if you follow this blog. I’m pretty much just fooling around with this story, testing the waters, etc. 

Anyway, here goes! Forgive the messiness. 

For the first eighteen years of my life, I grew up in a coastal town called Sterling Harbour, in the northwest. 

The townspeople were nice. Most of them had lived there for generations. It was a small, but loving community, and the town itself was gorgeous. Originally from the big city, my parents and older brother had moved to Sterling Harbour while my mother was eight months pregnant with me. Growing up there I didn’t have many friends. The other kids were all very outdoorsy and extroverted. I, on the other hand, had spent most of my time inside the house, either tinkering with my dad’s photography gear or sneaking into my brother’s room to play with his SNES when he was out.

Suffice to say I wasn’t one of the cool kids, I had a weird haircut for most of my teens, and everyone at school thought I was a lesbian.

My only real outlet was photography. In order to get my lazy ass out of the house once in awhile, I decided to join the school newspaper and publish my photos there. It was a small gig, and it did nothing to help my social standing, but I enjoyed it. My duties included going to games, pep rallies, dances, and other ‘fun’ activities, except I was restricted to the sidelines, snapping photos of everyone else like a complete loner.

One such time, around mid-October in my junior year of high school, the senior editor, Cathy, had invited me to join her and a few of her friends at the movies. Because it was so close to Halloween, there was a horror movie marathon at our local theatre. I wasn’t very well acquainted with the editor nor any of her friends, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to go. I had nothing else to do that night.

I met them outside at around eight o’clock, and we bought tickets for the nine o’clock showing of The Shining. Before heading inside, we grabbed a quick bite at the local burger joint, and Cathy, the editor, took the time to properly introduce me to her fiends. There were four of them. Haden, Gia, Kenji, and Sam. Cathy and Haden had been going steady for a few months at that point, so they were all over each other the entire night. Gia most definitely had a thing for Kenji but he was too busy dick-riding Stanley Kubrick to notice. Then there was Sam. He was quiet, and also kind of an asshole. The others had all been very nice to me, but Sam just sort of sat there silently, grunge music flooding out of his walkman as he pointed a look of scrutiny in my direction. 

They were all in the year above me, and to my knowledge, Sam had recently squeezed his way out of a rocky relationship with an older girl. Rose. Maybe that’s why he’s in such a cranky mood. 

It was only as we entered the theatre and found our seats that I realized this wasn’t just a hangout … it was a triple date, and Sam had the misfortune of getting stuck with my crusty ass.

When he wasn’t glaring at me, he was glaring at Cathy. I figured his original date had bailed and Cathy had asked me to join last minute. Probably because I was the only loser who for sure didn’t have plans Friday night.

Needless to say I was just as unhappy with the arrangement. 

I wasn’t actually a lesbian like everyone thought, but I also had zero interest in going on any dates with the guys from my school, particularly  Sam. He wasn’t bad looking or anything, in fact he closely resembled a young Edward Furlong, but he was definitely a prick and then some, and he literally could not have leaned further away from me.

I had definitely showered before leaving the house, but the way he was positioned, he had me convinced that I reeked of garbage juice or something. 

Cathy and Haden were making out, Gia was clutching onto Kenji for dear life, and I was holding back the urge to split. I normally didn’t care what my peers thought of me, but I had also never really put myself out there like that before either. It was only a pseudo date, but it was a date nonetheless — my first one as a matter of fact — and the jerk-off I was there with, made zero efforts to hide the mess of disappointment and repulsion in his eyes.

Luckily it was dark inside, and luckily I lost myself in the movie.

Around halfway I couldn’t hold it in any longer so I got up to use the bathroom. Sam didn’t make any room for me to leave. I was pretty sure I had stepped on his shoes by accident and I was pretty sure he had scowled at me. 

Hakuna Matata.

I ducked out to use the bathroom, grabbing a bucket of popcorn and a drink on my way back. The others had eaten their fill before the movie, but I only had a few bites due to social anxiety, etc., so I was pretty hungry by then. I tiptoed my way inside, smirking to myself as Sam-o very wisely made room for me to walk past this time. The second I plopped down in my seat I did the kind, considerate thing, and I tilted the popcorn towards him. He lifted an eyebrow at me, very questioningly, and for a good, long moment I thought he was going to scoff at me and tell me I have cooties or something, but he did the opposite. Or at least, close to the opposite. His features softened and he discreetly popped a couple kernels into his mouth, crunching on them as I followed suit.

I wasn’t trying to his buy his affection or anything. I just figured it would have been awkward not to offer him anything. To make sure he didn’t get the wrong idea, I offered popcorn to the others, too. The bucket was half empty by the time it made its way to me.

