#then I ditch the hat for going around town and have different coats to make sure I look more civilian

[garashir]

my first playthrough I would grow out arthurs hair and beard each chapter then chop it all off when the gang would move camps in order to avoid being recognized for immersion sake…now I only care about how he looks for taking screenshots

[please-buckme]

A Broken Heart.

Lee Bodecker x fem!reader

Chapter 3

Chapter warnings: cursing, drinking, 18+, very slight mentions of sex

Chapter summary: Just how okay are you, Sheriff?

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2 // Chapter 4

Lee knew the second he went home that night he’d regret it. He stayed late at the station just to avoid his wife and her snarled, red hot face that she always wore before having her daily yelling match with him.

His brakes screeched as he pulled into the dusty driveway. He shut the door as lightly as possible, hoping Laura-Jean was asleep and he wouldn’t have to deal with her mouth. He turned his keys ever so slight, unlocking the front door to his home and cracked it just enough to walk in, only to see Laura-Jean waiting for him. She had a cigarette in one hand and a crystal glass with just a splash of whiskey left inside.

Lee sighed, “So, you found my whiskey.” He threw his keys in the ball that sat on the coffee table. Then, he removed his hat and jacket, hanging them on the coat rack. “How was your day-“

“Cut the crap, Lee” she hissed, slamming the glass on the coffee table. “You know I heard about it. About you seein’ that girl.”

“When did she become ‘that girl’. You was best friends once upon a time. When did y’all stop being friends?” Lee asked rhetorically, pretending to think on it for a second, “oh, that’s right. When you masterminded your way into my life and left her with nothing and nobody.”

“Oh no, baby. We weren’t friends the second you two started datin’. She just didn’t know it, yet. And it was you who left her heart broken and alone. I wanted you and you wanted power. We’re a fuckin match made in HELL, BABY!”

“CHOOSIN’ YOU OVER HER WAS THE WORST MISTAKE I EVER MADE!” Lee shouted. “We’re both SO GODDAMN HAPPY, NOW, ain’t we.” He huffed, feeling his heartache when he thought about y/n being alone all this time and not being able to be there for her.

“You made your bed, Lee. Know one forced you to do anything.” Laura-Jean took a drag from her cigarette and wiped away the same tears that fell every night.

Lee loved Y/n more than he ever loved anyone in his entire life, but at the time he thought he loved his job more. When he heard she’d skipped town he was devastated. Devastated that she left, of course, but more devastated that he’d created a situation to where she felt she had to leave. Lee hid his feelings well in public but behind closed doors he was a complete mess without her.

When he heard she was back in town, he wasted no time in going over to see her. He wanted her to open the door and greet him like nothing had ever happened. He wanted her to leap into his arms and kiss him so softly, so tenderly like she used too. Things definitely didn’t go as planned.. either time he’d seen her.

The problem was, Lee had worked so hard to get where he was and to give it all away for Y/n? He just wasn’t sure he was ready for that. He loved her with every inch of his crooked heart. He knew deep down that she’s the only one for him and not even Laura-Jean could take that away.

Laura-Jean dubbed out her cigarette before coming face-to-face with Lee, “I don’t wanna hear about you talkin to that girl again. Am I clear?” She snarled that ugly snarl he’d grown to hate.

“Trust me, I’m sure she doesn’t wanna talk to me anyhow.” He sighed and picked up the crystal glass to finish off what remained of the liquor inside.

//

“It’s going to be okay, Mrs. Huckleberry. I’ll head home right now and call the station. Those scoundrels won’t get away with this.” You grinned, walking your elderly neighbor up to her front door before heading back home.

Nothing says welcome home like a smashed in mailbox. At least nine of your neighbors, including you, got their mailboxes bashed. You weren’t too torn up over it; it probably needed replacing anyways. To seem more neighborly,though, than your momma ever was at least, you decided you’d make the call to the police station for all the mailbox victims.

To no avail, the line was busy, probably more than just your neighborhood that got hit. So, you decided to go to the station before work. You’d make a quick statement and get out of there as quickly as possible to avoid any more contact with Lee.

It only took you 20 minutes to walk to the stations from your house. You looked nice considering you’d be heading to work right after this. You wore a fitting, brown skirt with a matching blazer, matching shoes and a white, cotton turtleneck underneath. Your cat eye glasses sat perfectly against the bridge of your nose and you decided today was an updo kind of day.

Just like when you went to the grocery store, everyone was watching you as you walked into the station. You went up to the secretary and cleared your throat when she didn’t acknowledge your presents.

“Sheriff’s not here.” She said never even looking up.

You sighed, “I’m not looking for the Sheriff. I need to talk to someone about my whole neighborhood getting our mailboxes smashed in.”

She smacked her gum, “mhmm.” She flipped through the magazine in front of her, still ignoring every advance you’d made.

“Gosh you know, It’s my first day as a secretary,too, I hope I’m at least as half as good as you are.” You give her the fakest smile you could muster.

She finally looked up, still smacking her gum, “It ain’t my first day.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m not meanin’ to insulate ya.” You poured your lips, “Now, I’m just tryin to get what I need so I can be on my merry way. You can help me with that, can’t ya?” You nodded your head, frowning down at her as your voice carried a patronizing tone.

She scoffed before standing up from her chair, “Follow me.” She led you to one of the back offices where you saw an old friendly face.

“Karl?” You beam

He looked up and immediately wore the friendliest grin you’d seen in days.

“My my my, I heard you was back in town.” He stood from his chair and walked over to you, “Look at you. You don’t look any different from the day you left. Besides the tears and all.” He giggled.

“Too soon.” You said with a smile as you punched him in the shoulder.

“Well, what can I do you for? Unless you really did just come here to catch up.”

You bit your cheek, “No. I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t know you was a police officer, now, or I would’ve come by.”

“Well, I am the Sheriff’s best friend, of course he’d want me to be his right hand man.” He frowned, knowing the effect even his name would have on you, let alone his title. You’d honestly hoped he’d ditched him as a friend after everything that happened between the two of you. But Lee was his best friend. You couldn’t blame him for having a shitty guy for a friend. He and Lee were like brothers, it was stupid of you to think you’d change any of that.

You cleared your throat, only to break the silence, “Right, um, I need to report something. Me and a few of my neighbors got our mailboxes smashed in.”

He nodded, I’ll get the paperwork ready, please, have a seat.”

The filing cabinet wolfed open as he searched for the paperwork. Once he found it, he came back to his desk, filled out the form and highlighted where you needed to sign, dated and write your statement.

“I also need the names of your neighbors that got hit. Lee and I’ll go by later and get their statements.”

You hummed, “great.” Nothing pleased you more than to know Lee would be in your neighborhood again. Before you could dwell on it, Karl spoke again.

“You know, I’ve missed the hell outta you.” He grinned.

“Oh yeah?” You smiled, peeking up through your eyelashes before looking back down to finish your statement.

“Of course. Outta every girl Lee dated, you were my favorite. Laura-Jean’s just… a frigid bitch.” You giggled at his honesty.

“Well, I can’t say I feel bad for him. He got what was comin to’em.”

He chuckled, “Ah, hell, you ain’t wrong. I rung his neck for what he did to you. Toldl’em to go after you.”

Your heart sunk. Someone told Lee to come for you and he chose not to? You thought it’d just been because he didn’t know where you were, but by the way Karl’s telling it, he did know. He knew the whole time and just didn’t give enough of a shit about you, or your feelings for that matter, to go after you.

You couldn’t help your curiosity, “W-why didn’t he?”

“Stubborn. I- look I’ll tell you this but if you tell anyone I’ll deny it.”

“Just tell me, Karl.” Your heart was pounding and you weren’t certain as to why, yet. Maybe you were still holding onto hope that your Lee wasn’t gone. That under that hard shell your sweet, charming, wonder Lee was just waiting for you to bring him back to life.

“Laura-Jean don’t let him drink ‘cause all he does is talk about you. Sayin’ how much he misses you and lettin’ you go was the biggest mistake of his life. I pulled him over twice when he’s drunk out of his mind, but.. I think he’s on his way to you. I never asked though.”

You sat there, your mouth suddenly dry. How were you supposed to respond to this? Lee had been nothing but rude to you since the second you got back into town and now this. Now you truly did know he was just as messed up as you were. You hid the tiny smile that tried to crack through your trembling lips. He was just as messed up as you were.

For so long you’d blocked out all your happy memories with Lee and as you sat there trying not to grin like an idiot, the memories all came flooding back. Every kiss, every touch, every look, every groan and grunt, every ‘I love you’; everything. Your Lee was always glowing and happy, with a smile that made butterflies fly around in your belly every time you saw it. Your Lee was a cool summer breeze on a hot day; smooth and welcoming. Your Lee was the first snow in winter; surprising and astonishingly breathtaking. Your Lee was your Lee. But that’s it.

The Lee you came home to was an entirely different man, one you’d never met before. Now, instead of a crisp winter morning he was a harsh winter night; frigid and brutal. This thought made the butterflies disappear in your belly and the almost-grin to completely fade.

“I- I finished my statement.” Is all you could say. You were done talking about Lee.

Karl frowned, “Alright,” he said, taking the paper as you stood. “Well, hey, you’re welcome to stop by anytime. I really did miss you, Y/n.”

You gave him a soft smile in return, “Thank you, Karl. That means a lot, but you know I’m gonna avoid this place like the plague.”

He chuckled, “Fair enough.”

You said goodbye and headed back towards the front of the station. You got your usual glares as you walked through the lobby and to the door, but nothing mattered right now. Your heart was once again in pain. Having drudged up all those beautiful memories with a man you so loathed was killing you from the inside out. You wanted nothing more than to forget him and coming back to town surely was not helping you with that. A car pulled up as you walked with your head down. You didn’t look up to see who was driving, you just dodged and waved, trying to find your way back to the sidewalk.

“Y/n, wait!” Lee called from behind you. Before you could even think to keep walking you turned and looked at him as he stood by the cruiser. Your breath hitched in your throat and you cursed under your breath.

“What?” You asked, folding your arms.

“I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I don’t know what came over me and I feel awful about it.”

“I don’t care, Bodecker. But if you wanna make it up to me, you can make sure that I never see your face again while I’m here. I’ve been here three days and I haven’t gone one without seeing your goddamn face. You’re the reason I left but you sure as hell ain’t the reason I came back.” A tear fell down your cheek. Your energy was completely drained by all the events of the morning and you still had work.

“I’m curious, you still like those chocolate shakes down at Ruby's Diner?” He asked, scratching his head.

“Seriously? Did you hear a word that just came out of my mouth, Bodecker?”

“Just answer the damn question, Y/n.”

You sighed, “Yes, okay. I haven’t had one in years though. Not since-“

“Our last date.” He finished for you. He turned on his heels and opened the passenger side door to the cruiser. “Get in.”

“Are you crazy? Why in the hell would I go anywhere with you?” You looked at him in bewilderment.

“Well, I think if we’re gonna coexist in this town, we need to talk and there ain’t no better way to talk than over a chocolate shake from Ruby’s.” He smiled, knowing how much you used to love those shakes.

“I- I can’t. I got work.” You said, looking down at your feet. Everything was telling you to not get in that cruiser, but your heart was practically pulling you to it.

“Where at?” He asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Billy’s auto shop.”

“Ah, hell. You’ll be fine. I’ll drop you off after and explain the whole thing. Please, Y/n, get in the car.”

You sighed as your feet shuffled back and forth. You could just walk away and go to work as planned. You didn’t need an explanation and you really didn’t have to get along with him. You’d only be here a few months and then you’d never have to see him again. But, for some reason, your heart spoke for you before your brain even had time to think.

“Okay.” You whispered and hesitantly walked over to the cruiser; getting just close enough to smell Lee’s fresh aftershave. The second he closed the door your heart sank. We’re you really doing this and why the fuck was it so easy for him to persuade you? You wondered if maybe Karl hadn’t told you what he did then maybe you wouldn’t be here now.

Lee got in the driver's seat and buckled up, “You ready?”

“Yeah.”

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Taglist: @haydens-moles , @c00lkidvibes , @tcc-gizmachine , @buckysm3talarm , @gogolucky13 , @cryptidcasanova , @heavenlyseb , @writersbuck , @teddy-bearbaby , @bbmommy0902 , @sweetllamaparadise , @thereblogcrusader , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @frostbytebaby , @jessyballet , @emotionallyandphysicallydone , @sarge-barnes-sir , @generalbagelcookieslime , @lady-loki-ren , @dime-piece-xo , @greeneyedblondie44

(Dm me to be added to taglist)

[nightshadedawn]

Persona 6 Concept Part 6

{First} {Previous} {Next} {Last}

When does an idea stop being someone else’s, and start becoming your own? It’s a question I’ve been pondering since perhaps Part 2 or three.

Guess what I did? That’s right, I got more pictures for ya! And it’s, like, a lot. I have some ideas for the outfits for the character, but I’m seriously no stylist, so they all look kind lame. I’d love some input on how you thought they turned out! Now, let’s get into it!

MC Personalities

Before we get started, there’s something I have to explain to you.

The idea with any Persona MC is that the player creates their personality, so you don’t want too much of a personality to show through their outfits (hence why they wear the standard uniform while most of the other have differences to them). But the thing is, each MC already has a little bit of a personality by what kind of answers you can give. Joker is shown to be confident and cocky more often than not, P3’s male protag was solemn and closed off, and I hear the female MC was rather bubbly. Sadly, I was too young to play those kinds of game back when I would have actually owned a system to play any version of P3 on, so I only know the game of P5, the anime of P4, and the manga of P3, so I can’t say for certain if this is accurate.

However! I’ve had this thought in mind of having the MCs have the barebones of personalities. Obviously having them have the same personality is just rehashing the same character with a different model, so that idea went right out the window. But in light of the bad reception I’ve heard for the female MC of P3, I didn’t want to give you a pushover female MC. Not to say the male MC is a pushover, but, well…

Let’s start with the Female MC. She’s pretty, a senior, and in the provided picture from the original video, she wears those bright red, eye catching shoes. Just from this short description, I could say her personality shows up as being confident as the center of attention, even seeking it. She’s pretty and she knows it, might even flaunt it. Words I would use to describe her; confident, strong willed, hot-headed, intimidating, solid, dominant, reluctantly cares, bitter and jaded (her reaction towards the world after her mother’s death). Her dialogue options will likely be bitter, bored, sarcastic, or downright mean (up until further into the story as she starts getting closer to her teammates, you know, natural character growth).

Then there’s the Male MC. Belatedly, I realized that the picture I found was Italy from Hetalia and the cats are the Cat Countries, but the image really goes for what I’m looking for with him. Keeping Italy out of the picture (well, his direct personality, at least), we can still get a semblance of an idea about Male MC’s character. Shy, closed off, doesn’t interact well with humans. He’s anything but an open book, and I imagine that he’d used teasing/humourous dialogue, as if he was trying to play off that he’s fine. Words I would use to describe him: timid, teasing, awkward, thoughtful, calm, level-headed, submissive, delicate, quiet and sad (his reaction to his mother’s death). His dialogue options will likely consist of playful teasing, awkwardness, dodgy answers, and left field responses.

They’re not exact opposite, both are pretty closed off, but for different reasons. When you have a female main character in animes in comparison to male main characters, the girl is usually someone weak, timid, a pushover. Their ‘strength’ is their ability to get other to open up. She’s an open book, and even if she doesn’t always start off that way, she ends up a big softie. I wanted something different for this MC. She’s pained over her mother’s death, but she doesn’t outwardly cry like other female anime characters would. She holds it in, until it festers and grows and stops making her sad, but instead makes her angry.

…A very male anime character thing to do, no?

And that was my intent.

The Male MC also shows some traits that normally would show up in female anime character, notably his way of keeping things to himself to not worry his friends. I’m aware that male anime characters do the same, but they have different ways of doing it. Though impossible/implausible it may seem, I would like to break barriers with the personalities these characters have. 

Keep in mind, I’m going off the beginning of the plot, when they first come to the small town it takes place in. As the story goes on, they’ll grow as people and characters and grow beyond their bitterness, beyond their lack of confidence. She will not become timid, but become stronger. He will not stop being timid and awkward, but be able to go on despite it. That’s my vision for their characters. 

Well, that kinda went longer than I meant it to, and I hope it wasn’t too confusing. The entire idea of these characters was “What are some male/female anime traits that I can use and make them still appear femmenine/masculine?” Anyway, I just wanted you to have this in mind when we get to the pictures, because they’re the personalities I had in mind when creating their outfits.

Outfits

Female MC

I wanted to give her a classy, city girl look, as she’s new from the city and grew up there. She’s not into this backwater stuff yet. Black and white is a big theme for both MCs, hence why their outfits will be mostly black and white. But green should be incorporated, so I added the green button up. Either shirt could be used individually, but my plan had been to have the green shirt, open, over white. The snake twisting around the staff is a classic Greek symbol of healing, as is the theme of this game, and is worn as a necklace by the female MC.

Though those loafers most anime protagonists seem to wear would be more probable for this character, I went with boots as loafers are not ideal for going around forests or jungles in. 

I just went on about how loafers aren’t ideal for walking around in forests, but then I give her heels. But do you see that picture? She’s got heels. I wanted to honor that a little bit, hence, heels. I couldn’t decide if I wanted the red heels, to honor her original image, or if I liked the green to stay in theme with the rest of the game. The key chain is there to give the connection to P5 and the hint at maybe she was in Tokyo when the Phantom Thieves were at large, and probably supported them. (If we go canonically by year released, she would have been in middle school at that time, I think?) I liked the shirt that’s paired with the shorts, but the coloring of the other one was better. And after some thought, I liked the idea of a baggy shirt on the MC, even if it wouldn’t be very good for her in-game. Too much fabric moving around while she’s fighting would just get tangled up around her.

As before with the boots, I wanted it to be practical. As for the shirts, I couldn’t decide on one, though I lean more towards the light colored one. This was the most difficult outfit to design by far, at least for this character.

Male MC

Because of The cats in the picture, I couldn’t resist giving him some clothing with cats on them. Hence the shirt saying ‘Real men love cats’ and the cat on the back of the jean jacket. He’s also supposed to sport a classy city look, though more toned down than his counterpart’s, much like his personality is. I couldn’t decide between the trench coat and jean jacket, because I think both would serve their purpose. The snake bracelet is supposed to be reminiscent of the one on Hermes’ staff, another symbol of healing. 

This guy gets to deal with looking plain and wearing loafers. I couldn’t find any boots I really liked for him, and he doesn’t exactly seem like the kind of guy who’d wear boots to begin with. Too airheaded to think about practicality and going into the forest. The vest might be gotten rid of on the male uniforms in favor of one that buttons, giving the boys more diversity to their outfits. 

Here we see more green incorporated, and red converse to mirror the Female MC’s red heels if those are the ones chosen. (If I’m being perfectly honest, I hate the pairing of red and green for anything other than Christmas, but this does not bother me) As you can see, this MC also supported the Phantom Thieves by having their logo on his shoes. The choker’s there because… I honestly just liked the idea of guys wearing chokers? Kind of in tune and contradictory to his personality at the same time. (Fuck you to all those who say only girls wear necklaces)

I’ma be perfectly honest right now, I’m not sure about keeping the tie on the guys at all, let alone the summer uniform. And I have problems designing outfits for men in general. So, it might be tossed. The pants, for both summer and winter uniforms, will be the pattern of that little box right by them. I just couldn’t find a pair in that pattern, so woops.

Sayaka Ito

Sayaka also comes from the big city. However, the ‘classy city girl’ look isn’t really something she’s embrace. ‘Essentic city girl’ is more her speed. The swirly black symbol is another symbol of healing, and will either go on her guitar or hat. In the other world, the guitar will be replaced by whatever axe she has equipped. This is the only outfit in which she wears the hoodie properly.

Though the hoodie remains, she wears it tied around her waist in this outfit. And even if she doesn’t have the guitar with her uniform, the axe is still present in the other world. Rolls her sleeves to her elbows. Actually, I’m pretty sure she’d ditch the sweater too.

On top of being a little eccentric, Sayaka can be impractical, hence the sandals and skirts. Neither are good for battle, though both are cute. The black skirt shoes both the front and back of it. The hoodie gets tied around her waist. The first shirt is a crop top, while the other is full length.

As all the others aside from the winter weekend, Sayaka wears the hoodie tied around her waist in this outfit. She would wear the top button undone with the light colored shirt, and possibly have it untucked. 

Yudai Shinoda

I haven’t really a lot to say about this. The symbol (you guessed it; another symbol of healing) would either be on his bracelet or on the shirt. I think on the shirt to give it a bit of umph. The yellow laces would be on the boots, obviously. Who doesn’t like yellow laces?

I really picture this guy trying to keep up the image of a model student and wearing the uniform properly. Possibly has the sleeves rolled up to his elbows? 

I couldn’t quite decide which shirt I liked, because they all kinda fit my image of him. He’s really the kind of chill person that would wear graphic/band t-shirts. 

Nothing really interesting here.

Miyako Fujimori

I don’t know why, but I decided that Miyako likes octopi, hence the necklace. The onyx on the necklace is a symbol of healing, so it works with that theme too. As you can see, I couldn’t decide on a skirt or sweater. The turtle neck shirt is always worn, but I couldn’t decide on which sweater.

The one who wears the uniform most properly aside from the female MC. I haven’t much to say on the matter.

The only short sleeves she’ll wear! Whichever skirt wasn’t chosen for her winter will be worn here. 

Not much to say on the matter of this outfit. She does wear the long sleeved shirt in the summer for personal reasons that go alone with her depression. Considering she almost commits suicide on screen, I don’t know if I’d say she self-harmed and has scars from it, but I know, as someone who has depression, some days I just wear long sleeves because it makes me feel like it’s easier to hide.

Masahiko Oshiro

I think his symbol of healing will likely either be a pattern on his tie or a tie clip. The colored lines at the bottom are supposed to be the hair clips you see in animes, like those criss-cross designs in hair. He’s an asshole, but I wanted him to appear as a cute asshole. The pink jacket can go with any of the shirts (white, purple, or pink), but the white will either go with the purple or pink. The purple is mostly there because royalty and regalness.

Masahiko finds himself too dignified for such an unsightly sweater vest, so he refuses to wear it. Everyone thinks he’s attractive, so it’s not like they mind at all. I debated giving him an actual tie instead of the bowstring, but you see how that went.

Masahiko is, beyond a doubt, supposed to be a pretty city boy. I guess the theme I was going with there was ‘almost model material but never touched a runway.’ But guys are hard to make outfits for.

This time he did leave the ribbon behind, and I think he feels better for it.

Hoshiko Akiyama

I’ve decided that Hoshiko is an aspiring designer, but her looks are quirky and eccentric because she cares more about dressing up others rather than making herself look good. (She’s self conscious about her red hair, and seems to have deemed herself unable to model any of her good designs). Anyway, I wanted her to look cute but also a little bit odd.

As per my idea for her to be a designer, it seems in character that she’d do some work on her sweater vest. However, it’s still green. I just replaced the other one with this black one because of the design.

Both dresses are knee length, and all of the bracelets are purposefully mismatched. 

As the one from the winter, her top is replaced with one she embroidered herself. 

Jun Sanada

He seemed like the kind of character that would wear graphic tee. But the other shirt makes it look closer to the original picture. His symbol is uses as an earring.

I can’t decide if the shoddy job I did on cutting the shirt out from its background, making it look ratty and tattered, should stick or not.

Simple guy, people think he’s kinda princely until he opens his mouth and his temper explodes.

Again, not much to say on the matter.

Shinju Kawaguchi

The overall dress could be either blue or the pink that it is. I haven’t quite decided if the pretty cloak stays or not, but it is adorable, no? I think, instead of the bow being on the side of her head, it would be tied in the back.

The symbol she has is worn as a ring, and not much else to say.

My editing job is not great, but the blue dress has two straps. The others are both knee length as well.

Not much to say about this one.

Plot/Playthrough

July 10: Masahiko returns to school You’re unable to talk to him.

July 11: You get to talk to Masahiko. He and Miyako argue a bit, but make up afterwards.

July 12 - 14: Exam prep.

July 15 - 17: Exams days.

July 18: Last day of exams. Hoshiko enters the scene and confesses her love to MC. 

July 19: Summer vacation starts. You go celebrate Masahiko’s release from the hospital with the rest of the team. 

July 20 - 21: Some event things that have to be done before we move on in plot and don’t allow you to really do anything.

July 22: Avis will convince you to sneak away from your duties and into the Endless Forest, as there has been a rise in infected victims and corrupted cores that you need to take care of NOW. You meet The Plague, and find out Hoshiko has followed you.

July 23 - 25: You and your friends try to talk to Hoshiko, but she’s in too much of a stupor for it. 

July 26: It becomes apparent that Hoshiko’s core is corrupted and that she has a palace. You enter the palace, Hoshiko following once again, and she awakens her Persona.

July 27 - August 12: Your available days to complete Hoshiko’s palace before it kills her. 

August 13: Hoshiko is released from the hospital. 

August 14: School starts up again. Hoshiko joins the others at school. You meet Jun and stop him from hitting Hoshiko after she rejects him. 

August 15 - 17: No free time. You and your friends escort Hoshiko everywhere when it becomes apparent Jun is still trying to push the issue. He challenges you to a fight, which you can either just brush off or deny. Either way, you won’t fight him.

August 18: You expect it to be like before, but Jun keeps his distance and resumes his princely persona.

August 19: It’s finally time for Hoshiko’s release party. The party is interrupted by Jun fighting outside, beating another guy to a pulp.

We start the story again on August 19. Hoshiko tells you about how she was leaving, she heard about a young man who’d been brought into the hospital just as she was leaving it and died only a couple hours later from the virus. He’d showed no signs of symptoms before being brought in.

The fight breaks out outside the restaurant and once again, you go and stop it. Reactions will differ depending on gender; “She’s a girl!”, “You can’t hit girls!”, “That was highly improper!” verses “He was just trying to help!”, “Don’t be a dick!”, “Why would you do that!?”

You get the guy who Jun was beating up away, but now he’s PISSED and starts breaking shit. Sayaka tries to talk to him, but that kinda blows up in her face. Rather literally. He goes to lash out at her, a flash of guilt crossing his face, the moment right before you slug him. Whatever you tell him, he’ll immediately leave.

You won’t see Jun again until August 17, the next Monday. He’ll be back to his normal princely self as he’s followed around school by a gaggle of girls who fawn over and worry about him, though shows the most subtle of problematic behavior. (Namely bossing people around and getting absolutely furious if the task he gave them is not done at all, not done quick enough, or not done to his liking) The littlest things can set him off.

You’ll have four days of being free to do as you like, but then Masahiko and Miyako will bring it to your attention on August 22 that their classmate’s core is turning black. Sayaka will offhandedly comment that a bastard like him deserves it. You can agree or disagree with her, but no matter what you choose, an argument will be unavoidable. The morality of knowing you can do something to save someone’s life and willingly not do it because you don’t like them- essentially, MURDER- or saving someone who makes the lives of others miserable.

