#they have a bus that's been converted to a tiny home

[elvenferretots]

Liam and Emily were kind enough to let me lay Pan to rest overlooking their farm and stay the week until my partner got home. This puppy is going to miss being a farm dog.

[lavender-long-stories]

Van Hell

Sasuke x Hinata | Abandon from my WIP Folder

“I can’t… I don’t love you.” Hinata managed to push out. 

“What?” Naruto’s hand holding out the ring fell into his lap as he stared at her, confused. He lost the massive grin that had been plastered to his face. “I thought… I mean, you did.”

“I can’t do this.” Hinata squeaked, disheveling, feeling her face twisted up as she started to cry.

“I don’t understand. Everything’s been great. What happened?” Naruto wondered.

“Everything’s been great for you.” Hinata snapped at him. It was harsher than she meant it. “I can’t live like this anymore. We don’t know where we are going to end up, and we don’t know if we will be able to support ourselves in the next town. And you want to raise kids like this?” 

“Is the ring too cheap?” As usual, he wasn’t listening to her. He heard something about money must be the ring.

“No, it’s lovely, but I can’t be what you want. And I don’t think you can be what I won’t either.” It broke her heart, but after all this time, it had to be the truth. She was never going to be happy in this van no matter what he did to it, no matter how it ‘improved.’ 

“You left everything to do this with me. I thought this is what you wanted.” Naruto sat back from his knee, collapsing to the van’s floor. “To just be with me because you loved me, no matter where.”

“I didn’t think this was going to be permanent! I saw it as an adventure, not a lifestyle.” Hinata admitted. “You never want to be normal again, and I didn’t think you planned we could live in this van forever and have children here.”

Naruto waved his hand, flapping it on the bed. “We can get a bigger van, like a bus, one with stuff closer to a house.” Hinata fought, her eyes rolling. Like proper water? Or an oven? “You could teach the kids when they get older you’re smart.” 

“No, no. I do not want to raise kids like that. I can’t socialize children and I don’t want to raise them without a scrap of privacy.” Hinata rubbed her temples. This is what she had meant. They were different. She did love him. She just didn’t love him enough to put all this doubt and worry aside for his preferred lifestyle, especially since he wouldn’t do the same. They had never had a conversation about what she wanted or if that was even an option. She wouldn’t have hated this so much if it was part-time. If they had a small home somewhere for a few months and worked, and then when they had made enough, they headed out on the road and then repeated, but he wouldn’t even think about that.

“I think we can work it out.” Naruto sighed, looking disappointed, but he clearly wasn’t getting the idea she wasn’t going to be happy.

“I don’t think we can.” Hinata whimpered. 

Naruto got up. “Oh, of course we can.” He rubbed her shoulders in a tight hug, but she didn’t feel comforted. She felt like he hadn’t heard a single word she had said. 

“… I want to go back to Konoha,” Hinata told him.

“Like now?” Naruto looked at her weirdly. “I guess we can head back, but it’s going to be a couple-day trip you don’t want to hit anywhere else on the way by?”

Hinata sniffed, wiping her face and shaking her head.

“Alright.” Naruto patted her leg. “I think maybe with time back, you’ll feel better, and we can get back on the road, huh?”

Hinata didn’t make any move to agree. She couldn’t explain it to him. She wasn’t going to attempt to, but when she got there, she was getting out, and she would be happy to never see another van again.

--**--

Naruto spent the entire trip talking about getting a school bus and converting it to a small, drivable apartment, where they could split the back into an extra little room for at least two, maybe even three kids. He thought maybe they could get a hot water tank for a tiny shower. Maybe even a toilet

Hinata could put together what he had wanted in her head, but she couldn’t imagine herself there. It sounded fun for vacation, just not her whole life.

“It’s going to be alright.” Hinata blinked, realizing that Naruto finally noticed she hadn’t been in a good mood. He took her hand with the one he wasn’t driving with and smiled at her. She offered a neutral face. He wasn’t going to understand it was the end until she stepped out with her bag. She wasn’t going to try to break his heart earlier.

--**--

“Hinata!” Hinata was hugged tightly by Kiba and Shino, then turned to Tenten and the ever-aggressively loving Lee to be engulfed with more much-needed hugs. She smiled, feeling the first nugget of happiness she felt in weeks. 

She looked back at Naruto hugging people in his circle of friends from college, and she turned back to lower her voice to say what she couldn’t with her and Naruto’s shared cell phone. “I… I need a place to stay.”

Neji’s face immediately dropped. “Are you okay?”

Hinata waved her hand to assure him nothing was seriously wrong. “I’m fine. I just can’t live like this, and I have nowhere to get footing. Please, I will pay anyone back as soon as I get a job and move out as soon as I have enough money to put something down on an apartment.” 

Faces looked worried as she effectively sucked the warm moment dry of its happiness. Kiba started. “What’s happening…” Shino nudged him harshly. 

“I have the room!” Lee told her proudly. Hinata felt a wave of relief. Just because she had asked for help didn’t mean she would have gotten it. Neji couldn’t take her in, and her friends also had families. “It’ll be great. Since Tenten moved out, my place is too empty and needs more youth.” Hinata thanked him profusely. 

“But really, Hinata is everything okay.” Tenten was clearly checking her over. 

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just. Naruto-kun and I see things differently, and I can’t get him to hear me, and…” Hinata was rambling. She felt someone wipe her cheek. She hadn’t even noticed she had been crying.

“We’ll figure it out. It’ll be okay, Hinata.” Tenten rubbed her shoulders. “Do you have your bags packed?”

Hinata nodded. 

“Right after we’re all done with a happy return, we’ll grab them to not make too much of a scene, okay?” Tenten assured her

--**--

“Wait, woah.” Naruto grabbed her bags and held them so Hinata couldn’t pull them out of the van. “What do you mean you’re leaving?”

“I mean, I am leaving. I can’t do this. I told you.” Hinata yanked them out of his hands to give them to Tenten’s waiting hands out the door. 

“Is this because I proposed? We don’t have to get married.” Naruto frantically concluded.

“No! This is not about getting married. It’s about living like this. I can’t do it, and you’re not going to change.” Hinata took a deep breath. “I do love you, but not enough to put up with this. I can’t push everything I want aside in favor of this. It’s not fair to me, and you are never going to compromise.”

“But I love you.” Naruto reached for her, and she let him take her hands.

“I don’t think you really do.” Hinata's voice broke. “If you did, you would see I’m not happy here. You would listen to what I had to say and compromise with me. You love this.” She waved her hand at the van. “You just wanted someone to share it with.”

“I want that to be you.” Her heart broke, and she closed her eyes.

Hinata knew that anything she said was going to go right through his ears. “I’m sorry.”

Hinata stepped out of the van. Lee wrapped an arm around her back, hugging her to him. “This is going to be so much fun to have you back!” 

Hinata could only hope he was right.

--**--

Lee’s apartment was… interesting. He had piles of projects everywhere. He showed her proudly how the couch pulled out and the fluffy blanket he had for her. She honestly enjoyed the enthusiasm.

Hinata looked around at his manikins. Lee was really talented for a guy who refused to wear much more than a green jumpsuit all through university. She honestly thought that he had put more work in with the track team coach than he did into his fashion design degree, but he was always more interested in dressing women than himself. 

They were all interesting works of art.

Lee waved his hand toward the kitchen area and jogged over, opening cabinets and the fridge. “There’s always food, healthy and filling!” 

Hinata giggled. “There is a bar around the corner, right?” 

Lee blinked in surprise. “I didn’t think you drank.”

“No, no, I don’t really.” Hinata waved her hands. “But I need a job. I’m not going to freeload here even for a day.”

Lee frowned for a moment. She was sure she was going to a lecture on how she should take a break, but instead, he smiled. “You’re determined. I like it. Seize the day! Let’s go!” He cheered.

Hinata honestly couldn’t think of a better person for her nerves right now. He tossed her coat and offered his arm. She giggled and linked with him as they headed for the elevator.

--**--

Her friends didn’t quite understand at first. Hinata didn’t know how to explain how she felt.

“I think I get it. I just never thought you would leave Naruto, of all people.” Kiba mumbled thoughtfully. “Like you thought the van thing was awesome, and you have had this crush on him since we were kids.”

“I did. I still love him in a way I’m not sure will ever really go away, but I can’t keep giving everything and receiving only what he thinks I want. I guess I got to the point where I had no more to give.” Hinata sighed.

“That makes sense,” Shino assured her.

“Now that you’re back, do you need a job? It’s not much, but I think my sister might be able to have you work at least part-time at the vet. It’s gross cleaning and stuff, but it’s something.” Kiba offered.

Hinata smiled. “Thank you. I already have a job.”

“Already? You got back yesterday.” Shino frowned. 

“There is a bar on the block that Lee-san’s apartment is on. When we were in need of cash in the van, we would work dive bars on the weekend to make cash. I would work the bar, and Naruto-kun would work the stockroom or bouncing.” Hinata explained.

“I can’t really see you in a bar.” Kiba scrunched his face.

“We’ll head in sometime to see your new skills,” Shino added in support.

--**--

Hinata slept during the day. She became a heavy sleeper early on in the van so that she didn’t die of fright. Lee’s music didn’t stand a chance, and she reminded him it was his apartment. He could sing as loud as he wanted. It was his place. He didn’t have to change for her.

She couldn’t be happier with the odd night schedule because it was a schedule. She could control it. She wasn’t at a different bar at a different time every few nights or flopping between day and night work. Lee seemed to love having her around, and Hinata was happy if he was happy.

The tips she was getting were more regular than she got anywhere else as people got used to her and knew she would get them drinks quickly. It made some of the other girls mad because she wasn’t working hard to flirt for her tips. It wasn’t like she was taking their tips because she didn’t get by guys who wanted to be flirted with. All her best tips came from guys who wanted to be left alone and to have their drink. It was usually older, grumpy men, but she found Sasuke Uchiha to be one of them. 

Sasuke didn’t look happy to see her the first night he came in, but she served him with no other word to him. She could feel him watching her around the bar. They had been in the same mutual friend group through Naruto, so she was sure he felt no obligation to be nice to her now, as she had broken his best friend’s heart. 

Sasuke came in after work, still in his suit. After the first few times he had come in, he started waiting for her to get his drinks so he didn’t have to deal with the other girls. He told them flatly he wouldn’t be tipping them, and he wasn’t interested. It didn’t deter all of them, but the majority dropped their act and moved on.

“The usual?” Hinata got out a glass for his tap beer.

Sasuke grunted his confirmation and took his drink. “What are you doing here?” 

“I couldn’t stay with him.” That was the only answer she had.

“No, not that.” Sasuke made a disgusted face. Maybe he didn’t resent her for that as much as she thought. “The Hyuga heiress, most likely to be a businesswoman or a trophy wife or both, and you’re tending a bar?” 

Hinata looked down the bar. It was a slow Tuesday, and she wasn’t being hailed so she could talk for a minute. “I tended when I was living on the road. Knowing what goes into a drink and how to keep drinks full was something I could carry from place to place and start up quickly. It’s all I really have right now.” 

“I’m surprised you put up with it that long.” Sasuke took a big swig of his beer, and she laughed. He was always Naruto’s worst critic.

“I think I was blind to the problems for a while because it wasn’t as bad as I felt at home. When I left, it definitely felt like freedom, but after no showers and no idea whether we had enough money to fix the van or eat, it got old. We did okay with the idea that we could just deal with it all until it came to the point that I realized he wanted to do that forever, and I wanted to be able to have a savings account and stability if something went wrong.” Hinata sighed, looking down at the bar. 

Sasuke made a face of disgust. Hinata grinned, noticing a drink low. She headed down the bar, feeling Sasuke’s eyes still on her.

When she ended up back after another round, she washed glasses in front of his chair. “What is it you do now?”

“I work at the family company with my brother. What else?” That is naturally what he would do. “You know it was a shit storm when you left. Your father told anyone who’d listen about you running off and whoring with a dropout.” Naruto wasn’t even a dropout. “But honestly, I don’t blame you. I can’t sit in a meeting with him and not feel like I want to punch him.” 

Hinata let out a snort. “He’s not pleasant.” 

Sasuke nodded, giving her a knowing look. “Did you ever think about turning around and using your degree?” 

“I don’t think it’s really an option right now. I have no work experience other than for my father’s company, and he, under no circumstances, would ever recommend me. I would likely have to do an internship for free, and I can’t do that right now.” Hinata explained.

“You should come to work for my family. I want to see the look on that bastard’s face.” Sasuke took another grumpy swig.

“I wouldn’t want to give you and Itachi-san the trouble he would cause.” Hinata was sure if she tried to get back into the business world, she would have to go super small and hope her father didn’t hear of it because he would make her boss’s life a living hell if she weren’t fired.

“Well, you can at least pour a beer that isn’t all foam.” Sasuke tipped his glass up at her.

Hinata didn’t know why, but the validation made her really happy.

I think when I wrote this, I was watching a lot of Van Life content, and I actually think that it's cool. I don't think you should cram 3 kids into shelves while you have a normal-sized bed and use them for content on the internet, but... moving on.

I try not to do anything internet trend-wise that is going to age my content, so this never got made. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[redisaid]

The World Will Only Darken Without Candlelight - Chapter 4

Girls like me don’t cry

Ao3 is back and I only had to hold onto this one for a few hours. That’s good, because the second I have to keep anything longer, I will edit it to an unrecognizable death. 

Also yay for Ao3! Also apparently it’s Zelink week, so that’s fun, though this isn’t following any sort of prompt for that.

7467 Words

Read it on Ao3!

Tell me that you’ll keep me safe and never let this fade away I'm hiding out so they don't see this part of me Girls like me don't cry Girls like me pretend we don't cry

Link lived in a bus.

Link lived in a fucking bus in the parking lot. An old school bus painted with a geometric sort of motif of forests and mountains.

Converted, quite nicely, Zelda might add, into a tiny house on wheels in which she now sat, screaming into her cracked phone. “Why are both you and Urbosa telling me not to call the cops? I was just assaulted, dad! Link is still over here bleeding all over his…bus.”

Of course he lived in a bus.

Rhoam’s voice on the other end of the line was still groggy with sleep. He hadn’t bothered to turn off the TV he'd fallen asleep in front of, which Zelda could still hear blaring a cable news station in the background.

“Just trust me on this,” he begged of her. “Trust me and stay with Link until I’m there. I’m getting my keys now and I’ll be there as soon as I can, princess.”

“Are you going to fucking explain what’s going on?” Zelda shouted back at him.

She wasn’t all that confident she could convince her phone to make another call after this one. The cracked screen was flickering in and out, and the touch controls were hit or miss.

She’d wasted that first call on Urbosa, who had first apologized for letting her leave alone, then told Zelda not to call the cops, call her dad, and call her back immediately if he didn’t answer.

And now this.

“Stay with Link,” her father repeated. “I’m on my way.”

He hung up on her. Or her phone stopped working. Zelda couldn’t be sure, but it took every ounce of control she had not to throw it clear across the bus. Maybe at Link, who was standing between her and the door, paper towel held to the worst of his bloodied knees.

But, no, not at him. He’d just saved her fucking life. The mute, short, horse girl of a man who lived in a bus.

At least it was a nice bus. Very cozy. All finished out with what seemed like recycled wood and clean, soft white paint. Something that an Instagram van-lifer would dream of.

Zelda sat at a little dinette of that same recycled wood, on a bench softened by dark green upholstery cushions.

“Here. It’s okay. Come with me,” had been the second thing Link ever said to her.

And, “Do you, uh, want a water or something?” was the third as he noticed her call had ended and she was now the one staring at him.

“You live in a bus,” she observed.

“Yup,” he answered.

“You just saved my life,” Zelda continued stating the obvious, hoping that repeating it would make the words make more sense to her.

“I guess?” was Link’s answer.

“You can talk.”

“Yup.”

“And you’re a wonderful conversationalist,” she noted. “Full of details. Fuck. I’m sorry. You don’t deserve how I’m talking to you right now. How I have talked to you. I’m sorry for everything.”

“It’s okay.”

It was not okay. Someone just held a knife to her throat and tried to zip tie her hands. Link had just presumably seen this across the parking lot, run out of his lovely bus home in just a pair of shorts, and tackled that someone to the ground like some sort of wrestling cage match and fought him off. And for all this, Zelda was supposed to not call the police?

“I’ll--sorry--I’ll take the water.”

He nodded, artfully scooting past her in the cramped space toward the little kitchen area, where a small but not small enough to necessarily be called mini fridge sat built into the white cabinets. It too was green, retro-looking, and very much stocked to the brim.

Link handed her a bottle of water before checking his knee and tossing the bloody paper towel into a garbage can hidden in yet another cabinet.

Whatever wounds had been inflicted on him seemed to be entirely due to the fact that he’d charged through a gravel parking lot half-naked in the middle of the night to save her. Without a shirt, he wasn’t as scrawny as Zelda thought. Obviously, he had to have some muscle on him to do the things she’d seen him do. She just was somehow expecting less.

And blamed her current emotional state for even thinking about that.

“My dad’s coming to get me,” she relayed as she decided it was better to stare at the bottle of water instead.

Link grunted an ascent to this. From the sheer volume of her previous conversation alone, she suspected that she didn’t have to tell him. But she did anyway.