Slowly but steadily, I felt Sam begin to look at me. I could tell he was trying to be inconspicuous, only looking at me during the high points of the movie, but I felt it every time.

About two thirds of the way into the movie, he unobtrusively leaned in and said, “You have a piece of popcorn stuck to your cheek, Ericka.”

My stomach collapsed within itself as I realized what exactly he had been staring all along, and I hurriedly brushed my cheeks. Indeed, a tiny piece of popcorn fell down onto the sticky floor, and I could have sworn I saw Sam smirk at me. 

The nerve of him. 

“It’s Erin,” I, then, corrected, only mildly surprised that he got my name wrong.

Once the movie was over, good ole Haden and Cathy suggested that Sam drop me off in his car. I tried to make excuses saying I lived close to the theatre and could therefore walk home, but they refused to take no for an answer. Within moments I found myself trailing behind Sam, jogging to keep up as I followed him down the street, to where he had parked his car. The skies were dark, and the pavement outside was still glistening from the evening rainfall. Although the weather had settled down, it was still very cold outside.

I hugged my coat tighter, pressing my lips into a frown as Sam sped up ahead of me.

He eventually slowed to a halt as a shiny black Nissan Skyline came into view. I wasn’t sure what sort of car I had expected for him, but a Skyline wasn’t it.

Glancing back at me as if to check if I was still there, he made no change in his dull expression; he simply unlocked the car and climbed in. I tentatively climbed in after him, hastily fastening my seatbelt as he pushed his key into the ignition.

The roar of the engine was met with music as the built-in stereo came to life, flooding the muted energy between us with Stay by U2.

I kept quiet, pointing a look through the rain-mottled window as he smoothly pulled his car away from the curb. He was a decent driver. Better than me by a long shot. I had yet to pass my drivers test. Judging by the ease with which Sam drove, I figured he had passed his test on his first try.

It was only as we reached the nearest intersection that I realized I forgot to give him my address.

We darted a look at each other at the same time, and he pulled his car to a stop in front of the red light.

“You’re on Baker Street, right?”

I raised an eyebrow at him, quickly remembering that Cathy and I lived three houses down from each other. She had most likely told him where to drop me off.

Clearing the lump from my throat, I nodded. “Uh, yeah. Fifth house down.”

He didn’t say anything to me in response, he merely drove.

As we finally reached Baker Street, I felt the knot in my gut begin to unravel. The closer we got to my house, the sooner I was able to leave. Although he hadn’t said anything mean, it was awkward being there with him, sitting so closely together in his car after he had basically ignored me the entire night. I silently wondered if he felt bad, if my popcorn offering had clued him into the fact that he had been acting like a jackass.

“Fifth house down,” Sam repeated, pulling up to the curb of my family’s house. It was light blue, a shade or two lighter than the summer sky, and the lights were all turned off, meaning my parents were probably asleep.

I promptly unbuckled my seatbelt, the gentle zip filling the silence as Sam darted a look at me.

In the back of my mind I wondered if maybe I had forgotten something, the truth dawning on me all at once. I looked back at him, hand already on the door. “Uh, thanks … for the ride.”

All of a sudden, we locked eyes, and I felt my insides twitch.

“If I asked to have a redo of tonight, would you be down?” Sam inquired, in no particular way.

My eyebrows bounced up, past my bangs. “A redo?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I don’t know if you noticed but I was kind of a dick to you earlier, and … well, I’d like to make it up to you.”

Holy shit. The asshole pities me. 

I glanced away to hide the colour as it drained from my face and neck. “That’s … unnecessary.”

“It doesn’t have to be anything crazy,” he casually added. “Cathy mentioned you’re a Jaws fan. I’m pretty sure they’re playing the first one at the Cineplex tomorrow night.”

“Another movie?” I asked, before I could stop myself.

His bottom lip twitched with uncertainty. “Would you rather do something else?”

I sincerely had no desire to suffer through another painfully awkward encounter with him, but for some inexplicable reason I couldn’t allow myself to say no.

“We could … grab a bite or something …” I suggested, inwardly cringing at myself.

He showed no such insecurity. “Alright. I’ll pick you up tomorrow night, say, eight o’clock?”

In state of soft disbelief, I nodded and then climbed out of his car, the soles of my shoes smacking against the wet pavement as I raced to the front door of my family’s house, rummaging for the keys in my purse. It was only as I  slid them into the lock, twisting it open, that I felt him leave. 