Regardless of what side you took originally, the argument will be made “We do not have the right to decide who lives or who dies; we were given the power to save, and that’s what we have to do.”

Thus, you and your team will go under the waterfall to locate his Palace and all that fun stuff. 

But, you know. Obviously Jun has been ‘stalking’ you for the last several days because he’s wanted to know what Hoshiko sees in you. And though confused about what you were talking about, he recognized himself as the topic of discussion, and the wary glances of Miyako and Masahiko, and follows you into the waterfall.

Which is honestly a terrible idea. You get through it a little before Jun shows up and… basically royally screws up everything by confronting the fucking Corruption. And then awakens his Persona, because he’s just that much of a dick.

But, you know what, fine. It’s fine. Seriously fine. It’s just that you barely manage to fight your way free, but it’s fine. Really fine. But whatevs’, right? 

No, not really. Jun, being the huge dickhead he is right now, basically forces himself onto the team despite what the others want and how skittish Hoshiko is of him. He also kinda refuses to really let anyone explain anything. (His full explanation will have to wait until after he gets out of the hospital)

The next day begins your dungeon crawl. August 23 - September 13 will be your dungeon crawl days. The longer you take to complete the Palace, the more you’ll be able to see the signs that Jun is unraveling and falling apart. There will be a time in the middle of the crawl that you’ll have to leave the Palace because Jun collapses from the exhaustion of pushing himself past his limits. When you complete the Palace, he will collapse again and will remain in a sleep that’s not quite a coma until September 13. 

Jun’s dungeon is a swamp, mirroring his rather nasty personality that drives people away once they get too close. The middle, where you need to go, is basically Jun’s shadow trapped in a cage. As all the others, he’s slumped over and already looks dead. The further you go, the more Jun realizes just how shitty his personality is and how much he wants it gone. The reason he collapses is because he pushes himself towards the goal with the idea that, if the Corruption goes and takes the virus away, then the Shadow leaving will take his misplaced anger issues away. (This misplaced idea comes from the fact he didn’t listen, at all, to what they were trying to explain). This Palace will be really battle heavy, so be prepared for that. 

The final battle against Jun’s Corrupted Anger will be your hardest yet, but you will make it through, as is the nature of this game. It’ll be a bit of a struggle trying to open the cage, but you’ll manage to free Jun’s Shadow so the MC can get to healing him. Jun will attack his Shadow before you can get there, though. Weak and helpless as the Shadow is, it won’t fight back, and Jun will almost manage to inadvertently kill himself before he’s pulled back by Yudai and someone else. The MC removes the corruption from Jun’s core and saves him. They return to the real world and Jun collapses from what he did to his Shadow.

September 14, Jun will return to school. He will apologize for his behavior directly to the MC, still not exactly a good person and still kind of a dick as he really only apologizes to the MC. He asks to formally be accepted into the group if you’ll have him, and for everything to be explained to him, properly this time. He promises he’ll listen. (Some time during this encounter, Miyako and Masahiko will drag Jun behind a door and do… something to him. You don’t see anything, just hear the sounds, and it’s implied that they smack him around a good couple of times, but they all come out looking mostly unharmed)

You won’t have a lot of time to worry about anything regarding the other world or Endless Forest, as on the 15 will be Jun’s release party and on the 16, you all head to Tokyo. Four days of exploring and scripted events, and on September 20, you’ll chill with your significant other of choice on the beach, or Shinju and Yuuki. During your trip, you’ll be able to notice how Shinju keeps looking sicker and sicker. She’s putting on a brave front and forces herself to look happy and okay, but she’s quite obviously not. Her core begins to turn black. Unfortunately, due to timing, you won’t be able to hang out with Jun at this time. But on September 21, his social link become available! So there’s always that.

Actual plot wise, on September 21 and 22, you’ll have a nightmare about the Other World. It’ll be incredibly shitty, and leave yout out of sorts and unable to do any activities those days. On September 23, you’ll get a dream from Igor, who is cryptic in his warnings, but tells you that you need to be careful, as things are very quickly going to change. Gilbert/Lucius tells you to remember to keep your bonds close, and look for new ones where you can.

One September 24 after you wake up, there will be a surprise assembly. Dr. Ueda will come to the front of the gym and stand with the teachers as he explains that the virus has become too deadly in recent months, and has been classified as an epidemic. The town has been quarantined off; no one gets in or out any time soon.

{First} {Previous} {Next} {Last}

[sunshinexlollipops]

okay, that post about the super strong dude who lifted a car out of a ditch? Tell me that wouldnt be modern day Arthur. like seriously ~💚

“Need a Lift?”

—————

It’s a dark and stormy night, the blizzard that you’ve been trying to trek through rages on overhead.

You’re almost out of gas, and the nearest town is about five miles up the road. What should be an easy drive is hell, your tires losing their grip in the countless inches of piling snowdrifts and ice.

You only wanted to get home, and it’s a wish that barely outweighs the massive amount of regret you feel for trying to grant it to yourself.

You car slides, and your hands grip onto your steering wheel tightly as your poor car groans and begins to steer off the road, gliding over the snow that’s iced over like it’s skating.

“No no no no!”

Your bumper becomes friends with a rather thick snowdrift, and you feel your car sink as its front tires go past the edge of the road.

Shifting angrily into reverse, you attempt to get your car situated, but all it earns you is your wheels spinning uselessly and a nasty sense of desperation that starts to cling to you.

After a few minutes of trying, you stop, knowing you’ll only be wasting what little precious gas you have left on chasing after the impossible.

There’s no other way to put it.

You’re stuck.

Smacking your hand against the steering wheel, tears prick at your eyes as you try to look outside in the torrent of swirling white flakes. They coat your windows, but you can barely make out the extent of the road, at how it’s nearly buried under the ever piling snow.

“Fuck,” you breathe, and you look to your phone, swallowing harshly, “Please, have a god damn signal!”

At the top corner of your phone, you can see the symbol as clear as day— no service.

“God damnit!”

Of course. Of course you had to push the issue despite all the warnings from the news and anyone who happened to pass you by. This was the worst blizzard in years for this area, and you had the amazing idea to chance traveling in it because what? You’d rather go home and watch Netflix there instead of the safety of a hotel room?

God. You’re such an idiot. . .

But, you’re not stupid enough to know that walking out in this, even if the next town over with a gas station is five miles off, would be the last thing you need to do.

You’re just a little notch above empty, and if you manage to use it just right, you might be able to make this last bit of gas work until someone hopefully comes down the road as stupidly as you did.

And as you bear down in your seat, so begins the wait.

About an hour passes, and you’re quickly growing more and more fearful as what little light managed to work it’s way through the storms begins to dwindle into darkness.

The lights to your car are on, but with your headlights stuck in snow and your back ones more than likely coated in snow, there’s no telling if someone will be able to catch them glowing from the side of the road.

You look down, the gauge to your gas almost entirely on “E.”

“God, I’m gonna fucking die out here.”

As you lament, you nearly miss the glowing light coming up the road. But as soon as you notice, you freak out, spazzing and nearly flailing out of the car as you attempt to get out at the appearance of headlights.

The cold is biting as you emerge from your car, your legs sinking down into the deep snow as you force your way into what you hope is the driver’s sight. Waving your hands, you yell, your voice nearly lost over the shrill sound of the wind as it gusts.

The car, or more specifically a god damn tow truck, seems to slow to a stop, and you breathe out, thanking whoever or whatever is listening for coming through.

The truck stops completely, and the driver door opens, a man dropping from the seat and down onto the snow-laden ground to approach you.

“You stuck?”

His country baritone is audible over the storm, and you nod, breathing out as he approaches, and you can see how thick all of his winter clothing is, with most of his face obscured by a black scarf and the tips of his ears red under his cowboy hat.

You almost wanna say something, but then again, he’s your knight in a shining, blue denim coat, so you’ll take anything at this point— long as it’s not a creep or serial killer.

“Yes,” you breathe, your breath coming out in a pale cloud as you gesture to your poor sedan, “I’m almost outta gas too, thank god you came when you did!”

“Storms like this could easily kill ya if you ain’t careful. You’re lucky I was comin’ back from a call from someone else bravin’ the storm,” he walks over to your sedan, looking it over from where it’s lodged into the snow, “Looks like you’re just a little off the road. A good pull should get ya out.”

You try to ignore some of the scrathing judgement he offered— last thing you want to do is run off the one man who could save your ass. Besides, he has a point. And if anything, he’s just giving the words in your head a different voice.

And a country accent.

God, you were legit in the northeast? How did he end up here?

Well, very easily. But it’s nevertheless odd as he goes over to the front of your car.

“Get in,” he orders, “I need you to shift her to neutral and hold the steering wheel for me.”

Nodding, you go back to your door, opening it and going to sit inside.

As instructed, you grab the gear shift and slide your poor baby into neutral. You feel the car lurch some, almost rolling further into the snowbank and you glance at the man, wondering if that was going to help things. He makes a stop motion, and you realize then that he was telling you to brake to keep that from happening.

“Whoops,” you mutter, and press down on the pedal to keep your car from slipping any further.

The man then leans down gripping your bumper and lifting. And to your surprise, you feel the front of your car begin to go upward.

Eyes wide, you watch as the bastard managed to give you a thumbs up.

And your foot falls away from the brake like your bottom jaw as it falls open.

The car jolts some as he sets your sedan back on the road like it was merely a toy car, and braces both gloves hands on the hood to begin pushing you back. Your car rolls dutifully under his ministration, and your left astounded as you take in what this man has managed to do.

And then, he lifts up, holding his hand flat with his palm facing you, and you quickly catch your brakes again.

With the car freed and stopped, the man steps around the hood to come to you door, and you roll down the window.

“You said you were almost outta gas?”

“Yes,” your voice is oddly calm for the amount of confusion you feel.

“Okay, I’ll tow you. Town is about five miles up. Got a shit station but it’s better than runnin’ on empty in a storm like this.”

You nod, “Sounds great...”

“Okay. Just hold onto that brake and I’ll get you hooked up.”

He steps away from your window, and you roll it back up as he heads to his truck. He quickly jumps in, using what little road is left open to pull around you and position his truck. He aligns them perfectly, backing up close enough to start the process, and then jumps out of his truck and motions for you to roll the window down again.

“Pull forward a bit,” he instructs.

You do so, stopping once he lifts his hand.

And then, he gets to work.

Working the straps over your tires and getting the jack underneath, your car teeters a bit as he moves it.

You’re beyond curious, wondering how the hell this hick who appeared out of nowhere was able to lift your car.

You glance towards the glovebox, and allow your interest to get the better of you.

Opening it, you pull out your manual, looking for the basic information listed about the vehicle and finding the number that you were wondering about so much.

Base weight of vehicle — 2,612 LBS

You gape yet again, but this time, you look out to see the man waving at you once again.

All but dropping the manual down into your lap, you swallow, rolling your window down again to hear what he has to say.

“Shift it into neutral, then hop out.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s gotta be in neutral so I can tow it, and it’s not safe to be in a car that’s being towed like this,” he explains, “‘Sides, if you’re almost outta gas as you are, you would freeze on the way back.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Doing as instructed, you manage to shift your car into the proper gear right as your engine sputters and coughs.

“Oh.”

“Come on. The cab of my truck is warm.”

You step outside, shutting the car door behind you and following after the man. Splitting off near the tailgate, you walk towards the cab of the car while he lingers behind.

“I’ll get this hooked up. Just make yourself comfortable.”

Nodding, you continue on your way.

The inside of the cab is rather bare bones. Nothing messy nor telling of the man, really. All except for a little horseshoe keychain that hangs from his rear view mirror.

Chortling under your breath, you lean against the passenger door, setting your face on your hand. Figures you’d find out nothing more than he likes trinkets as country as him.

It doesn’t take the man long, but he’s soon entering the cab, the icy wind causing you to shiver lightly as he settles himself, knocking some snow onto the upholstery.

You watch as he sheds the black scarf obscuring his face, and your jaw continues it’s habit of dropping as you take in his face.

This man... he’s a god damn snacc.

He seems to sense your state, and slowly, his eyes move over to you, narrowing as he takes in the blush on your cheeks and the overall “deer in a beautiful man’a headlights” expression you’re sporting.

“You okay?”

“Me? Oh I’m fine.”

Oh but goddamn isn’t he fine too—

“How long were you stuck?” he asks, knocking you back out of your thoughts before that train could travel further south.

“About an hour or so,” at the memory of your situation, you do sober a little as the tow truck lurches into motion, “I honestly thought I was gonna freeze out here.”

“Well, thankfully that didn’t happen.”

The man steers the truck into what you figure used to be the correct lane in the road. But everything is buried in white, and you couldn’t tell where the asphalt ended and the ditch you got stuck in began.

Then again, this man was seemingly able to lift a three ton car so what else could possibly be impossible for him?

And so, to entertain yourself for the small drive, you ask, “You lift often?”

The man quirks an eyebrow in your direction, but doesn’t fully look at you.

“I guess,” he pauses, “Why are you askin’ anyway?”

Maybe because you practically deadlifted my car?

You shrug, “I’m nosy.”

He huffs, but doesn’t press the issue further.

After all, if he could do that to your car, what could he do to you?

Which— . . .

Oh.

Oh.

The redness on your cheeks is completely unrelated to the cold. But there is no need for anyone to know that.

As the man takes the curve, he hums, “Name’s Arthur, by the way. Figure that is usually what people tend to ask instead of whether or not I go to the gym.”

Arthur. Oh.

You expected something different.

Like Cletus.

Something befitting and not... normal.

“Yeah well, I have priorities.”

“Like driving out into a blizzard in a Toyota like a dumbass?”

Snapping, you make finger guns at him, “Precisely.”

“You know, ain’t nothin’ really worth goin’ through a storm like this for,” he says, shaking his head, “I hope you learned to just wait it out instead of trying to force the issue. Not everyone gets as lucky as you do.”

“Yes. I’m quite aware of how dumb my desire to go home is,” you mutter, and when he sends you a look, you huff, rolling your eyes lightly as you add, “I’m serious.”

“You seem to take it seriously.”

“Oh, I was before I saw your little happy ass rolling down the road. I prayed— and last time I did that I was begging for strep to just kill me right then and there.”

As Arthur glances at you, staring for as long as he can before he has to refocus on the drive, you can feel the judgement in his stare.

“You’re goddamn strange.”

“Says the man who lifted my car up and held it with one hand!” you blurt.

Blinking, you settle back into your seat, the air in the cab growing awkward.

Arthur doesn’t say anything else, but your heart races a bit, and the seatbelt crossing your chest almost feels like a death trap as he drives ahead.

You regret saying anything, even if unintentionally. It was weird and strange, and while you had no idea how the man was able to manage such a feat, he was helping you.

It was like someone having a very large and distinct mole on their face. It was obvious. Sooooo obvious.

And here you had to go, pointing it out as you did.

You should’ve become a popsicle. It’s what you deserve.

“Town is just up this corner,” he mutters.

Just as he said, as his truck takes the turn, you see the glorious lights of civilization like beacons of hope in the dark.

“Oh thank god,” you breathe, nearly pressing your face against the window with the relief you feel at seeing them.

And there, right before you pass over into town, is a small sign.

WELCOME TO

V A L E N T I N E

Population 200

“I’ve never heard of this place.”

“It’s a small town. Kinda nestled away. Most people pass through, but we got a hotel in case people stay,” Arthur informs you as he pulls up to the saving grace that is this rundown, one-pump gas station, “You should probably stay until the storm clears.”

“I probably should...” you murmur, knowing you may not be as lucky if you gave this trek another good old college try.

You dropped out, after all. Should’ve been a sign.

“I can fill up one of my gas cans and put some into your car. Just enough to get you off my towing gear and up to a pump.”

“Okay.”

“Did you want anything from the station?”

Looking over to the dimly lit interior of the store, you shrug.

“Think I pushed my luck enough today.”

“Fair enough.”

You watch as he pays for the gas and comes out, filling up one of the faded red gas cans and immediately putting it into your car. When he signals you with a thumbs up, you leave the warm comfort of the cab and face the horrible cold outside.

You shiver, teeth instantly going to chatter as you meet him up by your car. He unhooks it rather easily, with you working the wheel as before.

You expect him to leave, but he doesn’t, making sure your car putters back to life before nodding with finality.

“Think that should do ya.”

Tapping awkwardly against the steering wheel, you ask, “While I know I’ve been odd company, I just... I wanted to thank you.”

“Ah, now it ain’t no problem.”

“Well, I probably would’ve frozen had you not come up the way, and I definitely would’ve if you drove past,” thinking of it then, you reach into your pocket, grabbing out your wallet, “Say, how much do I owe you?”

Shaking his head, he starts to deny you, “No that’s not necces—“

“Surely I can make it up to you some way?”

Drawing his lips up tightly, he makes a face, looking towards the road like he’s struggling with what he wants to say. A few moments pass like that, and you’re just about to settle on throwing twenties at him like he’s working a nine-to-five at Chippendales when he finally breaks his silence.

“You hungry?”

You’re about to say no when your stomach speaks for you.

It growls, loud and demanding and completely cutting you off before you can deny it.

Arthur smiles at its protest, his hands moving to his pockets as the expression grows into a smirk.

“Think you can pay me back by goin’ to dinner with me?”

Blinking, you try to hold you jaw up, but there’s no point. This man has broken it, with how he’s made it drop so many times.

Is there a warranty on this kinda thing?

“Oh, I... well... guess I could.”

“Well, we’ll get your car settled and I’ll drive ya there. Just leave our door open and set it to neutral again.”

Doing as instructed, you watch as Arthur begins to push your car forward with just one finger, and your mind only boggles further.

Completely unphased, the man grins at you.

“So, I know a place...”

[claybefree]

Excerpt- Mule Skinner Blues

The man guided Kit up the trail until it merged within a hair's breadth of treeline next to the tracks, running like that until it met the railyard. The two lines coming in from the outskirts split and branched into a multitude of tracks like veins of a leaf stem spreading across acres of junctions and ballast rock.. The trail there was halted abruptly by a wall of chain link, complete with a man sized hole in it. Not far was what must have been a dead line as along it’s back were parked huge lengths of what Kit guessed to be track laying equipment, low slung, enveloped with clumps of Queen Anne’s lace and left to rot away. Hulking wrecks with a rainbow of multicolored patina, years of different owners individual paint schemes peeling away over one another. Red and yellow gave way to yellow and orange which gave way to blue, with the deep burgundy of Lord Rust presiding over all. 

“Okay, Hobo 101 meets under that barge there,” the thin man said. 

“What, underneath?”

“Yeah, don’t worry it ain’t goin anywhere.” he said with a grin. “It’s a Sunday so there ain’t that much personnel but if you see a white truck a comin’ you better coon it, quick.”

In response to Kit’s confused look he said “Here, allow me to demonstrate.”

Hustling through the hole in the fence, he started off across the sparse grass hunched almost to squatting, hands just above the ground as if he were about to drop to all fours. A sneaky kind of lope, Kit decided, that looked almost exactly like a racoon. 

The weeds were almost four foot tall and clustered thickly so that once underneath, they were well concealed.  Kit crawled up next to the thin man and lay across the rails, the smell of creosote impregnated timbers all around. They peered out through a multitude of top heavy stalks each bearing a small continent of impossibly intricate white flowers waving gently in the breeze. 

“Okay, so if you run across a worker that wants to talk, it’s probably safe. Most of these guys work a twelve hour shift, so bullshitting with a hobo is a fun way to burn time. Plus you might find out something useful. You’ll know a bull if you run across one, they usually cuss and yell. There’s this one red-faced old drunk who works here, means as hell. If you see him my recommendation is you haul ass.”

As they were talking, the rumbling in the earth beneath them grew to where it filled the air around them and a locomotive rolled out from between the lines of freight heading towards them. Kit resisted the urge to wave at the engineer. The thin man paused, waiting for the building fury of diesel fumes and machine grumble to pass them. A rogue’s gallery of battle scarred boxcars followed behind as the train picked up speed heading into the wild heart of forest just outside the yard.

“So the mainline he’s on is headed East, besides he’s local. You need a mountain train. The line on the other side goes North. That’s the one you want. At some point he’ll make a left, hopefully, at which point you’ll be on the mighty Highline. Ride that til you can’t anymore. It stops at the Pacific ocean. Think you can manage that?”

“I think I can.” Kit chuckled. 

Rows of oil cars rumbled past, black as pitch with streaks of pitch spilling down the sides from the lid. Then a number of boxcars, pale sun-faded yellow with black doors slid open. Red company emblem a flying “W” tucked in amid a riot of graffiti, brash hieroglyphs that might have been slurs in purple and green.   

“Now if you wind up on a boxcar, make sure you jam the door open, so you don’t accidentally wind up locked inside. Also, I wouldn’t recommend riding topside of a trash bin or a coal car, you’ll freeze to death.”

“Freeze? Ain’t it August?” Kit said, “What month is it anyway?”

“Don’t matter where you’re going, friend.” He smiled. “You do got a jacket in that rig, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay- so the ideal is that type car right there, a grainer,” he gestured at the silver and grey walled construct rolling past, it’s box battered and slightly concave from too many years being in service. Black iron trucks and wheels spinning diligently away underneath.  “You’ll want the ass end of things, shetler wise, under that triangular edge. Not the side where the mechanics are located, mind you, the brakes and such, there’s no real estate there. Oh and make sure it’s got a porch. Otherwise you’ll have to ride suicide which is not nearly as fun as it sounds.”  

“Growing up on a farm so I learned early on how to behave myself around heavy equipment.”

“That’s pretty comforting, actually. Oh yeah, see those three bolts on the wheels? If they’re going to fast to count, then the train is moving too fast to catch. When you go for it, make sure you get both hands on the thing before you haul your shit aboard. If it pulls out of your hand it’s going too fast and you’ll need to ditch it into the rocks. Ballast rash ain’t no fun but I think you understand the importance of not winding up under the trucks.”

“Imagine that’d put a hitch in your giddy-up.” Kit said.

Noticing the grim turn of his mouth, the thin man said, “I know this is a lot to take in but be careful, don’t die and you’ll be a gentleman of the yards in no time.” and slapped his shoulder.

“No chance in talking you into coming with me is there?”

“And take the chance of watching you get chewed into hamburger? Sorry but no.” he laughed. “Besides, I got to stay here and mind Screwdriver. At least until he realizes his lady love ain’t coming back anytime soon, and then probably a week or so after that. Maybe I’ll talk him into going home to the farm. Hopefully you won’t have to wait long. Just do me a favor and don’t start drinking until you’ve successfully boarded your ride, okay?”

“Will do.” 

“See you on down the line, Kit-By-the-Way.” and with a smile he doffed his floppy hat, scrambled out from under the car and was gone into the treeline. 

 In the end, it took no time at all. Hidden away from the heat of the day, he dozed until awoken by the familiar rumbling that sounded like the end of all things. The engine passed in a blaze of orange and yellow, gleaming bright as a sun in the afternoon light. He picked a grain car and made for it straight away, making sure not to linger in the sight line along the locomotive’s edge, the only hitch being almost getting decapitated by the skeleton frame of an empty lumber rack. The beast was going slow enough to catch with ease, and as luck would have it, the porch was enclosed in a steel case with a large circle cut into it that he could squeeze into. Once inside, the diamond plate steel of the floor was clean and spacious, a fresh coat of battleship grey. There were even half a half dozen comic books left by another traveller. Spider-man versus the Rhino. Black Panther. He crawled inside his enclave of welded steel and made himself hidden and comfortable.

Just as the thin man said it would, the train slowly thundered out the yard and made a hard left, heading North, at which point it stopped entirely. Fearing he would be discovered, Kit remained sequestered and read his comic books. After an hour of this he ate a can of ravioli, raw, slurping cold meat sauce from his fingers.  During the second hour he ventured outside to pee into the rock between the cars and then quickly hid himself away again, even though he was completely enveloped entirely by forest and had seen not a soul since they’d left the yard. He developed a welcome case of the stares and let his gaze drift across the lines of the coupling he was told not to cross, even mimicking the shape of it with his two hands, cupped one inside the other. He watched the way the ladder on the car across from his rose, battered and worn, to the top edge, and convinced himself he didn’t need to climb it.  Still the train sat motionless with not even an occasional tremor to indicate shunting yet for this or that. Finally, with nothing else to do, he broke into the handle of Jack he had hidden away in the depths of his bag, having endured the nagging weight of it for what seemed like an eternity.

“Well, the old guy didn’t say nothing about drinking after I got on the train, which I did manage to do. Seems like time to celebrate to me.”  He would have to portion it out if he could, as he had no idea how far it was to California. Tipping it back, the burn in his throat and consequently his stomach was like a lover’s embrace. Everything immediately softened, the colors of the woods brightened, the filth covering everything fell away and the world didn’t seem so big and scary. 

Eventually he heard a series of bangs from far away as the engine began to pull the train along it’s chain length to move out, a clamor that echoed well into the woods and back towards town. His turn came and he was thrown back into the hole, the slack jerked taught, and the great assembly of steel and iron and rust began to roll. Naturally he took another shot to celebrate his departure. 

It occurred to him that unlike the tractors he’d grown up riding, this was more a moving city as it was a piece of equipment. It was not a smooth ride, which surprised him, and there was always a sound of metal creaking somewhere. As they gained speed, and the woods parted and they spilled out onto another limitless ocean of wheat fields, he realized that everything left in his mind would shortly be pushed out by it. The train would consume his entire existence, there was no arguing with it, the train was terrible and absolute. 

Presently the woods surrendered to wheat fields spreading away from both sides of the train. Off to his left the sun fell below the racing clouds, setting the whole thing alight into a golden blaze that threatened to consume him. A conflagration of yellow and orange set to consume the prairies. The train, picking up even more speed, rocked him like a child.

“Sadie-girl, I sure wish you could see this,” he said quietly. 

The engineer poured on more speed such as to send them flying through towns and countryside. It sounded like a mile up the track from him but Kit could hear him laying on the horn as they roared through each crossing. Towns that seemed only to be out there to harvest wheat, maybe they were able to muster a downtown, sometimes just a convergence of a road and rail, with few houses thrown in just to indicate a population. Occasionally there was a water tower or a fallen down depot giving a name to the place to be noted and then immediately forgotten. Monolith grain elevators stood vigil, rising windowless out of the landscape, clapboarded in faded black or white or grey, an architecture completely foreign to him. As dark fell and the train picked up more speed, he became drunk and yelled at it all, incoherent, raging against his own insignificance.     

Morning found him under his leather jacket, body inside the hole and head on his boots as a pillow on the perforated steel walkway outside, woken by a light rain or cloud vapor accumulating on his face. In a literal fog, his waking gaze followed the rail, polished to a mirror finish and passing smoothly beneath him like a pair of silvery ribbons. The pace of the locomotive seemed to not have abated in the least, and he figured he must have caught the famed hotshot he was looking for. He sat up. The softness of the fog obscured the morning, but as near as he could tell the sun was off behind them. They must have turned West somewhere in the night, and his friend was right, he was freezing. 