He went over to the kitchen again, wetting a dishrag in the sink before wiping his face with it. The cut there had stopped bleeding on their walk over to the bus.

The bus, the only thing parked in the old RV spots that night. Rhoam used to let performers camp at the site, and apparently still did. For all he’d complained about it looking “trashy”, obviously the hookups still worked to the point where Link’s bus had power and water. Soft LED lighting had made it a haven in the darkness.

A bus. A fucking bus.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Zelda started up again, asking without even popping the cap on the water bottle. “Actually no, I know you do. I know you’ll tell me the same thing as them. Not to call the cops.”

Link winced at this. Actually winced. Maybe it was from stinging the cut on his forehead. Maybe not.

But he’d gone mute again, and gave no other response.

That only set Zelda off more. “You do and you would. You’re standing here bleeding all over your fucking bus and you’re going to tell me to keep quiet about it just like them. Why? Why did I bother coming back to this crazy little fucked up make-believe world you people live in?”

Link offered no answer to that.

Zelda looked down at her phone again, half of a mind to dial for emergency services anyway and defy all of them. Her father, Urbosa, Link. Hell, she had the numbers of the other Champions and would bet money they were in on it too if she bothered to ring them.

But it didn’t matter, because the phone only offered one last weak flicker to her touch before going black.

“I didn’t really mean that. I’m sorry,” was all Zelda had to say after that.

She slumped into the dinette table, head falling into the cradle of her forearms on the varnished wood.

A hand appeared in the sliver of vision that was left to her to slide the neglected water bottle toward her as Link crossed back once again to stand between her and the door.

“Are you okay?” Zelda thought to ask him, not bothering with the water, but turning her head the other way so she could see him out of the corner of her eye.

“Yeah,” was Link’s answer to that. He seemed to think about it for a moment.

Zelda turned her head just a little more, peering through the long blonde strands of her own hair at him. For once, he wasn’t looking at her, but out of the glass of the door, seeming not to trust that they were well and truly done with whatever was out there, lurking in the dark. Or maybe he was hoping to see the headlights of Rhoam’s car appear so he could be done with her. Probably that one, actually.

“I’m sorry for ruining your night,” Zelda told him as she buried her face in her arms completely. “And basically your entire day. But you deserved to at least have the evening to yourself after putting up with my shit and now here I am, sitting at your table.”

“It’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay. She wanted him so badly to say that it wasn’t okay. That he hated her. That he despised her. That she was selfish and immature and ungrateful. That for all he cared, he could have just watched her get kidnapped and done nothing and had a better tomorrow for it. She was just an entitled brat, after all. The boss’ daughter, who didn’t even want to be there.

But instead, Link wandered past again, and pushed the cold water bottle at her elbow insistently.

This time, he went deeper into the bus, and when Zelda looked up to follow him with her eyes, emerged from the back of it, now wearing a faded graphic t-shirt she couldn’t quite make out the wording on. But she could make out the image of a knight on a horse. A different renaissance faire’s logo?

He looked at her, looking at him. He opened his mouth to say something, then reconsidered. He took a step forward, then tried again, “I was going to make dinner. I didn’t eat. You didn’t eat either. I don’t think, at least. Do you, um…?”

Link didn’t manage to finish the sentence. That many words at once seemed like it was too much for him, or maybe just too much for now. Even several feet down the bus, Zelda could see him shaking just slightly as he held his hands up in a bit of a shrug. Shaking just as she had when she’d followed him to the bus, fumbling to find Urbosa’s contact in her dying phone.

Zelda knew that feeling well. The tremor of anxiety and leftover adrenaline. The need to do something with that energy, anything, always. Because if she stopped, she would have to face reality. She would have to face the past and future alike, and watch them tear her apart.

“That sounds great,” she eventually answered. “And you’re right. I didn’t really eat. But…you don’t have to. You don’t have to do anything for me. You’ve already done too much.”

Link didn’t offer any response to that protest, and instead buried himself in the little fridge again. He gathered item after item, holding them to his chest before going over to the stove with an armful of things. A container of takeout rice. Two eggs wrapped between fingers. A bunch of green onions. A bottle of some brown sauce. A green-lidded tupperware whose contents were otherwise unidentifiable. A chunk of butter. A bag of frozen peas.

Zelda cracked open the bottle of water, finally. She sipped it as she watched him chop the onions. She watched him crack the eggs and whip them with a fork. She watched him dump the rice into a wok he pulled out. She watched as the tremors in him seemed to calm, slowly but surely, as the tupperware revealed a chunk of ham that he diced into smaller chunks of ham.

She watched as Link made fried rice that looked better than anything she’d eaten in weeks. She watched him smile to himself as he flipped it in the wok.

Short, horse girl chef man. Bloody knees. Lived in bus. He hummed a little as he cooked, seemingly lost in the process, forgetting all else. In his happy place, finally.

And here Zelda was, drinking her water and watching him, feeling the adrenaline leave her system too. Slowly and steadily, not like the confusing rush that had happened after her attacker ran off. Or the anger-filled void of staring at her broken phone.

This time, she only felt tired. Bone tired. She just wanted this night to be over. This long, terrible awful opening day of the faire. She wanted to just start over, honestly. Start over and try again. Curl up onto this dinette bench and its soft green cushions and wait for morning to come.

So when Rhoam came knocking at the door of the bus, just as Link was setting down a bowl of that delicious-smelling fried rice in front of her, Zelda decided it was not worth trying to explain why she didn’t really want to leave. Not that she could explain it, really.

She didn’t even get to try the rice.

---

“For the last time, I am physically fine!” Zelda shouted at her father as he drove down the mostly abandoned avenue that would lead back to their suburban home. “Mentally, I would be much better if I knew what was going on. Especially why you won’t involve the authorities in, I don’t know, your only child being attacked in the parking lot of a venue you own? One where, let’s not forget, you host a renaissance faire primarily attended by families with--”

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” Rhoam cut her off, repeating the same phrase for at least the fifth time in this awful car ride. “But I’m glad Link was there. And you’ll have to trust that I’m handling it.”

“You and a semi-mute horse girl that lives in a bus are going to keep me safe?” Zelda challenged from the passenger’s seat, arms crossed over her tank top, running parallel to the horizontal stripes that crossed it.

“Horse girl?”

“Link!”

The grimace that had been firmly planted on Rhoam’s face since Zelda began her much-deserved rant softened a little, revealing a smirk beneath it. “The lad is a bit of a horse girl. Good kid, though. And he even watched out for you off the clock.”

“I don’t want to be watched out for, dad,” Zelda told him, unphased by his odd fondness for Link this time. “I want to just work through my summer and get out of here. Right now, I’m thinking I should do that in Hateno. Working at a coffee shop or the campus bookstore couldn’t possibly be as awful as this.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Rhoam swept in, scowl back on his face even though he kept his eyes on the road. “Now that this has happened, it’s better you’re here and have someone to look after you. Clearly Link is working out.”

“What is with you and him anyway?” Zelda asked, then thought for a moment before she began outlining her priorities, “That’s low on the list, actually. First, why was I attacked? Second, why won’t you call the cops? Third, why do you trust the weird dude who lives in a bus to keep me safe?”

“What’s wrong with living in a bus? You saw it. It’s a nice bus. I would have loved to have something like that when I was his age,” Rhoam said.

“There’s nothing wrong with living in a bus! Forget point number three entirely!” Zelda demanded, voice raising and pitch sharpening along with it as she clung to the armrest, turned as much toward him as her seatbelt would allow.

“I can’t have you involved,” Rhoam told her, his answer quiet and low in comparison.

“Dad, I’m already involved.”

She was too involved. So involved. So involved she could still feel the knife on her throat. Link’s shaking hand reaching for her elbow. The copper penny smell of his blood. The way her heart beat and beat and her brain somehow did nothing for all the effort.

Zelda had never felt so helpless in her entire life. Losing the internship was the worst thing to happen to her up until tonight. Now, she could have that terrible phone call with her dad any day, everyday, in exchange for never having to experience that again.

Rhoam hit a red light on the intersection before the one that he’d turn on to get into their subdivision. The road was nearly empty, and no one was waiting at the cross street. The light caught them purely on a timer, not for any need.

Well, any need besides Zelda’s. “Please, dad. It’s too late for you to keep me in the dark.”

“You weren’t supposed to be here,” was Rhoam’s answer as he finally turned to her.

“I didn’t want to be either,” Zelda told him.

Though these last two weeks between that fateful phone call and tonight had her questioning if she’d really rather be accepted for the internship at alll. Disease research was fascinating, sure, but it didn’t fill her with the passionate fire that other things did.

Sometimes it was just a brief, fleeting burn. She’d binge watch some shitty series while studying and then become utterly obsessed with it for a week. Then her favorite character would get killed off or do something stupid and her interest would immediately dissipate as if it had never existed at all.

But other things…they felt like the only things keeping her alive. Breath and blood. Each new fact or concept she grasped about archeology filled her with energy that vibrated her very bones and sinew. Reading papers on new discoveries was her guilty pleasure. Normal people didn’t subscribe to several scientific journals to get their daily serotonin, but Zelda did.

In fact, a good paper was just about the only thing that was going to calm her down enough to even get a shred of sleep tonight. That or some fried rice.

Fuck. She was starving.

But her father was cracking, looking down at her from across the cab of his truck. The information would have to fill her for now. “I received some threatening letters a few weeks ago. Several of them. Threats to me, to you, to the faire. Me, I could care less about. The faire, well, I can get help there. You, though. You, I won’t negotiate on.”

“Wait, what?”

She hadn’t expected this honestly, despite receiving it. But clearly, her father was feeling guilty enough to keep talking, so Zelda let him.

“I thought it was just some kids at first, threatening to pipe bomb the faire or whatever. I didn’t call the cops then because I couldn’t afford to have them shut us down if they decided to take things seriously. So I didn’t,” Rhoam explained.

The light turned green again, and he used the need to press down on the accelerator to take a pause.

“But they threatened me?” Zelda asked to keep him going.

Rhoam blew a sigh out of his nose. His beard didn’t ruffle much for it, having been flattened from its kingly glory by his nap on the couch and subsequent rush to come get her. “Eventually. Clearly whoever it is knows a lot about me.”

“What do they want?”

The eternal question. But Zelda wasn’t used to being the center of it. She’d watched her father deal with the many dramas of running the faire over the years. Dealing with high maintenance vendors and performers alike. Someone always wanted something from him. More space. More money. More time on stage. More, more, more.

“The castle,” was Rhoam’s answer.

He turned onto their street, into a neighborhood of simple, modest homes, most of them several decades old. Theirs was no exception. Tan brick, white siding, blue shutters. Three bedrooms and two bathrooms. Badly in need of a kitchen renovation. Hardly a castle itself.

“They want me to put the castle ruins up for sale,” Rhoam continued. “By midsummer. In the middle of the faire.”

“The midsummer festival is the busiest week of the faire,” Zelda noted. “Why would whoever this is think you’d be okay with that? It’d ruin you.”

“I’m not okay with it. That’s why they’re threatening me and my family,” Rhoam concluded. “Again, if it were just me, it’d be different. But people depend on that faire. People I’ve known for years and years. People you’ve grown up with. And you…”

His hands gripped at the leather of the steering wheel until it creaked. Zelda had no doubt in her mind where she’d gotten that bad habit of clenching her fists and crushing water bottles from.

Rhoam turned into their driveway with the steering wheel still under threat from his meaty fingers. “Link came to me looking for work,” he went on. “Exactly on the day that I got the letter that made a threat on you. And then you called me about the internship when he was still sitting in my office.”

The fact that the timing of all this was terribly convenient wasn’t lost on Zelda. But it paled in comparison to the deep sinkhole of embarrassment she was falling into at the idea of Link hearing her sobbing on the phone and begging her father for rescue from her own failure.

“He offered,” Rhoam told her. He pulled into the garage, shutting off the ignition and pressing the remote he kept clipped to the mirror to shut the door. “He promised me he’d keep you safe.”

“He did,” Zelda told him. “But you also could have told me. You could have given me options.”

“I wasn’t thinking straight at the time,” Rhoam admitted. His massive frame slumped against the seat of the truck. He made no move to open the door.

“I still don’t know if you’re thinking straight,” Zelda told him, unbuckling herself so she could lift her own much smaller body to twist in the seat and face him fully. “If you just told the police--”

“About a bomb threat? Kidnapping? Murder? Sure, they would definitely let me keep the faire open, Zelda. They definitely wouldn’t shut it down and leave hundreds of people without a source of income for the summer. And that’s even if they didn’t just laugh this off as some prank, even with what happened to you,” Rhoam said, shaking his head. “No, I can’t have that. I’m working on it. I promise I’m working on it.”

“How?” Zelda pried. “How can you fix that? Have Daruk go mean mug every slightly suspicious person that goes near the castle? Have Purah install some facial recognition system that scans police databases or whatever?”

“She did rig up some surveillance cameras for me.”

“Is that it?”

“No,” Rhoam told her with another shake of his head. “The good thing about working with all kinds of people for fifteen years is that you get to know, well, all kinds of people. Some of them are shady people who are good at investigating shady things. Trust me. They’re taking care of it for us, and I don’t need you sticking your nose into it.”

“You’re asking me to trust carnies in tights and armor--”

“--that you grew up around,” Rhoam reminded her. “That I consider our extended family. Don’t forget that. As much as I know you want to, please don’t forget that. It’s important to have people who have your back in life, Zelda. Sometimes, they’re not exactly the type of people you had imagined they would be, but that doesn’t change what you mean to one another.”

“It’s just--”

Rhoam finally looked over at her, turning to her. In a rare moment of contact between them--Zelda couldn’t remember the last hug she’d gotten from her father, maybe high school graduation--he took hold of her hands with his, encompassing them as he looked into her eyes.

“Zelda, please. Promise me. I told you this because it didn’t feel fair to leave you in the dark. You are involved now, yes, but I don’t want you any more involved than you are. Keep yourself safe. Don’t go off alone anymore. Stay with Link. I wrote an entire new plot for the faire to keep you with someone at all times. I know it’s not what you might want, but for now, until we figure this out, please just stick with him, all right? Stick with him and leave fixing this to me, all right?” he asked.

She looked down at his hands. So much bigger than hers. Rough and warm. A sincerity bled from his touch that went beyond the barrier of resentment between them. Beyond not being enough and being too much at the same time. Beyond being absent and too present at the same time as well.

“Okay,” Zelda answered, surprised by the shaking in her own voice.

Equally surprised by the fact that she had to run into the house after this, so that he wouldn’t see the tears that finally fell freely from her eyes then. After all that had happened, all the fear and frustration of the day, it had taken her father holding her hand to make her remember how to cry.

---

Zelda woke the next morning at seven. She’d fallen asleep maybe somewhere around four in the morning, so it wasn’t exactly a graceful rising. More of a battle against her alarm and the sandpaper consistency of her eyelids. But she won it, somehow.

And while she’d hoped to get more information out of her father over coffee, she instead came out into the kitchen to find that there was both no coffee to be found, and a note waiting for her next to a phone.

Had to go in early for a horse emergency up at the barn. Sorry, princess.

Urbosa drove your car back this morning. This phone is already activated with your number and restored from a cloud backup thanks to Purah.

Remember what I said about the people you know. And please remember what you promised.

I hate to ask you to go to work today. I really do. But please at least come to the castle so I know where you are.

- Dad

The only thing worse than having a control freak for a father was having any inclination to agree with that control. But, Zelda didn’t want to be in the house alone. So much so that she left early and made a beeline straight for the castle.

Well, with just one very short stop. Both because she very much needed to have coffee to make it through today, and because she needed to fix what she was allowed to fix. What she could fix.

It wasn’t exactly her fault she liked fixing things.

And this time, fixing things had her knocking on the door of a bus with a bag of breakfast burritos in hand.

Probably too many breakfast burritos, but she was starving, and Link clearly liked to eat.

Initially, there was no answer. Enough time passed for Zelda to think to herself about how stupid this was. How he was probably up at dawn to exercise his horse or whatever. Or help her dad with whatever horse emergency had been going on. Though she had her reasons to believe there was no such horse emergency and he just didn’t want to deal with her yelling at him in the car again.

And what if Link didn’t even like breakfast burritos? Nonsense. Everyone loves a breakfast burrito. But--

Zelda looked up from her own thoughts to find the door swinging open. A bleary-eyed Link stared down at her from an unusually high vantage for his short frame atop the steps up to the bus, loose hair wet from a shower and longer than she thought it was, but still clad in the same shirt and shorts she’d left him in last night.

The shirt she could read now that her brain was functioning normally again. The faded letters stretched across his chest spelled out, “Hateno Renaissance Festival”.

It all clicked at once. Her father’s nearly instant trust of him. His very specific set of skills relative to his young age. The brief mentions of her having met him when they were both small.

Link was another ren faire kid. Just like her.

Zelda remembered herself for a moment and held up the bag of burritos. “I um, hey. I wanted to--no, not, I don’t know--thank you? I guess? And also apologize for being awful to you. I was awful. I’m still pretty awful. But, I brought us breakfast burritos. Do you even like breakfast burritos?”

Link seemed to need a second to process that. It was early, terribly early still. Not even eight in the morning early. But also, she had been terrible to him. He had no reason to accept any sort of apology.