Before stepping inside, I glanced back, watching as he slowly drove away, the streetlight reflected on the surface of his car.

The Next Night

I nibbled on my bottom lip, staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror as I heard a knock on the front door. “Don’t answer the door! I got it!” I hollered from the second floor of the house, speeding down the stairs in a great hurry as my mom came out of the living room.

Her eyes briefly widened as she noticed what I was wearing. For the first time since I was a little girl, I was in a dress, by choice.

“And where are you headed?” she instinctively asked, her lips smoothing out into a knowing grin.

“Nowhere,” I mumbled, brushing past her as I quickly stepped into my boots.

Her face screwed. “Oh, no, no. Not those,” she said disapprovingly, reaching for a different pair. “Here. These should do the trick.”

I glanced down at the slinky black pumps in her grasp, a knot of worry in my stomach. “Are you crazy? You know I can’t walk in heels.”

“Well you can’t go out there in combat boots,” she furthered, sparing a moment before wiggling her eyebrows at me. “So, do I know him?”

I nearly choked on the lump in my throat. “What do you mean?”

“The boy you’re so obviously going on a date with. Is he in Newspaper Club with you?”

“It’s not a date,” I blurted, wobbling as I attempted to stand in those heels. “And I’m definitely not wearing these.”

To my luck, she didn’t persist. I laced myself into my combat boots and slid into my denim jacket, the hemline of my velvety blue dress brushing just above my knees as I opened the door. My mom bowed out of sight as to not be seen, but I hurriedly closed the door anyway, a slight hitch in my chest as I found Sam waiting for me only a few feet away, his hands in his pockets and a his cheeks rosy from the cold. Similar to the previous night, he was dressed in jeans that were torn at the knees, a black leather jacket, an Oasis t-shirt, and a pair of black Chucks which looked as though they’d been through hell and back.

He bounced a look at me, and I suddenly felt embarrassingly overdressed. If it wasn’t a date, why had I gone through the trouble of shaving my legs, wearing my hair down, applying mascara, and trapping myself in a dress?

For a split second he parted his lips as if to say something regarding my attire, but he ultimately didn’t, nodding to his car instead. “Shall we?”

I did nothing but follow, cheeks prickling with embarrassment as I climbed into his car after him.  The second he pulled away from the curb, I glanced back at my house to see mom giving me the thumbs up through the living room window.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake …” I grumbled.

Sam flicked a look at me, and then at the living room window, his lips twitching into a smile as he drove away from the house. “So … where do you want to go?”

“Uh.” I hadn’t given any thought to where, but I had enough money for even the most pricey place in town. Regardless I figured it was better to go cheap. “I heard they opened a new fish and chips restaurant by the pier. What about there?”

“Frankie’s?” he asked.

I tentatively nodded. “Unless you have a better idea.”

Sam hesitated. “Frankie’s is fine,” he began. “I just … I know someone who works there.”

Um. Okay. Does he not want to be seen with me? 

My heart sank at the thought. “Oh. Well, we can go someplace else. I don’t mind.”

“No, it’s cool. Worst comes to worst we can just take our food to go and hang out by the beach or something,” he suggested. 

I glanced down at my exposed legs, still cold from when I had stepped out of the house. Before I could say anything, we arrived at Frankie’s and I found myself standing in line with him as the girl at the register eyed us down. She was tall, beautiful and looked to be a little older, around my brother’s age if I had to guess.

The second I got close enough to read her name tag, I felt my gut sink in.

Rose.

Sam’s ex-girlfriend.

She was a couple of years older than him, in her second year of community college, and she was visibly amused by the sight of us together. Rumour had it, she was the one who dumped him but I couldn’t be sure. He seemed rather unperturbed for a guy who was on a pseudo-date at his ex-girlfriend’s place of employment.

For a hot second I wondered if he had brought me there to show off, to flaunt, quickly dismissing the idea. Surely if he wanted to rub a date in his ex’s face, he’d have brought someone who was at least halfway on her level.

I didn’t think of myself as ugly or undesirable by any means, but I certainly wasn’t a tall, beautiful Claudia Schiffer lookalike, either.

As we approached the counter, I glanced from Sam to Rose, wishing I could have rolled my third wheel ass right out of there. I couldn’t help but make a mental note of how good they looked just standing in front of each other like that. Together. The energy between them felt magnetic.

In other words they matched, whereas Sam and I did not.

Going by the look on Rose’s face, she agreed. “Sammy,” she said, smiling as she glanced to him. “I haven’t seen you in forever. How have you been?”

“Fine,” he answered, focusing on the menu board overhead. “We’ll have two regular combos to go and two regular sized drinks, thanks.”