No coffee to be had, he rummaged around the pile he’d made to sleep under until he found the bottle of Jack, on it’s lower third, and took a three finger belt. The mist cleared enough to reveal a martian landscape. They were in the mountains sure enough. Maybe it was the hangover, maybe just being unfamiliar, but everything looked jagged and angular and desolate. Tall aspens, he gathered, maybe doug fir. Pines of every kind. The only familiar thing was the rail flying beneath him, it’s gauge holy and absolute, punctuated with a million crossties.  

“Sadie, I don’t particularly care for all this ponderosa bullshit, no ma’am,” and pulled again on the bottle in his lap. “Too many pines, rocks and dust. Not enough green. I feel like I might dry up and blow away as it is.”  He stood up and stretched, swaying slightly due as much to the train as the fact he was not at all sober. He threw his jacket over his shoulders and clutched the bottle by the throat for good measure. Didn’t want it getting away from him. 

At this point the engine up the line let loose with a blast from its horn, sending ghosts of echoes to fill the canyons. 

“Ah yes, good morning to you too, Captain!” Kit shouted back. “You heavy handed sonofabitch!”

Suddenly the earth fell away into a chasm that must have been a thousand feet deep, the floor of it buried in the fog and unseen. He grabbed onto the ladder mounted to the outside corner of the grain car. “Holy shit. I guess that’s what all the noise was about.” 

The trestle was immense, a miraculous web of cross bracing filling the valley in what amounted to a straight line through the air yet neither side had a rail or walkway. It occurred to him to just let go and fall away into the clouds. The rocks or river or whatever below waiting would hold him close until the vultures and wolves and whatever else came to claim him, and he could belong to the forest from then on. Listening to the pines whispering, the occasional train whistle, coyotes crying, perhaps he could become a whisper in that valley himself. 

Instead the locomotive pulled him across the abyss to the other side before he had formed a proper mind to leap. He sat down hard, thumbed off the top and pulled on the Jack once again. There was a bag of beef jerky stashed somewhere he’d considered for breakfast, but decided against it. 

“Hey Sadie, wake up and come look at this,” he yelled over his shoulder. “Purple mountains majesty and all that.” For a moment it seemed the same shade as the lavender she had left on the dash of the Toronado. Delicate purple flowers windswept from the open window and perched on a skin of turquoise leather.  Maybe they should have stayed in the farmhouse, he thought. 

He lamented the he never showed her the network of rabbit tunnels crisscrossing the yard, long mounds of soft earth stretching this way and that between the house and the barn. He decided he would hang on just in case he ever saw her again so he could describe this to her. The soft earth with rabbits hidden beneath, the ground yielding underfoot oddly comforting. He drank a little more and thought these things and in this way passed into California. 

[mittensmorgul]

Makeshift

Of course I had to write a thing for Dean’s 40th birthday. Unrepentantly silly fluff. Enjoy!

Rating: T Words: 2200 or thereabouts Dean/Cas, and Sam on the side :)

Read it below, or on the ao3 here

Dean had been in a mood all day. Sam knew better than to poke at him about it. They’d been out in the frigid January Minnesota air staking out an old warehouse on the edge of town. Donna had called them in for backup rounding up a couple of Michael’s vampires who’d decided they weren’t ready to go back to hiding in the shadows after their connection to his power was severed. They may not have had Michael’s grace giving them superpowers anymore, but they were still as slippery as any vampires they’d ever dealt with. Old, strong, and worst of all, smart.

Still, though, Cas had been confused by Dean’s grouchiness. He’d woken up that morning in a strange mood, and it had only grown worse and worse all day. Not even the promise of a satisfying end to their miserable hunt had given him the least bit of cheer. They’d spent a frozen dozen hours sitting out in the snow, only to hear from one of Donna’s trusted local informants that the vamps had been spotted leaving town, headed north into the forests that bled into Canada. That had been Dean’s last straw.

Cas could definitely understand his frustration. They’d wasted an entire day while enduring intensely unpleasant circumstances. He and Sam felt that frustration just as acutely as they warmed up in their motel room. But rather than relief at the notion that they may have intimidated the last of Michael’s monsters back into submission, or even contentment at the prospect of a long, hot shower and a warm bed to climb into, Dean seemed almost melancholy, and that was something Cas couldn’t understand. When they’d returned to their motel room, Dean had headed directly for the shower. As soon as the water started up, Cas quietly asked Sam what was wrong.

“It was a bad hunt and a bad day,” Sam said, not looking up from searching through his bag for a warmer pair of socks to wear. “Plus I think he’d probably rather been doing anything else today, you know?”

Cas frowned at that and shook his head. When it was clear that no further explanation was forthcoming, Cas clarified. “No, Sam, I don’t know. Dean usually enjoys hunting, and while I understand today was difficult, I assumed he’d be happier to have been able to help Donna this way, even if we don’t have a pile of dead vampires to show for it.”

Sam looked up at him, holding a fluffy wool sock in each hand, blinking in surprise. There was no way Cas could not know it was Dean’s birthday, right? “He turned forty today. That’s a kinda milestone birthday for most people, but I think he hoped to spend it doing something more fun than freezing his ass off in the woods.”

Cas’s bafflement melted into a frown, his eyebrows pinching together. “Yes, he mentioned wanting to cook a big dinner and watch some of his favorite movies. I was surprised enough that he hadn’t wanted to do something more celebratory. But then again, this marks a different sort of milestone for him.”

It was Sam’s turn to frown now, halfway through peeling off his snow-soaked socks. Cas, however didn’t make him ask for clarification.

“He’s been alive on Earth longer than he was in Hell now.”

Sam’s bare foot went clunking to carpet and his mouth dropped open as he blinked up at Cas. “Well, shit.”

Cas took a deep breath. “Do you think we have time to surprise him tonight?”

Sam reached over to Dean’s jacket, draped across a chair, and snagged the car keys. He tossed them to Cas. “I saw a grocery store about half a mile down the road, out toward the highway. Get a case of the good beer, and whatever else you can find that’s festive. After eating cold fast food burgers all day, that’s probably anything in the store. But you know what he likes. And hurry. He’ll be out of the shower soon, and I won’t be able to distract him long.”

Cas gave a terse nod and was out the door like a flash. The store was blessedly uncrowded, but also not terribly well stocked. The locals had picked it over the day before, preparing for the snow that had fallen overnight. At least the roads were clear again, enough for the store to be open at all. He raced through the aisles, gathering snacks, a package of multicolored balloons and an assortment of sparkly cardboard party hats, and hoped Hair Raiser Lager was what Sam had deemed the good beer , before heading off toward the bakery in search of the one thing he knew was a birthday tradition.

It wasn’t as if he’d had time to call ahead and place an order, so he was stuck making a selection from the meager pickings available in the grocery store's bakery section. He grabbed a box of tiny candles and a tube of green icing he could use to write the message on top the way he knew it was typically done. He frowned down at his purchases as they crept along the belt at the checkout station. No, on second thought, nothing about this was traditional.

After all his items had been scanned, bagged and paid for, he paused at the end of the counter, opened up the pastry box, and as best he could, added the message, Happy Birthday, Dean. He debated adding some other sort of artwork, but after a moment of indecision, he deferred to making haste and getting back to the motel as quickly as possible.

As soon as he shut off the engine, he knew he’d taken too long. He heard Dean through the door to their room, and suddenly doubted his entire mission.

“So you just sent him out alone, in the dark, in this shitty weather, for fucking snacks ?”

“Dean, he offered to go. He was upset that you were having such a bad day, okay? He wanted to cheer you up.”

“Yeah, well, I’d be a lot fucking cheerier if he was here, and not probably flipped over in a snowy ditch, or whatever.”

Sam snorted at that as Cas quickly gathered his shopping bags and the case of beer. He eyed the pastry box sitting carefully on the seat beside him, but decided it would be best to make a second trip back out for it. He needed to reassure Dean that everything was fine. He hadn’t meant to make things even worse.

He hurried to the motel room door, but just as he was about to knock, it flew open to reveal Dean standing there with his coat half on, clearly about to storm out of the room. The moment he saw Cas, it wasn’t anger on his face, though. Cas wasn’t completely sure, but it looked more like profound relief. All of Dean’s distress fled as Cas held out the beer. Dean shrugged out of his jacket and took it from him, stepping back into the room so Cas could enter.

“Hey, you got the good stuff,” Dean said, grinning up at Cas as he knelt down to shove as many of the bottles as he could into the tiny fridge.

Cas set the rest of his bags down on the bed in front of Sam, opening the bag with the balloons and party hats and giving Sam a knowing look. Sam smirked at him and gave an approving nod.

“I have one more thing out in the car. I’ll be right back.”

He returned a moment later with the pastry box, just as Sam crept up behind Dean with a shimmery golden cardboard crown emblazoned King of the Party in rainbow glitter. Dean glanced up to see Cas set the telltale box on the table beside him, giving Sam the perfect opportunity to stretch the crown’s elastic chin strap around Dean’s head.

“Surprise!” Cas said in a moderately enthusiastic tone.

Dean resisted his initial impulse to lash out behind him out of sheer instinct, and instead overbalanced and ended up on his ass on the floor, pawing at his neck where the elastic band had snapped at his skin.

“What the fuck?”

Dean reached up slowly and felt the crown on his head, and pulled it off to see what the hell it was. He read the words, putting the pieces together as Sam handed Cas a conical cardboard hat lined with some sort of fluffy feather shit and a party horn. Cas put the hat on and then examined the horn, his eyes widening as he bent over in front of Dean. He blew into the horn and it unrolled just far enough to whap Dean on the forehead. Cas was just about to apologize, after seeing the flinch in Dean’s eyes, when Dean fell over laughing. Cas and Sam just exchanged a puzzled glance, and Sam shrugged as they watched Dean pour out twelve hours of stress in less than two minutes through the sheer power of laughter. Cas was about to ask if he was okay, but Dean wheezed and choked his way through a few gasps of air and grinned up at him.

“Holy shit, I’d been about to run out in the snow after you, and you were just out happily bringing back the best thing I coulda gotten today. Damn, Cas. You did good.” Dean scrambled to his feet, kicking the fridge shut and handing Sam and Cas each a beer. “But you know that birthday cake doesn’t exactly pair well with beer.”

Cas squinted at Dean and took a sip of his drink. “Then I suspect we should be glad the store was sold out of traditional birthday cake.” He set his bottle down and opened the box, revealing an exquisite Boston cream pie with his hasty birthday message for Dean written in the tidiest frosting handwriting Dean had ever witnessed.

Dean abandoned his own beer to lean over the cake in awe. “Whoa, did you do this?”

“I wrote the message, yes,” Cas replied. “But I bought the cake.”

Dean looked up at him in wonder. “You bought a pie cake for my birthday.”

Cas nodded. “Yes. As well as an assortment of chips and a cheese platter. And some balloons.”

“Don’t forget the hats,” Sam added, scratching at where the elastic band of his pointy hat was digging into his ear.

Dean pulled out his pocket knife and was about to carve into the cake when Cas’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.

“There are traditions to observe first, Dean.”

He carefully placed four of the tiny candles in the cake and then rummaged in his pockets for a matchbook to light them. Dean added a fifth candle, and Cas squinted at him. Dean just shrugged in response.

“For luck.”

Cas nodded approvingly and lit them. Dean even tolerated Sam and Cas singing Happy Birthday to him, not even laughing at their attempt to harmonize, and then blew them all out.

“I hope you get your wish,” Cas told him quietly while Sam brought over paper plates and plastic forks and began serving up slices.

“I think I might’ve already got it, actually,” he replied, giving Cas an unusually soft and fond look.

Cas stared at him for a moment and then smiled. “Yes, you may have.”

Sam held out a plate for Dean, but Dean was too busy suffering through some sort of mid-life crisis to notice. It may have been the quickest mid-life crisis in history, because seconds later he pulled Cas into a hug. When he didn’t let go, Cas gently patted his back.

Dean muttered into Cas’s neck, clinging to the back of his coat, “I didn’t want to spend this whole day in hell again, so thank you. Thanks for this. For pulling me out the first time, and then pulling me up every time I’ve fallen again since then.”

Cas sighed, holding Dean tighter like he’d done the day he’d pulled Dean from Perdition. “Thank you for doing the same for me, Dean.”

Dean sighed into his neck, lingering for just a moment, but unable to convince himself to push this any further. He wasn’t sure just how far a birthday wish could take him. Even with an extra candle for luck.

“So is this a better birthday now?” Cas asked.

Dean pulled back and looked over to see Sam grinning at them both encouragingly.

“Yeah, it’s definitely getting there.”

It wasn’t his own favorite home cooking, and it wasn’t the comfort of home, but Dean had exactly what he wanted for his birthday. The three of them settled in and watched some dumbass ghost hunters show for a few hours, laughing particularly hard when the guys on screen fled in terror from a building they knew full well hadn’t had a single ghost in it since they’d cleared it out a few years back. A few hours later, after Dean had nodded off with his head on Cas’s shoulder, Cas had to agree. It might not have been perfect, but it was definitely getting there.

(in case you need it again, it’s on the ao3)

[destiel-love-forever]

Dr. Sexy A.K.A. Castiel Novak

I accepted requests for prompts related to last night’s episode. Thank you for this one @nevergonefar !!   :   “This episode was a sad one, so I want something happy. Maybe Dean teasing (actually flirting with) Cas about the doctor getup. Or maybe Sam teasing Dean about his reaction to doctor!Cas”

When they get back to the bunker, Dean grabs them all a beer and tries to forget the day. Tries to let it all go for a while. He hasn’t slept well in days. His fingernails are broken from clawing at things during his nightmares. His face hurts from Sammy hitting him. His head hurts from Michael’s incessant pounding. His heart hurts from the way his brother cried.

From the way Cas looked at him, silently pleading Dean not to break his heart.

He puts the beers back and grabs the whiskey and three glasses instead. Much better.

Grinning, Dean sits in an open chair across from Sam. He hands his brother one of the glasses and starts to pour drinks for the two of them, unsure if Cas will be joining them or not. He wouldn't be surprised if Cas didn't. Even though Dean agreed to stop the plan, Cas is clearly still upset with him.

Dean winks at his brother to lighten the mood and says, “How about we take the weekend off. No hunts. Just family time.”

“Really?”

“Sure, why not? Maybe if we reset our brains we will actually find something useful.”

Sam perks up, some of the lingering pain from earlier leaving his features. “I think that's a great idea.”

“Maybe we can all hit the town for once. Get drunk. Get laid, too. If I'm dying at the end of this, I need to get movin’. Ain't no way I'm going out without a bang.” Dean winks again. “Pun intended.”

His brother barks a laugh as he throws his head back. Then he looks at him with a wicked grin and says, “Why go out? I saw the way you looked at Cas tonight. You have your own Dr. Sexy right here in the bunker.”

Refusing to let his brother shake him with the comment, Dean keeps his smile and acts like the usual easy going flirt that he pretends to be. “That I do. Maybe he'll be my warm up.”

“Oh really?” Sam smirks, clearly not buying his brother's act. “You're saying you'd play around with Dr. Sexy and then go out and get it on with someone else? And let Dr. Sexy have sex with someone else?”

“Yup. That's the definition of a warm up, Sammy. Wouldn't be one if we didn't actually do the main event after.”

Sam squints at him, then laughs incredulously and shakes his head. Dean glares at him and asks, “What's so funny?”

“Oh nothing.” Sam takes a sip of whiskey and laughs again. “Just the thought that Dr. Sexy wouldn't be your main event.”

“He wouldn't.”

“Right, because 10 years of build up wouldn't at all be an indication of a main event. Totally right. My bad.”

“There has been no build up.”

“What's building up?” Cas asks, casually walking into the room with a look of curiosity.

All of Dean's false confidence flies out the window when the angel enters his line of sight. His trench coat and suit jacket are gone, leaving him in his white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his loose blue tie, and that goddamn stethoscope still around his neck. Dean has to swallow a moan as he remembers the thoughts that raced through his mind the first time he saw Cas at the hospital. When the man called Cas a doctor. The look of authority as Cas stared at Dean. Calling him Mr. Winchester. Damn, it nearly wrecked him.

First he had to deal with seeing Cas in a cowboy hat, but this was too much. He can joke all he wants with Sam, but it's all a lie. Of course Cas is the main event. He's Dean's fucking everything. His ultimate end game. His holy grail. And no, if he had his way with the man, there's no way in hell he would ever let another touch him after. Once he lets Cas be his, Cas is going to be HIS.

Add in the way Cas had stared at him when asking if that moment together was it for them. The blue of his eyes turning dark from the raw need. The love. The hunger. Dean’s a goner. It’s only a matter of time, and it terrifies him.

Cas is now sitting to his left, staring expectantly at the brothers since no one has answered. Then his asshole brother turns to look at Dean and smirks. “Yeah, Dean. Tell Cas what's been building up.”

“I said it hasn't been building up.”

“What hasn't?” Castiel asks, leaning toward Dean in concern.

“I- the-" Dean chokes when Cas starts to idly adjust his stethoscope. How many dirty dreams did he have about Dr. Sexy? All the scenarios? The themed porn? He never even considered picturing Cas as the lead in any of them. But now that he is? Well, holy shit, he's done for.

Just stay quiet and still, Dean. Drink the whiskey. Deflect. Avoid. There ya go.

Except it doesn't work. Cas scoots closer - CLOSER - to him, and leans forward. His stethoscope swings off his chest and hits Dean in the arm. Dean whimpers. He actually fucking whimpers.

“Oh, Dean,” Cas practically coos. “What's wrong? Do you hurt?”

“I'm fine,” he grits out.

“You certainly are not fine.” The ghost of Cas’ fingertips flies across his forehead and his eyes slide closed in a last ditch effort to hold out. To get his shit together. “Let me help, Dean.”

“It's not,” Dean releases a shaky breath, opening his eyes only to locate his whiskey. When the glass is empty, he goes to refill it. Castiel pries the bottle from his hand and shakes his head gently. Dean looks over at Sam, ready to plead for back up, when he realizes the chair is empty. “Where did Sam go?”

“He left, Dean. A while ago.”

Dean sags. How is he supposed to avoid Cas now that they're alone? The stethoscope is still against his arm. Cas’ fingers are still softly stroking his face. This is the part where Dean is supposed to bark at Cas about personal space. He can't.

“What's building up, Dean? Is it pain?”

“No. Well, yes. No.” Dean hangs his head. “It's complicated.”

“I've existed since the beginning of time. I can handle complicated.”

Dean laughs under his breath. It’s not Cas that he’s worried about in this situation. He doesn’t think he can handle it.

Thankfully, Jack wanders in to save Dean. The boy gives his two dads a hug and starts rambling on about the new Netflix show he’s been bingeing when he stops mid sentence and focuses in on Dean’s face. “Wait, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Dean says at the exact same time as Cas says, “Dean’s in pain.”

“Oh god.” Dean buries his face in his hands and laughs at his predicament. This is just getting worse. So much worse.

“Sam mentioned that you were willing to put your plan off and wait for us to find something.” Jack’s hand rests on Dean’s shoulder, the boy looking relieved but worried. “You’re not second guessing that, are you?”

“No. It’s not- no.”

“Then what, Dean? We’re family. You can tell us.”

“Cas is right,” Jack tells him.

“Yeah, Dean. Tell us.” This is from Sam, who has joined them once again to revel in Dean’s misery. He’s leaning with a shoulder against the wall and smirking at his brother. “Tell us, Dean.”

Dean pushes away from the table and grumbles under his breath, “Nosy fuckers.” Then he grabs Cas by both the stethoscope and the tie and yanks him to his feet. Cas just stumbles behind him as he’s dragged from the room and down the hall to Dean’s bedroom. Dean can hear Sam laughing and Jack saying something but he doesn’t care. He’s over it. So over it. All his life has been since he was four years old is fighting. Fighting dad. Fighting monsters. Fighting angels. Fighting demons. He’s done. He refuses to fight any longer.

“Dean, I don’t understand. Are you upset with me?”

“Just - shh.” Dean pulls him into the room and closes the bedroom door. He stares down at the knob for a second and decides to lock it.

“Dean-”

“Shhh.”

Cas huffs in frustration. “Dean Winchester, you need to talk to-”

His words are cut off by Dean slamming into him, lips closing over his as he’s pushed into the door. The angel slumps against him and begins to nod. Dean isn’t sure if it’s in encouragement or understanding or acceptance. All he cares is that it’s a yes. An affirmative.

He kisses Cas until their lips feel numb. Then he pulls away and sucks in a deep breath. He thought this would feel different. He thought it would feel epic or explosive. He thought it would feel life changing. Instead, it feels small. Safe. It feels like coming home after a really long, terrible day. No neon signs or flashy music, just happy. So happy.

And fuck, was it a mistake, because there’s no way he’s leaving now. No fucking way he’s going into that box. Dean Winchester will now be spending the rest of his life with Castiel Novak. Michael isn’t invited anymore. He needs to go.

“Us,” Dean begins to explain. “We’re what’s building. This was building. Sam said it had been building since we first met and you caught me in the middle of trying to deny it.”

“Trying?” Cas asks in a hoarse voice.

“Trying. And failing. Miserably.”

“So, you’re not in pain?”

Dean puffs out a breathy laugh. “Not any more than usual, no.”

“You whimpered.”

“You-” Dean pauses, taking Castiel in again. His hair is mussed up now and his lips are swollen and red. The stethoscope hangs haphazardly off his neck. “You look fucking hot, Cas.”

“Oh.” The angel’s face turns an adorably deep shade of red. “Oh!” he says again, this time his face splitting into an amused smile.

Dean arches an eyebrow. “What?”

“Sam had mentioned something about Dr. Sexy earlier and I had thought nothing of it.”

“What can I say? It’s a good look.”

This makes Cas fidget, and he looks away. A frown tugs at his lips. “It’d probably look better on someone else. A woman.”

“Fuck no. Not possible.” Dean grabs his face and forces him to look at him. “I don’t want to ever look at another person again.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Cas’ forehead furrows as he stares into Dean’s bright green eyes. “Why?”

“Why?” Dean asks incredulously. He drags his thumb along Cas’ bottom lip and feels the touch radiate through his entire body. “Because I love you.”

The blue eyed man’s smile widens and he chuckles. “Dean Winchester, you idiot.” Before Dean can respond, he’s being yanked back into a kiss that’s hard and desperate and full of all the unspoken I love yous that have gathered over the years. Against his lips, Cas whispers back, “I love you, too.”

[pjbehindthesun]

chapter 26: principles, paint fumes, and pasta

Tuesday, November 6th, 1990

The first thing I’m aware of before I even open my eyes is that this isn’t my bed. Oh. Right.

The next piece of information I can register is that my shoulder’s killing me. With a big sigh, I try to shift to alleviate the pressure, but then it dawns on me that there’s a reason I can’t move my arm. A very good reason, a redheaded reason who’s curled up against me, facing away, whose bed it is, and who miraculously didn’t wake up when I did. What’s a little dislocated ball and socket joint between friends? ...or whatever we’re calling ourselves now... No, friends, definitely still friends. I need to remember that it’s important to just be Cora’s friend right now. And anyway, it wouldn’t be very friendly of me to wake her up, right? She puts on a brave show but she’s still pretty sick, and I ought to let her get as much rest as she needs. So I hold still and try to ignore my aching shoulder.

Purely selfless of me, of course. Has nothing to do with wanting to stay this close to her for as long as possible, or how good her hair smells in a pile right below my face, or the fact that her bed is way more comfortable than it has any right to be, or the fact that she’s not wearing pants… it’s all very innocent, of course, she just insisted after a while that she couldn’t handle her sweatpants for another second and tugged them off under the covers before falling asleep on me… I'd like to be able to say that I put up a valiant, principled struggle against her pantslessness, but really, who would believe that?

I really missed this. I’ve never exactly been a big fan of sleeping with someone, actually sleeping -- relationship or no relationship, I’ve always needed a healthy minimum amount of personal space -- but everything’s different with Cora, and I’ve really missed this. I know it was only a few nights ago that she came over, but it feels like I’ve been experiencing the passage of time in dog years, like it’s been less than a week for normal humans but somehow over a month for me. Trying to undo the damage of our last fight was hard enough, and now realistically I know that she’s gonna be reeling from this breakup for a long time and that I need to give her as much space as possible and just kinda let her handle it on her own, in her own way… but it’s difficult not to focus on the fact that she’s single now. Maybe there won’t be quite as much drama involved in being honest with her about my feelings now that Alex is gone. Maybe this is actually a good time to try and tell her how much I still want to be with her.

Or maybe I’m just being incredibly selfish, and the last thing she needs is another person she trusts moving the goalposts on her, and that's the exact opposite of the whole friend thing I'm trying to do here. A fresh wave of regret washes over me as I remember how dismissive I was of her guilt on Friday morning. I’m starting to understand where that guilt came from. God, I really need to get out of here.

What time is it, anyway? She’s sleeping on my watch arm, and the room’s dark enough that I couldn’t find a clock even if I knew where she kept one… but the fact that her window is pitch black is more than enough information. We were supposed to just take a short nap, but we obviously overslept. Lucy’s supposed to get back here after she’s done with work, and who knows what the hell her opinion of my situation with Cora is. I’d rather wear Mark’s spangly, silver, unwashed, fish-stained leggings for an entire calendar year than try and explain to Lucy why I spent the entire day here in Cora’s bed when I was supposed to be helping move Cletus out (and hey, for the record, I did an unimpeachable job).

And speaking of opinions of the situation, what about Cora’s? I know how I feel about her, and I think by now she does too, but who the hell knows what she thinks about us now? I wonder if she’s been having the same thoughts as me… I wonder if she’s still just as hung up as I am on what happened between us? Maybe she’s just as eager to give this thing a real try now that she’s finally free to do so? But until she says otherwise, we’re still technically still in this ceasefire, and I’m not about to be the one who violates it by bringing up such a radioactive subject. That would be just perfect, another one of our big stupid trademark fights. That’s pretty much what we’re best at, at this point. What’s my fucking problem? Why the hell am I waiting around here for another fight?

As if to answer my question, she sighs and wiggles a little closer. Jesus, I’m a weak-willed idiot for this woman. I know better, honestly I do, but I can’t help burying my nose deeper into her hair and the curve of her neck. Who knows when I’ll feel this close to her again. But in a feat of resolve, I manage to stop myself from kissing her. I’m not totally devoid of learning ability, after all. With one more deep breath, I slide my arm out from under her, my face screwed up partly with the effort of being stealthy and partly due to the pins and needles pricking my shoulder, and make my way out of her bed.

I’m sure I woke her up, but I’m not about to look back and confirm it. Nothing personal, I’ve just got to get going for both our sakes, that’s all. Scooping up my discarded shirt and hat, I head straight for the bathroom to pull myself together. I feel like such an asshole, though… I’m not ditching her, I’m just letting her stay in bed and rest, right? This isn’t a dick move, right? It’s just stealth. Sure. Right. Anxiety squeezes at my throat.