Especially not this early in the morning.

But, despite it all, a little closed-mouth smile appeared on his face, and he stepped aside, beckoning her to follow him up into the bus.

It was a really nice bus. Zelda had to admit that. She’d noticed the matching horse trailer parked on the side of it this morning--complete with the same paint job of the mostly green, blue, and brown geometric forest and mountain motif over white.

The full-length bus still felt oddly cozy, but at the same time bigger than she’d remembered from the night before. The little kitchen was at the front, with the dinette she’d sat at being just behind the driver’s seat. Beyond that, Zelda could see a little living room area, complete with a decent-sized couch. A wall stood to partition most of the rest of the bus beyond that, clearly for a bathroom that was big enough to fit the shower Link must have just come out of. His soap smelled nice. Very woodsy. A tiny glimpse of a bed lay beyond that, big enough to take up the entire back of the bus and scattered with an overabundance of pillows.

“I guess that’s a yes on breakfast burritos,” Zelda noted as she set the bag on the dinette table.

Link turned from where he’d retreated back into the kitchen and nodded to her, then offered, “Yes, sorry. I should have said something.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” she told him. “I’m the one who came here to apologize, and clearly you aren’t a talker. That’s fine. It’s all good.”

Zelda busied herself with setting out what was very much too many breakfast burritos in order to avoid any lingering awkwardness. She could easily house two herself, but didn’t think about doing that in mostly polite company. But there were six here. Not to mention the secret order of tater tots she ate in the car and chased with coffee.

But she didn’t know what Link liked. That was her excuse. Maybe he couldn’t do cheese, so she got some without cheese. Maybe he wasn’t a fan of the somewhat spicy Gerudo sausage that came in most of the burritos, so she had to get one with bacon instead. And then she wanted the bacon, so there were two with bacon now. And green and red salsa. Hot sauce too. Sour cream. Another order of tater tots for Link, of course, though she was definitely going to snag some. She should have gotten him a drink too. Oh well.

The dinette table was just about full from the spread by the time she looked up to see his eyes go wide from it.

“I bought way too much food,” Zelda told him and herself as well. “Don’t you dare say, ‘It’s okay,’ again either. For the record, some of this is for me. You just seemed really into food and--I don’t know. I’m sorry, okay?”

“It’s--” Link stopped himself before he could finish the phrase, and instead sat down at the dinette rather abruptly.

Zelda swallowed a breath she didn’t know she was holding and snatched one of the bacon burritos for herself. “Cheese, no cheese, bacon. Their hot sauce is amazing if you like spicy stuff. Sorry I didn’t get you a drink. I’m not very good at apologies, I guess.”

Link shrugged and took the other bacon burrito.

Good. Noted. Everyone loves bacon. Even weird little horse girl ren faire boys who Zelda just realized she likely had way too much in common with.

“I um, my dad told me a bit about what’s going on, last night that is, on the way home,” she started as she sat down on the other side of the table, on the same soft green cushions that had nearly lulled her to sleep the night before. “Not enough. He probably will never tell me everything, but I know about the threats. The letters. What you promised him. What you’re trying to do. How hard I made that for you. And I’m sorry.”

How many more times would she have to say it for things to feel right? Because it certainly didn’t sink in yet. Not even as she stared at him over the pile of burritos, trying to decide if it was weird to reach for the salsa to cover the silence.

“You said you didn’t want me to say it’s okay again,” Link finally piped up as he reached for that exact container of salsa and eased her of yet another burden.

“I don’t, but I realize that’s kind of what you’re supposed to say. At least if you mean it, that is. And I’m sorry for that too. And for bringing you a mountain of burritos to try to fix it. This was stupid. I’m being so stupid about this,” Zelda said, standing up with the full intent of leaving her half-unwrapped burrito behind and letting Link eat in peace.

He deserved that much, at least.

“It’s not stupid and neither are you,” Link affirmed, reaching out to lay just the very tips of his fingers on the back of her hand to stop her. “I love burritos.”

“Everyone loves burritos,” Zelda concluded. She looked between him and his stupid little small hands on hers. Just about as big as hers. Not massively intimidating like her father’s.

At least his touch didn’t draw tears from her.

Zelda sat back down and took the hot sauce instead. “I just--sorry--I talk too much. You’ve realized that by now, I’m sure, so I don’t know why I keep talking to tell you that. Anyway, I’m sorry. You were just trying to look out for me and I’m very grateful that you did. I understand why now and I feel like shit about it. I just want to start over with you.”

“Okay,” Link mouthed around his first bite of burrito.

“Really? It’s that easy?” Zelda asked.

Link shrugged and kept eating his burrito, clearly enjoying it, or maybe as hungry as she was.

At least he’d gotten to eat the fried rice he’d made for them. She should ask him for the recipe.

All things considered, though, Zelda couldn’t believe him. She needed more than just that shrug, but didn’t feel she could truly ask for anything else of him. She was just so used to fighting for everything and anything she’d ever wanted for herself. Her archeology minor, which she’d had to swear up and down to her father wouldn’t get in the way of her pre-med program or affect her grades in the classes that “really mattered”. Hell, even living outside of the dorms had been an argument for the ages. Going to prom with her first girlfriend. Having the girlfriend at all, as her father was worried that would distract too much from her studies. Going on a date with a guy after that had been entirely another thing too. Even getting her driver’s license. Doing anything for herself or by herself or just because she wanted to.

She wondered if Link had his own oppressive ren faire dad. If his perfect jousting was the result of the same pressure. The same…

Their hands collided again over the green salsa.

“Go ahead,” Zelda told him, quickly snatching hers back. “It’s really good. This is from one of my favorite spots. They do authentic Southern Gerudo style breakfast and lunch and are always fast. Urbosa knows the owner, because of course Urbosa knows anyone who’s so much as even been near the desert. I should have gotten you a coffee too. I didn’t know if you liked coffee. Their coffee is amazing. Sorry, I’m talking again.”

“I don’t mind,” Link told her as he doused his burrito in the green salsa. “You always have interesting things to say.”

Not shut up Zelda. Stop talking Zelda. Okay no one cares Zelda. I’m sorry Zelda, but you lost me there. That’s nice, little bird, don’t you have somewhere else to be right now?

People were always trying to get her to shut up. No one had ever been interested in her rambling before. Even most people’s politeness had a limit that she would very quickly and easily exceed.

So, “Oh,” was all she could say to that, along with taking a bite of burrito with maybe a little too much hot sauce on it to cover that up.

Definitely too much hot sauce. To the point where she was coughing from it and Link had to get up to get both of them a bottle of water.

This time, at least, Zelda was self-conscious enough to avoid crushing it. Link’s little laugh at her struggle helped, as did the fact that he seemed to take this as his cue to dunk his second burrito in the offending hot sauce, and then have his own personal battle with the spice level of it.

“It’s really good,” Zelda repeated between bouts of spicy laughter.

“Yeah,” Link choked back at her.

Halfway through her bottle of water and a bite into a sauceless burrito to tame the last of the flames, Zelda piped up again, throat finally clear enough to speak, “Anyway, I wanted to again just apologize for being awful to you and for evading you. And thank you for last night. I don’t really want to think about what would have happened if you weren’t there.”

“Me either.”

Link didn’t say much, even with him now breaking his seeming vow of silence around her, but when he did say anything, the words always packed a punch. Somehow, they struck a chord on the very sinew that held Zelda together, playing her like the faire musicians would their lutes or fiddles.

She wondered why, then, had he not spoken to her at all before, or presumably to anyone but her father. Clearly he could. Clearly, even if he wasn’t comfortable with it, he knew how to make his words matter.

“Can I ask you something?” she questioned as she let her wondering spill from her lips. “You don’t have to answer if it’s a difficult answer or at least difficult to explain. But, um, why don’t you talk to anyone?”

Blue eyes looked up from her beneath a mop of dirty blonde hair drying to a slight wave. He still had half a burrito in one hand, a tater tot in the other, and a streak of green salsa down his chin.

Link swallowed before replying, slow and low, “It was easier, I guess. If I wasn’t supposed to talk to you about what was happening. Your dad said it might be better just not to talk to you at all. And then it didn’t seem fair to talk to anyone else. Keeping the secret was my burden to bear. I don’t talk a lot anyway, so it was easier just not to talk at all.”

It was the most she’d ever heard him say at once, but exactly no more than what needed to be said. Succinct and to the point. The enraging, aggravating, and forever annoying point.

“It seems you and I have the same problem,” Zelda told him. “And it wears a fake crown, has a shitty beard, and thinks it knows better than us.”

Yet another thing she could blame her father for, then. Link had felt so pressured by the circumstances that he couldn’t even speak. And on top of that had presumably been made to promise not to speak of them to her, yet still be around her day in and day out.

No wonder her father had him playing the Silent Knight.

A quiet rage simmered within her at this notion. For all of her father’s good intentions in trying to keep her away from the threats to the faire, he could have easily gotten Link killed for it.

“What if he had a gun?” Zelda asked out loud. “Both of us could have ended up dead last night. For all those secrets. I promised my father I wouldn’t go to the authorities, as stupid as it seems. I also promised him I’d stick with you, and frankly, I didn’t need to make that promise. I don’t really want to be alone again after last night.”

A new paranoia had her looking around her all morning for red and black hoodies--anyone dressed uncharacteristically for the summer heat, really. Somewhere around three in the morning, as she was trying to lull herself to sleep the night before with a lovely paper about ancient Hylian pottery and just how rare it was to find a piece of it intact at any given site, Zelda had the thought that if they knew about her, then presumably they knew where she and her father lived. Maybe even where her apartment in Hateno was.

And suddenly the rare bliss of being alone and quiet with nothing but the constant ramble of her own thoughts was a thing she could no longer enjoy.

Good as it was, she was quickly losing her appetite for the rest of that second burrito, and set it down.

“Let’s…let’s not get shot about it, all right?” Zelda asked of Link, who was still eating despite the serious nature of the conversation. She was pretty sure he might still be eating if he was actively being shot at, but that was beside the point.

Still, he took a break to nod at her.

“I will warn you that I am going to be sticking my nose in this to some degree,” Zelda went on. “And you can tell on me if you want. If you must. But I’ll tell you as well that I’m going to do it in a way that keeps my promise. I’ll stick around and do my job here at the faire and not wander off alone. But, if I see something suspicious, or find some way I’m able to get more information about what’s going on otherwise, I’m going to pursue it. Just to be perfectly honest with you.”

Link gave her another nod and reached for his third burrito.

And although she was trying very much to be mad at her father and the situation he’d put both of them in at the moment, Zelda couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her lips.

That boy really did love to eat, huh? Well, at least she could always bribe him with food, if she needed to craft another apology to him for some reason.

Only when he leaned over to grab the hot sauce again and gingerly pour just a small amount onto his burrito this time, did she finally notice the thin red line that still marked his forehead from the night before. No longer actively bleeding, yes, and likely to scab over within the next few hours. It wouldn’t scar.

But still, it was there because of her.

Zelda didn’t even realize she was leaning over to brush it with her thumb until she was midway through the action. Link’s hair was soft and still damp as it parted way for her hand. His soap did smell good, at least, for a men’s product.

Link, for his part, didn’t so much as flinch, and let it happen.

“That cut doesn’t look too bad, actually,” Zelda noted as she tried to be graceful about suddenly leaning back to her side of the little dinette booth. “It’s fine for now. But you know, there’s a fine line between courage and recklessness. As brave as you are, that does not make you immortal.”

And as worried as she was for herself, Zelda certainly didn’t want him getting hurt over her either. Or worse. True enough, he had come to her rescue, but if things were only going to escalate from there, she didn’t think that his valiant, shirtless charges into battle would do either of them much good for long.

“I’m afraid things might only get worse from here,” she told him.

Link hadn’t started eating again since she’d touched him. He just looked at her, listening. Waiting.

She probably shouldn’t have touched him.

Still, Zelda went on, “So, from now on, let’s work together to make sure it doesn’t come to that. Deal?”

Link gave her another nod, then stuffed the rest of the third burrito in his mouth.

Well, at least he was easy to work with. And he appeared to very much appreciate her peace offering. She had to give him credit for that much.

And he smelled nice. For a boy, that is.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

SCHOOL BUS TRIVIA WHICH MAY APPLY TO BETH'S RETURN

@boofy777:

Good morning,

I have several things to unpack here - I am a school bus driver and have been for several years.  First of all, let’s discuss the First Aid Kit.  You’re correct that a black kit really isn’t out there. The most common color is white case with red letters and first aid cross, as you mentioned.  However, there is one other color which had gained a lot of popularity in recent years - white case with GREEN letters and cross. Yes, that’s right, GREEN.  Interesting, right? 

Secondly, when we go back to the church bus in S4, it is also a repurposed school bus. Older buses are auctioned off when a bond election is held and constituents vote in school funding and funds are channeled to transportation for new buses.  Most of these are still very road worthy and the full size buses tend to be snapped up by south of the border transit departments and those wanting to convert a bus to a tiny house (“skoolies” are becoming very popular, look up some on You Tube - what these people have done is just amazing).  The smaller buses are those used for transport of special needs students, which typically get picked up door to door rather than a group bus stop, so smaller size allows for safe navigation of  cul de sacs, apartment parking lots, mobile home communities, etc.  They also sell well at auction to churches, summer camps, food truck vendors, etc.  The most popular color to paint a repurposed school bus is white.  SO I do think that bus is still in play with the symbolism here.

There are three main manufacturers of school buses.  They are International, Bluebird, and Thomas.  If you look straight ahead on the interior wall behind Negan in his first aid kit scene, the symbol for ‘BlueBird" is right there. It is the silhouette of a flying bird. Now it appears any branding marks are painted over in the church bus so I can’t tell if it is also a BlueBird.  Blue birds are known for singing and also their appearance symbolizes joy to come. Wasn’t “songbird” terms and symbolism around Beth at some point, including the birdcage in her room at the prison?                                                     

Lastly, the numerology meaning of the number 101 is joy and prosperity to some.  Well, that has happened, but it has been short lived and fleeting.  I am hoping it means something more permanent for the members of team family.   

@twdmusicboxmystery:   

Thanks so much for this! I really love all of your points. How interesting. The school bus has been a potent symbol for a very long time. Since S3/S4 at least. It’s used for so many different scenarios in the show, it’s hard to pin down what it’s exact meaning is. Personally, I think it represents TF. Specifically, how members of TF get back “home” to the people they love. Which makes it an especially interesting symbol in Dead City. Well, it’s interesting any time it’s used. 

I will definitely think more on everything you’ve said. Thanks so much for the insight. Xoxo!  ☀️ 🔥 💘  

[boundbybrackets]

From Bird App to Bus: The Beginnings of Our Unconventional Journey

Yes, we met on Twitter. And yes, we are going to (temporarily) live in a bus. Sometimes, unlikely connections and unconventional choices lead to the most remarkable journeys.

There is a lot of back story which will be revealed over time—but the short version is a guy from Indiana met a girl from Florida through an online writing community. Online writing community is what we often call Twitter in more formal settings to keep the multitude of questions at bay. Some might say we’re a Boomer’s worst nightmare, but it’s where we discovered our shared values and passion for creativity and exploration.

Why a bus? Because we are broke. Well, not entirely broke—but like many others in today’s world, we face challenges of trying to build a future while burdened by limited resources. We have dreams of land, dreams of a garden and goats, of wooded areas to roam and a creek meandering through it. And as many know, it’s harder to get ahead, to start a nest egg now than it was 10, 15, or 20 years ago. Truth be told, it also isn’t cheap to fall in love across 1,000 miles, forge and navigate a long-distance relationship, move, and start a life together in the same state–doing so required determination, commitment, and financial sacrifices. Our hope with the bus is not to have a permanent tiny home residence, but to allow for a few years of more financial flexibility. To save, to pay off debt, to parse down life and possession to the essentials in preparation for a day when we can make our future dreams happen.

No, buses aren’t cheap and no, converting one into a home isn’t cheap. Or is it? We acquired our bus in a vehicle trade. Garrett, working for a nonprofit 296 acre camp, was able to trade his 1998 4Runner for their 1999 Chevrolet bus. That worked out well for everyone. Building materials? Appliances? All that expensive stuff? Desiree began working as the communications director at Habitat for Humanity this past spring. The organization's ReStore offers many donated building materials at a huge discount. So the bus build is not free—it is, however, a practice in frugality and resourcefulness.

Now you know the basics. The beginning. From a serendipitous connection on Twitter to the threshold of coexisting in a bus, our journey is unique. The origin of our story and our adventure with the bus and our build has been an opportunity for shared growth and challenges. There will be many more discussions about how we met, the details of how we grew together, and why we think bus life—if only for a while—is for us.

#poetry #twitter #bus #lovers

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This is a sub that was used in one of the James Bond movies, and it’s been converted to a tiny home. If you happen to be camping on the Isle of Wight, a small English island, you can stay in it. 

It’s tight quarters, so the sitting area and kitchenette are in a small building next to it.

You see the submarine thru the window.

You would cook, eat, and lounge either in here or outside.

This is inside the sub where you sleep.

It has 2 double beds and a single, for sleeping up to 5. So, that’s the submarine.

If you don’t like the sub, you can stay in the former rescue helicopter. 

The copter also has a separate building for the kitchen. 