Rose paused as if taken aback by his curtness, quickly clearing her throat after. “Coming right up. Two combos and two drinks.”

I immediately opened my purse to grab some cash, but Sam placed a fresh twenty on the counter before I could so much as locate my wallet.

Rose pointed a discerning look at the two of us, swiftly zeroing in on me. “You’re the newspaper girl, right?”

I opened my mouth to answer, the prolonged silence only adding to how awkward it was. “Yeah. I-I take photos for the school newspaper.”

“Cute,” she smiled, plopping two drink cups on the table. “Well, you two kids have fun, yeah? I’ll go place the order. Be back in a bit!”

Within seconds she disappeared into the kitchen, her shiny blonde hair bouncing with each step, and her jeans hanging just low enough to provide a whisper of her lower back tattoo.

I instinctively looked to Sam.

“Sorry about that,” he said to me as we approached the drink fountain, pouring Coke into both. “I had no idea she was working tonight.”

I shrugged, plonking a straw through the lid of my drink as Sam did the same. “S’okay.”

Rose came sauntering back a moment later, having packaged our fish and chips into takeout containers, napkins and sauce packets on top. “Here you go,” she said brightly, her eyes lingering on Sam.

Given that I was closer, I went over to grab the food, hesitating as she pulled the containers back a second. I looked up at her, mouth drying as she gave me the stare of someone who was about to say something cruel.

“I have to say, Newspaper Girl … I didn’t think Sam was your type.”

There it was.

The first lesbian joke of many. 

Sam swiftly found my side, grabbing the food and my hand, before turning with me and pushing through the doors, though not before I caught a glimpse of the look of shock on Rose’s face. Mildly satisfied, I felt Sam give my hand a light squeeze as we stepped outside. 

The brisk October air was just cool enough that I felt chills, though I couldn’t be sure if the weather was the only cause.

We made it all the way inside his car before he looked at me, the warmth from the takeout containers making my thighs prickle with heat as I placed mine on my lap.

“I, uh … I look at your photos sometimes. The ones in the school newspaper,” he began. “They’re good.”

I couldn’t help but snort. “The crappy ones Cathy makes me take at pep rallies and stuff?” I asked. “Those are trash, my friend. If you want to see something that’s actually good, I’ll bring my portfolio next time.”

He quirked an eyebrow at me. “Next time?”

My cheeks blanched. “Or just like … in the hallway at school … or something …”

There was a brush of laughter behind his lips but he didn’t see it through. “Well maybe ‘next time’ can be at Gia’s Halloween party.”

“A party?” I asked, feeling like a complete dork.

He nodded, popping a fry into his mouth. “Yeah. Her parents are pretty lax, so it should be fun.”

“Oh … I don’t know. I wasn’t invited, so …”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. Gia’s cool. She won’t mind,” he added, reassuringly.

I felt a bubble of uncertainty in my gut, but I suppressed it. “Um, okay. I’ll see if I can make it.”

Sam smiled, mostly with his eyes. “Cool. So, what kind of photos do you usually take?”

“A bit of everything,” I shrugged. “I prefer landscape, but I don’t have my licence yet, and it’s hard to find good locations on foot.”

He nodded along, slurping on his drink as I began to munch on my fish and chips.

To my luck, he didn’t press me for details. We ate in comfortable silence, and once we were done, he popped out of the car to dispose of the empty takeout containers. While he was gone, I wheeled a curious look around the inside of his car. He kept it relatively clean. There were a few crumpled up receipts in places, and a backpack in the backseat, but other than that, it was spotless. Practically new.

Sam came jogging back a moment later, with ice cream. Triple scoops of vanilla on waffle cones. Granted, it was a little cold for ice cream and he was probably just trying to make up for the awkwardness at Frankie’s earlier,  but I found his efforts to be endearing nonetheless. I quietly thanked him as he handed me the less drippy of the two cones, and then I gave it a lick, praying to Merlin that I could survive the next few moments without staining my dress.

Blissfully unaware, Sam devoured his top scoop in a few seconds. “You know,” he began, all tongue-y sounding. “There’s this place about twenty minutes out of town, near the beach. It might be a decent location to take photos.”

Mildly shocked that he remembered what I had said earlier, I opened my mouth to respond, only to feel melted ice cream dribble down my chin. “Shit …”

Sam grabbed one of the napkins from Frankie’s and held it out, a dash of surprise in his eyes as I misinterpreted the gesture and leaned forward. He quickly dabbed the ice cream off for me, his motions gentle, steady, precise and then we were left hovering there, inches away, just looking at each other. The second his cool green eyes dropped down to my lips, I felt my chest contract. For whatever reason he was looking at me as if he wanted to kiss me, as if he were imagining it right then, in his car, the way it might feel, and for whatever reason I was imagining it, too.