Except I realize the stealth plan is completely blown when I remember I have to head back to her room for my coat and boots. When I get there, the bed’s empty. Ohhhkay. So much for sneaking out. Time to try and find a creative way to get out of here before one of us does something stereotypically idiotic. I’ve stayed for way too long, and the last thing I want is for her to think I expect anything from her by hanging around. She’s so vulnerable right now. I don’t want her to feel like she owes me something for helping her out, or like I’m here because of any ulterior motives. I’ve got to leave with my principles intact, somehow.

After I’ve shuffled back into my boots, I head to the kitchen, where Cora’s got her back to me as she gets herself a fresh drink of water.

“Uh, so I gotta... get going,” I state the obvious, opening the front door with the hand that’s still draped in my coat, causing me to lose my grip on it and fumble to keep from dropping it entirely. Oh, excellent. Feeling extremely suave right about now.

“Yeah, I figured. I’ve kept you long enough, huh?” She refrains from laughing as I fight my way into my coat and just offers a tentative smile as she makes her way over to me. She’s wearing pants again. I’m not sure what I expected, but it’s still disappointing.

“No, it’s not… you didn’t… I could have… but, dog…”

One of her eyebrows skyrockets. “Again in English, please?”

“I gotta… go take care of the dog,” I finally stitch together a sentence with a cringe, “because, uh, my parents are still out of town. Poor old thing’s probably doing the bathroom dance by the back door.”

Fuck! That’s not even true! My parents’ flight landed earlier today, I’m sure the dog’s getting spoiled rotten as we speak. Why am I lying to her? The panicked feeling in my throat tightens.

“Aww, poor Penny,” she croons, setting the water glass down on top of the TV and taking me by the collar to give me a shake with both hands. “Why didn’t you tell me, Stoner? I woulda kicked you out hours ago!”

Jesus, she has the prettiest eyes. I’m never ready for the effect they have at close range like this. Shit. What are we talking about? Oh, right.

“I, uh… I probably should have gotten back to work already anyway, now that I’m no longer a sanitation threat to the general customer base of the bakery.”

She smooths out the fabric of my coat but doesn’t let go, gnawing on her bottom lip and frowning at her handiwork. “I should get back to school tomorrow too, probably.”

“Oh no way, Typhoid Mary, you’re under quarantine for at least another couple of days,” I cackle, putting my arm up in front of my face, making her drop her grip on my coat.

“I can’t miss that many classes! My professors will think I’m slacking off!”

“Oh, yeah, might as well just withdraw from school, no point even going back now that your credibility’s so irreparably damaged.”

She ignores me. “I should probably call them and explain, right?”

“It’s you, Red, I’m pretty sure after one missed lecture they’ve initiated a missing persons search. Come to think of it, I think I saw your face on a milk carton at the grocery store.”

“That’d be rich, considering I haven’t seen my own advisor since like September,” she allows a tiny smile, picking up the tattered novel I’d been reading earlier. “You wanna take this with you?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” I mumble, letting her push the book into my chest and taking it from her. “You sure you won’t miss it?”

“It’s a short book, Stone, I can spare it for a few weeks. Unless you’re planning to skip town or something.”

“No, why would I do that??” I gape at her in horror, feeling my heart start to race like a cornered animal. Is that what she thinks of me leaving like this? I’m not skipping town! I just don’t want to… I don’t even know what I want. Of course I want to stay and spend more time with her, but I can’t help feeling like I’ve overstayed my welcome and I need to give her some space… Jesus, calm down, idiot, look at her, she’s staring at you like you just sprouted extra ears. That’s obviously not what she meant.

“Okay, okay, unclench! It was just a joke, Stoner.” She gives me a shove to the shoulder before winding her arms around my middle and resting her head on the same spot she'd just assaulted. “Although I do kinda wish you could stay.”

“Yeah, uh, I mean, me too…” I stammer, yet again forgetting what we're even talking about because yet again all I can focus on is how good her hair smells. God, I’m a total disaster.

“Thank you. I mean it. For everything. For staying as long as you did…”

“It was nothing. I mean, I think I may have thrown my back out earlier, but that's what you get for hiring a slotted spoon for all your post-breakup moving man needs.”

A little laugh bubbles out of her and she starts to work out the muscles in my lower back in a slow, kneading motion.

“I was kidding, you don't have to do that…” I protest, my knees weakening. But she doesn’t stop, and I’m starting to feel awkward about not returning her hug, so I half-assedly reciprocate, which only prompts her to pull me closer and massage more of my back. Not good… or very good, very, very good... no, not good! I wish I could think of some other words, some way to explain why I’m in such a hurry to get away from her, but I can’t figure out what to say that won't be hurtful. That the longer I stay here, the more uncomfortable I am with the implications. That I’m not sure I can trust myself to make the right decisions around her, especially right now. That I really just need to go clear my head for a while, and she’s never been very helpful with that.

She nuzzles deeper into my shoulder before looking up at me, inches away and wearing a sheepish little smile, swaying us just slightly, like she’s not sure what else to do either. But we both know what we’d like to be doing. I want it to happen more than I can articulate, but I’m also not going to be the one to do it. I can’t seem to remember why not, though. Something about principles, I think. So I stand there like an absolute idiot and let her close the distance and kiss me. The closest thing I can manage to principled behavior is just to let her lead, to keep the kiss as light as I possibly can, to resist pulling her closer and taking over, to avoid walking her backwards into her bedroom and giving up on the whole stupid pretense that I have any sort of resolve whatsoever when it comes to her.

God, what are we doing? She's been single for less than 24 hours! This is a terrible idea, even by our standards… I pull away and drop my hands, hoping to give her a reassuring smile but probably looking more like the “before” guy in an antacid commercial before I slink into the hallway and away from her door.

I don't look back until I'm two flights of stairs away. What the hell was that? Why couldn’t I just tell her what was wrong? I should go back up, I should explain, she's probably still standing there stunned… I take a few steps back up before wheeling around again, ready to bolt out of her building until I regain enough composure and sense to come back and have a real talk with her about our situation, but instead I plow into someone heading upstairs.

“OW! Stone, what the FUCK?”

Some mumbled word that hopefully sounds like “sorry” comes out of me as I put a hand out to make sure Lucy doesn’t topple backwards. I was going to try to edge my way past her and continue down the stairs, but for the second time today, someone’s got me by the coat collar, and I stumble backwards up a couple stairs to get my balance.

She fixes me with a beady, searching squint. “What are you still doing here?”

“Nothing. I was just leaving.”

“Yeah, Captain Obvious, I know… wasn’t Alex supposed to come by around noon?”

“Yeah, he did.” With some effort, I shift until she releases her clawlike grip on me, but it’s clear she’s still not planning to let me past her just yet.

“It’s like 6:30… why are you still here? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine!” Her eyebrows shoot up, and frankly I'm surprised by my own volume as well. Shouting’s definitely not helping my case. I lower my voice several decibels and try again. “She’s fine, don’t worry. They didn’t see each other at all, she was asleep the whole time, I took care of it, and then, uh… we just fell asleep together. For a little while.”

“You what?” She’s a little shorter than me and two steps below me, but that doesn’t stop me from cowering back from the menacing look I just got. Still, she’s pissing me the fuck off and I’m in no mood for this.

“Did I stutter?” God, I really don’t need to pick a fight with Lucy too, but I’m running out of patience for this shit. I’m not thrilled about everyone always assuming the worst about me. Then again, I’ve just been occupied doing the same thing.

“Cut the shit, Stone! She’s been single for five fucking minutes, can’t you keep it in your pants long enough to let her --”

“Jesus! Nothing happened, okay?”

“This time, maybe.”

“Oh, fuck off. She didn’t want to be alone, I stuck around for a while, that’s it! I did what you fucking asked.”

Lucy’s mouth opens furiously, but I’ve pushed past her before she can get a word out. She’s made her point. And I’d never admit it to her, but I know she’s right.

***

What the fuck is his problem? Ugh, you sarcastic little shit! Yeah, you’d better run!

With a huff, I stomp up the rest of the stairs. I can’t believe him! I’ve stuck up for him, I’ve defended him to Cora, I’ve tried to help her recognize how much she loves his stupid ass, and he bites my head off? Me, of all people? I’m not the enemy! I just want to make sure he’s giving her a little space, that’s all! No wonder he’s storming off, they probably got into another one of their textbook fights because he tried to move things forward too fast. I know he’s a complete shithead when it comes to Cora, but I figured he’d have enough sense not to try and make a move today, at the very least. Last time I give too much credit to Stone, that’s for damn sure.

I slow my pace down when I hit her floor and brace myself for whatever kind of apocalyptic, tearful mess he probably left behind. The door is still wide open, which can’t be a good sign… I edge into the apartment and knock lightly anyway, even though I can see her in the kitchen from the hallway.

“Hey Luce,” she smiles over her shoulder before returning to the cabinet she’s rooting through. She’s not exactly the picture of health, but for someone with the flu, she looks pretty normal. And chipper. Which is precisely zero help as I try to piece together why Stone was rushing out of here in such a bitchy hurry.

“Hey… how are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. Slept most of the day, which probably didn’t hurt. Stone just left.” She’s got her back to me as she grabs a sheet pan and fills it with frozen tater tots, so I can’t gauge her face, but her voice still sounds pretty upbeat.

“Yeah? He wasn’t too much of a pest?”

“No, why would he be?” she says, keeping a neutral tone as she puts the pan in the oven and turns around.

“You sure you’re okay? Stone spent the whole day here and you’re not annoyed? If you’re hallucinating, we definitely need to get you to the hospital…” I reach up to put a hand on her forehead but she bats it away with a weak smile.

“Seriously, it’s fine. He did all the packing, he made me take some cold meds, and I spent most of the day completely crashed out. When I woke up, he’d handled the whole Alex thing, I didn’t even have to come to the door. Really decent of him, actually.”

“Yeah,” I peer at her. “I guess. So you’re really okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I mean… just wondering.”

She hunches her shoulders defensively, but she’s still smiling, so it’s clear that pressing the issue isn’t going to get me any new information. But it still kinda freaks me out that she’s this calm and robotic about it all. I mean, we’re not even a day out from Cindygate, and she’s acting so… normal? I know this is her first breakup, but doesn’t she know the rules? Doesn’t she know she’s entitled to a sobbing, ice-cream binging, voodoo doll-making phase? How the hell can she be so calm about this? And what the hell happened with Stone, and why isn’t she more spun up about that? I want to grab her by the shoulders and shake the story out of her, but that’s more for my benefit than for hers. I need a different approach.

“So what do you want to get up to tonight?”

Without a word, she points at the oven and then at her own open mouth, which inadvertently becomes a full-body yawn. “Tots. Then sleep.”

“Didn’t you sleep all day?”

“Yeah, it was fucking exhausting. Seriously, I kinda just want to be alone so I can crash.”

“Sure, okay… you sure?”

“I’m sure! I don’t need supervision, Lucy, I just need more sleep.”

“Yeah, of course,” I nod reassuringly, but I’m still not sure what to make of this totally calm, emotionless robot. Is she really okay? Is she just spaced out on cold meds? Is she waiting for me to leave so she can fall apart?

“Go say hi to the guys for me, okay?” she chirps with her back toward me as she peeks into the oven to check on her tater tots, waving without looking.

“Uh huh. Uhm, you can come over if you want company…”

“Nah. I’ll call you tomorrow!”

Okay, as I make my way out into the hallway and close the door behind me, I can maybe start to see why Stone was so shaken up. Acting this calm the day after what she just went through? That’s just fucking freaky. No good will come of this.

When I key into Jeff’s apartment, he and Eddie glance up from where they’re both sitting on the couch, guitars in hand, noses buried in one of Ed’s little notebooks. Basketball’s on the TV, and a bag of Chips Ahoy sits half-devoured between them on the cushion. A much more normal and reassuring sight. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my shoulders tight around my ears all day, but it’s a massive relief to leave Cora’s drama behind for a little while and come home. I mean, not that Jeff’s place is my home! I guess technically I spend enough time here that I’ve started to think of it that way, but the idea of making things more official hasn’t really come up. Not since the whole “I love you” thing happened in the bathroom the other day. And I’m not even sure it came up then. I might have been imagining it in the midst of all those paint fumes. To be honest, I’m kind of glad it hasn’t come up again because I’m still not sure how to handle a relationship that’s going this well. In some ways, Jeff being in my life feels like a practical joke. Like at any moment, some horrible game show host is going to pop out from behind a ficus plant and say, ‘just kidding, you didn’t really think a guy this great could actually be in love with YOU, did you? Look, everybody, can you believe she fell for it...’

“In or out?” Jeff grins, setting his bass down propped up against the couch to stand up and take an irresistible kitten-like stretch.

“In.”

“Hi, Lucy,” Eddie mumbles as I close the door behind me, scratching his eyebrow and smiling shyly.

I try to say hi back, but it’s a muffled yelp from inside Jeff’s sudden bear hug, and Eddie quickly averts his eyes back to the notebook.

“Work good?” Jeff says from somewhere in my hair, totally oblivious to Eddie’s discomfort.

“Yeah, just long. Have you talked to Stone?”

His snort right into my ear tells me that’s a no. “So you didn’t hear anything about how today went?”

“How what went?” Jeff lets me go just enough to get a look at my face. Shit, that’s right, I’ve been so wrapped up in all this drama I haven’t even told him what happened last night! Oh, this is not going to be pretty.

“Sooo,” I stall, filling my lungs with air and focusing on my feet planted on their scuffed floor, trying to ground myself before the inevitable explosion, “the thing is, Cora kicked Alex out last night after finding him in their apartment with another girl…”

Jeff takes a big step back from me and laces his fingers behind his head like he’s trying to restrain them from wringing the nearest neck. “Whhh…” he struggles to talk through clenched teeth. When I glance over at Eddie, he hasn’t moved a muscle except to draw his eyebrows as far down into a knot as humanly possible as he glares at his pages.

“Yeah, it was pretty terrible, or it sounds that way. She didn’t tell me until this morning, but I guess she threw him out right then and spent the night by herself. That’s all I know. She won’t really talk to me about it. Anyway, I called him this morning and talked him into coming by to get his stuff today, just to rip the bandage off as soon as possible. I think he was feeling guilty enough that he went for it. And Stone was the only one around to help out and make sure Alex didn’t hassle Cora when he came by.”

“You should have called me, I woulda left work!” Jeff shouts, letting his arms flail. “God, I wait all year for a chance to punch that guy in the jaw, and Stone gets to do it, of all people? I don’t think he even knows how to throw a punch, he’d probably miss and end up hitting himself!”

“Stone had a pretty good grip on things, nobody got punched,” Eddie says absently in that uniquely low but resonant way he has, so that even the quietest words reach every ear in the room.

“Wait, you were there too? Fuck, I miss everything!”

“Well, no, I just sorta… I was in the right place at the right time, I helped Stone get some of the boxes into the guy’s truck.” His eyes are boring holes into the floor, refusing to look at either Jeff or me, so we settle for looking equally confused at one another. How come Stone didn’t mention Eddie helping out? I wonder if Cora has any idea. She certainly didn’t let on if she did. Shit, let’s hope not. She’d probably be completely mortified.

“Wait, so this thing with this girl, do you know if it was a one-off or what?” Jeff presses me for more details.

“It was his best friend’s girlfriend, I think. Apparently it had been going on for like a year.”

Just as Jeff interpretively dances through another fit of apoplectic rage, Eddie excuses himself and starts to slouch off toward his bedroom, which is really more like a large closet with a futon. Poor guy, he probably feels really uncomfortable with me here all the time, especially with so little space of his own to escape to.

“Eddie, you don’t have to go! Did you guys eat dinner yet? I could make something!”

“Hmm? Nah, thanks, I’m good, I’ve gotta… I'll figure something out a little later, you go ahead,” he mumbles cryptically, disappearing down the hall.

“Guy’s a fast learner, he already knows not to let you cook,” Jeff grumbles, visibly winding down just a tiny bit.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. She didn't even tell me until this morning. It all happened so quickly before work.”

“Nah, don’t apologize, it’s not like I’m mad at you. I just really hate that fucking guy.”

“Join the club.”

With a chuckle, he pulls me into another embrace. “Pizza?”

We order dinner, I ditch my work clothes for the sweats I’ve started keeping in his dresser, and before long, it’s starting to feel like any other normal Tuesday evening. Until, after settling into a pizza coma with my legs stretched out over his lap on the couch, half-asleep, he speaks up out of nowhere.

“So, have you thought anymore about it?”

“About what?” I ask through a stifled yawn.

“Moving in with me.”

Instantly wide awake, I gape at him and rack my brain. When the fuck did we talk about moving in together? When did we talk about it in enough detail that he thought I’d have an answer? What the hell am I supposed to do with this? Has absolutely everyone in this building lost their damn mind? What was in those paint fumes, anyway?

***

Wednesday, November 7th, 1990

Not your typical sick day, I guess. Most people would probably just stay in bed, but I’m having a hard time with the whole bed concept. It felt a little less like “our” bed when Stone was here with me, distracting me from the fact that it used to be a shared bed by definition, but it still doesn’t feel like “mine.” Who knows how long it’s going to take me to occupy the whole bed when I sleep by myself. It feels rude to take up Alex's space. I hate that I’m still calling it his space. It’s not like he’s coming back for it. Not like I’d even want him to. But it still feels like there’s a big “reserved” sign hanging over that side of the bed. So much of my apartment doesn’t feel like mine. Looking around and seeing massive, conspicuous holes where Alex’s things used to be makes it so much worse. They look like wounds.

So I’ve spent the day covering up those holes. Shuffling books and records around so that the bookcases don’t look so gap-toothed. Reorganizing my sweaters to use all the drawers in the dresser. But that only wasted so much time. I still had a whole day to myself. It’s weird, I spent a lot of time by myself when we were together, too -- I guess that was part of the problem -- but the solitary time never felt this bottomless. Now, I’ll do anything I can think of to fill it up, use it up, burn it, in the hope that if I kill enough of it, it’ll develop an end. One of those light things at the end of the tunnel that stupid optimistic people are always talking about.

The first thing I thought of was calling the clinic. I’m on their schedule for tomorrow for a check-up. I’ve never gone to one of these places before, but it seems the obvious thing to do. Not even out of fear, really, just out of due diligence. It doesn’t even seem like my own health I’m checking up on, it’s just something right out of the Handbook for the Recently Cheated On.

Then, once the thought of cleanliness had occurred to me, it seemed only natural that purging the apartment was the next step. Maybe if every last corner of this place is spotless, it’ll feel more like it belongs to me, more like a fresh start of some kind. And mindless tasks are the perfect way to burn out any thoughts about Alex, like checking the clock and wondering if he’s ever going to call. He probably has no reason to call someone he’s been over for so long, and I’m not sure I want to hear from him, but there’s this weird void where he used to be, made all the more prominent by how suddenly it appeared. Shouldn’t we have some kind of closure? Wouldn’t calling me to talk about it be the right thing to do, even if it was just a postmortem? I thought we respected each other at least enough for that. Maybe he will call eventually, but not enough time has passed. See? This is why I need to clean the fucking house, I can’t stop dwelling on stupid shit like this. Or other stupid shit, like how confusing everything’s gotten with Stone. I haven’t heard anything from him since he sprinted out of my place yesterday. God, what was I thinking, kissing him? He was obviously trying to get out of here as fast as he could, I just… I didn’t want him to leave, and I didn’t know how to explain it to him, so I said it the only way I could think to say it… he couldn’t have been less into it, the poor guy. I’m sure he just stayed the whole day out of pity, and I took advantage of his kindness by kissing him. Fucking great. Running them off in droves. Who can blame them?

So I’ve vacuumed, I’ve mopped, I’ve dusted. I’ve disinfected the light switches. I’ve run vinegar solutions through the dishwasher, the coffee pot. I’ve scrubbed all the baseboards. I’ve cleaned under the refrigerator. I’ve oiled the creaky bathroom door hinges. I’ve used Alex’s toothbrush to clean the bathroom floor tile grout. And I’m running out of ideas. God, I really need to get healthy soon so I can go the fuck back to the lab, this is pathetic. Oh! I don’t think I’ve ever deep-cleaned the radiator!

A cloth, a bucket of soapy water, and a grimy cast-iron project. Perfect. There are so many impossible angles, so many unreachable corners, so many attention-stealing details I can fixate on until my hands go numb. I could do this for hours. I already feel like I have been doing this for hours. This is exactly what I needed. The perfect antidote to overthinking.

I have no idea what time it is when I hear a tentative knock on my door. Probably Lucy checking on me after work again. It’s sweet of her, but really, I need to get rid of her as soon as I can. The less I have to explain about my mental state to concerned third parties, the better.

“Come in, it’s open,” I call, not lifting my head from the floor where I’m crouched on my hands and knees to check whether the underside of the radiator is uniformly glistening.

“Did you lose something under there?”

At the sound of a much deeper than expected voice, I jolt upright, regretting the decision instantly when my neck complains. “Eddie! What are you doing here?” Fuck, why does he always catch me off guard like this? I always run into him at the worst moments.

“Oh, sorry, is this a bad time?”

If it were anyone but Eddie, I would probably say yes, because my life lately is an endless continuum of bad times, but he looks so small and forlorn standing in my doorway clutching a baking pan covered in foil that I can’t bring myself to make him feel any more out of place.

“No, not at all.”

“Uhm, not to, like… question your methods or anything, but… what were you doing just now?”

“Cleaning the radiator.”

“Huh. Do you have to do that?”

I shrug, dropping the rag into the bucket of scummy water. “I have to do something.”

“Sure, sure, yeah.” He nods with a scowl. This seems to be one of his approving scowls. I like a person who has different varieties of scowls. “Well, uhm,” his gaze travels down to the pan in his hands, and the scowl becomes almost one of surprise, as if he didn’t remember bringing it with him, “I heard you were feeling under the weather, so I figured someone should drop off some sustenance.”

Only when he mentions food does my stomach loudly remind me that I’ve forgotten to eat all day. “Oh, thanks,” I start to say, but he keeps mumbling down at the dish.

“It’s not like it’s gourmet or anything, it’s just baked ziti, there was a coupon for spaghetti sauce. I don’t really have my own pans and stuff, though, so you’re gonna have to give this one back eventually, it’s Jeff’s…”

“I think I can handle that.” His sincerity is so touching that I want to hug him, except I’m all covered in sweat and grime, and he looks like he might shatter if I tried. I settle for taking the pan from him with a simple “thank you” and giving him a chance to find someplace in my apartment where he feels a little more at ease. True to form, he settles on standing in the doorway, one foot still in the hall, with his hands shoved deep in his pockets and his eyes digging into the floor.

I was about to put the pan away, figuring I’d heat it up by myself later, but the black marker design sketched on the aluminum foil cover stops me in my tracks in front of my recently polished fridge. Setting the pan down on the counter to study it, I find a series of angular, progressing ocean waves crashing on a shore. A few seabirds seem to be circling way out over the water. As my eyes travel in from the ocean, there’s a spit of beach encircled by a spiky ring of vegetation, some roughly sketched palm trees, and a hammock underneath. And even though no one’s speaking, I can hear his voice reaffirming our stupid little daydream outside the Off Ramp that night. 

The island’s still there if we need it, right?

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?” He turns around from his solitary post in my door frame.

“You got dinner plans?”

“No,” his scowl gives way to a tight-lipped and dimpled smile, “you?”

“Now I do. Thanks for this.”

“Ahh,” he rumbles, shaking his head uncomfortably at the floor and making his way inside, closing the door behind him.

[svguavajelly]

Accidents Will Happen

It’s our one year anniversary in Cuenca and I wake up in the hospital. Quite different than our planned celebratory dinner as a family because as we all know…shit happens. There was no regular path to this moment, instead a series of accidents and bad luck. The good news is the surgery is behind me and now the slow healing process begins.

It all started over a couple of months ago when I had a planned adventure for the kiddos while Hannah was away at her weekly afternoon of playing bridge. Getting outside is imperative because the three wee ones trapped in the house can be a challenge. The week before I had ridden my bike a couple of hours out of town, up a valley road to this visible summit on a ridge. Guaguazhumi (pronounced Wawashumi) seemed like a good way to spend an afternoon with the kids.

That nipple on the ridge is the summit.

We took a 1/2 hour taxi ride ($6) to the trail head. We were a determined team with Luz in the chest carrier, my backpack full of rain gear, hats, water, snacks, a change for Luz, camera and a couple of small toys, and Tomu and Jade hiking. They are very experienced for their age and keen to explore.  We were prepared…after all, what could go wrong?

The trail immediately began with a steep ascent and would continue for the duration of our hike. I picked the more direct, steeper, shorter route with the intention of having a longer leisurely descent with the sights of Cuenca and Cajas always in our view.

Trailblazing Jade the Fearless

There wasn’t a soul in sight for our hour climb and near the summit we had to push through some overgrown brush and criss-cross through a gully….challenging for anyone, yet Tomu and Jade were excited to push for summit. I stepped up a small slope and suddenly, without warning my foot slipped downward a couple of feet. I instinctively put my left hand up to protect sleeping Luz’s head and my right hand out to catch my fall.

THWACK…my foot went down with my arm extended, stretched over my head immediately dislocating my shoulder. I knew it right away when I stood up and checked on Luz. She was crying as this woke her and I noticed my right arm was a few inches longer. The pain was intense though with the adrenaline pumping I remained calm, telling the kids we had to go down and wouldn’t make the summit. They knew something was up even though I downplayed my injury. We walked back to a flat spot where I took off the heavy pack (OUCH), took Luz out of the carrier (OUCH), took off my shirt (OUCH) and evaluated the situation.

Clearly dislocated as I could see the odd shape of my shoulder and the ball of my humerus bone in my armpit. Made a small attempt to reset it by holding onto a tree and pulling backwards….like in the movies. No luck. Checked cell phone…no service, not that I could really call anyone to help me though speaking with Hannah would have made me feel better. I knew we had to get to the remote dirt road, an hour down a steep trail with the 3 helpers.

I explained to Tomu and Jade that I was OK but hurt and they would have to help themselves to get down. Tomu valiantly offered to help Jade down the tricky parts of the trail and he assisted in getting Luz back in the carrier and the pack on my back (OUCHY-OUCH). I thought about ditching the pack and returning for it later but since I had to carry Luz regardless I thought the pack would provide counter-pressure to Luz’s carrier…kinda holding my shoulder together….but not really.

We managed to get down fairly quickly and the sun came out blazing when we reached the road. It was no surprise that there were no cars in sight so we started walking. I thought about knocking on a door of one few houses for assistance but decided against it. Luckily within a few minutes a mixto (taxi pick-up truck) passed and agreed to take us home. 

Happy to be off the mountain I had a moment to let it all sink in and the pain came on strong as well as many emotions during the very bumpy ride home. I was mad at myself for putting the kids in a potentially bad situation, for getting hurt and realizing the consequences of it all. Injured, unable to help around the house, the slow recovery….crap.

I finally got ahold of Han and she was going to meet us at the house to watch the kids and I would carry on to the hospital to get my arm reset. The best thing about this day so far was the kiddos and their attitude. They all were beyond helpful by listening and acting accordingly after the accident and before with their eagerness to do some crazy exploring with Papa.