And, it sleeps 2 adults or 1 adult & 2 kids. If you’re more of a traditionalist, there are also several shepherd's huts and a shack to stay in, instead.  

This is the Shower Shack where there’s a “drench shower” (see the mannequin head sticking out), or use the toilets enhanced by a sound system, disco lights & hot air. 

The owners pride themselves on having the prettiest and cleanest toilets on the island. This is Bluebell. 

And, the Turdis (see what they did there?). 

You can either eat on the 2nd level of the bus or cook your own food. 

This is the Spudomatic, a huge baked potato oven. 

Or, barbecue on “Big Bertha” that also has a pizza oven.

This is a stage made from a deep sea buoy, where a member of the staff will serenade you with acoustic guitar music.

If you want to take in a movie, there’s a theater in this former silo. 

https://www.wightlink.co.uk/blog/stay-in-a-submarine-the-isle-of-wights-newest-place-to-holiday

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑀𝑦 𝐺𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑃𝑡.2 (𝑆𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑤𝑎×𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟)

Part One/ Part Three / Part Four

Pairing: Badboy! Park Seonghwa (Ateez)/ Reader (Female)

Genre: Angst, Fluff, College Au.

Summary: Y/N has no idea what to make of the mysterious Park Seonghwa. Does he really like her or is he simply playing with her?

✿❯────「✿」───❮✿❯──「✿」────❮✿

Flipping the light switches off, Y/N typed in the security code into the pin pad before closing the door behind her, the faint beeping from inside letting her know that the alarm was functioning properly. She honestly wondered at times about if anyone would ever think about robbing a coffee shop. Granted it made a lot of money during certain seasons, but unless you actually work in one, you probably wouldn't think so. Yet it was surprising to know it could make as much money as any famous fast food restaurant. Well.....with those sky high prices, it made sense.

She stopped and checked to make sure she had everything in her bag, not wanting to risk having left her keys inside and find out until she reached her apartment. Satisfied by the confirmation, she began her walk home. If it had been fall or winter, she would have seriously considered taking a bus, even though it wasn't that far away. But it was summer and thankfully there was still an hour left before the sun finally set. She truly believed she was lucky to have found a place to live that was close not only to her workplace, but also her school, even if it was a tiny studio apartment. She felt proud to say it was hers.

Feeling something tug on her sneaker, she looked down and realized one of her shoes was untied. She bent down and began tying it up again, carelessly placing her bag right next to her on the street. She was so focused on her task in front of her, she failed to notice the looming figure in front of her.

"You know anybody could just whisk away your bag and run at this moment?"

She snapped her head back up and saw Seonghwa standing in front of her, an amused smile on his face. He bent down and picked up her bag, dusting off the dirt that had gotten on the bottom part of it in the process.

"Tsk. Tsk. And here I thought you were a more.... what's the word? Meticulous person."

Y/N gave him a questioning gaze before standing up, quickly grabbing her bag from him.

"Not even a thank you?" Seonghwa shook his head.

"What are you still doing here? I thought you went home." Y/N said, clearly confused as to why he'd be there still.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow at her.

"I thought I told you back in the shop that I'd see you later?"

Y/N recalled the moment, it did seem weird to her that he'd say that.

"Well doll, it's later......and I wanted to see you." He explained, a slight smirk tugging on the corners of his lips.

Y/N let out a tiny scoff.

"Why?"

Seonghwa blinked at her response.

"I thought I made myself clear the other day Y/N. I like you."

Y/N blushed slightly at the memory of him confronting her back in school. She was hoping the shadow from the building in front of her casted enough to hide it from him.

"And I said there would be plenty of time to get to know each other.....well I'm free right now and obviously so are you. So why don't we get something to eat? My treat."

He grinned at her, obviously not expecting her to turn down his offer. Any other girl wouldn't say no to Seonghwa. But Y/N wasn't any girl, and she wasn't about to say yes to someone she hardly knew. Especially not when he acted so strange for her liking.

"No thank you."

She quickly responded and took a step to walk away from him, but his hand reached out and stopped her from moving any further.

"Why not?" He asked.

Y/N tried to think of an excuse, any quick excuse to get out of this.

"I'm not hungry." Was the best thing she could think of.

The loud grumbling of her stomach was a dead giveaway of her fat lie. After working 8 hours straight with only a bowl of cereal for breakfast and a muffin on her only break, of course she was borderline starving and needed something in her stomach before it began eating itself. Her hands clutched her stomach, hoping to silence the obnoxious noise, but ultimately just making it more obvious.

Seonghwa looked down at her figure and snorted softly.

"Seriously, I know a really good place here that sells burgers and shakes. Are you really going to say no to free food?"

At this point she could either tell him to fuck off and stomp away home, but ultimately she'd leave even more hungry and would still have to whip up something on the stove that would take approximately half an hour or more. Or she could accept his offer, but it'd mean interacting with him, not that it was necessarily a bad thing, but she honestly didn't know what to make of him. He's been straightforward with her all this time, but how was she to know he was being serious? For all she knew, he could just be playing with her. After all, isn't that what all bad boys are known for?

Guess there was only one way to find out.

✿❯────「✿」───❮✿❯──「✿」────❮✿

Y/N looked around at the 50's themed diner she was in:

Black and white tiled floor that was so clean it almost looked slippery. Cherry red leather seats, either in the form of booths, tables or chairs on the front white counter that stretched at least 40 feet. An array of old records hanged on the wall, whether or not you could actually play them on a record player or if they were just flimsy decorations would forever be a secret. An old juke box was stationed in one of the corners of the counter currently playing The Beatles, its color combination of yellow and blue not quite appealing to the eyes. And of course, a pinball machine was placed near the entrance for kids to waste their quarters on. They even had a light blue 1955 convertible Chevrolet Bel Air for people to go take pictures of or with. At this point it wouldn't have surprised Y/N if waitresses came out of the kitchen in roller skates and started singing songs from Grease or Hairspray.

It became an even more ironic thought when she saw Seonghwa walk back to her with their food. Dressed in a white shirt, distressed jeans, black combat boots and black leather jacket with his hair slicked back, he could almost be a modern day Danny Zuko and for some reason, that thought made her bust a tiny giggle.

"What's so funny?" Seonghwa asked as he sat the tray down in front of her.

"Oh....nothing." She was not about to get caught.

Seonghwa looked at her funny, but ultimately decided not to pry.

"Here you go."

He slipped her food in front of her: a burger the size of her two hands and a 32 ounce chocolate shake with whipped chocolate and a cherry on the top. A well sized platter with regular fries and curly fries made it obvious that they were going to share them. She didn't mind though, the portions were so big she doubted she'd even finish half of it.

She dug into the food, her stomach thanking her for finally putting something in her body. She was so hungry that she didn't care if she was eating like how she usually ate when she was at home, messy and slobbish. She was halfway through her burger, when she caught Seonghwa just staring at her. That's when she started to feel self conscious. She quickly swallowed what was currently in her mouth and grabbed a napkin to wipe the corners of her mouth.

Seonghwa giggled at her.

"Don't worry about it. It's pretty refreshing to see a girl not care about how she looks like when she eats, and to actually eat. You have no idea how many girls I've brought here who only get salads and nothing else."

He cringed slightly at past memories of awful dates that make him wanna kick himself for even thinking they were attractive. He blamed himself though. He tended to only look at pretty faces and end up regretting it when he found out they were all self-centered, shallow, and prissy girls that just made his blood boil.

"Maybe that's why I like you. You're different."

He didn't even realize he said that out loud until she whipped her head up at him. He was stunned that he accidentally let that slip, but he was able to play it off coolly.

"How......how can you..... we've never even..?" Y/N couldn't even completely form her question but Seonghwa knew what she was referring to.

Sighing softly, he began:

"Well I'm going to sound like a total creep now but that's inevitable. It was a few months back, when you had changed majors and had to be transferred to our class..."

Seonghwa ignored the usual reprimand of the professor, telling him he was late again. As if he didn't do it on purpose. He just hated this class. It was undoubtedly one of the most boring subjects one could possibly take. He began to stare off into space, not even bothering to listen to what was being said.

He looked around at the familiar faces he saw in class, the same people from last year. Until a head of (insert hair color) hair caught his eye. She was definitely not there before. Seonghwa tried to think if he had ever seen her around before, but couldn't quite remember.

Unknowingly, he found himself staring at her more and more each time they had class together. He found out she had a habit of tapping her pen against her cheek when she was trying to concentrate, she kept everything in her bag organized and hardly socialized with anybody.

One time he followed her to her locker, just to briefly see what was inside of it. You can always tell a lot about a person based on how they decorate their locker. But Seonghwa only saw a few pictures of what he assumed was her family, few friends and a lot of sticky notes with motivational quotes written on them in various sharpie colors, with either stars or diamonds as decorations.

That just peeked his curiosity even more in trying to decipher who the mysterious girl was, and his curiosity turned to fondness for the girl, so he had no choice but to admit that he was attracted to her and wanted to get close to her.

"Wait. Is that why you were staring at me in class the other day?" Y/N asked after he told her all that.

"Took you long enough to notice too. You were so oblivious to it that it was kinda funny." He chuckled.

Y/N looked back at that moment and realized she still had so many questions left.

"But then why did you look angry after I looked away?"

Seonghwa shifted his position, sitting up straighter so he could look at her.

"Why? Cause you looked at me with such a bitch face and even rolled your eyes at me. I was kinda angry and hurt that you did that given how I feel about you." He explained.

Y/N looked at him confused.

"I did not roll my eyes at you."

"Uh....yeah. You did. You looked at me as if I was a bug or something." He corrected her.

"Well..... I was tired and hungry! I'm not in control of my actions or emotions when I'm in that state." She tried defending herself, feeling somewhat embarrassed that she had no control over her facial expressions.

"Yeah, I've noticed. You weren't all that happy 25 minutes ago when I asked you out on this date." Now it was Seonghwa's turn to roll his eyes at her previous behavior.

"This....this isn't a date!" Y/N exclaimed.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"Oh no? Do enlighten me then. What is this?"

Y/N thought about it for a moment.

"We are just 2 individuals, having a meal together and conversing." She stated.

"Why are we conversing though?" Seonghwa continued to pry.

Y/N hummed.

"Because you said you wanted to get to know me better?"

Seonghwa smiled at that.

"Sounds to me like a date then."

Y/N mentally face palmed. She practically walked into that one herself. She sighed as she picked up one of the fries and dipped it into her milkshake before eating it.

"And now I've learnt one more thing about you: we have similar tastes in eating."

Y/N watched as he mirrored her actions and dipped his fries in his strawberry milkshake. Y/N decided to just finish eating as soon as possible so she could go home early. The sun was starting to set and she didn't like walking home in the dark, even if rarely any crime happened in this neighborhood. She was planning on not saying anything else, but then something popped in her mind that made her ask:

"Wait a minute! The day after the.....incident." She began.

"You mean when you were a total bitch?" Seonghwa teased.

"Haha, funny." She threw a fry at him, causing Seonghwa to laugh even harder.

She had to admit though, he had a cute laugh.

"Anyways, the day afterwards, I heard 2 girls talking in the bathroom about you. They said that you were pissed off at me-"

"I kinda was." He interrupted her again.

"Let me finish!" She cried out rather annoyed.

Seonghwa bit his lip as he stifled another laugh. He found it adorable when Y/N got agitated.

"They made it sound like you were going to beat me up. Something about 'giving it to me'" She held up her fingers in quoting signals.

Seonghwa furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, trying to decipher what she meant. Then it hit him.

"Oh! No. Trust me, I wasn't going to beat you up. As for 'giving it to you' "

He mimicked her quotation signs, causing Y/N to glare at him for teasing her again.

"I was referring to the notepad you dropped. Remember? I gave it back to you?"

Now she face palmed literally as she realized she hadn't thought about that. And here she thought she was dead meat for sure.

"Was that why you were avoiding me the rest of the week? You actually believed I was going to fight you?"

Y/N swirled her milkshake with her straw, unable to look at Seonghwa in the eyes anymore.

"Y/N? I'm talking to you. You really believed that?"

The authority in his voice made her look up at him, his expression showing offense and indignation at the thought that she actually believed him capable of such a thing.

"Why would you think that?" He continued his interrogation.

"Well..... I don't know! Ok? Maybe cause I've heard so many rumors about you. You don't exactly have the best of reputations at school. Everyone says how you're...."

Her voice trailed off, afraid to finish her sentence, afraid to offend or hurt him in anyway .

"That I'm a delinquent? A criminal?"

Y/N blinked when he said that, as if he could read her mind.

"I know what people say about me, I'm not blind nor deaf to their gossip." He stated, not at all unfazed by what he often heard.

"So does that mean none of it is true?" She couldn't help but want the answer to her question.

"Well depends. Have I gotten into a lot of fights with other guys? Yes. Do I have a temper at times that gets me in trouble? Yes. Have I fucked a bunch of girls just for fun? Definitely. Do I smoke or drink often? I'm not denying it."

Seonghwa reached into his pocket and took out his lighter, twirling it around in his hand a few times so Y/N could get a glance at it before putting it back in his pants.

"But have I ever vandalized, stolen or done anything remotely illegal? No. Have I beaten someone up for no good reason? No."

Y/N listened to his words very carefully. She was amazed how he was calmly telling her all of this.

"And I most certainly have never even thought about lifting a finger against a woman. Especially not one I'm interested in." He confessed abruptly, causing Y/N to gulp her drink a little fast, nearly making her choke.

"I'm sorry." She apologized.

Seonghwa chuckled softly.

"Don't be. I get why you'd be scared. I just wish you'd get to know the real me......"

He reached his hand out and lightly brushed his finger on the top of her knuckles.

"Kinda like how I want to know you..."

The physical contact sent a weird feeling down her body. It was chilly, yet warm at the same time. She wanted to reach out and lace her fingers in his, and she would have, until a high pitched voice interrupted them.

"Seonghwa! Is that you?!"

They looked over to see a purple haired boy waving his hand in the air, as if his loud voice didn't make his presence already known. A pink haired boy was standing next to him, looking embarrassed as his friend jumped up and down. Having had enough of that, he pulled the boy by his arm and ran over to Seonghwa and Y/N's table.

"Hi! What a coincidence to see you here! Why didn't you tell us you would be here? You could have joined Yeosang and I. He promised to take me out to eat." He pulled whom Y/N assumed to be Yeosang closer to him.

The purple haired boy spoke so loud and fast Y/N had a hard time understand what he was saying.

"Promised? I was threatened." Yeosang replied, causing the other boy to let out a loud laugh, making Y/N think of a hyena.

"Hyung, where are your manners? Aren't you going to introduce us to your girlfriend?"

Seonghwa blushed and cleared his throat. It was the first time Y/N saw him get flustered and it was definitely funny.

"Y/N isn't my girlfriend-"

"Oh really? Great! Cause she's cute."

The boy wasted no time and held his hand out to her.

"My name is Wooyoung, I'm single, Bi, and I have a driver's license." He winked at her.

"For a moped." Yeosang corrected him.

Wooyoung sent a glare towards his friend.

"Y/N, these are my friends: Wooyoung and Yeosang. They go to our school, but you've probably never seen them cause they're a grade below us."

Y/N nodded and waved awkwardly at them.

"Yeosang, Wooyoung, this is Y/N. She's not my girlfriend, but she's off limits. Ok?" Seonghwa made sure to lock eyes with Wooyoung, silently warning him not to step any further into his territory.

"So if she's not your girlfriend, does that mean she's a fuck bud-"

Yeosang stepped on Wooyoung's foot, causing him to bend over in pain. Yeosang however smiled sweetly as if nothing happened.

"Anyways, it was nice seeing you Hyung. We wouldn't want to take up more of your time. Besides, we'll be seeing you tomorrow at Hongjoong's party. Right?"

Seonghwa nodded.

"You know I never pass up an opportunity to party."

"Will you bring Y/N with you?" Wooyoung asked, hoping she'd come.

Seonghwa looked over to Y/N, who tried to think of an answer.

"Uh... no thanks. I wasn't invited so-"

"Who cares? No one needs an invitation these days. It's a frat party anyways, a bunch of strangers end up coming in the end." Wooyoung insisted.

"I'll....think about it." Y/N knew she wouldn't.

"Ok! I'll take it as a yes. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

Taking a hold of Yeosang's hand, Wooyoung made his way over to another table, the pink haired boy already looking exhausted at the thought of spending at least 2 more hours with his highly energetic friend.

Y/N smiled softly at them. They were definitely an odd pairing, but they seemed to compliment each other.

"It's getting late. Want me to take you home?" Seonghwa asked her.

"It's fine. I can walk. It's not that far." She refused.

"I insist. I want to make sure you get there safely." He insisted.

Y/N smirked at him.

"Are you really concerned for my safety or do you just wanna find out where I live?"

Seonghwa's mouth dropped at her insinuation.

"I don't..... ok you got me there."

She chuckled at his reaction, but ultimately got up.

"Ok. Fine. Take me home. The worst you can possibly do is murder me and throw my body in a lake."

Seonghwa shook his head and picked up his jacket. He made sure to hold the door open for her when they went out. Y/N didn't even notice he had stopped walking until she heard him whistle behind her. Turning around, she saw him standing next to a black Harley-Davidson motorcycle. She raised her hands and gestured him to explain.