The moment I closed my eyes, I felt his hand brush the hair gently away from my face, and then I felt his lips on mine, ending the night with a chaste, vanilla-flavoured kiss, lightly, as if he knew it was my first one.

Track

[2slowgoers]

10.31.2019 - a not so spooky update

Hey W,

Long time no talk ;) (lol, JK of course!). I’m glad I get to see you soon. Never been in NYC with you before, I’m glad we get to spend a bit of it together, and explore together again. We don’t get a lot of chances to do that these days. On the topic of Halloween... you dressed up a ton this week! They were creative and solid costumes. IF you became a mom, I think you would have excellent + creative halloween costumes for the family. I never felt the presence fo Halloween as much as I did this year, maybe because I work for a bigger company, and I have established my social media spaces and am familiar with the people I follow, I quite admire the arts and craft that can go into costumes. Okay, that aside -

We did text a bit after your last post, and I feel like we touched on the important parts I wanted to ask about. TBH I just hope this to be a space we can vent and let it all out, no pressure to follow up or give each other advice. But rather a space just to listen to each other, I appreciate that. All I can say from reading a bit about your doubts around yourself and your long term relationship, I am just here by your side, waiting to see how things will or will not change in the next couple of years. This is that time of age where things will grow and change a lot! I called briefly with my friend J (in FL) and they are going through a bit of quarter life crisis, and a lot of the call was me reassuring them that it’s okay and that it’s okay to choose what it is that your heart wants. Like you said about your mom, we have all spent too much of our life following what others expect us to do, or shaping other people’s wants into our own. Since we’re still growing up and maturing, what we even “wanted” in high school and college, may not be what grown up and mature versions of ourselves want. I think this IS the time of our life we start learning to listen to ourselves, our inner voice that is maturing and growing up, and truly understanding what it is that we want. So I say, trust your gut. You know what you need, and you’ll know it when the time comes.

One quick thing before I dive into the topic of today - I have to say work is going better now that I have gone on vacation, and have had the time to get to know the new hires (people joined post-June). Most of them are around my age and we all get along really well. KBBQ last night was quite fun, and for once I found myself being able to be myself, and exhibit my sense of humor (something that not a lot of people get), and the people around me laughed and appreciated me for being who I am. That felt really nice. It’s a feeling I have dearly missed from not being around people who know me well. I liked being able to goof around (because that’s really who I am! It just takes a long time to show that side), and seeing other people goof off. I can say that even if I don’t want to be in tech and the industry can be draining, being around good people is so important, and especially with a lot of them in the same age range and many who are recent transplants, has created a team that is larger than just Berkeley grads lol. 

Topic I wanted to discuss today... When I was texting you earlier about my rooming situation and saying my ultimate fear is to be kicked out. Then I realized I have all these, you could say irrational fears, that I will 1) get fired 2) get kicked out 3) lose my job 4) lose all my savings/money 5) my friends hate me and will abandon me and just in general imagine the worst that could happen. I catch myself more often when I think these things and increasingly acknowledge it’s an irrational fear. I guess I wonder where all of this comes from - the fact that I get very “omg end of the world” and catastrophize easily. It’s definitely improved over the years, but I think it’s also from growing up with my mom. I see these traits in myself and in my brother too. We always imagine the worst, get anxious about it, then let the world know our anxious thoughts, and it spirals. I need to remind myself that no I am not going to be kicked out and no I am not going to be fired, my coworkers and team like me a lot and I do my job. I’m better at it now, so that’s cool.

This train of thought led me to something else though... you mentioned that I can take this opportunity to grow THICK SKIN. and you’re SO right. I have caught myself taking things too personally and being too sensitive to a lot of things, that are out of my control and have nothing to do with me. Like if a friend doesn’t reply fast, or they reply with a period at the end of the sentence, to what coworkers do or don’t do - I let it get to me, and when people joke, I respond seriously. Because I’m just so used to taking things seriously on the surface, even though deep down i love to joke, goof off, and not take things seriously.