Han arrived at the house and the second phase of this debacle began. Figuring out which hospital to go to and how to progress with emergency care and long term help. I couldn’t really think about anything except putting my shoulder back in the socket. The pain had intensified as it had been a few hours since the accident by the time I reached the hospital.

They immediately put me in a room and gave me a lot of attention with questions, blood pressure, x-rays, etc. but no indication of getting my shoulder set. After an hour and much struggle with the language, calls to and from Han and many different people coming in and out we heard the trauma specialist was on leave (he just had a baby). More confusion and delays, saying I would have to go to another hospital, finally they informed me a doc would come and help me.

Hours more passed before he actually arrived, during which I had been admitted, prepped for surgery, IVed, lightly drugged (not enough) and left alone in a room while I writhed and tried to get a comfortable position to relieve the pain…no luck. Han arrived as the doc was trying to manipulate my arm back in the socket, without success. It was an extreme anterior dislocation that was difficult to reset so they put me under and minutes later it was in place.

When I awoke the pain had all but disappeared. After more x-rays, paperwork we were free to go. The prognosis was it would take awhile to recover but with time and rehab it should heal fine.

Fast forward a month. After rest and a couple of rehab sessions things had gotten better for the first couple of weeks then much worse for the last couple of weeks. I sought a second opinion and subsequently third opinion, got an MRI and the diagnosis was two major tears in the supraspinatus (top shoulder muscle), and the labrum (shoulder socket). Surgery was scheduled for the following week. We found out later, while performing surgery there was a 3rd major tear on the subcorpularis (shoulder blade muscle).

As happy as I was to finally know what was happening with my body, the actual news itself was pretty grim. A month had gone by since the dislocation which set recovery back. I had been relatively active during the month while my shoulder was barley attached with activities like biking daily, playing ball and roughhousing with the kiddos…all the normal stuff. There was some pain but compared to when it was dislocated for 5+ hours and after it was reset it seemed minimal.

The afternoon before surgery I went to a 90 minute relaxing massage to loosen things up before I was laid up. It was a brilliant idea and upon leaving my session I felt better than I had in a couple of weeks. I pedaled my bike home from the other side of town on one of the designated official bike lanes just like the ones in Seattle with the little bumps separating it from the road and painted with that red, textured, rubbery coating and the familiar bike logos stenciled on. Also, all intersections have the pedestrian crossing lights except changed to show a rolling green bicycle when we have the right of way.

From experience I know there is no established formality for 'right of way' in Latin America and I often say when urban riding “I don’t want my epitaph to say ‘But I had the right of way’”. The nice smooth lane I had to myself combined with the gentle downhill or the post massage, semi-euphoric state of mind or the lack of traffic on the one-way road…I dunno but I was riding fast with my perfectly connecting lights flashing the rolling green bicycle and that bliss quickly ended.

In the distance I saw the small white car approaching my clear intersection and prepped to brake (even though I had the right of way) and I saw it stop before turning into my lane. Perfect, they are waiting for me and I continued my fast pedal cadence when at the last second they turned and crossed my path. It happened in slow motion in my mind and by slamming on the brakes I managed to scrub some speed before the bike collided with the drivers front bumper and I flew cartoonish over my handlebars, over the car hood and landed some meters away, tumbling into the bike lane.

FUCK, FUCK, FUCK I yelled, more scared about further damage to my shoulder than anything else. It hurt…really badly and consciously I had managed to not land directly on my existing injury….the night before my morning surgery.

Many people gathered and the woman driving the car came over crying (I think she thought she killed me). Soon the police and ambulance arrived even though I called no one except Hannah. It was difficult to dial with shaking hands and the service wasn’t good so many dropped calls later she left Jade at Tomu’s soccer practice and arrived with Luz in tow to find me in an ambulance.

We talked for a minute and I assured her I was going to be sorta OK. While I received suspect care in the ambulance, Hannah was negotiating the compensation with the woman who had no insurance but had the backing of a dozen colleagues from where she worked across the street. Hannah had the backing of Luz who was bawling due to all the commotion. I was useless and no help.

After much debate we agreed the ambulance would transport me to the free, public hospital for x-rays and evaluation. The woman and some entourage, including Hannah and Luz would follow and pay for the x-rays. I did confess that I was previously injured and was getting surgery the next day…it seemed like the right thing to do. We creeped through rush hour traffic, listening to the driver and EMTs argue about the best route and Hannah and Luz followed in another car.

When we finally arrived at the hospital later I was frustrated and done with everyone and the last thing I wanted to do was spend hours waiting for x-rays the night before my surgery. I stepped out of the ambulance in front of the emergency entrance and said “adios…I’m going home”. I got in a taxi and picked up Tomu and Jade who were patiently watching the next soccer practice. They are on their best behavior when things are at their worst…they really rise to the occasion.

So happy to be home, Han soon arrived with Luz after riding with the woman and her entourage. The police had been following but were released en route when we agreed, via recorded video, that the $50 cash compensation was sufficient…which it wasn’t but what can we do?

The next morning, lying on the operating table, I was surprised by the large size and sparseness. It was virtually empty except for a couple of metal shelves, a garbage can and a free standing closet. Staring at the two huge, modern octopus-like lights which hung from the ceiling above me I witnessed people slowly filling the room by rolling a dozen types of electronics, scanners, computers, monitors, drills, and a cart with all the ominous looking sharp things…one by one over the next hour.  The anesthesiologist came in and sent me to dreamland.

So back to the start of this blog…our 1 year anniversary and when I awoke in the hospital I was happy to see Han and the kids. I got some sweet homemade cards and they all wanted to climb on the robot bed. Lovely to have my main support group in attendance. Our dear Cuencano friends Lore & Juanito came by as well. Unfortunately the doc made me stay overnight…ugh. They came in frequently to wake me and ask how I was doing?!?

The doc came by late and gave me the news of the surgery. From the MRI he knew about 2 of the damaged areas but was surprised by the severity once he was inside. He also found a 3rd major tear that didn’t show on the MRI and took care of that as well. My new internal hardware includes 4 composite screws anchored into bones to give extra support for the sutures which repaired the severed tendons. Overall he said it went very well and eventually, with proper therapy, I should be 100%.

After a difficult night of sleep…the first of 100+ in a row to date, we finished up some paperwork and final check up and I was ready to go home. I had to go downstairs and pay before they would officially release me and remove the IV. I settled my tab, about $3900, not including the screws which we arranged to buy direct from the supplier to avoid the hospital mark-up as advised by the surgeon to save some $$ since this was all done without insurance. My research shows the similar extensive repair in the US may have cost up to $30,000 or more.

As I write this I am 6 weeks post-op and progressing on schedule while seeing 2 different physical therapists per week not counting Libby who was my in house therapist while she was visiting....Thanks Wub!  Their styles differ and I’m benefiting from the variety with Jose and his specific exercise regimen and Carla and her stretching and shoulder manipulation. The loss of strength and complete atrophy of my upper body is shocking. I stepped on a scale yesterday at rehab and I weighed 144 pounds! I haven’t seen those numbers since middle school football. I couldn’t lift my arm for weeks and have recently began using the smallest dumbbells made…and seeing progress which is so measurable at this stage. I’ve started riding my bike this week which changes my attitude immensely. I did enjoy the leisurely walking pace to experience my neighborhood and the city these past few weeks…but nothing like biking in Cuenca, which I love.

My first goal was to be ready for our 3 week Bolivia trip which departs in a couple of weeks. Patagonia trip in January will be more demanding as we are backpacking and camping with the kids and I think that’ll be OK as well. Lastly I hope to resume the annual Squamish, BC trip to rock climb with Han when we return to the PNW next summer. With every painful stretch and struggle with every rep and grunt I close my eyes and imagine climbing that big wall again.

[slusheeduck]

Where the Sky Bleeds Gold

[Part I]

Part 2

               Jehan kept his promise, staying by the corpse all night. It was much colder and much less comfortable than he would have been in the chapel, but Jehan didn’t like going back on his word—even to a dead man.

               But morning came soon enough, and he considered his work done. He gave the corpse a quiet goodbye, wishing him well on his journey from here, and set on out of the village.

               His mood wasn’t as light as he walked this time. He had no money, no coat, and no job. Quite frankly, prospects looked grim. He tried his best not to despair, because of course it’d do him no good, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to be optimistic as he trudged down the road out of town. Of course, it didn’t help that he hadn’t slept well in the graveyard, especially after all of his wandering thus far. His feet dragged, his eyes drooped; he was exhausted. And that, he realized, might be the source of his bad mood.

               He tried to push the exhaustion aside, but by the time an hour had passed, he needed to rest. He walked off the road, dropping into the long, green grass with a sigh. This probably wasn’t his best idea, but there wasn’t much else he could do. Plus, the risk was less than the reward—best case scenario, he got some rest and was able to carry on to find work; worst case scenario, he got his throat slit in his sleep, which would, admittedly, take care of a lot of his problems.

               He leaned back in the grass, letting out a sigh as he shut his eyes. Things could be worse. The day was warm, the air was clear, the grass was very soft. It was as pleasant a place for a nap as you could hope for. He’d just doze for a few minutes, then get back to his fortune-seeking. Just a few minutes…

               “Hey! It’s dangerous to lay out in the open like that!”

               Jehan jumped up at the chiding, looking around frantically as his heart pounded. For a moment, he thought he might have dreamed the shout, but the grass rustled behind him as a shadow covered him. He looked up to see the man who had spoken towering over him and looking at him with concern. He was long and lean, with dark hair poking out from under a wide-brimmed, threadbare hat. He looked worn, with hard, dark eyes and a stern mouth, but he didn’t seem malicious. Jehan blinked at him, then stifled a yawn.

               “I know. I know. I just…last night…” How could he even explain last night? Keeping a corpse company had seemed like the thing to do then, but in the daylight…well, it was up there with sleeping out in the open. He shook his head. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to worry you, friend. I won’t do it again.”

               The man stared down at him, sucking his teeth for a moment before he held out a hand to help Jehan up. “Are you heading east, too?” he asked shortly.

               “Uh, I guess I am?” Jehan brushed the grass off of his clothes. “Honestly, I’m just trying to get somewhere. I don’t have a preference where I end up.”

               The man’s lip twitched up. “It’s dangerous, wandering like that.”

               “Is everything dangerous?”

               “When traveling into the unknown? Yes, very.” He adjusted his green coat. “But it is less dangerous with a companion. If you don’t have a preference where you’re headed, why don’t we walk together?”

               Jehan’s eyebrows rose, and he grimaced. “I’m just looking for work as soon as I can. I don’t want to slow you down.”

               The man shrugged, already starting to walk. “I’m in no hurry to get where I’m going.”

               Jehan’s brows drew together, and he quickly caught up to the man. “Look, I appreciate your offer, but…” He swallowed. “I haven’t got any money. Or skills. Or…anything to offer, really. I’m not much of a companion.”

               The man glanced at him. “Can you talk?”

               “Well…yes.”

               “Can you listen?”

               “Of course.”

               “Then that’s all I need in a companion.” A smile finally crossed his face, tired but genuine. “And I hope it’s all you need, too, because that’s all I can offer in return.”

               Jehan stared at him. This was…strange. But, well, being able to talk with someone would make the traveling go quickly, and it was significantly safer than wandering around on his own. He stuck his hands into his pockets as he fell into step with him.

               “Do you have a name?”

               “Technically not anymore.” He glanced over, catching Jehan’s concerned look. “Long story.”

               “Don’t you need a name?”

               “Not really.” He paused for a moment, then added, “But people used to call me Lazlo.”

               “Mm.” Maybe he should have tried harder to shake this traveling companion of his. Ah, well, too late now. “I’m Jehan.”

               “It’s a pleasure, Jehan.”

               For several steps, they walked in silence. Jehan stole as many glances as he could at Lazlo without outright staring at him. For as stern as he looked when he first arrived, now he looked all around them in wonder, dark eyes bright. Certainly the day was fine, but had he never seen a meadow before? Plus, there was something about him that was familiar, but Jehan couldn’t quite place it just yet.

               “So…where is it that you’re going?” he asked slowly.

               Lazlo’s wonder faded, and he squinted one eye in an odd sort of grimace. “It…doesn’t really have a name. Or, if it does, it’s not one I���m familiar with.”

               “Do you have something against names?”

               Lazlo’s brow furrowed at Jehan’s question, but he let out a laugh once it clicked. “No, no. I like names plenty. It’s just…it’s complicated, and I don’t think I’m able to explain it.” He gave Jehan a smile. “If I knew the name, I’d tell you. It should be very exciting when I get there.”

               Jehan perked up, an idea hitting him. “Well, maybe I could join you there? If you’re already heading that way, I might be able to find some work there.”

               Lazlo’s brows furrowed again, and he sucked his teeth as he walked in silence. Finally, a small smile crossed his face as he shook his head. “No, no. I don’t think there’ll be anything for you there. At least, not right now. But there should be plenty of opportunities for you along the way, and like I said, I’m in no hurry.”

               Jehan gave a slow nod, but stayed silent. Something about this was…strange, but then, his journey so far had been strange. And if he’d been willing to spend the night with a dead man and get his throat slit for some sleep, surely a weird companion with a thing against names was pretty in line with the rest of his time wandering. Now if he could just pinpoint what about him was so familiar…

               Before he could dwell on what it could be, a loud clattering up ahead cut off his thoughts. He looked up just in time for Lazlo to tug his arm hard, sending them both tumbling into the grass off the road. The clattering grew even louder, and Jehan looked up to see—with two shrieks, one animal and one human—a cart careen past them before crashing into a ditch off the road.

               He and Lazlo looked at each other for a moment before scrambling to their feet. Lazlo was quicker, getting to the cart in just a few seconds while Jehan looked over the carnage. The driver seemed unharmed for the most part—he was up and moving, at least, and didn’t have any obvious injuries—but the rest of the cart looked to be in bad shape. The driver clutched his head as he looked at the scene.

               “Oh, no, no no no.” He jumped down into the ditch despite Lazlo and Jehan calling for him not to, immediately making his way to the horse down inside. “Oh, Sophia, no!”

               The horse let out a panicked squeal in reply as Lazlo slid down into the ditch. He reached out to touch the driver’s shoulder. “Hey, hey, are you all right? Should you—”

               The driver whirled around, eyes frenzied. “Me? What do I matter? Do you not see the state my Sophia’s in?” He covered his face and let out a grieved noise. Jehan peeked down into the ditch to look at the horse (who he assumed was Sophia). One of her forelegs was twisted in a horribly unnatural angle—it looked like the bone had snapped clean in two. He hissed sympathetically; he’d only seen an animal in that bad shape once on the farm—a little calf—and the only thing that they could do then was have a veal supper that night. He looked back to the driver as he paced back and forth.

               “I can’t get her home like this,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “But she’s…I can’t let her lie like that, either.” He sniffed hard, rubbing his face. “I didn’t bring anything with me…It’s going to be horrible, but a rock…”

               “Let’s not jump to the worst case scenario just yet,” Lazlo said again, gently taking the driver’s shoulders. Once he got him to look at him, he asked, “Do you mind if I take a look at her?”

               The driver sniffed, then shook his head. “Don’t see what difference it’ll make.”

               “It can’t hurt, right?” He looked up at Jehan, subtly nodding for him to come closer, then looked back to the driver. “My friend Jehan here will help you get your things. I’ll take a look at Sophia, and then we can decide what to do with her.”

               Jehan leaned down, extending his hand out to the driver to help him out. “All right, up we go.” It took a bit of effort, but he managed to pull him out from the ditch. “Are you sure you’re all right? Your head doesn’t hurt or anything?”

               The driver shook his head, making his way back to the cart. Jehan lingered by the ditch for a moment, watching Lazlo slowly approach Sophia. She snorted suspiciously, but he spoke to her—too softly for Jehan to hear—and reached out to stroke her muzzle with a small smile. He glanced up as he caught sight of Jehan, then waved for him to head toward the cart. Jehan hesitated, but nodded and made his way back to the driver, setting a hand on his shoulder hesitantly.

               “So, uh, let’s see what we can save. What were you delivering?”

               The driver rubbed his face. “Wasn’t deliverin’ nothing yet. I go…I go and pick up orders from the village, then take it back home. We’re jussa coupl’a houses and the inn. And if I don’t have Sophia…” His voice caught, and Jehan shushed him gently.

               “Shh, shh. Don’t worry about Sophia, Lazlo’s taking good care of her,” he soothed. “And if anything, this is...uh, well it’s sort of lucky in a way.” At the driver’s shocked look, he quickly added, “I mean, that you weren’t carrying anything. No one’s orders got lost, and I, uh, I bet you would’ve gotten even more hurt with a full cart.” He swallowed. “Uh, what’s…what’s your name?”

               The driver rubbed his face again. “Jordi. I…”

               “Shh. Look, Jordi, let’s get the little bit of your things that spilled out. Then we can figure out what to do next.”

               With a little more encouragement, Jordi and Jehan started to gather the food and clothes that had scattered in the crash. As he shook off the last of his shock, Jordi explained what had happened. It had been business as usual, just him and Sophia heading to the village, but an errant branch had spooked Sophia and she had just bolted. Ordinarily, Jordi would be able to handle this sort of thing without a problem…but in the excitement, his back wheel had broken. He’d been more concerned about not breaking his neck in the chaos than anything else.

               “And look where it got me,” he said, voice thick with emotion once again, twisting a scarf in his hands. “Now Sophia will…”

               He was cut off by a whinny behind them. They both turned to see Lazlo carefully guiding Sophia out of the ditch, all four of her legs strong and steady. Lazlo patted her muzzle with a smile, laughing as she bumped her nose against his face.

               “Here we are,” he said cheerfully. “She was just a little spooked was all, but she’s right as rain now.”

               Jordi dropped his scarf, a breathless wheeze escaping him as he ran up to her. Sophia bumped her nose against his face as well with a pleased chuff, and he let out a relieved laugh.

               “Oh, Sophia, my lovely Sophia. I thought I’d have to…” He laughed again as he patted her nose.

               As much as Jehan wanted to be pleased about the turn in events, he couldn’t help but furrow his brow at Lazlo, whose smile didn’t waver as he waved for him to come over. He hesitated for a moment, but walked over to the edge of the ditch. Lazlo shrugged off his coat and set it in the grass, setting his hat on top of it before hopping back down.

               “Here, come down here and help me.” He waved up to Jordi. “We’ll get your cart out for you, friend!” he called as Jehan hopped down. He rolled up his sleeves, then looked back to Jehan. “It shouldn’t be that hard. On the count of three, we’ll push.”

               They both set their hands on the side, and on the count of three, they pushed the cart out with surprising ease. Again, Jehan furrowed his brows at Lazlo, but his companion was already out of the ditch and walking around the cart to inspect it by the time he tried to say anything. Jehan sighed. Again, he was very aware of the strangeness surrounding Lazlo, but…well. Might as well get Jordi taken care of before he addressed it.

               He pulled himself out of the ditch, walking over to find Lazlo staring at the broken wheel, sucking his teeth as he squinted at it.

               “Well, you weren’t wrong about the wheel,” he said, crouching down to touch it. A fairly large chunk of wood was missing between spokes; it’d need to be completely replaced. This time, though, neither Jordi or Jehan said anything about that, glancing at each other before Lazlo stood up. “But I think there’s a trick I know to help. Hang on.”

               He loped off the road, toward a copse of trees nearby. Jordi laughed as he shook his head.

               “Your friend’s awfully innovative, isn’t he?”

               Jehan blinked. “Oh, he’s not…I mean, we just met.” He frowned curiously, glancing back toward the thicket. “But he is surprisingly resourceful.” He leaned back, giving Sophia another once over. She shouldn’t be standing so strong, not with the broken leg she’d had. So how had Lazlo…

               “Ah, Jehan, would you mind helping?”

               Jehan nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard Lazlo’s voice beside him, and he whirled around so fast he nearly fell back. Lazlo caught his arm with a laugh.

               “Did I really scare you?”

               “You can’t be so quiet!”

               Lazlo chuckled. “My apologies, I’ll stomp around from now on.” He crouched down to the wheel, bending a thin but sturdy stick as he did. “Now, hold the branch to this part here.” As Jehan held the branch, Lazlo dug around in his small pack. “I should have…yes, here we are.” He pulled out two leather cords. “So now I just tie it like this…good, now hold the other side.” He made short work of the repair—carefully bending the branch and tying it tightly to the wheel. Once he tied off the end, he stood up.

               “Now, this won’t do for very long; you’ll need a wheel as soon as possible,” he said, dusting off his hands. “But it should get you to the next cartwright well enough.”

               Jordi made his way over to look at Lazlo’s handiwork, then took off his cap and shook his head.

               “You two are angels,” he said earnestly. “Thank you so much for your kindness.” He swallowed. “I don’t have anything to give, but if I had some way to repay you…”

               Lazlo held up his hands. “We’re glad to help, don’t even worry.” He squinted curiously at the wagon. “Though, if you don’t mind me asking, which way were you headed?”

               “Westward, toward the village that way. But with the wheel, well, I’ll be doublin’ back home, I think; we’re only a half-hour’s drive from there.”

               “And home is…eastward?”

               “Yes, sir.”

               Lazlo glanced at Jehan, a twinkle in his dark eyes before he looked back at Jordi. “Well, friend, if it’s not too much trouble, would you mind taking us with you? We’re headed eastward ourselves and could do with some rest and a place to stay by nightfall. I know Sophia’s up to the task, and if this fix could take all of my brothers and I into the town, it could certainly handle me and my slight friend here.”

               Jordi gave them both a grateful smile. “Aye, I think I can do that for you; my brother-in-law runs the inn, so I might be able to get you a room besides.” He walked back to Sophia, patting her nose. “Let’s get you hitched up, girl, and then we’ll be on our way.”

               Lazlo grinned, thanking him, then headed back to the grass to gather his coat and hat. Jehan glanced back at Jordi, making sure he was busy with hitching Sophia, then quickly made his way to Lazlo’s side. His companion had paused in the grass, very intently pulling out what looked like jagged ferns.

Jehan took a breath, bracing himself, then knelt down beside him as he hissed, “What was that?”

Lazlo looked up at him, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Mugwort,” he said, holding up the plants. “Good for when you’re ill at ease, and my grandmother always said it ensured safe travels. Funny to find it out here, though. I—”

Jehan shook his head. “Not that, the horse.” He leaned in, keeping his voice soft as he narrowed his eyes. “Her leg was broken. I grew up on a farm, so I know what that looks like. Animals with legs like that don’t get fixed because they’ve stopped being ‘spooked’. So tell me, Lazlo, what did you do?”

Lazlo blinked, then looked down at the mugwort in his hand as he let out a slow breath. Finally, he gave Jehan a strange smile. “I’m…experienced in this sort of thing.” His gaze drifted toward nothing in particular, and he let out a little laugh, like he’d thought of an inside joke. “You could say I’m in the business of happy endings.” He stood up, putting the mugwort in his pack before setting his hat on his head. “Anyway, we’d best get moving. Don’t want to get left behind when we’ve got a free ride.”

Jehan frowned hard. No. No. He was not getting away with a non-answer like that. He stood up, ready to say that, but he felt the air leave his lungs as Lazlo pulled on his green coat, flashing two letters embroidered on the sleeve.

Not just any two letters. Initials. Jehan’s initials.

No wonder he’d seemed familiar. He was wearing Jehan’s coat.

               “Jehan?” Lazlo’s voice was quiet, a look of concern creeping onto his face. He shook his head.

               “Where…where did you get that coat?” he asked, just barely managing to wheeze the question out with the little air left in his lungs.

               Lazlo blinked, looking down at his sleeves. “This? Oh, some fella gave it to me in the village. Over by the church, actually.”

               Jehan bit back a frustrated noise. Stupid, stupid. He really was a fool for giving anything to a dead man, those two men had been right. In fact, they were probably the ones who’d sold the coat to Lazlo. He’d thought he’d be fine with being a kind fool, but this was too much of a slap in the face.

               He had to salvage what was left of his dignity. He couldn’t lose everything for a man who couldn’t even keep the gift he’d been given. He’d demand his coat back. Tell Lazlo that it’d been stolen. Give up on being stupidly kind while he was at it; after all, all he had to show for his kindness was some sort of…weird magician for a companion.

Maybe it was petty to get so worked up over a coat, but damn it all he needed something as he went out into the world. He didn’t need a strange friend. He didn’t need kindness. This time he’d be shrewd and hard and alone and…

               “Jehan? Are you all right?”

               He blinked. Lazlo’s voice was even softer now, but it broke through his thoughts clear as a bell. He looked up at him, startled a bit by the dark eyes focused on his face. He took a moment to look Lazlo over. His face was worn beneath the concern, his shirt was ragged and his trousers were patched and his threadbare hat was nearly gray from how it’d been bleached in the sun. It was clear he didn’t have much before the coat.

               Jehan’s eyes darted over to Jordi, waving them over with a wide grin. And…well, for all of the witchcraft or whatever it was Lazlo did, he did seem to really be in the business of happy endings. The least he could get for his troubles was a fine coat…besides, Jehan had only liked it so much because it was expensive. There were better things to be had in the great scheme of things.

               Maybe he was still a fool. But better a kind fool than shrewd and bitter, he figured.

               “I just…it suits you well,” he finally said, putting on a small smile. “It’s a fine coat.”

               Lazlo grinned, looking at the coat again. “Very. It’s the nicest thing I’ve had in ages.” He nodded toward the cart. “But much as I like admiring it, I think we’d best get going. I’m exhausted after all this.” He knocked his hand lightly against Jehan’s arm as he led the way to the cart. “And it’s much less dangerous to nap in a cart than it is in a field.”

               Jehan smiled, crossing his arms as he watched Lazlo gracefully hop into the cart, hardly even jostling it. He still wasn’t quite sold on having…whatever Lazlo was as a traveling companion. But for all of his quirks, there seemed to be something good there.

               And if he really was in the business of happy endings, maybe he’d help Jehan find his…whatever that would even be.

[Part III]

[aloeverawrites]

Excerpt from Wild Stories 1- The Shadow

Wild was spinning around his living room, trying not to run into anything and failing. He had fallen over the coffee table for the second time when he heard the telephone ring. 

He crawled over to it and snatched it up. He waited in silence for the person to answer. On one occasion, no one had answered, as they had only been calling to ensure he was not home. Then they had broken in. 

Capturing three burglars, ending their crime streak and rubbing it all in Inspector Adam's face was just a fantastic way to spend the afternoon. He couldn’t wait to do it again.

“Hello?” said a shaky voice on the other end. “Is this Mr. Wild, the private detective?” 

“Yes, that's me. Are you alright? What do ya need?” He said conversationally, jumping onto the sofa near his phone. 

“It’s just… well it’s probably just me, but I think I’m being followed. Stalked really. I would go to the police, but I’m not sure if I’m being silly.”

Wild tutted and went to search for some paper to write things down on. “My dear fellow, people are usually correct with these things. Expect when they’re not of course. Ahem, what makes you think that you’re being followed?”