"I told you I was taking you home."

He tapped the seat.

"So come on. Hop on doll."

He began taking out the spare helmet for her to put on. She walked back to him and placed her hands on her hips.

"You kept it parked here the entire time?" She asked him.

"Uh huh." He responded.

Her face was full of shock.

"Did you know that I would say yes to coming here with you?"

"Well not exactly 'knew'.......more like....hoped."

He winked at her before placing the helmet above her head, making sure to strap it tightly.

"Safety first."

After putting on his own helmet, he got on the motorcycle and waited for her to get on. She awkwardly threw her leg over the seat and hesitated to wrap her arms around him. Seonghwa huffed and simply grabbed her wrists to put them on his stomach.

As soon as he started revving up the motorcycle, Y/N tightened her grip around him. Even through his shirt, she could feel rock solid abs underneath it. It made her wonder what he looked like without a shirt. The thought temporarily distracted her from the worry of actually riding in a motorcycle for the first time.

Sensing her fear, Seonghwa grabbed one of her hands and gave it a light squeeze.

"Don't worry doll. I'll keep you safe."

✿❯────「✿」───❮✿❯──「✿」────❮✿

*part 3 coming soon*

[frugalhoe]

Days Off - 6/27/22 & 6/28/22

I've been super depressed lately so I haven't posted much.

I went to the Colorado Tiny Home Festival this weekend. I was exhausted so I just toured all the buses before calling it a day. I have been set on buying a coach bus and converting it but I quickly realized that the space felt claustrophobic - mostly due to the width. I briefly considered a truck & 5th wheel instead but I wouldnt have enough space to travel with my pets and I in truck. So that leaves a class A motorhome with slides. I could still pull my SUV along with it too.

Anyways, super happy to have gone to this festival. Really helped me get a first hand look at vanlife. YouTube can only help so much.

I stopped off for some groceries on the way home.

I recently bought Aussie a wheelchair as he had a really bad fall last week. He still eats, drinks and loves going for walks. He's not in any pain thankfully so the wheelchair will help him on his bad leg days. He hasn't tried it out yet - just getting him comfortable being around it.

I didn't do much the next day - took the dogs to the park, washed my car, went to the library and bought dog food at Costco.

Tuesday I went to the library again...took the dogs to the park and dropped off my ballot. Pinky had a great time at the park and played with the sprinklers. I meal prepped a bag of sweet potatoes and breakfast for the next 5 days. I put together sparkling water, grapes and vegan yogurt with strawberries and granola.

6/28/22

[willowistic22]

Van life!newsies headcanons

Hello, i have recently been obsessing and/or pining over living in a van/bus. So i will project my pining to my favorite pretty paper boys like what everyone does in the newsies fandom! Very healthy and smart idk lol so here’s my take on this au for each of my ships!

*i know some ppl might not agree with all these ships but these are just my personal favorites pls don’t come after me for something i like :)*

@jaelynn-is-slightly-confused thanks for deciding which headcanons i should write first :)

A pretty long list so you might have to sit down for this one 

Javid

They converted an old american school bus

I actually have a headcanon that modern!jack comes from a rich family (maybe not the family his parents were born into but his parents worked pretty hard to be successful y’know) so that’s how they were able to buy an old school bus

So they were able to fit in a shower (not one of those foldable kinds) and a built in toilet. A pretty decent kitchen. A stove, oven, microwave, and all the other utilities necessary. Was able to fit both a washing machine and a dryer. Has a proper closet.

To fit davey’s needs, they put in a tiny book shelf. But it’s too tiny to fit in all of davey’s book (he’s got a shelf full) and was forced to give some of them away he cried a little. Jack did the same for his art supplies he cried a lot.

Jack is an illustrator and Davey is a writer. (Davey the hopeless romantic Jacobs mostly writes romance wow what a shocker) If Jack can find the time to paint on a canvas he will. It usually ends up getting sold which he doesn’t mind. 

Jack painted every inch of the bus exterior wow we’re all so shocked no we aren’t I lied :) "Jack why...” “We need to be festive when we travel, Dave!” *face palms*

They have one cat which is still nameless in my head so ://

Newsbians

They live in a school bus 

Kathrine’s a Pulitzer so you know how they can freely afford it (now that i think abt it i think old school busses sell for really cheap prices but idk) 

The shower and closet are a must have for Kathrine. She takes over most of the closet space and takes the longest in the shower. Sarah is a foodie so she built herself a whole kitchen and Kathrine is not allowed to touch anything without her permission. Even fitting in a huge fridge. They also fit in a proper working desk and a couch. Also made some sort of balcony on top of their bus so they can stargaze on top of there 

Kathrine is a reporter and Sarah is a physician in the telemedicine industry (she meets patients through video calls and such, not face to face) 

Morning coffee is a tradition for them at this point. They cannot drive the bus without having one cup of coffee 

They have two cats still nameless too ://

Ikeshot (lmao moving to my rarepairs so quickly. i mean i originally reserved the van life headcanon for them but i got too obsessed and now i’m writing this list hehe) 

They settled with a sprinter van 

it started just as an idea for their honeymoon to do a road trip around the us, but it ended up being longer than a hundred days of honeymoon and it turns into being their first proper room 

Their shower is built in and it can only fit one person. The bed takes up the whole back space. Their closet is kinda small but they don’t mind bcs Ike mostly lives in Hotshot’s clothes anyways. The kitchen is limited but they have a pullout barbeque at the back of their van, under their bed. Hotshot is a master at barbequing. 

Ike is a translator and interpreter. He also uses his hobby in crocheting to build a small business he makes cardigans :) (credit to @violetwolfraven for that little idea) Hotshot is an accountant. Very boring ik but i have a headcanon he’s good with numbers so that’s cool (well idk i feel like he’s good with math and economics) 

Bringing the playstation has always been a priority, so they built in a tv. They like to chill in the bed and play together. Mario kart is a ruthless game  

Occasional weird midnight dancing sessions is a tradition 

they have a cat named Sparks and a dog named Lewis. It’s a dalmatian which made Hotshot tempted to name him Spot :) 

*cut to a vicious argument between Spot and Hotshot which was also egged on by Ike and Race* 

Jomike (ok look i love my rarepairs alright pls let me ship in peace) 

They got a sprinter van 

Their kitchen took up most the space bcs mike and jojo are practically professional chefs. When asked to throw down in the kitchen, they will thRO W   D O W N

They even use a teal palette specifically for their kitchen. They have a one person shower but no built in toilet. a fair amount of plants as decoration. in the back of their van, they have a built in pull out dining table and two benches (built under their bed so they’d have to stop and open the back door to have a proper dinner) 

Jojo is a reporter and mike is a computer programmer. Their job requires a proper desk to work on so they just installed a foldable table in between their seats up front. 

their clothes are just stored in cabinets since they share anyways. it leaves a good amount of wall space to play a projector for netflix *cue the soft cuddling in bed* 

breakfast in bed is the most on brand thing for them to do 

they have a cat named Dixeleta. She’s an outdoor cat so they have fun doing outdoor activities together. Hiking, kayaking, etc. 

Sprace 

They live in an old sprinter van Spot got from an old family member

They have the type of bed that can turn into a living room (seats and table etc). They use a foldable shower bcs they want the space. Their kitchen can be extended out with a latch by their sliding door but that’s only when they need to use a stove and oven. Since they’re the type of people that just throws on the closest clothes they can grab they just use cabinets to store their clothes. 

ok i’ve mentioned it before about sprace but i’ll mention it again. They have three cats named Racecat, Spot Clawlon, and Romeow :D all named by race if you’re wondering. 

So Race is a social media manager and Spot is a physician in the telemedicine industry. 

They’re very lazy to constantly look for a coin laundry service. They make a schedule to do the laundry once a week but sometimes they just forget. 

Their first drive of the day will always include karaoke. They can’t tell whether their cats love or hate their singing voice most likely the latter but they’re in denial.

They cuddle each other in bed with their cats. While watching tv, to sleep, or just chilling together. 

Redfinch 

They got a mini bus

They have a built in shower, bathroom, and closet (not sure why since they don’t really care about their clothes all that much) They have a proper kitchen, fit a washing machine and dryer, plus a little seating area with a small table 

They have two big doberman named Zara and Zoey and a cat named Marbles. Pretty outdoor pets so they frequently take them out for hikes and such 

They have a ‘balcony’ on top of their mini bus to chill together. As in all five of them :)

Finch is a music producer and Albert is a photographer and videographer. Albert mostly works with tourist as their personal photographer, but he has land gigs with big companies/people. Finch works with a label that has given him to opportunity to work at home but sometime still need to stop by a studio to meet with artists or other producers. 

Finch only needs space to store his laptop, notebooks, and guitar (but he ends up hanging it on the wall anyways). Albert takes up a whole cabinet for all of his equipment. 

Not Finch waking up at an ungodly hour when a spark of inspiration comes to him, which ends up waking everyone in the bus. *cut to Albert furiously dragging him back to bed*

They installed a tv near their bed for playstation sessions or cuddling throughout a movie

Their driving karaoke is usually accompanied by their dogs which only tortures Marbles. She hides under the blanket to save her ears. smart cat hehe

Snipesmalls (Never wrote anything for them but I do love these girls :)) 

They converted a mini bus 

Sniper takes up most of the closet space, but it doesn’t matter because they share clothes anyways. A built in toilet and shower. Their kitchen has a navy blue theme to it. It was Smalls’ idea. They have a washing machine and dryer and also a proper dining table.

Sniper is a nurse in the telehealth industry (basically just like telemedicine but deals with more than just clinical services) and Smalls is a medical transcriptionist. 

They have an Australian Shepherd named Blue. It’s because of her blue eyes it’s so beautiful :O Blue likes to stick his head out while driving. 

They have a built in tv for their playstation and movies but sometimes they bring out the projector to watch while chilling outside. 

They have done the most traveling. Hopping from the US to Europe and Asia. 

They may like to share clothes but Sniper really likes to be fashionable wherever she goes. “Ok so since we’re planning to go hiking tomorrow, which hat should I use?” “Sniper, we’re hiking up a mountain, not a vogue fashion runway” “And so what if I pretend we are? Use your imagination babe! Now which one?” *sighing*

It is a nightmare to convince Sniper to give away some of their clothes She cries every time her clothes are being given away but gets happy when they go shopping for new ones and it’s the same cycle every time this happens  

They also like to go to music festivals and have picnics together 

Blush 

They live in a mini bus

They rarely buy clothes or give them away plus they share clothes so the closet is pretty small but hella messy because they’re lazy at folding their clothes away. A simple built in shower and also a foldable toilet. The kitchen is pretty equipped because Mush is a master chef. They have a little seating area with a table. Alternating as a working desk and dining table

Mush is a dietitian and Blink is a therapist, both in the telemedicine industry. 

Neither is allowed to drive if they haven’t gotten their morning coffee 

Mush is mostly then one doing the karaoke while Blink drives 

they like to have picnics together

goes to random concerts. it doesn’t need to be a really big artist. they’d simply be happy if they get tickets to any sort of concert. They prefer to see local underground artists to discover more music and such but they sometimes save up to watch big artists too. 

they’ve only been around the us and canada but are planning on going to other countries too 

Belmerttons 

they live in an old school bus 

So buttons is a huge fashionista so there is a proper closet and drawers that are mostly used by himself. A built in bathroom and the door has a mirror per buttons request. they also fit a washing machien and dryer in the bus per buttons request too. Their bed is full of decorative pillows and a few stuffed animals per elmer’s request. Their kitchen is small but does the trick. also has a little seating area with a table 

Buttons is a fashion stylist but also a designer. Elmer is a math tutor for all ages

they love going to different kind of events and festivals. one of the reasons why they wanted to live on the road in the first place 

to get buttons to give away his old clothes, elmer has to assure him it’s for a good cause bcs buttons loves all his clothes. Buttons still get a little sad and pouty when those days come but picks himself up again when elmer offers a disney movie night on the projector with some snacks

oh yes, they bring lots of snacks on the road 

They have a cat. still nameless soz 

the cat is very fluffy and sheds a lot. which is kind of a problem especially on buttons clothes 

“you’re lucky you have a cute face” -buttons while he’s cleaning the fur off his clothes 

Spromeo 

they live in a mini bus but kinda looks like a hippie van (idk how to describe it but it’s a mini bus with a hippie kind of style to it yknow) 

they have two separate areas in the bus. one up front where the driver and passenger seat is. also coupled with a tiny sofa and a table. that’s where they do their work and dine. very comfy and cozy. 

it’s seperated by a thin wooden wall. through the doorway is where the rest of their living quarters are. a bed, small kitchen but fully equipped, a shower, and foldable toilet. instead of a closet, they use a dresser since they don’t really have many clothes anyways 

so specs is a history teacher and tutor for all ages. (he’s a history nerd hehe). Romeo is a photographer and cinematographer. mostly a tourist photographer (kinda like albert yknow) 

specs likes reading history books, but he mostly does his reading on his tablet and laptop to save space. the same for romeo and comics btw 

their bed is full of pillows 

they have a cat named snowy. a lazy indoor cat. but she loves to cuddle with them in bed

they’ve also done some traveling to other countries. mostly neighboring countries but are dreaming of going to places in europe and asia. 

they enjoy doing lots of board games when they’re not driving 

romeo has a ukulele which he constantly uses to serenade to specs. sometimes to snowy but mostly specs 

woah that was long akjghflkjasfbj; h. will i write a oneshot with this headcanon? maybe but who knows. just needed to put it out there that i’m pining on living on the road with the loml and some cats and go on an adventure together. anyways hope whoever reads this enjoy and sorry for writing a long headcanon list hehe 

[unsettlingshortstories]

The Laughing Man

J.D. Salinger (1949)

IN 1928, when I was nine, I belonged, with maximum esprit de corps, to an organization known as the Comanche Club. Every school day afternoon at three o’clock, twenty-five of us Comanches were picked up by our Chief outside the boys’ exit of P. S. 165, on 109th Street near Amsterdam Avenue. We then pushed and punched our way into the Chief’s reconverted commercial bus, and he drove us (according to his financial arrangement with our parents) over to Central Park. The rest of the afternoon, weather permitting, we played football or soccer or baseball, depending (very loosely) on the season. Rainy afternoons, the Chief invariably took us either to the Museum of Natural History or to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Saturdays and most national holidays, the Chief picked us up early in the morning at our various apartment houses and, in his condemned-looking bus, drove us out of Manhattan into the comparatively wide open spaces of Van Cortlandt Park or the Palisades. If we had straight athletics on our minds, we went to Van Cortlandt, where the playing fields were regulation size and where the opposing team didn’t include a baby carriage or an irate old lady with a cane. If our Comanche hearts were set on camping, we went over to the Palisades and roughed it. (I remember getting lost one Saturday somewhere on that tricky stretch of terrain between the Linit sign and the site of the western end of the George Washington Bridge. I kept my head, though. I just sat down in the majestic shadow of a giant billboard and, however tearfully, opened my lunchbox for business, semi-confident that the Chief would find me. The Chief always found us.)

In his hours of liberation from the Comanches, the Chief was John Gedsudski, of Staten Island. He was an extremely shy, gentle young man of twenty-two or -three, a law student at N.Y.U., and altogether a very memorable person. I won’t attempt to assemble his many achievements and virtues here. Just in passing, he was an Eagle Scout, an almost-All-America tackle of 1926, and it was known that he had been most cordially invited to try out for the New York Giants’ baseball team. He was an impartial and unexcitable umpire at all our bedlam sporting events, a master fire builder and extinguisher, and an expert, uncontemptuous first-aid man. Every one of us, from the smallest hoodlum to the biggest, loved and respected him.

The Chief’s physical appearance in 1928 is still clear in my mind. If wishes were inches, all of us Comanches would have had him a giant in no time. The way things go, though, he was a stocky five three or four–no more than that. His hair was blue-black, his hair-line extremely low, his nose was large and fleshy, and his torso was just about as long as his legs were. In his leather windbreaker, his shoulders were powerful, but narrow and sloping. At the time, however, it seemed to me that in the Chief all the most photogenic features of Buck Jones, Ken Maynard, and Tom Mix had been smoothly amalgamated.

Every afternoon, when it got dark enough for a losing team to have an excuse for missing a number of infield popups or end-zone passes, we Comanches relied heavily and selfishly on the Chief’s talent for storytelling. By that hour, we were usually an overheated, irritable bunch, and we fought each other–either with our fists or our shrill voices–for the seats in the bus nearest the Chief. (The bus had two parallel rows of straw seats. The left row had three extra seats–the best in the bus–that extended as far forward as the driver’s profile.) The Chief climbed into the bus only after we had settled down. Then he straddled his driver’s seat backward and, in his reedy but modulated tenor voice, gave us the new installment of “The Laughing Man.” Once he started narrating, our interest never flagged. “The Laughing Man” was just the right story for a Comanche. It may even have had classic dimensions. It was a story that tended to sprawl all over the place, and yet it remained essentially portable. You could always take it home with you and reflect on it while sitting, say, in the outgoing water in the bathtub.