For example, last night we were playing this game called “image game” where someone says image game and “who’s most likely to...” and then they count down and everyone in the group must point to the person they think are most likely to... and i don’t know exactly when but someone has to drink. Well, G (girl I sit next to work who I like a lot!) said “who’s most likely to quit their job and travel the world” - the people who know my plans pointed at me, but otherwise, the rest of the table was pointing at everyone else. Including G, who is someone i feel closer to now, pointed to someone else. G pointed to this other girl, and said “you because you moved to the bay area for absolutely no reason but just to come here”. deep down, i was like “but that’s me too! that’s me!” And for some reason, I took this whole thing so personally, and I was mildly bothered and thinking about it for the rest of the night. Why did not everyone point at me? How can this dream of mine that I’ve been thinking about since I was 20 years old, not be obvious? How can the world not know?! I do everything I do to follow this dream WHY DONT PEOPLE KNOW! <-- the question and capitalization is for dramatic effect, I wasn’t actually freaking out. But obviously I was thinking, like duh people won’t know what my dreams are because i NEVER talk about it. And duh, people probably think i’m super responsible and love my job because of the way i act at work and expect i am there to stay. SO, these thoughts just continued to stick around til this morning.

I decided to ask G to go to a room and talk personally because I wanted to follow up on this question. I provided context and asked her my main curiousity is “how do you perceive me?” “this is my lifelong dream and i am just curious how i come off as, that it wasn’t assumed to me” - she’s very nice and open and told me how she thought i was responsible, loved this job, and was here to stay. she just saw me as this super responsible type and not the kind to just leave like that. I also framed it in a way to be like “Ah yeah I want to blend in, I don’t want people to think I am on my way out” and she agrees that i am doing that fine, and she never expected that. Anyways... the GOOD part of this conversation was.. I told her “I’m literally here just to make money, pay off loans and save”. Then I asked “do you have any dreams you’d like to achieve?” And she was like “well I never told anyone at work this...” and then I quickly learned that she is here for the same reason I am, with a different goal in mind. she wants to go to nursing school - and she is here to save $ to pay off loans and save up to go. Even her bf, who is a dev, is also working a job and negotiated to anticipate to pay for her schooling. Then we were able to bond about how we both don’t want to be in tech in the long term, and how we don’t want to be in this job for the long term either, and we both kinda have to hold it in and cannot talk about what it is that we truly want to do. we could relate about our interview experiences and not being able to answer honestly the question to “where do you see yourself in 5 years”. And wow, that was a really nice conversation to have. To know that i am not alone in wanting to do something so badly, and to have to do something else in the interim, and we are desk neighbors! It’s funny actually, she’s by far been the best performing new hire IMO and i see a lot of similarities in myself and her. we do our jobs super well, and yet this is not where we want to be.

So that again, brings me to appreciate people who do work in the corporate world, at whatever point they need to for however long they need to. people are so much deeper than their work self. I especially appreciate the non-workaholics/people who don’t work all the time, because I see the life and dreams they get to live outside of work, and that’s just like a wholesome realization lol.

Alrighty, that’s me for today - see you soon!

[angrybrowngirlabroad-blog]

New Friends, Old Cities: The Oaxaca Valley and Monte Alban

Prior to deciding to leave the US, I was not the sort of person to ever “go with the flow.”  My life was busy, and often carefully scheduled, to manage all of the hours I had to work to maintain a life in San Diego, and all the time I would spend seeing friends, working out, and decompressing, to maintain my sanity while working all those hours.  Every moment was filled (except Friday morning, which were sacred) and I was constantly late to everything as I managed my time poorly in an attempt to do it all.  When I decided to leave the states to explore Mexico, and, eventually, the rest of Central America, I decided to do so without a set plan.  I knew I was going to land in Sayulita, and spend two months there, but that was the extent of things.  I decided that I would define my path after I arrived, by researching, gathering information from other travellers, and simply seeing how I felt once I’d been in Mexico for a bit.  While that seems incredibly freeing, to someone who schedules everything, that thought was terrifying.  But part of the many (many, many, many) reasons for this journey was to build my own confidence, and part of that confidence was based on my ability to live outside my comfort zone, to trust in myself, listen to my feelings and instincts, and make the decisions that were right for me.  So I “went with the flow” for the first time in a long time, possibly even ever.