“Well, I’m not sure. I just see her everywhere that I am. If I’m doing the shopping, she will be too. And I’ve seen her at my house too, walking around it and writing things down.”

“I see…. And how long has this been going on?”

“Um, about three months.” 

“You poor thing, I’d be a wreck by then. What does she look like?”

“She usually wears a long green coat, and has long light brown hair tied in a bun. She wears a dark green hat too, so I’m not entirely sure what her face looks like. Sometimes she wears dark red lipstick. I’ve caught her staring at me a few times.”

“I have an idea, but it is slightly odd. I think your dear old brother should come pay you a visit, and you should show him around town. That way she can’t try anything.”

“I don’t have a brother?”

“Oh, I meant me. Garfield something or other. I can whip up a new disguise and come over in a day or two. I usually find threats are better faced with a friend. If you’re uncomfortable with the idea, we can certainly try something else. It is an odd one.”

“No, that sounds rather nice actually. I’ll admit, I’ve been rather jumpy here all alone. Won’t it be a bother for you?”

“Not at all, I’ve been meaning to do something different anyway. This house is boring as sin. What’s your address?”

“82 Brokeman Road, London.”

Wild coughed. “Excellent. Well I’ll see you tomorrow then? I’ll drive over at about 5 pm if that’s alright. Try to avoid dark alleyways, shady establishments and just generally don’t die.”

“Thank you. This really means a lot to me.”

“No trouble at all mate. Let’s hope there’s nothing to it all, but there’s no harm in checking is there?”

“No sir. There is something else though. I have a little girl at home, named Laura. She’s about 8 years old and well, I’m scared that the person could break in while she’s alone.” 

“Ah, I see. I can imagine that would be nerve wracking. We can take turns watching her if you’d like.”

“I’d appreciate that, thank you.”

“Wonderful, see you soon.” 

 Wild smiles and hangs up. He bounces contentedly on the sofa before realising that he’s the kind of idiot that doesn’t ask for his clients name. He supposes he’ll find out in a day or two. Wait a day or two? No, one day, he’ll be over tomorrow. He sighed and jotted that down too. He really needed a secretary. 

The next day he got up early, stopped at the bakery down the street, and hurried off to the police station. He would like to let his buddies at the station know where he'd gone, just in case he ends up dead in a ditch somewhere. Not likely, but it could happen.

And, he wants to wrangle any information he can out of that cute new police officer. With his fluffy brown hair and light blue eyes, the skittish fellow reminded him of a mouse. Maybe he knows anything about a suspicious looking woman in a green coat? 

He sweeps into the station, brandishing a bag of brownies and four cups of coffee, somehow. 

“Hello all, I bear sustenance!”

Amelia Till looked up from behind the desk, the bags under her eyes offset by the smile that lights up below them. A cup of coffee is placed on her desk, and a few brownies on a napkin and she nearly tackles Wild with the force of her hug. 

“You’re a godsend, it’s been a crap day.”

 He smiles at her affectionately as she sets upon the brownie like a starving woman. 

“It’s only 10 am!”

“I know,” she groans as he laughs. 

Eyes twinkling, he places a cup on Jack’s desk, as well as a few baked delights, before perching on it himself.

Jack looks up surprised before giving him a grateful smile. He stretches and closes the file, yawning as he reaches for his cup. He also huddles awkwardly near the other side of his desk because men using your desk as a chair was not part of the police training course.

Jack had been working on a missing person’s case, well a missing dog’s case. The poor mutt, Barney, had disappeared two weeks ago, and this normally would have been dismissed or given to a private detective. 

But as a woman had been harassing the family to sell the dog to her, the police suspected that the animal had been stolen. So it fell to Jack to find him. He had to find the woman in the telephone book, and was currently copying down the addresses of every Hampson listed. It was tedious work and he was rather happy to have a grinning, curly haired distraction. 

Wild leaned against the wall, taking one of the few remaining brownies out of the bag and chewing on it thoughtfully. 

“I- sorry.” He swallowed quickly, trying not to spray crumbs everywhere. “That’s better. I’m on a case, following a suspicious woman donning a green coat and red lipstick. You two wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Jack shrugs and then frowns. “Well… I mean I’m looking for Abigail Hampson. That’s a woman um. I’m not sure if she fits the description though. She does have long brown hair.”

 “Well, I am looking for someone with long hair. Light brown if I recall. What’s she wanted for?” 

“Suspected dognapping.” Till calls from the front desk, staring determinedly at the stack of papers awaiting her. “Why are you looking for her?”

“For stalking.” Wild says, leaning forward conspiratorially. Jack blushed and smiled away.

“Well then, I suppose I’ll contact you two if she does seem to be your dognapper. Poor pooch.”

Till nods then bites her lip, an impish gleam in her eye that Jack did not like. “Adams might not like you being involved with the case Wild. Perhaps you could take Jack’s number and use that if the need arises.”

Instead of pointing out that the receptionist (who happens to be Till) can just not mention this to Adams, Jack shyly writes his phone number on a piece of paper and hands it to Wild. 

“Thanks Jack. Is it alright to call you Jack?”

He nods, glancing up to find an unusually tender look in Wild’s eye, which slowly slips into a devilish grin as he remembers the bag of pastries. 

“Which reminds me, I have to deliver some food to a certain detective inspector. Wish me luck.”

“I’ll pray for you.” Says Till nonchalantly as she sifts through the papers and Wild slips into the back office.

Jack looks between them, confused. “Why would Inspector Adams be upset?”

She shrugs, a slight frown playing over her features. “I don’t really know. He doesn’t like him on the premises. Said something about civilians not interfering with police business. Especially black civilians. He’s been even colder since you arrived.” She shrugs and grins. 

“Still. Wild’s resilient, if anyone can combat racism with pastries, it’s him.”

Jack makes a strangled noise. 

Inspector Adams jumps as Wild slides into the room and drops a bag on his desk. “Good L- Wild! What are you doing here?”

Wild nods at the bag while leaning against the wall. “I thought you’d appreciate refreshments.”

He looks at the bag suspiciously and opens to find some brownies, which he took out. “Oh. Thank you then.”

“Opp, and there’s a coffee.” Said Wild, placing it on the desk. He wandered around, looking at the missing person’s posters. A woman, a little girl, a little boy, another little girl, a man. A few drawings scattered among the photographs and drawings. He read some of them. “Benjamin Russet, missing since January 1921. Brown hair, brown eyes. Twenty four years old. 

Clara Howards, missing since April 1921. Brown hair, brown eyes. Seven years old. 

Linda Amaran, missing since 1919. Blonde hair, blue eyes. 37 years old.”

He noticed that Adams was saying something and he turned to him. “Pardon?”

The detective sighed. “I said, have you noticed our new boy, Jack?”

“Yes, I have. He seems quite nice.” He replied suspiciously, crossing his arms. 

“I’m sure you think so. Now you’re barely supposed to be here, interfering in cases. You’re lucky I let you in here as much as I do. But you stay away from him, hear me? 

Jack’s a nice boy, and he doesn’t need any of the problems that associating with a person like you brings.” He says, fixing Wild with his signature firm glare. “Have I made myself clear?”

Wild had a fleeting fantasy of slapping him with his own moustache and blinked. He imagined it would snap back on afterwards, like a magnet. “Crystal.” He said with a pasted on grin, before rolling his eyes and leaving. 

Jack notices that Wild is slightly less bubbly when he walks out. He still shoots Jack a blinding smile as he uses the empty bag as a coaster for his drink.

“Well my darlings, goodbye. I’m going to be gone for a few days, stalking a stalker. I shall miss you greatly.”

“Good luck.” says a concerned looking Till, as Wild bows dramatically and sweeps out of the room. 

She smiles at Jack, who’s gazing at the door thoughtfully. He doesn’t appreciate her knowing looks and he turns his attention back to his work. And to the empty paper bag, which now has Wild’s number scrawled across it in cavalier chicken scratch.

[tjroewrites]

The Spider’s Web

Pairings: filmnoir!Castiel x Reader

A/N: This oneshot actually fills two prompts. One for @sparklingcas‘s “Pick-Up Line Challenge” and another to fill a square for @spnangstbingo. The square I filled for this one was ‘Black Widow,’ and the pick-up line was ‘Do you know it’s unlucky to be so good looking and not have anyone to kiss at midnight?’ I didn’t want to write about spiders. Bo-ring. So, naturally, I came up with a film noir alternate universe. That’s a normal reaction, right? 

Warnings: Angst. Blood. Death. Angst. Non-explicit sex. It ain’t happy hour over here. Did I already say angst? 

Summary: Detective Cas Novak knows he’s one the best. He’s quick. Clever. Good with his words and plays well with guns. But when upper-class suits start dropping in Chicago beneath the barrel of a mysterious hired gun, Cas finds himself in something bigger than drug dealers and bank robbers. Are his wits and ego enough to bring down the killer? 

Word Count: 5k

           There were a few known facts about the Black Widow case. Worked for a price. Only moved at night.

            And there were ten bloody bodies on his hands.

            He had all of Chicago PD on their toes. The town on edge. Heads on the swivel. Mothers changing curfew from sundown to noon. Chicago was already something fierce. A bombshell blonde with looks to kill and the means to do it. But with Red Belly on the rise, no one was safe. They’d run the well dry. It was time to call in the cavalry.

            Cas Novak knew he was one of the best. When your stomping grounds was nothing but hop-heads and grifter’s prowling the Bronx district, you had to be. He could sniff a deal gone bad from a mile away. Dicks that didn’t have the touch had a bad habit of winding up face down in a ditch with lead poisoning. Lucky for him, he knew the tricks of the trade.

            The Chicago precinct was heavy. Dense, even. One step through the door and he had half a mind to check his coat pockets for dead weight. Desks were strewn around. Papers like carpet on the tile floor. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say the place was ransacked. With the way one of the cops looked at him he might as well have been the robber.

            “Detective Novak?”

            “That’s what’s carved in my tin.”

            “Boss is waiting for you in his office.” He had more bags under his eyes than a housewife at the supermarket. His fingers drummed nonsense rhythms against his desk. “Office behind the wood door in the back. Can’t miss it.”

            “Much obliged.” Cas tipped his hat. He may as well have been see-through.

            Captain Smalls was anything but. Half the room was lit from the bulb reflecting from his head. Cas wasn’t even sure he’d heard him come in. A gasper dangled from his lips like he’d forgotten it was there.

            “You who they sent from the Bronx?” He didn’t even chance a glance in his direction. The file in front of him had earned every second of his time.

            “Cas Novak.” He set his briefcase in an empty chair and leaned over the back. “Glad to be of service.”

            “I’ll be more grateful when you pinch this bastard.” He handed him a file. It was meaty. “I’ve got a room full of chumps and a city scared shitless to leave their homes. No one’s getting home to their wives until I’ve got the up on this dropper.”

            “Good thing I live alone.”

            Smalls looked at him for the first time. Sized him up with a pair of eyes that were sunk to the back of his head. “They tell you anything over in New York?”

            “A bit. Ten guys layin’ stiff in Chicago overcoats and a couple of by-standers.”

            “You’ve heard it all.” He sighed. “That file there’s got the wire on the vics. Hardly a damn thing on the perp.”

            “The witnesses have anything to say?”

            “Same story, different street. Red gloves. Black duds. A one-slug-and-done kinda guy.”

            “Anything on the slugs?”

“10mm. Pistol’s a popular toy under these streetlights.”

            “Likes to play it quiet.” Cas flipped through the stills. All wide-eyed and pale white. Didn’t even know what was coming. Poor saps. “What’s the connection between them?”

            “All upper-stands type of fellas. Big pockets and plenty to show for it.” He took a long drag from his butt and let the smoke drift out nice and slow. “We gotta hit it hard if we wanna find him ‘fore his next drop. I’ve got you working with Hartley on this. He’s been handling intel on the Black Widow for months, now.”

            “I can handle my own.” Cas shut the file and grabbed his suitcase. “But I’ll play ball if you’re pitchin’.”

            “Your head dick mentioned you might say that.” Smalls snuffed out his butt in the ash tray. There was hardly any room left. “This ain’t another episode of Big Town, son. You’re hittin’ the major league over here. Trigger men don’t play a fool in these parts. You go in this alone, you’ll end up getting burned.”

            “I’ll remember that when I’m toastin’ mellows over this goon’s gourd.” He didn’t let the door hit him on the way out.

            Cas Novak was a lot of things. Hard-boiled. Persistent. More apt to reach for his holster before opening his mouth. But if there was one thing he wasn’t, it was a rookie. He was a damn good detective. The best.

            And he’d do anything to prove it.

            Snow was a good look over the Chicago city scape. Really made her curves and edges stand out underneath the early-December moon. He was making his usual walk back to his motel from the precinct. Nobody around but him and his shadow. Not a single porch light flickered along the street. Every window sealed up tight with a set of shutters. He’d been here two god damn weeks with not a damn thing to show for it. Nothing but a full ash tray and a worn case file. The gloss finish on the stills had impressions from his thumbprint.

           Cas had to hand it to him: the Black Widow was one slick son of a bitch. Had no enemies ‘cause all of them were dead. Slipped through the cracks like a shot of scotch on the rocks. Smooth. Graceful. Made quick and clean work of his victims. Most grifter’s back in the Apple hid in plain sight. Ran gambling rings under the laundromat. More aliases than a theatre troop. But the Black Widow… he’d spun his web in the shadows. Strung it deep in hard to reach places. The only way to cuff this bastard was to find him, first.

           He walked past the same corner pub every night on his way back. The neon ‘open’ sign was like its own star on the Broadway city walk. If it didn’t have it, Cas would’ve assumed it to be shut up tight. He’d never seen a single drunk walk in or out of the front door. But that neon star wasn’t the only thing lighting up the sky tonight.

           She was all gentle curves and gams for days. That red dress of hers hugged all the right places, tight at the waist and pooled at her kitten heels. Ten pounds of sugar in a five-pound sack, all right. That ‘open’ sign was like a halo over her Y/H/C locks of love. Red stained lips wrapped around her cigarette like it was an old friend as she eyed him under her lashes.

           “You’re the first soul I’ve seen since the dinner bell.” The woman smiled behind a cloud of smoke. He slowed his roll but didn’t stop. “Must be something important to be braving these streets at this time of night.”

           “Just passing through.” He stepped under the overhang. “I’ve got a room over on Walton.”

           “Knickers?”

           “That’s the one.”

           She said nothing. Put every ounce of effort into another long, slow drag. She left a red stain on the butt when she pulled it away. “You ever been inside? A lot warmer than it is out here.”

           “Not much of the drinking type.”

           “Shame. My songs sound a bit smoother when it’s paired with a shot of bourbon.”

           “You the songbird around here?”

           “One of my many hobbies.”

           “I bet you’ve got all sorts of talents you ain’t sharin’.”

           He got a smile for that one. Her head tapped the glass behind her as a small chuckle shook her chest. “Well, Mr.- “

           “-Novak. Cas Novak.”

           “Mr. Novak.” She took one last puff before crushing the light under the toe of her shoe. “Ronnie’ll have my pretty little head if I’m late from break again.” She pushed off from the window and flipped that mane of hers over her shoulder. She paused a moment before heading inside. “You sure you can’t stop in for a few songs? A little birdy told me the next set won’t disappoint.”

           Cas chuckled. “Maybe tomorrow. Can’t remember the last time I slept a full four hours.”

           “Alright.” She gave him a good up-and-down before the door hinges started screaming. Her red skirt blew from the bar draft and let the ankle bit of her stocking peak out from underneath. Lord only knew where that deep seam along her calf lead to.

           “Wait, doll.” She stopped between the threshold. “I never caught your name.”

           Her smile was good enough to kill. “Y/N.” She slipped in a bit further. “See you tomorrow night, Mr. Novak.”

           And she did. He found his way back the next night. And the night after that. And the night after that. Until he was following his own footprints left in the snow along that city sidewalk. Until that shade of crimson red was his favorite color. Y/N was anything but ordinary in that red gown.

           But Cas preferred it on his motel floor.

           “Novak.” His head snapped up from his desk, lost between the lines of an eye witness log. He spared a glance at the desk next to him. Hartley was snoring into his hand. Smalls waved him over with those sausages sewed to his wrist. A cigarette burned between two of them. The brute probably had Pall Mall’s brand pressed into the skin.

           “You found some kind of lead?” Cas asked the moment his door clicked shut. Smalls was wagging his finger like he was scolding his brat.

           “Even better.” He jabbed a sausage into a piece of paper on his desk. He let his gasper sit between his barely-there lips. “I know the Widow’s next move.”

           “How in God’s name you figure that? We don’t even know what tone of hair he’s got.”

           “Anonymous tip called in. Someone snitched.” Cas picked up the paper and made out the writing. ‘Masquerade Ball, Arlen Glass.’ “Black Widow’s plannin’ a drop at the New Year’s ball.”

           “Arlen Glass’ gig? The goose that plays high pillow of Glass Factories?”

           Smalls hummed a toneless note. His smug grin showed no bounds.

           “Guess he’s high-stakes enough.” In the last three years alone, Glass Factories had staked claims nationwide in nearly every worth-knowing city on the map. Mostly centered around kids toys. Train sets. Tea sets and the dolls to go with it. You name it, he’s made it. The chap probably had a home between every ocean but mostly operated out of Chicago. Money wasn’t an issue. And he wasn’t afraid to make it known. This New Year’s Masquerade ball was his latest attempt to spread his sugar. Only problem was, you needed a golden ticket to get in. And Cas didn’t have many friends around here. “Don’t suppose you’re up close and personal with Glass Factory himself.”

           “You let me handle that.” Smalls breathed in that smoke like it was a lifeline. “You and Hartley worry about gettin’ your suit’s tailored. Ball’s in three days and you’re both goin’ in.”

           Small’s request played through his head like a mantra the rest of the day. This was his big break. The case of all cases. Black Widow was the most notorious hired gun on this side of the states. He cuffed this guy, he could cuff any prick that looked twice in his direction. Smalls was right: this was the big leagues. And Cas was pining to be MVP.

           “Something’s got you bugged.” The hotel bedroom was thick with smoke from the stove and the bit of Y/N’s Lucky Strike between her fingers. She twirled those same fingers in meaningless patterns across his bare chest. “You’re different tonight.”

           “How do ya figure?” He stole her cigarette and took a drag.

           “Your body’s here with me but your brain’s halfway to Mars.”

           “Noodle’s probably pretty jealous right now.”

           She untucked her head from his shoulder and gave him that half-lidded stare. She could give a man a heart attack with those Y/E/C eyes. They held something fierce. Something bold. Like she could read the ribbons of his DNA with a mere flick of her gaze. “You gonna waltz around the issue all night or are you gonna cut to the two step?”

           “I’ve never been much of a dancer.”

           “Then open those talented lips of yours and start singing.”

           Cas sighed. He hadn’t told Y/N much about the case. She knew he was a cop, sure. He made damn certain she knew that. But he’d kept the details brief about the Black Widow case. Hardly scratched the surface. Cas had seen what happened to dames that knew too much about their copper’s line of work. They always drowned. “Just got a lot on my mind.”

           “Care to elaborate?”  

           She turned under his arm and propped herself up on an elbow, letting her head rest in her palm as she waited oh-so-patiently. Her eyes said something different.

“With this case…” He began.

           “The Black Widow.” She said. He reached for her cigarette again. “Go on.”

           “Smalls thinks he’s got something. Something big. Something that could land this goon behind bars and land me at the top.” The nicotine went smooth through his lungs. Like silk. “It just all seems too good to be true. Too many questions, not enough answers.”  

           “You think it’s a set-up?”

           “I don’t know what I think.” Cas stared out the open window. It’d been snowing all week, non-stop sleet tearing through the city, but tonight a few stars had started peeking through the thick blankets overhead. He hated winter. Made him feel slower than molasses when he was strolling on foot. He’d make it to California one day. “Don’t matter in the end. Whatever his angle I’m takin’ him down. Either him or me. And I’ll be damned if I don’t go down as one of the best.”

           “There you go saying that again. ‘One of the best.’” She got one more puff from that gasper before shoving it into the ash tray on the end table. “You’re always on about that. There a reason or you just the power-hungry type?”

           Cas was good. Hated by few. Loved by most. Feared by all. He fought tooth and nail and had a silver tongue when he needed it. Detective work was like riding a bike. It only gets easier every time you hop on that seat. But it hadn’t always been that way. No one’s born with God-given knowledge on how to work the pedals. He started out in the rookie league just like everyone else. Only for him, he got a bit more than a shot to the knee or a diamond-eye shiner from his first time in the field.

           They’d killed his girl.

           Abigail. Abigail Brooks. A gorgeous dame paired with hips as sweet as honey. Every head in the Bronx district turned when they heard those red heels clip against the sidewalk. Those same eyes would roll when they peaked at the arm pulling her close. Those three years had felt like ten thousand lifetimes. There were plenty of bombshells strutting along the curb but nothing came close to Abby. He was nothing but a rookie dick in the slums. She was a red-head beauty that made her own way. He never deserved her for a second. And when ol’ Red Summer’s had her offed over on Eighth Street he’d never felt more beat in his entire life. He hadn’t been in the force more than six months and Summers’ had everything yanked from under him. His love. His life. His pride.

           He’d never get caught slipping ever again.

           Cas could tell Y/N. Could tell her the real reason he pins to be the best fucking cop this entire world has ever seen. Lay it all out like cards on a table and show her a royal flush. Might make it all easier for her to understand instead of giving her the run-around. But he didn’t have a good hand tonight. Nothing worth showing to the dealer. “Wouldn’t call me a power-shark.”

           “Then what are you?”

           Her hair was like leaves in the fall. Scattered. No rhyme or reason. He tucked a few pieces behind her ear and smiled when she shivered. “Just a man.”

           When she rolled on top of him it felt like a dream. Like she wasn’t real. Perfectly sculpted, a blush dusting her cheeks like the snow outside. Picasso himself couldn’t come up with a more beautiful sight. She wasn’t doing anything but his body was reacting like a damn machine. “Just a man?” Music to his ears. Like an orchestra of winds and strings molding together in perfect harmony. She let her fingers dance down his chest until the conductor found her bouton. “You’re anything but.”

           She crashed over him like a gentle wave. With purpose. Rhythm. The passion of a thousand women but the touch of a silk ribbon. They came together like two broken pieces of glass. Sharp, jagged, a bit painful but somehow right. She was so warm in his arms. So soft. A beacon in this dark world he’d been living in. He’d been sitting on the edge for so long, but beside her there wasn’t anything to fear from it. When she pushed him from the cliff he fell with a cry but was enveloped by a force so much more than the abyss he’d stared at for so long. He didn’t see Abigail. The Black Widow. His old neighborhood. All of those faces he’d grown up with staring back at him with glazed eyes from a pool of red. There was only Y/N; her fingernails grazing his jaw and the ends of her hair tickling his chest. Words couldn’t do his feelings any sort of justice under those cheap motel sheets.

           So he rolled her under him instead.

           Glass’ digs were shut up tighter than Fort Knox.

           Big fists at every door. Packing heat under their overcoats. He’d seen some paranoid big-wigs in his day, but nothing quite like this. If Capone wasn’t serving time on the Rock he’d think the legend himself had stashed himself away inside.

           Cas’d had his doubts. Smalls didn’t seem like the type of man to have any kind of friends, women or men alike. Let alone a card shark like Glass. But that was part of the mystery of Captain Benny Smalls. The man could pull miracles out of a pile of ash. And boy, did those two masquerade invitations glitter like diamonds in the rough. ‘Remember what I says about goin’ alone,’ the egg had said. ‘Don’t make you any braver shootin’ a rifle one-handed.’  

           He’d always preferred a pistol, anyway.

           Nothing but rows of Lincoln’s and Plymouth armor’s blinked back at him when he hit the scene, his suit freshly pressed and his masquerade mask sitting pretty over his nose. Central Park served as his front yard while the mansion yelled a combination of a hundred loud, rich voices. Women dripping with diamonds and gold hung on their wallet’s arms, giggling into their snow white gloves between sips of champagne. It was the kind of party you’d hear about on the Sunday evening radio program; some well-off Wall Street type with the reputation to match. Cas stood on the brick walk leading to the entry and thought about how perfect Y/N would fit in with this crowd. One glimpse of that red gown under these lights and the entire room would hit their knees. But he wouldn’t drag another dame back into the fire. He couldn’t. He’d call her tomorrow, he’d said. Her face had screwed up a bit at first but eventually fell into that sultry smirk that always made him dizzy. She had a few things to take care of, anyway. Yeah, he’d call her tomorrow.

           Every head-honcho on this side of the states was packed in the main ballroom. Diamond heels clicked against the marble floor. Husbands sported a Cuban cigar between rows of gold rings. A sea of black dresses and dark suits. Cas reached up to straighten his own black tie and adjust his jacket. Red gloves should be easy enough to spot at a black and white ball.

           He made his way around the room three times before giving up on the main crowd. Glass wasn’t anywhere to be found. He’d bet his money he was stashing himself on the second floor. Guess Glass thought the Black Widow might have the same idea.

           “You lost?” Two peaks of the Himalayas stepped in front of him, completely blocking the spiral staircase from view. “Party’s down here.”

           “Oh, c’mon fellas, guy’s gotta take a leak.”

           “Bathroom’s on the other end of the ballroom. Can’t miss it.”

           “Some drunk’s locked himself in there for the past twenty minutes. And that champagne you got flowin’ is snakin’ right through me.” He thanked whatever God was up above they couldn’t see through his jacket. A thin line of sweat was finding its way on his skin. It was the middle of July in the Sahara Desert under his mask.

           The mountains looked at each other. A silent language among hired hands. The first one sighed. “You got five minutes.” He nodded at Mount Everest and he started making his way through the crowd. Probably to check on the make-believe drunk in the other bathroom. He would be in a world full of hurt if that brute came back empty handed. He’d have to work fast.

           “Woah, slow your roll there.” A bundle of calluses planted firm against his chest when he tried to pass. “Can’t take any chances these days.”

           Being pat down by a woman in the bedroom was one thing. Getting one from a bodyguard at a big-wigs ball party was something different entirely. It was like getting punched by a boxer on every square inch of your person. At the top of the stairs Cas did a quick once-over on the hall and reached under the waistband of his trousers. His pistol glistened under the chandelier above the stairs.

           “Sorry, Maria,” he tucked it away in his suit jacket pocket. “Only spot those thugs won’t go.”

           He moved quick. Checked every room on the second floor. Not a soul in sight. He had been keeping a mental check of how long he’d been up there but it was starting to get fuzzy. Two minutes? Three minutes? Four? Whatever the case, he had no time. He was a fish out of water. Gasping for air. The clock was ticking and Father Time wasn’t waiting for no one.

           They appeared like God himself had put them there. Two French doors, taking up the entire end of the hallway. The trim was caked with gold flakes, swirling in patterns fit for a King of Persia. One of them was open. His heart pounded just a bit harder under the buttons of his shirt.

           Jackpot.