The only son of a wealthy missionary couple, the Laughing Man was kidnapped in infancy by Chinese bandits. When the wealthy missionary couple refused (from a religious conviction) to pay the ransom for their son, the bandits, signally piqued, placed the little fellow’s head in a carpenter’s vise and gave the appropriate lever several turns to the right. The subject of this unique experience grew into manhood with a hairless, pecan-shaped head and a face that featured, instead of a mouth, an enormous oval cavity below the nose. The nose itself consisted of two flesh-sealed nostrils. In consequence, when the Laughing Man breathed, the hideous, mirthless gap below his nose dilated and contracted like (as I see it) some sort of monstrous vacuole. (The Chief demonstrated, rather than explained, the Laughing Man’s respiration method.) Strangers fainted dead away at the sight of the Laughing Man’s horrible face. Acquaintances shunned him. Curiously enough, though, the bandits let him hang around their headquarters–as long as he kept his face covered with a pale-red gossamer mask made out of poppy petals. The mask not only spared the bandits the sight of their foster son’s face, it also kept them sensible of his whereabouts; under the circumstances, he reeked of opium.

Every morning, in his extreme loneliness, the Laughing Man stole off (he was as graceful on his feet as a cat) to the dense forest surrounding the bandits’ hideout. There he befriended any number and species of animals: dogs, white mice, eagles, lions, boa constrictors, wolves. Moreover, he removed his mask and spoke to them, softly, melodiously, in their own tongues. They did not think him ugly.

(It took the Chief a couple of months to get that far into the story. From there on in, he got more and more high-handed with his installments, entirely to the satisfaction of the Comanches.)

The Laughing Man was one for keeping an ear to the ground, and in no time at all he had picked up the bandits’ most valuable trade secrets. He didn’t think much of them, though, and briskly set up his own, more effective system. On a rather small scale at first, he began to free-lance around the Chinese countryside, robbing, highjacking, murdering when absolutely necessary. Soon his ingenious criminal methods, coupled with his singular love of fair play, found him a warm place in the nation’s heart. Strangely enough, his foster parents (the bandits who had originally turned his head toward crime) were about the last to get wind of his achievements. When they did, they were insanely jealous. They all single-filed past the Laughing Man’s bed one night, thinking they had successfully doped him into a deep sleep, and stabbed at the figure under the covers with their machetes. The victim turned out to be the bandit chief’s mother–an unpleasant, haggling sort of person. The event only whetted the bandits’ taste for the Laughing Man’s blood, and finally he was obliged to lock up the whole bunch of them in a deep but pleasantly decorated mausoleum. They escaped from time to time and gave him a certain amount of annoyance, but he refused to kill them. (There was a compassionate side to the Laughing Man’s character that just about drove me crazy.)

Soon the Laughing Man was regularly crossing the Chinese border into Paris, France, where he enjoyed flaunting his high but modest genius in the face of Marcel Dufarge, the internationally famous detective and witty consumptive. Dufarge and his daughter (an exquisite girl, though something of a transvestite) became the Laughing Man’s bitterest enemies. Time and again, they tried leading the Laughing Man up the garden path. For sheer sport, the Laughing Man usually went halfway with them, then vanished, often leaving no even faintly credible indication of his escape method. Just now and then he posted an incisive little farewell note in the Paris sewerage system, and it was delivered promptly to Dufarge’s boot. The Dufarges spent an enormous amount of time sloshing around in the Paris sewers.

Soon the Laughing Man had amassed the largest personal fortune in the world. Most of it he contributed anonymously to the monks of a local monastery–humble ascetics who had dedicated their lives to raising German police dogs. What was left of his fortune, the Laughing Man converted into diamonds, which he lowered casually, in emerald vaults, into the Black Sea. His personal wants were few. He subsisted exclusively on rice and eagles’ blood, in a tiny cottage with an underground gymnasium and shooting range, on the stormy coast of Tibet. Four blindly loyal confederates lived with him: a glib timber wolf named Black Wing, a lovable dwarf named Omba, a giant Mongolian named Hong, whose tongue had been burned out by white men, and a gorgeous Eurasian girl, who, out of unrequited love for the Laughing Man and deep concern for his personal safety, sometimes had a pretty sticky attitude toward crime. The Laughing Man issued his orders to the crew through a black silk screen. Not even Omba, the lovable dwarf, was permitted to see his face.

I’m not saying I will, but I could go on for hours escorting the reader–forcibly, if necessary–back and forth across the Paris-Chinese border. I happen to regard the Laughing Man as some kind of super-distinguished ancestor of mine–a sort of Robert E. Lee, say, with the ascribed virtues held under water or blood. And this illusion is only a moderate one compared to the one I had in 1928, when I regarded myself not only as the Laughing Man’s direct descendant but as his only legitimate living one. I was not even my parents’ son in 1928 but a devilishly smooth impostor, awaiting their slightest blunder as an excuse to move in–preferably without violence, but not necessarily–to assert my true identity. As a precaution against breaking my bogus mother’s heart, I planned to take her into my underworld employ in some undefined but appropriately regal capacity. But the main thing I had to do in 1928 was watch my step. Play along with the farce. Brush my teeth. Comb my hair. At all costs, stifle my natural hideous laughter.

Actually, I was not the only legitimate living descendant of the Laughing Man. There were twenty-five Comanches in the Club, or twenty-five legitimate living descendants of the Laughing Man–all of us circulating ominously, and incognito, throughout the city, sizing up elevator operators as potential archenemies, whispering side-of-the-mouth but fluent orders into the ears of cocker spaniels, drawing beads, with index fingers, on the foreheads of arithmetic teachers. And always waiting, waiting for a decent chance to strike terror and admiration in the nearest mediocre heart.

One afternoon in February, just after Comanche baseball season had opened, I observed a new fixture in the Chief’s bus. Above the rear-view mirror over the windshield, there was a small, framed photograph of a girl dressed in academic cap and gown. It seemed to me that a girl’s picture clashed with the general men-only decor of the bus, and I bluntly asked the Chief who she was. He hedged at first, but finally admitted that she was a girl. I asked him what her name was. He answered unforthrightly, “Mary Hudson.” I asked him if she was in the movies or something. He said no, that she used to go to Wellesley College. He added, on some slow-processed afterthought, that Wellesley College was a very high class college. I asked him what he had her picture in the bus for, though. He shrugged slightly, as much as to imply, it seemed to me, that the picture had more or less been planted on him.

During the next couple of weeks, the picture–however forcibly or accidentally it had been planted on the Chief–was not removed from the bus. It didn’t go out with the Baby Ruth wrappers and the fallen licorice whips. However, we Comanches got used to it. It gradually took on the unarresting personality of a speedometer.

But one day as we were on our way to the Park, the Chief pulled the bus over to a curb on Fifth Avenue in the Sixties, a good half mile past our baseball field. Some twenty back-seat drivers at once demanded an explanation, but the Chief gave none. Instead, he simply got into his story-telling position and swung prematurely into a fresh installment of “The Laughing Man.” He had scarcely begun, however, when someone tapped on the bus door. The Chief’s reflexes were geared high that day. He literally flung himself around in his seat, yanked the operating handle of the door, and a girl in a beaver coat climbed into the bus.

Offhand, I can remember seeing just three girls in my life who struck me as having unclassifiably great beauty at first sight. One was a thin girl in a black bathing suit who was having a lot of trouble putting up an orange umbrella at Jones Beach, circa 1936. The second was a girl aboard a Caribbean cruise ship in 1939, who threw her cigarette lighter at a porpoise. And the third was the Chief’s girl, Mary Hudson.

“Am I very late?” she asked the Chief, smiling at him.

She might just as well have asked if she was ugly.

“No!” the Chief said. A trifle wildly, he looked at the Comanches near his seat and signalled the row to give way. Mary Hudson sat down between me and a boy named Edgar something, whose uncle’s best friend was a bootlegger. We gave her all the room in the world. Then the bus started off with a peculiar, amateur-like lurch. The Comanches, to the last man, were silent.

On the way back to our regular parking place, Mary Hudson leaned forward in her seat and gave the Chief an enthusiastic account of the trains she had missed and the train she hadn’t missed; she lived in Douglaston, Long Island. The Chief was very nervous. He didn’t just fail to contribute any talk of his own; he could hardly listen to hers. The gearshift knob came off in his hand, I remember.

When we got out of the bus, Mary Hudson stuck right with us. I’m sure that by the time we reached the baseball field there was on every Comanche’s face a some-girls-just-don’t-know-when-to-go-home look. And to really top things off, when another Comanche and I were flipping a coin to decide which team would take the field first, Mary Hudson wistfully expressed a desire to join the game. The response to this couldn’t have been more clean-cut. Where before we Comanches had simply stared at her femaleness, we now glared at it. She smiled back at us. It was a shade disconcerting. Then the Chief took over, revealing what had formerly been a well-concealed flair for incompetence. He took Mary Hudson aside, just out of earshot of the Comanches, and seemed to address her solemnly, rationally. At length, Mary Hudson interrupted him, and her voice was perfectly audible to the Comanches. “But I do,” she said. “I do, too, want to play!” The Chief nodded and tried again. He pointed in the direction of the infield, which was soggy and pitted. He picked up a regulation bat and demonstrated its weight. “I don’t care,” Mary Hudson said distinctly, “I came all the way to New York–to the dentist and everything–and I’m gonna play.” The Chief nodded again but gave up. He walked cautiously over to home plate, where the Braves and the Warriors, the two Comanche teams, were waiting, and looked at me. I was captain of the Warriors. He mentioned the name of my regular center fielder, who was home sick, and suggested that Mary Hudson take his place. I said I didn’t need a center fielder. The Chief asked me what the hell did I mean I didn’t need a center fielder. I was shocked. It was the first time I had heard the Chief swear. What’s more, I could feel Mary Hudson smiling at me. For poise, I picked up a stone and threw it at a tree.

We took the field first. No business went out to center field the first inning. From my position on first base, I glanced behind me now and then. Each time I did, Mary Hudson waved gaily to me. She was wearing a catcher’s mitt, her own adamant choice. It was a horrible sight.

Mary Hudson batted ninth on the Warriors’ lineup. When I informed her of this arrangement, she made a little face and said, “Well, hurry up, then.” And as a matter of fact we did seem to hurry up. She got to bat in the first inning. She took off her beaver coat–and her catcher’s mitt–for the occasion and advanced to the plate in a dark-brown dress. When I gave her a bat, she asked me why it was so heavy. The Chief left his umpire’s position behind the pitcher and came forward anxiously. He told Mary Hudson to rest the end of her bat on her right shouder. “I am,” she said. He told her not to choke the bat too tightly. “I’m not,” she said. He told her to keep her eye right on the ball. “I will,” she said. “Get outa the way.” She swung mightily at the first ball pitched to her and hit it over the left fielder’s head. It was good for an ordinary double, but Mary Hudson got to third on it–standing up.

When my astonishment had worn off, and then my awe, and then my delight, I looked over at the Chief. He didn’t so much seem to be standing behind the pitcher as floating over him. He was a completely happy man. Over on third base, Mary Hudson waved to me. I waved back. I couldn’t have stopped myself, even if I’d wanted to. Her stickwork aside, she happened to be a girl who knew how to wave to somebody from third base.

The rest of the game, she got on base every time she came to bat. For some reason, she seemed to hate first base; there was no holding her there. At least three times, she stole second.

Her fielding couldn’t have been worse, but we were piling up too many runs to take serious notice of it. I think it would have improved if she’d gone after flies with almost anything except a catcher’s mitt. She wouldn’t take it off, though. She said it was cute.

The next month or so, she played baseball with the Comanches a couple of times a week (whenever she had an appointment with her dentist, apparently). Some afternoons she met the bus on time, some afternoons she was late. Sometimes she talked a blue streak in the bus, sometimes she just sat and smoked her Herbert Tareyton cigarettes (cork-tipped). When you sat next to her in the bus, she smelled of a wonderful perfume.

One wintry day in April, after making his usual three o’clock pickup at 109th and Amsterdam, the Chief turned the loaded bus east at 110th Street and cruised routinely down Fifth Avenue. But his hair was combed wet, he had on his overcoat instead of his leather windbreaker, and I reasonably surmised that Mary Hudson was scheduled to join us. When we zipped past our usual entrance to the Park, I was sure of it. The Chief parked the bus on the comer in the Sixties appropriate to the occasion. Then, to kill time painlessly for the Comanches, he straddled his seat backward and released a new installment of “The Laughing Man.” I remember the installment to the last detail, and I must outline it briefly.

A flux of circumstances delivered the Laughing Man’s best friend, his timber wolf, Black Wing, into a physical and intellectual trap set by the Dufarges. The Dufarges, aware of the Laughing Man’s high sense of loyalty, offered him Black Wing’s freedom in exchange for his own. In the best faith in the world, the Laughing Man agreed to these terms. (Some of the minor mechanics of his genius were often subject to mysterious little breakdowns.) It was arranged for the Laughing Man to meet the Dufarges at midnight in a designated section of the dense forest surrounding Paris, and there, by moonlight, Black Wing would be set free. However, the Dufarges had no intention of liberating Black Wing, whom they feared and loathed. On the night of the transaction, they leashed a stand-in timber wolf for Black Wing, first dyeing its left hind foot snow white, to look like Black Wing’s.

But there were two things the Dufarges hadn’t counted on: the Laughing Man’s sentimentality and his command of the timber-wolf language. As soon as he had allowed Dufarge’s daughter to tie him with barbed wire to a tree, the Laughing Man felt called upon to raise his beautiful, melodious voice in a few words of farewell to his supposed old friend. The stand-in, a few moonlit yards away, was impressed by the stranger’s command of the language and listened politely for a moment to the last-minute advice, personal and professional, that the Laughing Man was giving out. At length, though, the stand-in grew impatient and began shifting his weight from paw to paw. Abruptly, and rather unpleasantly, he interrupted the Laughing Man with the information that, in the first place, his name wasn’t Dark Wing or Black Wing or Gray Legs or any of that business, it was Armand, and, in the second place, he’d never been to China in his life and hadn’t the slightest intention of going there.

Properly infuriated, the Laughing Man pushed off his mask with his tongue and confronted the Dufarges with his naked face by moonlight. Mlle. Dufarge responded by passing out cold. Her father was luckier. By chance, he was having one of his coughing spells at the moment and thereby missed the lethal unveiling. When his coughing spell was over and he saw his daughter stretched out supine on the moonlit ground, Dufarge put two and two together. Shielding his eyes with his hand, he fired the full clip in his automatic toward the sound of the Laughing Man’s heavy, sibilant breathing.

The installment ended there.

The Chief took his dollar Ingersoll out of his watch pocket, looked at it, then swung around in his seat and started up the motor. I checked my own watch. It was almost four-thirty. As the bus moved forward, I asked the Chief if he wasn’t going to wait for Mary Hudson. He didn’t answer me, and before I could repeat my question, he tilted back his head and addressed all of us: “Let’s have a little quiet in this damn bus.” Whatever else it may have been, the order was basically unsensible. The bus had been, and was, very quiet. Almost everybody was thinking about the spot the Laughing Man had been left in. We were long past worrying about him–we had too much confidence in him for that–but we were never past accepting his most perilous moments quietly.

In the third or fourth inning of our ball game that afternoon, I spotted Mary Hudson from first base. She was sitting on a bench about a hundred yards to my left, sandwiched between two nursemaids with baby carriages. She had on her beaver coat, she was smoking a cigarette, and she seemed to be looking in the direction of our game. I got excited about my discovery and yelled the information over to the Chief, behind the pitcher. He hurried over to me, not quite running. “Where?” he asked me. I pointed again. He stared for a moment in the right direction, then said he’d be back in a minute and left the field. He left it slowly, opening his overcoat and putting his hands in the hip pockets of his trousers. I sat down on first base and watched. By the time the Chief reached Mary Hudson, his overcoat was buttoned again and his hands were down at his sides.

He stood over her for about five minutes, apparently talking to her. Then Mary Hudson stood up, and the two of them walked toward the baseball field. They didn’t talk as they walked, or look at each other. When they reached the field, the Chief took his position behind the pitcher. I yelled over to him. “Isn’t she gonna play?” He told me to cover my sack. I covered my sack and watched Mary Hudson. She walked slowly behind the plate, with her hands in the pockets of her beaver coat, and finally sat down on a misplaced players’ bench just beyond third base. She lit another cigarette and crossed her legs.

When the Warriors were at bat, I went over to her bench and asked her if she felt like playing left field. She shook her head. I asked her if she had a cold. She shook her head again. I told her I didn’t have anybody in left field. I told her I had a guy playing center field and left field. There was no response at all to this information. I tossed my first-baseman’s mitt up in the air and tried to have it land on my head, but it fell in a mud puddle. I wiped it off on my trousers and asked Mary Hudson if she wanted to come up to my house for dinner sometime. I told her the Chief came up a lot. “Leave me alone,” she said. “Just please leave me alone.” I stared at her, then walked off in the direction of the Warriors’ bench, taking a tangerine out of my pocket and tossing it up in the air. About midway along the third-base foul line, I turned around and started to walk backwards, looking at Mary Hudson and holding on to my tangerine. I had no idea what was going on between the Chief and Mary Hudson (and still haven’t, in any but a fairly low, intuitive sense), but nonetheless, I couldn’t have been more certain that Mary Hudson had permanently dropped out of the Comanche lineup. It was the kind of whole certainty, however independent of the sum of its facts, that can make walking backwards more than normally hazardous, and I bumped smack into a baby carriage.