My time in Sayulita was wonderful, challenging, and strengthening.  I made some true friendships there, with some wonderful people, that I look forward to seeing again.  Sayulita will always have a place in my heart, and Lush Hostel in particular, I consider my home away from home, that I know I will return to at some point (probably several points) in my travels.  But for everything there is a season, and when I hit the road then, I hit it hard.  I drove by myself from Sayulita to Guadalajara, then from Guadalajara to Patzcuaro, experienced Dia de los Muertos all on my lonesome, then made my way to Morelia all in the course of a week.  When I reached Morelia I actually had no idea where I wanted to go next.  Guanajuato looked promising, and beautiful, though I had originally had my heart set on Mexico City for November.  However, I was deterred by the largest metropolis in the world, and my lack of any basic connection there.  I had a few friends who knew a few people, and I kept trying to contact anyone who lived there, but hit nothing but dead ends.  While my confidence was definitely greater than before I set off on my adventure, I wasn’t ready to take on such a huge city with just me, my limited Spanish, and my little hatchback.  With that in mind, I decided to spend four days in Morelia, and use that time to make my decision about where I wanted to go next.  The fact that the path was not yet clear to me as I drove into the city was a little unnerving, but I knew I’d figure it out.

When I first entered the hostel in Morelia I was having trouble talking to the young man who was working the front desk.  He had almost no English, and I was having trouble making myself understood with my limited and poorly accented Spanish.  It actually got to the point that a man, sitting on a couch nearby on his phone, overheard our conversation, and stood up to help translate.  When he walked over I was asking about whether or not it would be safe to leave my car parked on the street in front of the hostel, as the friend I had stayed with in Guadalajara advised against parking on the street there because of frequent break-ins.  The man who was helping translate cleared that up for me real quick, “We have our van parked right outside, it’s perfectly safe!”  Satisfied with my parking choice, we fell into conversation, upon which he commented that he was pretty sure we had met in Sayulita.

As luck, or fortune, or random chance would have it, Chris and his girlfriend, Elena, had stayed in Sayulita at Lush the week of my return.  I had met them, though only in passing, as I was too busy cramming my days with adventures before I departed the town.  Once the three of us spent more time together I found out that they had also driven their vehicle down from the states, had gone to Patzcuaro after Sayulita for Dia de los Muertos, and had chosen Morelia as their recovery city while they decided which route to take next.  Over the next few days we became fast friends, and by the end of our stays we had formulated a plan to caravan together through Oaxaca, and Chiapas, and cross the border into Guatemala as a group.  They were planning to find an apartment in Antigua, and I had been trying to decide if I was going to return to the United States for xmas, but I was on the fence about driving up.  Getting to Guatemala, and having a safe place to leave my car with my new friends who lived there, solved all my problems in one fell swoop.  And just like that, I had a caravan.

We decided that we, and the fourth member of our party, a woman from Scotland who had been travelling Central America almost a year, would make our next stop in the city of Oaxaca.  It was a grueling 9 hour drive when all was said and done, fraught with toll roads, especially on the freeways that cut around Mexico City, that quickly drained our wallets of all paper money.  We only stopped in Puebla to get a snack or use a restroom, hell bent on arriving in the city by nightfall.  Passing into Oaxaca was some of the most beautiful scenery I had seen yet, and I’d soon find that the entire state was rife with gorgeous mountains and beaches.  And, while we did achieve our goal of entering the city by nightfall, we also managed to hit it right at rush hour.  Traffic, one way streets, no parking, and an inability to contact each other once our cars got separated, all contributed to making the search for the hostel extra exhausting.  Finally we found where we would be staying, and a secure place to park the car, and we celebrated accordingly with the cheap beer I’ve come to know and (kind of, out of necessity) love.

The city of Oaxaca was interesting.  Smaller than I expected, full of old buildings in all styles, tons of interesting street art and amazing artisanal markets.  There was also examples of political unrest everywhere.  Graffiti was painted on almost every building, and in the main square there were tents set up, and parts of streets leading up to it, consistently occupied by protesters.  I had been warned by a friend who had travelled through the state a few months before that this would be the case, and to be careful.  “Avoid roadblocks at all cost” she had warned me, a warning that would come back to haunt me later. So I made note of the protestors, and skirted around them as much as possible, though internally I wished that I had a better command of the language, because I wanted to ask them about their movement.  Instead I satisfied myself by Googling some of the facts.

I was soon distracted from the politics of Mexico by the politics of the United States.  Two days after we arrived in town, the presidential election came and went.  The three of us from the states had spoken about the political scene in the states before, you couldn’t not while travelling through Mexico. I actually watched the first debate in my hostel in Sayulita, and the others while in the states before Halloween.  And while we all agreed that the fact that Trump was even a candidate was a grim tiding, there was a great deal of hope for Hillary’s victory, given all the post-debate polls.  That hope, obvious now in hindsight, we were quickly absolved of.

I had not been truly drunk since I left Sayulita, but I definitely was election night.  What started as beer as we began to watch the results pour in on our phones, became a second, and a third, and then a trip to the store for more.  Even Elena, who almost never drank, was several beers deep when we all decided to retire a little after midnight.  By that time the results were pretty clear, the country we had left behind had shown its true colors.  Tomorrow we’d have a reality-star, narcissist as our president elect and some wicked hangovers to contend with.