           Maria trembled in his palm, her butt a bit slick in his grip. He flipped the safety as he nudged open the door, playing cat and mouse with the heel of his dress shoes. Everything in the room was white. White carpet. White bedding. White headboard. White walls. A bright white that made your eyes burn out when you looked a bit too long. For a foolish moment he was convinced he’d died and stepped into heaven. The sharp blow to the back of his head proved otherwise.

           That white room faded to black in a blink.

           When he came to he was sprawled out like a broken vase on the white carpet with his head pounding in all directions. Speckles of crimson blood were scattered around his head. His own blood. He touched the back of his head and hissed. Pretty nasty spot. Probably from the butt of a gun. A pistol, maybe. As if on cue, said pistol’s safety clicked somewhere behind him.

           “Guess I shouldn’t be expecting that call tomorrow, huh?”

           Every working muscle and fiber inside of Cas shut down at the same time. Like a factory’s inner workings when the generator blows. Like a Chevy when the battery’s cut. He didn’t want to see it with his own two eyes. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe it was coincidence. He was drugged on the ballroom floor and was having some kind of induced nightmare. But there was nothing coincidental about those thick hips and the red gloves pulled over her fingers.

           Y/N.

           “Should’ve left it alone, Mr. Novak.” Gone was that red dress that caught his eye so many weeks ago. Deep black fabric stretched tight around her curves, following every line of those elegant pins that felt sinful under his hands. Her painted lips pulled into her killer smirk. “Now look where it’s got ya.”

           Sense had drained from his head a long time ago. A thousand questions ran through his mind. Why did she do it? Had this been the plan all along? Was he always the chump? “Where’s Glass?” He asked instead.

           “He’s taking a little nap in the bathroom before his big entrance.” Her gaze roamed toward the open threshold on the other side of the room to make her point. The bathroom mirror was split down the middle but still did its job. Could barely see half of the bathtub through the pieces. But the red stains on the porcelain white was plain as day. “I’m sure no one will mind.”

           “The guards at the stairs. How did you- “

           “How did I slip on through?” She chuckled. A dark, deep sound. “Let’s just say those lumbering brutes have… invested interests.”

           “They work for you.”

           “Glass was a lot of things. Slimy. Worthless. A cheapskate.” Cas searched the floor for any sign of Maria. Not a trace. “But the one thing he wasn’t was paranoid. Thought the entire world was rooting for him. I’s just here to give him a teeny tiny wakeup call.”

           “And, what, they watch your back while you take ‘em out?”

           “My clients pay top dollar for excellent work. They’re there to make sure I get off without a hitch.”

           “Guess they didn’t count on me showing up.”

           Y/N smiled. Not like she did behind a Lucky Strike wrapped in downy sheets. No, not like that. This was something evil. The type of grin grifter’s would flash when they managed to fix another angle. The same one he’d wiped clean off of Summers’ fat face when he’d put him down for good. “Actually, Mr. Novak, we’ve been expecting you.”

           His lips moved but nothing came out. No words. No sounds. This whole scene was one big joke and he’d missed the punch line. Hell, he was the tail-end of it all. Her teeth matched the white doors behind her.

           “You see; Mr. Glass was the original job. A past employee was a bit miffed that his former employer had screwed his pooch. So, a couple flour sacks of Franklins and a few meet-ups later, and the deal was arranged. But you-” She bent down until she was nearly eye level with him. He didn’t know whether to look at that matte black suppressor or her pitch black stare. “You were the grand prize.”

           Cas took a shaky breath. He tried to sit up but his head had other ideas. He fell back onto his elbows. “Why me?”

           “You killed my husband.” She spat the venom at him. A snake confronting its prey. “I had a good life ‘fore you came along. You took him from me. It’s time to settle the score.”

           “Your husband?” Cas had only killed a few men in his time on the force. A deranged snow bunny during a deal gone bad. An escapee from the big house that had been using some poor broad as a human shield. Then, of course, there was the icing on the cake…

           Cas might has well have been shot in the chest. “Summers.” He whispered. He’d been sleeping with the devil’s dame this whole time. He thought he’d been getting dizzy from her sweet lips when all he was getting was a buzz from the bullshit. She’d been playing him like a finely-tuned fiddle.

           Y/N rose from the floor and lifted up her skirt. A holster sat firm around her thigh with the pocket facing in. Maria was nice and snug where he had been only a day before. “Times are tough, Mr. Novak.” The skirt fell like rain during a hurricane. “The world’s a cruel place. If you’re caught slipping, there’s nowhere left to go but six feet under.”

           Smalls’ warning was like a broken record in his throbbing head. ‘You go in this alone, you’ll end up getting burned.’ He might have been able to walk out of there if he’d listened. Let Hartley take that second invite and bring up the rear. But he’d let that bridge burn hours ago. The Black Widow had spun a web and he’d flown right into it. He was nothing but dinner. “Do you know it’s unlucky to be so good lookin’ and not have anyone to kiss at midnight?”

“I’ve never been superstitious.” She checked the clip and pulled the safety.

“So, this isn’t the part where I slip the glass slipper on and a carriage whisks us away?”

           “Not quite.” He looked deep into the middle of that suppressor when she pointed it between his eyes. “This ain’t a fairytale and I’m no Cinderella. This story only has one ending.” Somewhere behind him, a grandfather clock chimed midnight. He’d always known that smirk of hers could kill. Just not like this.

           There were a few known facts about the Black Widow case. Worked for a price. Only moved at night.

           And there were twelve bloody bodies on her hands.

Castiel tags: 

@kristendanwayne @pixiedusts 

[heckin-harrington]

Cut Loose, Harrington / harringrove (pt. 1)

i was just bored aND YA KNOW WHAT?? FOOTLOOSE! HARRINGROVE WAS BORN

Request?: Nah, just me being a bean Pairing: Steve Harrington x Billy Hargrove Warnings: Bc people get butthurt over this Harringrove i guess? Slight swearing and slight abuse Words: 2085

Steve’s life was practically hell, ironically, considering his father is the reverend of the local church in his hometown of Bomont. Steve was the perfect little preacher’s son. Always a straight-A student, never in trouble, kept out of it and was pure as can be. At least that’s what his father believed.

When Steve started dating bad girl Charlie Cranston, he slowly started to fall off of the good boy charts. Skipping dinner to go out drinking with Charlie and her group, ditching classes, and his father’s worst nightmare-- dancing.

Steve loved to dance. It gave him this sense of freedom he never had when he was with his family. He felt shackled to his father’s religious tendencies and stern demeanor. But when he was out with Charlie in that empty car lot, the stereo blasting Dancing in the Dark by Bruce Springsteen, Steve felt like his own person and not just a shadow of his controlling dad.

However, Charlie wasn’t always the happiness Steve needed from her. Sometimes, she was just as controlling if not more so. “Harrington,” The petite girl started leaning against the outside wall of the church, the white paint chipping with age. “We’re goin’ out tonight. Pretty sure your old man won’t mind, yeah?” Charlie stepped forward, her hands gently resting on Steve’s waist.

Steve shrugged, kicking at the dirt beneath his boots. “I don’t think I can tonight, Char. I have a test on Monday that I gotta study for and Pop wants me to help him rehearse his sermon for tomorrow.” He sighed out, walking past Charlie who scoffed as Steve took her spot again the small building.

“Pretty sure I didn’t stutter, Steve.” She looked over her shoulder as Steve shoved his hands into his blue jean pockets. “I said,” Charlie yanked his hands from his pockets, gripping his wrists with such force Steve knew that the would have nail marks embedded in the skin until next Sunday.

Steve winced at the sharp pain. “We’re goin’ out. Understand, Harrington?” Charlie stepped closer her breath hot against Steve’s parted lips. The boy nodded as Charlie let go, Steve’s hands immediately rubbing the skin. “I’ll pick ya up at eight, okay?”

Steve nodded once more. “Okay.” Charlie smiled small before standing on her toes, placing a kiss on Steve’s temple and walking off to her cherry red ‘67 Chevy pickup and speeding off. Steve unrolled the sleeves of his button up and buttoned them at the cuff, covering the marks left behind.

“Steven, help me go through the ceremony, would you?” His father asked, opening the front doors. Steve looked back at his dad and sighed.

“Sure, dad, Be right in.”

“Bomont? Where the hell is that?” Billy exclaimed to his mother who grabbed items of clothing from her son’s dresser and stuffing them in a suitcase. “Why am I going off to some small middle of nowhere town to live with Aunt Ethel and Uncle Ed? This is stupid, mom.”

The blonde woman sighed, running a hand through her hair and placing her free hand on Billy’s shoulder. “Because, William,” Billy cringed at the use of his full name. “I’m getting sicker, baby and you’re dad won’t do jack shit for you. Ethel and Ed have a home with space that they’re willing to share. Besides,” She pulled away going back to packing the bag.

“I’m not letting you live in Chicago by yourself.” Billy sighed, rubbing his face and sitting on the edge of his bed. “Mom,” he started. “If it’s spreading, I wanna be here for you. I don’t want to leave if it’s only getting worse.”

Billy’s mother smiled kindly resting her hand on his cheek before placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I love you so much, you know that?” Billy smiled small in return. “Yeah, yeah. I love you too, momma.”

“William!” Ethel cheered, standing outside of the airport as Billy walked out, duffle bag in hand. “My my my how you’ve grown! Look Ed, William’s so grown up now.” She sniffled making Billy chuckle and hug the woman.

“It’s Billy now, Aunt Ethel.” He shared, pulling away from the embrace and shaking his uncle’s hand. “Billy, o-okay.” She nodded, mentally jotting the name change down. “Are you hungry? There’s this diner down more into town on the way back to the house if you’d like to stop.” She offered to wich Billy just shook his head, his sand-colored curls bouncing.

“I’m good, thanks.” He adjusted his grip on his bag. “Oh Ed, dear, help Wil--Billy,” Ethel winked. “With his bag.” Ed nodded taking the bag from Billy who thanked him quietly. His uncle was a rather quiet man. He kept to himself while his aunt did all the talking and such.

Billy’s eyes traced the details of the small town as his aunt blabbered on about something, his uncle driving along. It was typical small-town Texas, minus cowboys and Indians. However, Billy noticed the plethora of cowboy boots and hats being worn. It was definitely a change in style compared to his denim jacket, skinny blue jeans, mostly unbuttoned formal shirt and biker boots. His hair was shoulder length in a mullet type fashion, wild with curls, while everyone in Bomont seemed to be clean cut and slicked back.

Billy scoffed internally.

“We have church service later tonight, Billy. Would you be interested in joining us?” Ethel spoke up, Billy breaking away from his daze. “Um, sure. Yeah, why not.”

“If our Lord wasn't testing us, how would you account for the proliferation, these days, of this obscene rock and roll music, with its gospel of easy sexuality and relaxed morality?” Reverend Harrington spoke, his wife sitting in a chair next to his podium, Steve next to her.

Billy nearly choked on air at the preacher’s words. The hell was he babbling on about? ‘Parently this guy just had a shit taste in music or something against Billy’s favorite genre.

As the service continued on, Reverend went on an on even more about how much he hated the rock scene and randomly, dancing. Billy didn’t see the big deal. He loved to dance. Late nights in his friend’s basements with Scorpions blaring from a radio, wine coolers in hand, dancing around in circles to songs like Rock You Like A Hurricane made some of the best memories of Chicago for Billy.

He smiled fondly at the thought before looking up from his hands his eyes meeting Steve’s on accident. Steve smiled small as a makeshift hello before turning back to his father’s words. Billy flushed pink at the boy’s small yet kind gesture.

He bit his bottom lip, scraping his teeth against the chapped skin. Billy didn’t know what he was, bi, gay, or just whatever but he knew regardless the situation, he'd make an exception for the boy in the pale blue button up with the fluffy brown hair.

After the final prayer, Ethel and Ed stood from their seats, Billy following suit. “Here sweetheart, let’s introduce you to the reverend. He’ll be pleased to see a new face in Bomont.” Ethel smiled sweetly, taking Billy’s hand in her much smaller one and leading him to the man.

“Excuse me, reverend. Hope I’m not interrupting anything.” She started to which the older man shook his head grinning. “This is my nephew, Billy. He’s moving in with Ed and me for a while.” Ethel shared, Billy holding out his hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, son. Welcome to Bomont. Where’re you comin’ from?” The Reverend asked shaking Billy’s hand. “Chicago, sir.” He responded. The older man nodded slowly, rubbing his hand on his coat front after Billy pulled his hand back. Billy furrowed his eyebrows.

“Hmm. Chicago, interesting. Things are run a bit differently here, Billy was it?” Billy nodded. “Understand that?” “Yes, sir?”

“Dad, stop you’re gonna scare him off before he even gets used to the place.” Steve chuckled, pushing past his dad and standing between him and Billy. “You must be the new boy,” Steve smiled small. “I’m Steve.”

Billy caught his lip in between his teeth. “Billy.” He was even more beautiful close-up, Billy thought. His eyes a warm chocolate color, small moles peppered near the corner of his mouth and on his jaw, and his hair whisped back out of his face.

“You’re going to Bomont High right?” Steve asked blushing when he noticed Billy’s stare. The shorter boy nodded, moving his stray curls from his eyes. “Yeah, Junior year.” He stated, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Kinda moved right in the nick of time too! I mean, prom season is the best time of the school year.” Billy grinned, spinning on his feet and rocking back n’ forth on his heels. “I love a good school dance.”

Steve frowned. “Yeah about that--” “Excuse me, Mister Hargrove, what in God’s name do you think you’re doing?!” Reverend Harrington exclaimed making Steve flinch at the rise in his voice.

“Um... dancing?” He furrowed his eyebrows, his lips pursed into a line. “That is against the law, Hargrove. You think you can just come into our town and--”

“Wait? You’re joking, right? Dancing is against the law?” Billy snorted but his smile faltered when he saw the look of shock on the older man’s face and the look of sadness on Steve’s. “Wait, for real?”

“Yes, Mister Hargrove. I will not tolerate any form of loud rock ruckus or foolish dancing in my town.” Steve brought his hand to his father’s arm. “Dad, he didn’t know. It’s okay.” Reverend Harrington jerked his arm away. “Well, let’s hope that now he’s learned his lesson. Let’s go, Steven.”

Ethel shook her head and sighed. “C’mon, Billy. You’re uncle’s waiting in the car.” Billy looked back at Steve who just sighed and forced a smile and waved before walking out a back door.

“I think I’ll walk home, Aunt Ethel. I need some air.” Billy stated, turning to the woman who frowned. “You sure, sweetheart?” Billy nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, I got a key so I’ll be okay.”

Ethel nodded, kissed Billy’s forehead and walked to Ed’s car before they drove off. Billy stood there in front of the small chapel and looked down at his dust-covered biker boots.

“You’re not too bad of a dancer, Billy.” Steve spoke up from the front doors of the church building. “I miss it ya know? Dancing being legal n’ all. I love it.” He smiled before walking down the steps and over to Billy.

“Why’s it illegal? That’s kinda a stupid law, don't you think?” Billy furrowed his eyebrows. “I mean, I don’t mean to disrespect your town and it’s rules but-”

“It’s okay, Billy. I think it’s dumb too. But there’s no use in fighting against it.” Steve sighed, running a hand throw his gelled back hair making a strand fall on his face.

“Why not? It’s worth a shot right?” Billy asked, turning to the taller boy who messed with his hair and pulled on a pair of red cowboy boots placing his dress shoes in a backpack.

Steve shook his head, his hair flopping about. “Not really. My dad would never agree to pass it.”

Billy frowned and let out an audible sigh. “Nice boots.” He stated looking down at Steve’s new change in outfit. Steve chuckled and smiled small. “Thanks. They’re my dancin’ boots.”

Billy cocked an eyebrow. “Thought dancing was illegal, pretty boy?” Steve blushed madly at the pet name which made Billy smirk proudly. “My girlfriend knows this spot where my dad never finds us.”

Billy broke at the word. Girlfriend. So Steve obviously was into girls... maybe guys too? Shit, Billy didn’t know. All he knew was that Steve was unavailable and that kinda hurt like hell. He was the first good thing to come out of his move.

“Oh,” Steve spoke up as he saw Charlie roll up in her truck. “I thought your prom idea was a great one. I’d be willing to help pitch that to my Pop.”

Billy grinned and scratched the back of his neck. “Thanks, Steve.”

Steve blushed, biting his bottom lip. “Of course, Chicago. See ya around.” He winked and ran tot he pickup, getting the passenger seat and closing the door. Steve stared out the window at Billy and smiled small.

Billy sighed out and smiled before heading towards his aunt’s. “Goddamnit, Harrington. You got me feelin’ some kinda way.”

hey darlings! EARLY POSTING BC I GOT HELLA EXCITED FOR THIS ONE

this will probably be a multi-part series but I don’t know quite yet... give me your feedback!! it’ll be much appreciated and will help me know if y’all want more!!

<3 love y’all

MASTERLIST

[witchieanddessie-blog]

Yes I Am| A Story of Seasons/Harvest Moon Fanfiction | Chapter 2

A loud voice bellowed from behind me, catching me by surprise. “Is that you Nanami?” 

I nodded slightly and let out a little squeak, I was embarrassed at myself for being so jumpy. “I thought so. Good to have ya, good to have ya! I’m Frank.” He let out a rambunctious laugh.  This was it. I hope Frank wouldn’t give me one look and then reach his conclusion. I bowed quickly and smiled, “It’s nice to meet you, thank you for agreeing to help me.”

He chuckled as I finished bowing, “Just so’s you know, it’s customary ‘round there here parts to give a hug when greetin’ folks. Wanna give it a try?” he laughed. I thought he was joking but then he pulled me into a tight embrace. “Yeah, I guess it is a rather surprising gettin' told that right outta the blue! It was one surprise after another for me when I first got to Westown, too. But it's turned out to be pretty nice. That was a pretty good hug there, you'll get use to it after meeting more people here!” Joy. Where I had grown up, people wouldn't dare dream of hugging a stranger as a greeting. That was a social custom was only reserved to family and close friends. Then again... Uncle Frank was family so maybe it wasn't so bad. It didn't mean I'd leap at the opportunity to hug other strangers of Westown though. "They weren't lying' when they said time flies. Look how big you've gotten. Last I saw you, you were still just a little baby. I bet you don't even remember me." Frank beamed. He seemed really friendly and approachable, I felt more at ease around him. Whilst my uncle and father looked similar, aside from the fact that my father was clean shaven and Uncle Frank, the real difference between them was their voice. Dad sounded professional and well spoken, this guy sounded completely different with a western twang that characterised his speech. It took a few moments to adjust to his voice and make out what he was saying.

"Your pa sent me a letter explainin' everythin'." My heart sank slightly, I could only imagine what sort of things he would have written in the letter. Maybe it was just a list of reasons why I wasn't capable. Frank smiled and squeezes my shoulder reassuringly, "First things first, though, you've gotta be bushed after that long trip. Come on in and settle down for a spell." He picked my suitcases up and gestured for me to enter his house. ~~~ Frank places two steaming cups of hot chocolate onto the table. I have always sworn by hot chocolate before bed, the sweetness satisfies my cravings and the lull afterwards helps to take me into dreamland. I took a sip of the beverage gratefully, its taste was dark and rich and coated my tongue thickly before flowing down my throat. It smells like a chocolate factory and I am torn between wanting to savour it and inhale it. For some moments I just wrap my hands around the ceramic mug, letting the warmth flow through my fingers, banishing the early spring chill. Despite choosing to make it last it is gone too soon. "Right then, let's not forget why you're here." Frank said as he sat in the seat opposite me. "You wanna become a farmer, yeah?" "Yes, I really do." I kept my hands gripped on the mug in front of me, even though it was now empty. "It's been something I've wanted to do and have been thinking about for so long. It's my dream." Frank smiled encouragingly, "I was real happy to hear that you want to do the same thing with your life that I do." He took a slow sip of his hot chocolate and then his face turned serious, his expression reminded me of that of my father's when I'd try discussing becoming a farmer with him. "But don't ya forget it's Ma Nature herself you'll be tackling! Some days get reeeal rough. You really sure this is what you want to do?" I know a dream doesn't come true by magic; it takes sweat, determination and hardwork. I have what it takes to achieve what I set my mind to. I'm not going to avoid it because everyone tells me it's hard to only look back one day in regret. Why is something being difficult meant to be off-putting? It gives me drive. "I'm sure," I felt confident in my answer. "I know it won't be a walk in the park but I'm determined and willing to learn." "Good answer!" *cheered* Daryl, clasping his hands together happily "No wonder you were able to get that stubborn old bear Daryl to back down. Now, I know that some stuff might scare you. But around these parts, the harder you work, the more Ma Nature will reward you. That I can guarantee. I'm glad that you're eager, I would love to take you down to your new farm tomorrow but unfortunately it's still being worked on." "Don't worry too much 'bout it, though. It shouldn't be too much longer. Tomorrow I'll give you the grand tour of Westown instead so you can meet your new neighbours. Now, you must be tired. Let's get you rested." ~~~ I awoke to soft sheets, and the morning light trickled in through the blinds. Shedding myself of the remaining glimpses of a dream, my eyes were still shut as I soaked in the warmth of my covers before letting my blue eyes see the sun's rays. From today I'm going to ditch the insecurities. Instead of thinking what could go wrong, I'm going to focus on what can go right. Keep your face toward the sunshine - and shadows will fall behind you. When I entered the kitchen after getting dressed, the front door was open and Frank was standing on the porch. He had dirt on his scarlet overalls and the sleeves of his blue checkered shirt. He must have gotten up at the crack of dawn to complete his farm errands. I noticed the hay on his trousers, it made me eager to see his farm animals. Perhaps I'd recognise some from when I was little. I couldn't wait until I could get my own animals, perhaps some chickens or maybe even a cow. For now, I'll focus on the present, I remembered that today Frank was going to introduce me to my neighbours and show me Westown. I could feel the butterflies awaken in my stomach. You'd assume that I'd be accustomed to meeting new people and settling in quickly due to the fact that we were always moving. Sadly it didn't get any easier if anything it got harder. I'd become scared of connecting with people since they were never in my life for very long. Hopefully, I could make some real friends here, the type of friends I could confide in and have fun with after a day on the farm. Hopefully. Frank looked back over his shoulder and grinned, "There's my favourite niece!" Hah, take that Lynn. "Did you sleep swell?". I nodded quickly. Whilst Frank was still practically a stranger in some regards he was so kind and gave off a warmth that made me feel more relaxed around him the more I was near him. Perhaps the more time we spend together the more he'll feel like family. It'll be good to have someone like that here considering how far away from home I now am. Well, technically I was even further away from m family than I expected since dad had packed everyone up to go live somewhere random and new again. "I slept like a log. You never really expect travelling to take it out of you as much as it does. Thank you for letting me stay here for the night, your place is really nice." I walked over to join him on the porch. "Glad to 'ere yer had a good slumber." He smiled warmly and gestured to the house, "Thank yer, I built it myself! You'll probably end up building yerself your own place eventually." My own place? Built by myself? I'd never envisioned myself as a carpenter, but hopefully I'd have all I need for a while before I ended up accidentally nailing my hands to a wood plank and testing my patience. "Don't ya look too worried now! You'll have plenty of guidance and help." Frank took his straw hat off and fanned his face with it, before turning to me. "I'm goin' to take ya to meet Megan today before we see the rest of the town. She's the town elder after all so we should pay our respects."  Grugurgrpgurrghghghg. I glanced outside, at first thinking that the sound I heard was thnder outside but when I heard it for the second time I realised it was Frank's stomach. Frank was hungry. "Oops! I suppose my stomach's getting demanding, let's crack out some jam and toast for breakfast." Frank rubbed his stomach and smiled sheepishly. He hummed a jolly tune as he walked over to the kitchen to prepare something to tame our hunger. ~~~ We ate breakfast on the porch. The gentle spring sun rays kissed my skin, like kisses from the divine. The ground by the porch was covered with bright and vivid blooms whose petals danced in the breeze. It was tranquil. I smiled at the simpleness of nature. I had always lived in the concrete jungle of the city, sometimes I would forget that places of such natural beauty existed. It was like a scene out of a postcard that seemed too good to be true. I took another bite of my toast, savouring the sweet flavour of the strawberry jam. Frank had said he'd made the jam from the strawberries he had grown on his farm. I couldn't help but imagine serving my family food made from my own produce if they ever came to visit. Imagining such a scenario made me miss them. After breakfast Frank took me to the town elder's house, she was also a farmer and lived a short distance from Frank's farm. Her house was beige and seemed rather old, yet it had aged nicely. It was a home and you could see that it was filled with life and love before entering the front door. "Hello Frank, I've been waiting for you. Is this the relative you've been telling me about? It's a pleasure to meet you Nanami. I'm also a farmer, just like Frank. I think I speak for the whole town when I say we're happy to have you here." Megan spoke softly and held her arms open ready for a hug. I had forgotten that was a thing here. I hugged her awkwardly, feeling my cheeks reddened slightly. I made a mental note to be more prepared when greeting the rest of the people I'd be introduced to today. I hoped that my hugs would get better or this new greeting would at least become less awkward. Megan proceeded to introduce me to the rest of her family, her son Hector and her grandson Colin. Both father and son shared the same pumpkin-orange hair. Hector was quiet and didn't engage in much conversation, nor did his son who hardly looked up from the picture of a butterfly he was drawing. They seemed to both be very similar to each other. I wondered where Colin's mother was. Perhaps she was working? After having a drink of Megan's homemade cordial, she led us around Westown. Westown was filled with character, like it's name it reminded me of a town in an old Western movie. I could imagine having a pretend cowboy showdown with Lynn in the town square. The main part of the town had been built into the large red mountains, different shops stood on different levels of the mountain. There were market stalls on the lower levels, Megan informed me that this is where I could buy animals on certain days of the week, ingrediants, goods and essentials. On the higher levels were shops, distinct in colour and character. As we were walking up the wooden plank slope that allowed us to get to different levels, Megan stopped to gesture at a red and blue building. "Now if I could direct your attention to the left, over here we have the Post Office. If you ever feel like sending a letter to your family stop off over there." She was very good at this whole tour guide business, she was a very firmly spoken woman, however she still came across as friendly and not intimidating. I lit up at the prospect of being able to send letters homes. Whilst I could text my family or call home the signal wasn't the greatest here. There was something about sending letters that seemed more appealing and filled with more thought and love. I'd definitely be popping in when I had a chance. Before we were able to move on to hear Megan's comment on the next building, a man walked out of the Post Office doors. "Well, now! Speak of the devil, here comes out postman. Hello!" Megan waved towards the postman. I expected him to be around the same age of Frank for some reason, that was certainly not the case. He walked over to Megan and Frank, waving as he approached. "Good morning', Megan. Frank." He took the cowboy hat he was wearing off of his blonde locks and held it in front of him as he bowed politely. "What a surprise to see both of you here. What's the occasion? No lemme guess, you're giving the grand tour to our new neighbour over 'ere." He directed his gaze to me and smiled. Oh. Hell. Must. Mate. Immediately. Wait. Did I really just think that? Goodness, I felt embarrassed at myself that that was the first thing that popped into my head. The postman was tall and handsome. He had the kind of face that stopped you in your tracks. You couldn't help but admire it or perhaps even envy it. I guess he must be used to that, the sudden pause in a person's natural expression when they looked his way followed by overcompensating with a nonchalant gaze and a weak smile. That was my reaction. I hoped I wasn't blushing. How fickle of me to feel this way. "Spot on as always! This is the relative I was telling you about the other day." Frank explained. Both the men seemed to be on friendly terms, although I assumed in a town like this everyone probably knew each other and were friends. "Aha! I knew it! The name was... Give me a second the name will come to me... Kanami, right?" He had a southern twang to his voice just like Frank and Megan did. It really was like being in a Western. "Almost!" I couldn't help but smile, "It's Nanami. Just a letter out." "Nanami..." He smiled back at me and put his hat back on, "I'm Wayne. I'm the post man over 'ere. Any time you want to sent a letter home or to anyone just pop into the post office where I work behind me over there. There aren't too many people our age 'round these parts. I'm looking forward to getting to know you, friend! I hear you've come from a place real far away, you'll have to tell me all about it some time." Yes please! No. No thank you. I wasn't going to have a silly crush over someone I had just met. He probably was taken, or at least popular with the ladies. There was no point in toying with the idea of winning his affections. I'm here to farm. He winked and flashed a grin at me, "Are you used to hugging people when they say howdy yet?" That's when I could feel my face reddening. I thought I'd gotten out of hugging in this introduction. "Ah, not yet. It's quite different from back where I'm from." He walked closer and threw his arms around me, engulfing me in his embrace. "I'm looking forward to getting to know you better. Feel free to come on over and chat whenever you want." With that, Frank and Megan waved goodbye and he left to complete his deliveries. His attractiveness aside, he seemed nice enough but he always seemed like a ladies man, a flirt. That was slightly intimidating. I hoped underneath that he was a lovely guy and not someone who would mess with a woman's feelings.