After another inning, the light got bad for fielding. The game was called, and we started picking up all the equipment. The last good look I had at Mary Hudson, she was over near third base crying. The Chief had hold of the sleeve of her beaver coat, but she got away from him. She ran off the field onto the cement path and kept running till I couldn’t see her any more.

The Chief didn’t go after her. He just stood watching her disappear. Then he turned around and walked down to home plate and picked up our two bats; we always left the bats for him to carry. I went over to him and asked if he and Mary Hudson had had a fight. He told me to tuck my shirt in.

Just as always, we Comanches ran the last few hundred feet to the place where the bus was parked, yelling, shoving, trying out strangleholds on each other, but all of us alive to the fact that it was again time for “The Laughing Man.” Racing across Fifth Avenue, somebody dropped his extra or discarded sweater, and I tripped over it and went sprawling. I finished the charge to the bus; but the best seats were taken by that time and I had to sit down in the middle of the bus. Annoyed at the arrangement, I gave the boy sitting on my right a poke in the ribs with my elbow, then faced around and watched the Chief cross over Fifth. It was not yet dark out, but a five-fifteen dimness had set in. The Chief crossed the street with his coat collar up, the bats under his left arm, and his concentration on the street. His black hair, which had been combed wet earlier in the day, was dry now and blowing. I remember wishing the Chief had gloves.

The bus, as usual, was quiet when he climbed in–as proportionately quiet, at any rate, as a theatre with dimming house lights. Conversations were finished in a hurried whisper or shut off completely. Nonetheless, the first thing the Chief said to us was “All right, let’s cut out the noise, or no story.” In an instant, an unconditional silence filled the bus, cutting off from the Chief any alternative but to take up his narrating position. When he had done so, he took out a handkerchief and methodically blew his nose, one nostril at a time. We watched him with patience and even a certain amount of spectator’s interest. When he had finished with his handkerchief, he folded it neatly in quarters and replaced it in his pocket. He then gave us the new installment of “The Laughing Man.” From start to finish, it lasted no longer than five minutes.

Four of Dufarge’s bullets struck the Laughing Man, two of them through the heart. When Dufarge, who was still shielding his eyes against the sight of the Laughing Man’s face, heard a queer exhalation of agony from the direction of the target, he was overjoyed. His black heart beating wildly, he rushed over to his unconscious daughter and brought her to. The pair of them, beside themselves with delight and coward’s courage, now dared to look up at the Laughing Man. His head was bowed as in death, his chin resting on his bloody chest. Slowly, greedily, father and daughter came forward to inspect their spoils. Quite a surprise was in store for them. The Laughing Man, far from dead, was busy contracting his stomach muscles in a secret manner. As the Dufarges came into range, he suddenly raised his face, gave a terrible laugh, and neatly, even fastidiously, regurgitated all four bullets. The impact of this feat on the Dufarges was so acute that their hearts literally burst, and they dropped dead at the Laughing Man’s feet. (If the installment was going to be a short one anyway, it could have ended there; the Comanches could have managed to rationalize the sudden death of the Dufarges. But it didn’t end there.) Day after day, the Laughing Man continued to stand lashed to the tree with barbed wire, the Dufarges decomposing at his feet. Bleeding profusely and cut off from his supply of eagles’ blood, he had never been closer to death. One day, however, in a hoarse but eloquent voice, he appealed for help to the animals of the forest. He summoned them to fetch Omba, the lovable dwarf. And they did. But it was a long trip back and forth across the Paris-Chinese border, and by the time Omba arrived on the scene with a medical kit and a fresh supply of eagles’ blood, the Laughing Man was in a coma. Omba’s very first act of mercy was to retrieve his master’s mask, which had blown up against Mlle. Dufarge’s vermin-infested torso. He placed it respectfully over the hideous features, then proceeded to dress the wounds.

When the Laughing Man’s small eyes finally opened, Omba eagerly raised the vial of eagles’ blood up to the mask. But the Laughing Man didn’t drink from it. Instead, he weakly pronounced his beloved Black Wing’s name. Omba bowed his own slightly distorted head and revealed to his master that the Dufarges had killed Black Wing. A peculiar and heart-rending gasp of final sorrow came from the Laughing Man. He reached out wanly for the vial of eagles’ blood and crushed it in his hand. What little blood he had left trickled thinly down his wrist. He ordered Omba to look away, and, sobbing, Omba obeyed him. The Laughing Man’s last act, before turning his face to the bloodstained ground, was to pull off his mask.

The story ended there, of course. (Never to be revived.) The Chief started up the bus. Across the aisle from me, Billy Walsh, who was the youngest of all the Comanches, burst into tears. None of us told him to shut up. As for me, I remember my knees were shaking.

A few minutes later, when I stepped out of the Chief’s bus, the first thing I chanced to see was a piece of red tissue paper flapping in the wind against the base of a lamppost. It looked like someone’s poppy-petal mask. I arrived home with my teeth chattering uncontrollably and was told to go right straight to bed.

[jessmt]

I won’t go (until you come outside)

Since I’m on such a roll this week and both of my classes got cancelled this morning, I decided to write another Jesslake fic that’s been bouncing around in my head for a little while.

Summary:  Lake finally chalks it up to tell Jesse what happened on the train when they were forcibly separated.

Notes:  Check Yes, Juliet by We The Kings is a cute song and the theme of running away together and never looking back fits these two pretty well. So I wrote a fic loosely inspired by it. 

Also, I thought it would be pretty cute if Lake gave him a nickname. She calls him "Jess" because it sounds cute and I said so. 

AO3 

Normal.

Her entire life, Lake never had any proper definition for the word. Her entire life, all of her decisions had been made for her. What she’s allowed to wear, where she’s allowed to go, when she’s allowed to sleep, when she’s allowed to eat. Sure, Tulip may have been a pretty average person for the most part, but it wasn’t normal. Forcing herself to stay up until 4:30 in the morning so Tulip can fix the bug in her code or wearing those pointless chrome glasses or eating those stupid onions she didn’t even like wasn’t normal. 

Living someone else’s life wasn’t normal. 

She’s lucky Tulip was so understanding. Well, Lake supposes she had to be, since up until that point they had essentially been two different copies of the same person. But she didn’t feel that way. She felt and still feels and will never stop feeling like she is her own individual person. And the moment she took her first step out of the “Chrome Car”, as Tulip had called it, she was sure that was the end of it. She could be whoever she wanted to be, go wherever she wanted to go, wear whatever she wanted to wear. 

But of course the Flecs had to develop new software that allowed them to chase escapees from car to car. If she had known about that she would’ve stolen it to escape the car years ago. Not that it mattered much anyway, because as long as they weren’t trailing directly behind her then the only way they’d be able to find her was through some random reflective surface that happened to be lying around, which was a surprisingly difficult find in a good majority of the cars she’d been through.

And for months at a time, she was convinced she’d found her normal. Most cars she only passed through, but other cars, those that provided beds and food and something to drink (just as long as it wasn’t water), she’d stay in those for weeks at a time. She felt grass under her feet for the first time in a train car, she saw a real life tree in a train car, and she even experienced rainfall in a train car. And as far as she was concerned, she had the best life she could ever imagine. She never considered herself a “denizen”, because she never wanted to live her life in someone else’s shadow ever again. And if that meant self-isolation, then so be it. She didn’t need companionship, because all companionship did was slow her down.

But then Jesse came along. 

And so went her definition of normal.

She had tried to separate herself from him. She had tried to wave him off, tried to take Alan Dracula as her only companion and go. But in the end, nothing she tried ever worked. 

He saw something in her that nobody else did.

She knew he had an opportunity to turn her over to the Flecs. She knew he considered it. But he chose not to. He stood up for her in a way nobody had since Tulip freed her. He liked her for her, not just as someone helping him escape the train but as her own person. 

She had never even considered the possibility of leaving the train until she met him. But it was all the time she spent with him that she realized that when she’d escaped from the mirror realm that all she’d fled to was an even larger prison. 

He was the only person who’d ever promised not to leave her behind. Tulip couldn’t even make that promise. He never showed any signs that he’d been lying, never gave her a goodbye. He developed the habit of taking her hand in his own to assure she was still by his side, and Lake in turn developed the habit of giving his hand a squeeze to assure him that she wasn’t going anywhere. He grabbed her hand every time they fled from the Flecs, or every time a door opened, and it grew to become a comforting gesture for Lake. 

He never let go. Even when they were forced apart at his exit door, he never let go. Their hands were interlocked until the moment he faded away into nothing, and even then he broke the very physics of the train itself by refusing to let go, refusing to leave until she was able to come with him. All the time she had spent fighting for him, she had no idea he was on the other side fighting for her as well.

She’s M.T, she can take care of herself, but I made a promise.

They finally got their exit together. And it was staring into her own reflection in that lake, and feeling that sunshine on her face, and Jesse’s hand on her shoulder that made her realize she had finally, finally found her real normal. 

Nothing could compare to the euphoria she felt when they were walking back to Jesse’s house. She could hear birds, actual birds, not weird talking parakeets that needed her help to build their giant nest, or something, actual birds! And the wind, and the traffic, and the sky was an actual color, not that depressing shade of brownish-orange it always was on the train. It’s a miracle they ever got to Jesse’s house at all with Lake stopping to check something out every ten seconds. Not that Jesse minded at all, because there had been multiple times where Lake had caught him staring at her with an affectionate twinkle in his eyes.

After that initial adrenaline rush faded, everything slowed to a peaceful calm. Jesse convinced his mom to convert their guest room into Lake’s room “until further notice”, which she quickly settled into. She registered as a new student at the local high school online, and choosing classes was just a combination of what she’d already known from Tulip and what simply caught her eye.

Everything fell into a pattern. And for once in her life, she was happy with that.

Wake up, go to school, eat lunch, come home, hang with Jesse, explore the neighborhood, do homework, watch movies, go to bed. It’s simple, it’s repetitive, it’s home. The only thing that ever differs in her schedule other than weekends is when she’d have to take the bus home without Jesse when he had swim practice, but admittedly it was nice to have that time to herself. 

Take right now, for example. She’s just lying on her bed with her hands behind her head watching her ceiling fan swirl around. She likes to be alone with her thoughts, contrary to popular belief, because they really tend to keep her in the moment. Having her own complex thoughts validates her and tells her that she’s here, and she’s her own human being.

...Until there’s a light tap against her window, which doesn’t make sense because her room is on the second floor. She stands up to investigate, and she’s ready to dismiss it as a bird or a bug that must’ve bumped into it when a number of tiny pebbles tap against the window again. Baffled, she opens the window to look and see who could possibly be throwing rocks at her window. 

“That worked?” She can hear Jesse exclaim, but he clears his throat when he realizes she probably heard that. “Lake! Down here!”

She snorts, leaning her elbow against the windowsill. “Hi Jesse” she shouts back, and looks over her shoulder at the clock sitting on her nightstand reading 8:46pm. “I thought you had swim practice”

“I did! It just ran later than usual because competition is coming up soon” he shouts back, and runs a hand through his hair to expel any extra water as if he’s trying to prove to her that he’s not lying. “You should, uh, you should come outside! It’s really nice out. I’m not even shivering”

Lake smirks, rolling her eyes at him. “And you wanted to ask me that by shouting up at my window? Isn’t this your house?”

She can practically see Jesse blush from where she sits at her window. “Well, yeah, but I wanted to look cool! Tossing rocks at someone’s window is like, the most romantic gesture ever” 

Lake laughs. “I’m swooning”, she teases, dramatically bringing her wrist to her forehead.

Jesse shoves his hands in his pocket and glances to the ground, a sure sign he’s probably blushing even harder. “It’s a serious offer, you know!” he mumbles just loud enough for her to hear. “It’s beautiful out.” He offers his hand out to her, and the gesture makes her blush.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming”, she replies in mock annoyance, warmth in her tone giving her true nature away. She slides her window the rest of the way open, climbs onto the windowsill, and wiggles around until she’s hanging out of the window by her hands. Once her arms stop shaking from holding her own weight up, she lets go and lands on her feet. She turns around to face Jesse, and throws her arms up in the air in a victorious pose.

He smiles. “You could’ve just gone out the front door, y’know. Mom isn’t that strict about us leaving the house”.

She shrugs. “Yeah, but it’s like you said. I wanted to look cool”.

This time Jesse’s the one laughing, and he offers his hand out to her again. “Well?” 

She blushes. Dammit, he shouldn’t be this cute, and intertwines her hand in his. “Well what? You’re the one who called me out here, you dork”

“Well, where do you wanna go?” he rubs at the back of his head. “The ice cream parlor closes in ten minutes, so I don’t think we could get there even if Mom let me borrow her car”. 

Lake laughs. “How romantic, borrowing your Mom’s car for me” she teases. “Who says we have to go anywhere in particular? You said it yourself. It’s a beautiful night. Why don’t we just go for a walk?”

Jesse gasps, his eyes twinkling. “Travel friends?”

Lake rolls her eyes and leans in to kiss Jesse on the cheek. “I think we’re a little more than that by now, Jess.”

Jesse grins. “I know. It’s just a catchy song”.

“Nerd.”

Jesse shrugs in a what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it sort of manner before he taps at his chin to think about where they could possibly go. “Well…” he starts. “I think there should be a nature trail near that lake we ended up at, and I think….people are known to occasionally spot a family deer over there, you wanna walk around there a bit?” he pauses. “Or is that too familiar?”

Lake gives his hand a little squeeze. “Pssh, nah, that sounds perfect. You know how I am with exploring”.

He’s looking at her with that soft, affectionate look in his eyes again, and gives her hand a squeeze back. “Perfect.” he says, and begins to lead the way, but it isn’t long before they’re walking side by side. The walk to the lake isn’t as long as she remembers it  being, but she supposes she could chalk that up to the adrenaline she’d felt the first time she was here. Once there, she stops to look at her reflection in the lake, and this time Jesse’s is standing beside her. He takes his hand from her, only to wind his arm around her shoulder and give her a kiss on the cheek. She rolls her eyes at him, but just before he can turn his head away from her she quickly leans in and gets him on the lips. 

“C’mon,” she gestures. “We could be here all night”. 

He blushes violently. “Right, right…” he murmurs, and leads the way to the entrance of the nature trail. It’s larger than Lake was expecting, apparently looping all the way around the back end of the cul de sac and back to the lake. She doesn’t know what Jesse could’ve possibly meant by calling the trail “too familiar”, because it’s nothing in comparison even to the Forest Car where they met. Everything feels real, everything smells real, everything just is real. She could never get her boots muddy or dirty in that or any other car on that godforsaken train because they couldn’t even program mud properly. 

“You okay?” Jesse asks after a few moments, startling her out of her thoughts. 

“Huh? Why do you ask?” 

Jesse blushes, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his head. “Well, you weren’t saying anything, and I was gonna assume you were just enjoying yourself, but you were kinda….staring off into space. So I figured I’d ask. No big deal”

Lake shrugs. “Nah, it’s okay. Thanks for asking. I’m fine, I’ve just been...well, thinking about the train”.

Jesse stops in his tracks. “You have?”

Lake shakes her head, and shakes her hand around in self-defense. “It’s no big deal, really, I’m just...really glad to be as far away from that thing as possible”. 

Jesse steps forward and sits down on a fallen tree in the middle of the path, patting at the spot beside him to invite her to sit next to him. “It sounds like a pretty big deal to me”. 

She smiles, a blush tinting her cheeks, and takes the seat beside him. “It doesn’t bother me anymore, trust me” she folds her hands together. “I’m getting much better at looking into reflective surfaces, and I don’t get snappish at people who look at me funny as often as I used to.” She turns to look at him. “But I just can’t stop thinking about how ever since I got here with you I’m realizing how much of a living hell that train was” 

She turns her gaze up towards the treetops. “I don’t think I ever told you what it was like when you were forced to leave without me.” She brings her knees up to her chest. “It was awful. I was so afraid I was never going to see you again. Everyone was saying it was pointless, that you would move on without me, that I was never getting off the train, I wasn’t my own person, blah blah blah” she dismissively waves a hand in the air.

“But you came back for me, Jesse, because you cared about me. Nobody’s ever come back in the history of the train, not for me, not for anything.” She laughs, and punches him in the arm as lightly as she can. “You gave the train a mental breakdown. You gave it the very problem it’s programmed to fix in everyone else, all because…what?”

Jesse smiles. “I made a promise.”

“Exactly!” Lake exclaims. “You made a promise you were so heartbroken to break just because you wanted to be able to see me every day.” She looks down at the forest floor. “...just so I could experience mud, and twigs, and all these things you don’t even notice because you’ve just had them your entire life”. 

Jesse snorts. “Well I’d sure hate for my girlfriend to miss out on the amazing wonders of mud.”

“You know what I mean”. 

“I know” Jesse smiles, kicking his feet back and forth. “I just...couldn’t go home until I knew you were coming with me. Flecs or no Flecs, I could tell you seemed pretty miserable”.

Now Lake finds herself blushing violently. “That’s….incredibly sweet of you”. 

Jesse hums. “Not as incredible as you”. 

Lake snorts. “Dork”. 

Jesse stands up from the fallen tree, brushing his pant legs off and offering Lake his hand to help her up. “Ah ah, your dork”. 