As we nursed our hangovers the next day we also decided what our next course of action would be.  The results of the election were still sinking in, and with that cloud hanging over our heads, we decided we would go where the clouds literally hung over our heads, high into the mountains of Oaxaca.  A town called San Jose del Pacifico to be more specific (I crack myself up) in the mountain range known a Sierra Madre del Sur.  The valley of Oaxaca, where the capital city is located, is a large area surrounded by 3 different mountain ranges, the other two being the Sierra Mazateca to the northeast and Sierra Juarez to the northwest.  Sierra Madre del Sur borders the valley to the south, and must be crossed to get to the beach towns of southern Oaxaca.  Spending a few days high in the mountains, out of range of cell phone towers and with little to no access to the world below the clouds sounded too perfect, but before we began to the ascent we had to check out the ruins of one of the first cities of mesoamerica, Monte Alban, located just a few miles outside of the city of Oaxaca.

Monte Alban sits high on a steep hill overlooking the modern city of Oaxaca.  The road up the hill is winding, and full of switchbacks and your arrive in a parking lot below the site. The site itself is built on an artificially leveled plateau, clear of most trees, set against a brilliantly blue sky with 360 degree views of the surrounding area.  The structures on the site, mostly stone pyramids, are impressive both in their size and detail.  Many of them feature beautiful carvings, though a lot have been removed to the safety of the museum on site and replaced with copies in order to protect the originals.  One of the greatest examples of this is a room within one of the pyramids called the “Hall of Dancers” which features stones carved with figures that, by their strange contortions, appear to be dancing, but are actually thought to represent sacrifices (some of them appear to have mutilated genitalia).  Other carvings around the site are described as “conquest slabs” listing places that the rulers of Monte Alban controlled.  During it’s heyday it was quite a long list, as Monte Alban was one of the biggest cities in Mesoamerica and colonized several regions outside the Oaxaca Valley.

During its most prominent era, the city of Monte Alban numbered an estimated 25,000 citizens.  Monte Alban was founded around 500 BCE by the Zapotec, aka “Cloud Peoples” moving from the site of San Jose Magote to the strategic location high in the hills.  By 200 BCE the artificially flat plane had been leveled, the hillsides terraced for occupation, and the population was estimated around 10-15,000.  Most of the intricate temples and pyramids seem to date to a period of construction between 200 BCE and 100 CE.  There was also a ball court erected during this period, but without the stone rings common to most ball courts in Mesoamerica, because the Zapotecs played a different type of ball game altogether.  Between this period and the Early Classic period of 200 CE to 500 CE Monte Alban accrued wealth and influence from connections with other nearby cultures, including trading with the city of Teotihuacan.  For unknown reasons the city began to decline around 500CE and the site was abandoned around the year 900.

Today the site is still impressive, the buildings are huge and beautifully built, the stone carved with remarkable detail.  The structures show great planning in both construction and layout on a grand scale.  Objects found on site point to a culture that emphasized art, science and human sacrifice.  The museum located on site features several examples of beautiful Zapotec stone masonry, pottery, and jewelry, as well as the remains of sacrifices.  One particular exhibit holds the skulls of 15 children sacrificed and buried onsite.  The gods of Monte Alban were blood thirsty, it seems.

After spending a few hours crawling up and down pyramids, temples and wandering through the museum, we were ready to hit the road.  The drive through the valley of Oaxaca towards the mountains was beautiful, if full of speed bumps.  It can be nice to be forced to slow down and smell the roses, but not when you’re racing the sun to get to your next destination.  I have a policy of not driving at night through Central America (mostly because you never know what the conditions of the road may be), but sometimes you cannot help it.  The sunset drive towards our mountain town destination was a peaceful one, until it wasn’t, but I’ll get to that in the next installment of THE BLOG I SOMETIMES UPDATE!

Tune in next (week? month? season?) for our adventures tangling with civil unrest on mountain roads! Photos: 1. Looking like a BAMF having just entered the state of Oaxaca 2. Theater in Oaxaca built in the early 1900s 3. Random photo of me taken when a child took my phone from my friend’s hand 4. Standing on a wall at Monte Alban looking down at the city of Oaxaca 5. Monte Alban and Oaxaca 6, 7. The pyramids of Monte Alban 8. Children’s skulls, the victims of sacrifice 9. Sacrificed adult skulls 10. Impressive stone work from Monte Alban