Read More at: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11895807/chapters/26870784

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12549983/1/Yes-I-Am

[jesbakescookies]

Too Hot To Handle: Chapter Three

So I kinda wrote a different kind of fanfiction. It’s nothing as in depth as my other fics so I am going to post it here. ENJOY!!

             ***Actor, Real Person Fanfiction, Walking Dead RPF***

Featuring: Jeffrey Dean Morgan X Original Female Character, Norman Reedus and others..

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER THREE

Aria stood in her bathroom contemplating how on gods green earth she was going on a date with Jeffrey Dean Motherfucking Morgan? Shaking her head, she combed out her thick brunette hair and began braiding it over her shoulder. If they were riding she wanted her hair manageable yet styled. Sweeping her long bangs behind her ear, Aria applied the bare minimum of makeup and headed off to work. She would check in the new produce and instruct everyone for the evening and jet off on some kind of acid trip where a girl from a trailer park was seeing a movie star. 

  "What do you mean, you're off tonight?" Javier asked, his inked arms crossed and hip cocked. "You just got back from vacation."

"I have a... thing I gotta go to. You'll be fine. I have everything prepped and the soups are on. Desserts are setting in the fridge."

"This thing must be important to have you sucking up this bad. It's a date isn't it? Tell me who? Is it that blonde chef guy from Grotos that’s been sniffing around since open?"

"Fuck off Javie, it's none of your business." She grumbled, her hands sweating at the idea of someone finding out and pointing out how ridiculous it was. The hot bastard was going to spend five minutes with her and realize what a fucking mistake he was making. "I will call INS on your grandmother if you keep questioning me right now."

A barking laugh from the doorway had Aria’s cheeks burning brighter than ever before. Javier was gaping at the sight of Jeffrey leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms. He wore a pair of dark jeans and a leather jacket, his worn black t-shirt advertising a motorcycle club. It seemed that he couldn’t not look like sex on a stick. The man was impossibly good looking. 

"That is fucking cold doll."

"If you think that's bad, you should hear her when I actually fuck up." Javier commented, sticking his hand out. "Javier, better known as Ari's bitch."

"Okay. This has been great." Aria announced, grabbing her jacket. "And we're off. You be a good little bitch and make me money."

"Fuck doll!" Jeffrey guffawed, rocking back on his heels, his grin sparkling. Javier growled at her but it turned into a laugh. "Have fun boss lady. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t!"

Aria followed Jeffrey to his bike and watched as he slid on gracefully. Handing her a helmet, he helped buckle it below her chin. Holding a hand out to steady her to climb on, he smiled easily, "Come on darlin'. Let's have some fun."

Taking his hand, Aria slid behind him and wrapped her arms around his stomach. After strapping his own helmet on, he pulled out of the parking lot slowly. Taking care to warm her up to the ride, Aria squeezed his stomach as she became more comfortable. Acknowledging the signal, Jeffrey sped up and let her feel the real power below them. They rode through different parts of the city, over bridges and through tiny towns. Eventually the sun was setting and he headed towards a gathering of lights in the distance. As they pulled into a parking lot, their destination became clear. 

The county fair had started two weeks ago and featured not only rides and games but musical events and fireworks. Aria smiled widely as she removed her helmet.

"I haven't been to a fair since I was sixteen."

"Happy?"

"Very." She replied, smiling up at him before bouncing up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "Thank you."

Cupping her neck in a tantalizing way, he leaned down to kiss her temple and murmured, "You are most fucking welcome, beautiful."

Jeffrey couldn't stop glancing at the woman next to him. At her pink lips curled into a smirk and eyes bright like a kid's. She was quick witted and funny, a bit vulgar but not overly so. It didn't hurt she was as pretty as a picture. Her petite frame still had curves, hips and breasts that her chef coat hid remarkably well. In her skinny jeans and tight little sweater, Jeffrey couldn't stop touching her lower back or pulling her in close, under his arm. She was beautiful and he couldn't believe he was actually on a date with her. 

It wasn’t as though he hadn’t been with gorgeous women before. He knew that who he was allowed him options that most would kill for but he was older now. Jeffrey did the whole young hot model thing and had dated plenty of fellow actors. He wanted more now and the longer he spent with Aria, the more he realized what he wanted was an honest to goodness, real person. Someone who had her own life, her own dreams and goals. Someone as passionate for life as he was. Glancing at the little woman next to him smiling at the sight of a kid hopping up and down in excitement, Jeffrey began to think he might had found her. 

They strolled the fairgrounds, looking at booths and listening to the carnies try to draw them in. Jeffrey played a few, winning a stuffed alligator and ball cap that said, 'Senoia County Fair.'

"We found your hat." Aria commented with a wry grin, her arm stretching up to try and place it on his head. Smirking when he barely cocked his head, making it impossible for her short stature, he chortled when she pouted dramatically. Giving in, Jeffrey bowed his head slightly allowing her the victory.

"How tall are you anyways?" He asked, throwing his arm around her shoulder and curling her into his side. He could feel her curves against his ribs and hip, the sway of them making it difficult to hold back a groan. She was so fucking cute and sexy. 

"5' 2" and a half."

"That half does count." Jeffrey joked, winking at her playfully. 

"Pfft. You goddamn right it does." She quipped, with a grin. "How tall's Mr Beanstalk?"

Snorting, Jeffrey teased, "6' 2 and one quarter."

Laughing she gave him the stink eye and muttered, "Jackass."

Chuckling with her, he kissed the top of her head before asking, "Hungry?"

"Yes."

"Do you eat shitty fried food? Or are you a snob?"

"I eat for my mood. We're here enjoying the fair, I want a corn dog and eventually a funnel cake."

Smirking, he tipped his chin to the nearest food vendor. "There's our dogs. I think the funnel cake place was the other direction."

"Sounds good to me if it's good for you."

"I'm pretty sure you could ask for anything right now and I'd do it."

"Anything huh?" She quirked a brow, biting her lip teasingly. 

"You've got me wrapped around your little finger doll." He replied, flashing her a grin. "After seeing you shoot those targets, I don't think I wanna cross you."

Snorting Aria replied, "better not. I'll shoot a pellet in your ass."

His cheeks hurt from smiling at her but he couldn't help it. Aria was just too cute and funny to hold back. 

As they sat down to eat a few fans noticed him, asking for autographs and pictures. He made sure to check on Aria as he spoke to them, giving her apologetic eyes. She waved him off and smiled when a girl squealed after being given a hug.

After the crowd thinned and they headed off to check out the rides, Jeffrey drawled, "Sorry about that."

"About what?"

"Being stopped and asked for autographs and shit."

"One, it's kind of your job and to be expected. Two, it's not as though you ditched me for some fangirl."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Understanding."

"No worries, Jeff." She replied, leaning into his side as they strolled. "You can make it up to me by taking me on the ferris wheel."

"Sounds good to me."

The sun had long set but the fair grounds were lit spectacularly with strings of white lights and all the blinking bulbs on the many rides. The ferris wheel took them to the highest point on the grounds giving them a view of the surrounding area and the large corn maze.

"I bet you can see all the way to Franklin from here in the daylight." Aria commented, looking down at the crowd below. Jeffrey leaned back, his arm around her as they slowly clicked their way to the top. The wheel ground to a halt at the top, leaving them swaying slightly from the motion.

"Tell me it didn't break." She deadpanned, glancing at Jeffrey who smirked boyishly at her. "What'd you do?"

"Tipped the kid to stop us at the top."

"Oh yeah?" She spoke with a grin, turning to face him slightly. "Why’s that?"

"Because I've never kissed a girl on a ferris wheel before and I think tradition states it's gotta be at the top." He drawled, his voice husky and soft. 

"You've seen too many movies." Aria murmured, her cheeks heating as his hooded eyes watched her intently. 

Grinning, he stroked her cheek with a subtle brush of his thumb and rasped, "So you're saying you don't want to kiss a boy on a ferris wheel."

"A boy no... a man might be nice."

"Will I do?"

"I suppose I can make do."

Pulling Aria closer, he cupped her face and neck while gently kissing her. Slowly their movements turned desperate, Jeffrey nipping her lip and sucking it into his mouth. Aria’s tongue sliding against his had the man groaning deeply, his fingers curling into her hair and neck. She slid across the seat, only stopping from climbing into his lap by the ride’s safety bar. They barely registered the wheel lowering until they heard a wolf whistle from above them.

Laughing against her lips, Jeffrey murmured, "I think we gave them a show."

"I'm not sure if I care."

"I know I don't give a flying fuck." He growled, pulling her mouth to his for one more passionate kiss. 

  "You're an excellent kisser." He commented as they strolled towards the funnel cake stand, his fingers woven between hers. Smirking down at her, Jeffrey  licked the corner of his mouth and winked. 

"You are not so bad yourself." she muttered, her cheeks pink in the flickering fair lights. 

"Oh yeah?"

"Yep, very talented."

Jeffrey's cellphone chimed a few times making him sigh and apologize. Aria waved him off and ordered them food. Jeffrey's laugh had her cocking an eyebrow in question. 

"Just Norman giving me shit."

"About what?"

"Taking you out. He's a little pissed."

"Why did you guys have plans?"

"What? No.. no he uh..." Jeffrey trailed off and then muttered, "I don't know if I should tell you."

"Well, now I gotta know."

Sighing, he scratched his scruffy jaw and answered, "He's pissed because he wanted to ask you out."

Aria’s eyes couldn't have gotten wider if she tried. "Seriously?"

"Yeah now you can't fucking take off on me now that you know."

"Why would I take off?"

"Because, I don't know. Maybe you'd rather date that fucker."

"I'm here with you because I want to be."

"Still.."

"Still nothing. I know we just met but I'm pretty sure you can tell I don't do this often, or like ever. I’m here because I like you. And I'm having a good time."

"Do you like me more than him?"

"I don't know him." She replied with a shrug. "Tell him finder’s fucking keepers I guess."

Snorting loudly, he watched her bite into her funnel cake, powder sugar dusting her lips and shirt. Giggling she didn't even bother trying to stop it. "It's impossible to eat these daintily."

"You look adorable trying though."

Rolling her eyes she dared, "I'd like to see you not get it all over that beard."

Taking a bite, Jeffrey found out just how difficult it was to eat them not only cleanly but to look cool while doing it. Aria’s uncontrollable giggles were worth the embarrassment. 

Riding back to her place, Jeffrey took the long way back to enjoy her wrapped around him for just a while longer. He floored it on a straightaway to get her to squeal, the sound making his jeans tighten and grin grow. 

Her condo was near the restaurant, the small complex featuring less than a dozen units. Each had their own little patios and gardens, the tall fences giving them privacy from the close neighbors. Jeffrey pulled up to her driveway and turned the bike off. He wasn't sure if she'd invite him in but he was walking her to the door and getting a goodnight kiss. 

Pulling the helmet off, Aria handed it back with a smile. "I enjoyed that ride much more than the back of a crotch rocket."

"Understandable." He chuckled, setting the helmet down with his own. 

"Do you want to come in for a drink or coffee?"

"Absolutely." He replied with a pleased grin. "I was hoping you'd offer."

"Don't get any ideas, player." She commented over her shoulder with a smirk. 

"I have no clue what you're talking about."

"Mmmhmm." Aria replied, unlocking her door and disarming her security system. "I'm learning your smiles and that was a shit eating grin if I've ever seen one."

Barking out a laugh, Jeffrey grinned widely at her as she cocked a challenging eyebrow. He licked his bottom lip before biting it while looking her over in amusement. 

She was calling him on his bullshit and he was fucking loving it. Leaning a broad shoulder against the doorway leading to the kitchen, he gave her a wink and drawled, "you uh.. are perceptive as fuck aren't you doll?"

"I would classify myself as an excellent bullshit detector. " she quipped, kicking off her shoes and padding towards the kitchen in polka dot socks. Blocking the doorway with a long arm, Jeffrey rasped, "What's the password?"

Biting her lip, Aria peered up at him, the woman even shorter without shoes. He was quite frequently taller than most but he was practically looming over the poor girl. Tilting her head at such an angle it looked painful. Altering his stance, he slouched against the doorframe and smirked when she seemed relieved.

"I live here. I have free reign." She retorted, quirking a brow. "I should be asking you for the password."

"Oh yeah?" he rasped, scratching his eyebrow in thought. 

"Yep." She popped her lips.

Jeffrey leaned in closer, his nose almost touching hers and spoke low and gravelly, "Can I bribe you instead?"

He heard her breath catch and couldn't help but let a smug smile curl his lips. Brushing her bottom lip with his, he felt his own lungs hitch when she replied, "Only if it has something to do with your fucking mouth."

Pressing his lips against hers, Jeffrey cupped her cheeks and jaw. He was a giant holding her between his rough paws. Aria was so damn petite he felt as if he had to be extra gentle. The little brunette was having none of it though, her hands burying into his hair and pulling him harder against her mouth. Groaning deeply as he pressed her body into the wall. Jeffrey felt every inch of her stretched out below him. The curve of her heaving breasts and the heat of her core pressed against his thigh had the man growling with need. 

"Feel so fucking good." He grunted, his hand holding her hip tightly while grinding against her. Aria’s hands curled into his shoulders as he picked her up by the thighs. Laughing, she peered down at him as he kept her wrapped around his waist bringing her to his eye level. 

"That's better." He murmured against her soft pale neck. Aria moaned as he kissed and sucked his way down.

"Fuck Jeff." She moaned as he nipped her collarbone.

"Yeah." He groaned, rolling his hips into her spread thighs. "Fuck, say my name again, sweetheart."

"Jeff." She gasped as his hands squeezed her ass while rutting into her. "Fucking hell."

"Yeah. I like you moaning that." He grunted, kissing her deeply and thoroughly. Pulling back after a few desperate minutes, Jeffrey rasped, "We should slow down."

"Do you want too? Or are you being gentleman-like." She asked breathlessly. 

"Little of both." He replied, placing his forehead against hers as he panted, he stared into her vibrant eyes. "I like you. I wanna know more about you, so I don't wanna rush shit but I would also like to tear your fucking clothes off right now."

Smirking, Aria kissed his nose playfully and replied, "I like the idea of knowing each other better. I haven't done this in a very long time and prefer it to be more than fucking as much as I'd like to. Right now. Against this wall."

"Fuuuuuck. Doll. How in holy hell can you tell me something like that?" He groaned, kissing her neck and breathed in her ear. "You're fucking naughty."

Laughing, she replied, "How about I get you that drink?"

Setting her down on her feet, Jeffrey tucked loose hair behind her ear.

"Would coffee be too much trouble? I have a long night ahead of me."

"No trouble but what's going?"

"I've got to get back up to Atlanta for a 5am flight. I have to go to a con in LA."

Playfully smacking his shoulder, she exclaimed, "Jeff! Why didn't you say you needed to leave early? We could've rescheduled."

"I didn't want to wait another week to take you out." He replied with a shrug. "I would've taken you out the night I asked you, if you'd have offered."

"I don't get it." She commented while filling the coffee machine with water.

"Don't get what?"

"Why are you so interested in me?"

"The hell? Why wouldn't I be? You're driven, passionate, intelligent and funny. Not even touching on the fact that you're a sexy little knockout." Jeffrey rasped, flashing her a bright smile. 

The grin widened when she blushed, her shy eyes focusing on the coffee grounds she was scooping.

"You don't see what everyone else sees." He added, rubbing his chin in thought as he sat down at her kitchen table. "Is that a girl thing? Not seeing what amazing fucking people you are."

"I can't speak for anyone else but I know I don't see myself from the outside. I see all the nitty gritty, the up close and personal. The failures, the fuck ups. Objectively, I suppose I see my success as a chef and I know I'm not fugly or anything but I think I'm too close to the subject."

Pulling her towards him, Aria stood between his spread legs. Holding her hips, his thumbs brushing across her waistband, Jeffrey was almost eyes level with the short woman.

"You're amazing and goddamn stunning." He spoke with a firmness that made her lose her argument, a tingling flush reaching every inch of her body. 

"Thank you."she spoke through a shy smirk. 

"You're very fucking welcome." 

Find Chapter Four here: http://jesbakescookies.tumblr.com/post/162099539921/too-hot-to-handle-chapter-four

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[cowgirlontheloose]

The Shaman and the Swift Fox

Some time in the early 1990s, I had a dream. A female form appeared to me. Maybe a goddess, shaman or fairy creature? She didn’t explain herself. She told me I had to help wildlife. I can’t recall her exact words. But I understood I had to take some sort of action. Then she faded gently from the scene just like in the story books. Poof! 

The morning of my dream, I nibbled my toast and thought hard. Mug of tea in hand, I went to my computer and wrote three similar emails:  one to the Swift Fox recovery team in Alberta and Saskatchewan; one to Burrowing Owl recovery on the prairies, and one to threatened Black-tailed Prairie Dogs in Saskatchewan’s Grassland National Park. I volunteered my services for three months. “Use me however you want,” I wrote. “I’ll scrub cages, count poop, run errands, type, do paperwork or answer phones.” I provided a bio, some glowing references and hit send. 

I was free-lancing in those days — writing for various magazines and organizations. I worked from home, where I could glance from my computer screen out the window to my wild, overgrown 80 acres. Now and then, creatures would plod, scurry, bound or fly by:  turtles, fox, deer, raccoons, skunks, wild turkeys, blue heron and a host of tinier beings that I couldn’t see. But I knew they were there.

Most of my research and writing concerned endangered species. I adored learning about their biology; how they all play a role in keeping our world turning. It thrilled me to discover that the lives of Barn Owls, Kangaroo Rats or Flying Squirrels actually had an impact on my life and the planet. Not directly maybe. But through a chain of influences, weather systems, tiny and significant world events — each one influencing something else and something else and something else — I finally understood how dependent we all are on forces we are mostly clueless about.

One example (and there are millions more) let’s take sea otters, sea urchins and kelp forests to see how we are all connected. By the way, there are no exceptions to this rule. None.

Kelp forests provide homes for a vast number of creatures. Just like any land forest, kelp removes C02 through photosynthesis and turns it into energy it needs to flourish. Along come hungry sea urchins — small, spiky critters that eat kelp. Generally, there are plenty of sea otters around to eat some of the urchins so that everything is balanced tickity-boo and everyone has enough to eat. So far, so good, including all the teeming smaller species also living in the watery forest. But humans have been working overtime dumping toxins and garbage into the sea. Exacerbate this horror with oil spills, over fishing, coastal development and soon otters vanish, leaving the hardier urchins to multiply and literally eat the kelp forest to death along with everyone else living within. 

This particular chain reaction doesn’t stop there of course. It goes on from one thing to another, interacting with other chain reactions all over the planet. Eventually, you and I, our kids and grandkids are affected. It’s a glacial process, so most people don’t notice until it’s far too late, until we wake up to something like the horrors of climate change.

And now, back to my fateful dream and the send button.

A few months later, I found myself in Edmonton at the office of Dr. Lu Carbyn, a Canadian Wildlife Service scientist and chairman of the Swift Fox (Vulpes velox) Recovery Team. The task he set me was to locate myself somewhere near Medicine Hat, Alberta. There I would give talks to schools and community groups about this little fox, why it’s recovery was vital, and how we could all help by not shooting, trapping, poisoning, paving over or digging up their grasslands home. 

I was also expected to have informal visits with some of the major ranch owners. It was these large spreads on which the fox depended after all. And it’s a well known fact in conservation efforts that some Canadian land owners — and no doubt, the world over — do not ever want it known that a vulnerable species was spotted on their property because it could lead to restrictions for the rancher. Their unofficial motto if this should happen is “shoot, shovel and shut up.” I’m not suggesting that any of our prairie ranchers fall into this category. I’m just reporting what I heard again and again in the field.

All this talking in front of groups was a scary stretch for a shy sort. And the thought of me — clueless female Easterner — presuming to educate Western ranchers who possessed more know-how and grass-roots intelligence than I could blink at, made me want to turn tail.

But a deal was a deal.

Lu rounded up a vehicle for me, a cranky, rusting station wagon with balding tires which frankly, was not reliable (I wasn’t about to complain, believe me), and off I went to Elkwater, pop. 80-ish. Here I boarded with the gung-ho and endlessly inventive Lyall family:  Noreen, Don, Richard, 6, and Alec, 4. (Our adventures together will have to wait for another time, alas.) Their home was a few miles from Elkwater on the rolling prairie I love so much. Highway 41 stretched by our door, north to the Trans-Canada and south to Wildhorse, Montana, one of the loneliest border crossings I have seen. 

Before settling in Elkwater, howerver, Lu and I trucked south-east to Val Marie, Saskatchewan (800 km) with several Vulpes velox in cages. Some had been wild trapped in the U.S., and others raised in captivity at the Cochrane Ecological Institute in Alberta. We would be releasing them in Grasslands National Park in hopes of establishing a sustainable presence there.

Forget Banff, Jasper and the Rocky Mountains. Grasslands is possibly Canada’s most gorgeous natural treasure. Established in 1981, this 907 sq. kms. protects one of our country’s remaining un-meddled-with, mixed-grass/short-grass prairie. The park is home to several species in various states of peril:  Bison, Burrowing Owls, Black Footed Ferrets, Greater Short-horned Lizards and Black-tailed Prairie Dogs.

The night before the release, Lu and I camped in this magical place bathed by the misty light of stars and full moon. As his tent was hidden over the brow of a hill and I was located below on a flat expanse, I seemed to have the entire planet to myself. I woke several times and crawled out to pinch myself in disbelief. Coyotes wailed and shooting stars fell. And beneath my bare feet the prairie sighed.

Next day’s release was, in some ways, anti-climactic. So many years and resources, so much funding, will and people power, had brought us to this moment, yet it was just the start of an unfolding mystery. Would this little fox survive long enough to become an integrated part of Canada’s living tapestry again?

We opened the eight cages and stood well back. Some bolted, some crept from captivity to the glory of big sky and vast grasslands. My eyes shimmered. Those sleek, camouflaged coats blended flawlessly into the prairie hues. I blinked. Like wraiths they melted away one by one.

Once settled in Elkwater, I set up appointments with every school and group  I could find. I’ve long forgotten how many there were, or how far afield I roamed. I fondly remember a lively one-room school in Buffalo, Alberta, somewhere between Bindloss and Jenner. Although it was in the middle of nowhere (at least to this Easterner) and clearly a fading hamlet, the school was full of life and energy. Online now, I see that Buffalo is listed as a ghost town, although the minuscule post office and store were operating as of 2015. No sign of the school.

Oh so many schools! The elementary kids had lots of question and comments, always a forest of hands waving at me. The high school crowd was generally stoney-faced — too cool to reveal themselves in any way. I left those presentations feeling like a boring idiot, but hey — I tried. The most interactive and fun schools were Hutterite colonies — Spring Creek, Cypress, Box Elder, Elkwater. Here I was warmly included and herded on chatty tours of the colony by pink-cheeked, giggling youngsters. Once, my son Adam, was visiting me on his way back to University in New Zealand, and came with me (I probably forced him) to one of these colonies. I know he answered a barrage of questions about what New Zealand was like. I hope he remembers that time. This is the kid whose only apparent childhood memory is of me chasing him upstairs whacking at his legs with a wooden spoon. 

I covered thousands of lonely miles. One night on my way to Consul, Sask. (1.5 hours drive — was I nuts?) a full moon poured a fantastical light onto the prairie. I pulled over, got out and lay down in the middle of straight-and-flat-as-an-arrow Highway 13. I don’t know why I did it, but the prairie sang to me in four-part harmony that night.

I surely recall heading south an hour one cold night to Manyberries. Up and over the high bench of the Cypress Hills I drove, straining my eyes for elk and moose. Then down to the long flat stretch to Montana. 

I passed the sign that said something like Warning — No Gas Or Services For The Next 100 Kms. and tried not to add a sub-text which urged Better Say Your Prayers, Sister. 

The road was bare and I hummed happily. Suddenly snow — an instant, blinding white-out and the road vanished. I crept to a standstill. Yes, I knew possibly only a few kilometres from me, lights glowed from a warm ranch house at the end of a long laneway. But I had no hope of finding that. I waited, my heart rattling in my throat. 

Fifteen minutes later, headlights glowed behind me and a transport truck swirled past. How could he possibly see? But now I had quickly fading tracks to follow, which I did. There was no way I was going to risk turning around and hitting the ditch. Ten minutes later, the white-out stopped dead. Bare highway appeared and the transport’s light drew away from me. On I went to Manyberries, trailing clouds of dumb luck and good fortune.

Did I make any difference to the Swift Fox effort? Who knows. My time volunteering was precious beyond measure and enriched my life and understanding of how the world turns. And what of Vulpes velox (also called the Kit Fox) today in 2018? Once common from the Canadian prairies south to Texas, No thanks to humans, it was extirpated from Canada in 1930. Between 1983 and 1997, conservationists introduced more than 900 of these house cat-sized animals to the Canadian grasslands. It is estimated that 600 are living and reproducing in our country today.

The Committee on the Status of Endangered Wildlife in Canada (COSEWIC) designated the Swift Fox as extirpated in 1978. It was uplisted to Endangered in 1998, and since 2009 was further uplisted to Threatened.

Wildlife Preservation Canada says the Swift Fox recovery is considered “…one of the most successful endangered species translocation programmes in the world.