She takes him up on that offer, intertwining his hand in her own as she stands. “You won’t be for long if you keep that up”. 

Jesse blushes. “Sorry.” 

Lake laughs, and brings a hand to Jesse’s face and turns it towards her to make him look at her. “Jess, I’m kidding” she says, and kisses him softly on the lips. “I love you too”.  

[getitinbusan]

Jungkook's first love. Angst and smut, inspired by the song California.

It was a rare rainy August day in California. The heavy drops created a sad melody on the window as you put the dishes away. Tired and lonely, the feeling in your gut kept nagging at you, maybe it was time to give up. 

It was the second month of not making rent and it was only a matter of time before your roommates would stop exchanging house cleaning duties for money. 

Standing in the kitchen feeling stupid, It had taken you way longer than it should have to realize in LA you were nothing. Not pretty enough, rich enough, skinny enough or talented enough.

Gathering up the mail that was strewn across the countertop, you shuffled through to sort priority. Junk mail, bills, personal… one standing out in particular. The penmanship was nice, black ink, unassuming envelope, but it was the stamp that caught your attention, it was sent from Korea.

The top had already been torn, the letter having been read, was cradled back safely inside. Addressed to your roommate a frown crept onto your face, why wouldn’t he write to you?

It was a ridiculously  hopeful notion but you widened the envelope and inhaled trying to find his fragrance, something, anything to trigger a happy memory. How many times had you borrowed his sweater just to have his smell on your skin? Cool California nights were the best excuse to wrap yourself in his scent.

You missed him, it had been a year and a half since he’d last come around.

It was too tempting to resist, your fingers pinched the paper inside of the envelope and pulled it free. 

I’m feeling low, I don’t know who I am, only who I’m supposed to be.

What would life be like if I had stayed in California? We could all be roommates, hanging out and having fun, going to the beach on weekends.

Does she even think about me?

It sounds greedy that with how much I have right now, it’s not enough. I would give anything to wake up in bed beside her everyday. I want more than anything to be able to talk to her about these things but I can’t. I've made the mistake of trading her for fame and now I’m destined to keep her at an arm’s length so she’ll never know the price I paid.

How does she even see me now?  Just an Idol? Has she forgotten the days we spent together?

I’ve been wrestling with myself, whoever that is. I wish I could be the teenage boy from that long ago summer again. I wrote this song thinking about it…

~When I see you smile in the screen

You’re good at everything

You’re just perfect

Feels like I've never been you

Do you even see me?

Do you know who I am?

Or how do I look now?

You don’t like me like that

I want to be your decalcomania~

I’m afraid I may not get back for a while, please write. Your friendship and thoughts of Y/N are the only things that are keeping me tethered to some semblance of reality.

JK

Clutching the letter to your chest, your mind took you back to that day. 

“Decalcomania, the art or process of transferring pictures and designs. Making a copy of the original on a different medium"  

You’d both laughed at the strange name, reading the description of the art on the museum wall during your visit so long ago.  

California had lured you into its promise when you turned 14. Having been accepted to an  intensive dance program at The Movement Lifestyle Studio you packed up and headed West for the summer. 

It was July and it was hot, the dancers stepping off the bus one at a time took their places in the studio.

Looking around there were so many older kids, you were probably one of the youngest. Calling out names they put you into groups, it appeared to be by age so you made your way to the tiny gathering of four.

Shy introductions were made as one more member was ushered over to where you had congregated. "This is Jungkook.” 

He had the cutest smile and barely spoke english but his eyes twinkled like the constellations. Immediately drawn to each other you became fast friends.

Absolutely exhausted at the end of the first few days he’d knocked at your door.

He was homesick and lonely, used to being surrounded by his six members, he couldn’t sleep well without someone beside him. You let him crawl into bed with you, you were 14 and it was innocent. 

Inseparable, days and nights were spent side by side, the others began referring to you as the twins. It was the best summer of your life but like every boy meets girl summer story, it had to come to a close. Promising through tears to keep in touch and stay friends you went your separate ways. 

Jungkook would send silly videos of his practice sessions, goofing around with the other members.  He’d facetime and text but he always loved to send handwritten letters.

They lived in a box under your bed and contained stories of how hard he was working to become an idol. He always signed off with, "I miss you" and a few lines of lyrics he’d written.

You didn’t know then how important they would become, the only tangible piece of him you could still hold on to.  

Whenever he came back to America you did everything you could to see him. You went to the small tour stops when they came through in 2015, KCon in 2016, but 2017 was different.

Facetiming you with the news that they were bringing the Wings tour to NY, Chicago and Anaheim, he asked if you’d be part of the dance crew. How could you turn down two weeks with Jungkook? They were getting bigger, more popular and their lives were changing rapidly.

Jungkook would sneak you into his hotel room so you could spend your nights catching up. He had strict rules. Girls were not allowed and even though it was just friendship, it could be easily misconstrued by the fans. Everything had to be done in secret. The boys would bring in food and cover for him while you both stayed locked away out of sight.

While happy to be with him, you could tell there was an underlying sadness he was holding on to.

“I wish I could go and explore the city with you like we used to,” his voice trailed off.

You were laying in each other’s arms cuddling on his bed.  Leaning over he kissed the top of your head.

“All I really want is  to take you on a proper date."

Your head moved on his chest as he inhaled deeply.

"I’ve been waiting so long to become someone, to become a man worthy of your affection. Now I’m stuck, I have everything and I’m not allowed to share it with you.”

His arms gripped you tighter, “I’m sorry, this is a terrible confession. I don’t expect you to love me back, not under these circumstances, I just need you to know, you’re the only girl I’ve ever loved and there won’t be anybody else, ever." 

You remembered every word of his confession, every moment of that last night in the hotel room. The words of a 19 year old boy whose life had become bigger than the feelings of two people.

He left in the morning without knowing. You were too afraid to tell him, you loved him too.  

LA became home right after the they left Anaheim. Focused on dancing, if you became good enough maybe you could join the tour with him. 

A letter with a big bouquet of flowers arrived a few weeks later. 

"Congratulations on your new house in LA!

I hope that all of you are getting along as roommates, it’s hard living with others sometimes.

Last night I dreamt that I was there with you and all our friends, we were having a party on the beach and we sat together and watched the sunset.

Remember after practice we would skateboard as fast as we could to the ocean so we wouldn’t miss the colors?

Maybe one day my toes can feel the sand there again.

I miss you, I miss me… the me I am when I get to be with you.

We are coming back in November for a few days and I’m hoping I can see you, I’m lonely already.   

Jeongguk

~Won’t you please stay in dreams

I can hear the sea from far away

Across the dream, over the bush

Go there where it becomes clear

Take my hands now

You are the cause of my euphoria

When I’m with you, I’m in utopia~

When The AMAs came, all of your friends in LA were involved with the production. Your roommates helped organize the coup to steal Jungkook away so you could take him on a real date.

Having enlisted Namjoon to help, the boys would cover for his whereabouts. The day before the awards they were only scheduled for styling, as long as he wasn’t late for the press rounds the next afternoon your plan could work.

It was Namjoon’s job to get him out of the building. Telling him to follow his lead, Joon convinced the managers that Jungkook must have eaten something bad for lunch. Claiming to not feel well, he was whisked away to meet you at the hotel's back receiving door. 

Sitting in the shiny red rented convertible you tossed him a pair of sunglasses. What you wouldn’t give now to see that smile again.

Barely giving him time to get in you’d sped away heading straight for In And Out Burger.

"Kookie, I hope you're ready for the best day of your life! We’re going to eat until we explode, drink and party at the beach and then, instead of returning you to your fancy 5 star hotel you’re staying the night in my crappy little house with a tiny uncomfortable bed!!” 

He laughed, so pure and happy, thinking about it now made you sad. Was that the last time he got to be his true self, Jeongguk the man not Jungkook the personna? 

Knowing you only had one day to give him everything, one day to show him you loved him, you tried to make the best of it.

Picking up the food Jungkook held onto the red and white bags in the passenger seat, sneaking his hand in to steal fries when he thought you weren’t looking. If you weren’t sure you were in love with him before you you certainly were now.

Pulling up beside the tree on the beach he was stunned, “Ahhh Jagi, I can’t believe you brought me here.”

Happy that it meant as much to him as it did to you, you both sat on the branch and ate. Two blocks from the old studio this used to be your escape. Every break you’d make your way to the tree for time alone, together. 

With the burgers done he turned to you and smiled. It felt like he wanted to say something, cutting him short you pulled him up and back towards the car.

Making your way to the Movement studio the students were starstruck when he walked in. After insisting that he teach some choreography, he reluctantly led the class.

Your eyes were glued to him as he moved in front of the mirrors, no longer that awkward teenager but a full grown man mesmerizing you with every move.

Getting back to the car he stopped you before you reached for the handle. Putting his arms around you he pulled you in close, “You stink Jungkook, I think our next stop is the ocean.”

You remember pulling away, how stupid you were, you should have held on to him longer. Reaching into the back seat you revealed a pair of swim shorts and a towel. He looked disappointed that you kept interrupting his attempts at intimacy, but you had a plan and limited time to execute it. 

The Ocean was cold but the wind was warm, he came out of the change room with the shorts on but was still wearing his shirt.

“Kookie, this isn’t Korea, you don’t have to be so modest here. Plus, you should grab some sun, you may not believe it but when your skin is sunkissed… you look really good.” 

He raised his eyebrows and quickly removed the shirt at your request.

Running into the water you splashed and played and he took great pleasure in picking you up and throwing you as far as he could.

The sun was getting ready to set and you wanted to dry off before the cooler air set in.

Leading him out of the water you both laid down on the towel. He put his arm around you under your neck and you cuddled into his side.

“My god Guk, look at your abs!”

He blushed like crazy as you traced the muscles on his stomach.

“Stop, it tickles,” he giggled.

But you didn’t, you kept tickling him until he held you so tight you couldn’t move. He had you pinned, flipping you on your back he shook his wet hair flinging water droplets all over you. Pleased with himself he leaned in closer to you, his eyes asking for permission to kiss you. As the gap between you got narrower you could hear his name being shouted and footsteps running closer. He flopped onto his back and sighed as your roommates and friends piled on top of him.

Eating, drinking and catching up with everyone you watched each other from across the bonfire. Moving from person to person he slowly made his way back to your side.

“Welcome back,” running your hand through the back of his hair, it was now or never. 

Pulling him closer your lips finally met in the way they were destined, soft, slow and full of love. His hands instinctively moved to cup your face as the world stopped around you.

“I love you,” you whispered.

Nose to nose he smiled at you and it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

It didn’t last long, his phone started going off incessantly. The managers knew, you'd been careless, photos and videos of him from the studio had been posted online.

“I’m so sorry Jungkook, I didn’t mean for you to get in trouble.”

His eyes turned hungry as he grabbed your hand.

“Let’s get out of here, you promised I wouldn’t be going back to my hotel tonight.”

If he was going to get in trouble anyway, why stop now?  

The drive back to your place was quiet,  adrenaline and hormones flowing like electricity through you both. The time for smiling was over as the seriousness of the situation hung in the air.

It wasn’t just being in trouble or being caught, but the fact that you both knew what was going to happen when you stepped into your bedroom. One act that would change everything between you, holding the power to change the dynamic of your relationship forever.

Leading him to your room you closed the door and stood staring at him as he sat on your bed. He raked his fingers through his hair before he spoke, “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than to be able to make love to you. BUT I also know that when I leave I’m not going to get to see you again for a very long time. Management is going to do everything to keep us apart and that won’t be fair to you. I think that maybe we should just let our happy memories of today be enough, I don’t want you to get hurt." 

Walking closer you stood between his legs and he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"The only way I can be hurt is if I never get to experience all of you. I can’t live not knowing how it feels to be totally yours if only for the night.”

He rested his head against your chest, “You’ll always be mine.”

His hands traveled to the hem of your shirt and his fingers ran over the soft skin of your stomach. Undoing the button of your jeans he slowly slid them down your legs and you stepped out of them. 

Standing up he lifted the thin fabric of your shirt over your head and you stood before him waiting as he took his off too. Unclasping your bra he sighed as he looked at you taking in your shape, his fingertips hovering over your hard nipples.

“I’ve never done this before,” he confessed.

“Me either,” you whispered, “So, I guess the bar's pretty low.”

His giggles cut the tension before he pulled you on top of him onto the bed. More relaxed he let his mouth start exploring your body. You were goosebumps and shivers beneath him as his tongue found it’s home between your legs.

He was soft and careful, placing his lips over your clit sucking it in delicately until your moans couldn’t be contained any longer. You could feel his eyes burning into you as he watched in awe as his finger slid inside you.

“It feels good Kookie, please…”

He sighed as his mouth picked up speed and another finger slid in. Moving your hips to meet his mouth you were unravelling quickly.

“The way you taste is better than anything I had imagined.”

Devouring your clit in sessions  between his words you came hard on his tongue.

“I made you so wet,” he said, impressed with himself.

Moving up to where your head lay on the pillow he pushed the dampened hair off your face, “Are you ok? Do you need anything?”

He placed his forehead against yours.

“Just you Kookie, I love you so much… I want you so badly.”

Moving slowly he lined himself up with your wet entrance.

“Tell me if you need me to stop okay?”

He pushed slowly and you could feel yourself stretching around him. He watched your face and froze when he saw the tear roll out of the corner of your eye.

“I’m so sorry, let’s stop, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He thumbed away the tear.

“No, baby… I’m okay… I’m just so happy, so overwhelmed with how much I’m feeling right now.”

He smiled down at you, pressing his body closer as he gave another push until he was fully inside. Your bodies fell into a beautifully choreographed rhythm until Jungkook was so lost in pleasure he began to move at his own pace. Quicker and deeper he moved until he finally spilled into the condom. 

You kissed, and kissed, and kissed until you fell asleep wrapped around each other.

Every few hours he’d wake you up, checking to make sure it wasn’t a dream, you'd made love each time, everytime better than the last.

It was 9 am when he caressed you awake once more.

“I have to leave soon. I don’t want to,” he spoke nestled into your neck just under your ear, “Please tell me to stay.”

Your heart broke at his words, “If I ask you to stay, I’m selfish, you’ll always wonder if you made the right decision. If I tell you to go, your dreams come true… ” your voice trailed off...

“And I’ll always wonder if I made the right decision,” he finished. 

Your phone started ringing and you knew time was up.

It was Joon, “I’m outside, sorry, I held them off as long as I could. I told them I’d come get him so you could at least have time to say goodbye.”

Your tears fell out in heavy ugly sobs, “Okay, five minutes… and Joon… thanks, I know you’re probably in trouble too.”

Hanging up you turned back, Jungkook was already out of bed with his clothes thrown on. He stood with open arms waiting, 

"Thank you for yesterday.“

Laying your head against his chest you took a moment to listen to his heartbeat. You could hear him sniffle, and knew he was crying.

You flashed back remembering that night long ago when he came to you homesick, holding you so he could sleep while he tried to hide his tears. There was a knock at the door and Namjoon’s voice broke through the moment.

"We’ve got to go Jungkook.”

Stepping away you’d left his shirt soaked in tears, handing him his sweater he pushed it back towards you, “You keep it.”

He kissed you one last time and turned the handle opening it to reveal Namjoon. His Hyung put his arm around his shoulder and led him to the car.

Turning one more time his eyes were filled with tears and he gave a small wave before getting in the back of the big black sedan. 

For months you pretended that management was the only thing keeping you apart.

You held onto your silly notions until May when they were coming for the Billboard awards. For weeks leading up you waited for a message, a secret meeting arrangement, but you got nothing. His image was all over the TV and his voice echoed through you empty heart and then he was gone again. 

Now, here you stood in your kitchen, his letter bringing him to the forefront of your mind,  opening old wounds.

He was just as sad as you but what could you do? Picking up a pen you began writing… 

I shouldn’t have done it but I read it in your letter

You said to a friend that you wish you were doing better

I wanted to reach out but I never said a thing

You don’t ever have to be stronger than you really are

And honey, you don’t ever have to act cooler than you think you should

You’re brighter than the brightest stars

You’re scared to win, scared to lose

I’ve heard the war was over if you really choose

The one in and around you

You hate the heat, you got the blues

You’re changing like the weather, oh, that’s so like you

I’ll pick you up

I’ll catch you on the flipside

If you come back to California

We’ll do whatever you want, travel wherever, how far

We’ll hit up all the old places

We’ll have a party, we can dance till dawn… 

Y/N

October came and a chill was in the air, the smell of winter hit your nose and you stopped to take it in.

Bundled in Jungkook’s hoodie you threw your bag over your shoulder and began your walk to work. Movement had hired you on for a new intensive program and today you were going to meet your students.

So many memories flooded your mind as you made your way through the familiar neighborhood. It still hurt but things were beginning to feel happy again. Writing the letter had given you closure, he knew how you felt and beyond that there was nothing else you could do.

Opening the heavy door to the studio you caught a familiar reflection moving in the mirror writing something on the glass, It couldn’t be?

Hearing the door click back into place he turned to face you,

“Hi.”

He walked towards you slowly, unsure of what your reaction would be, he approached with caution.

“Hi.”

You were breathless, in the months of not seeing him he’d grown more handsome.

“I can’t change what happened… and for the rest of my life I’ll be sorry for all of the time we missed.”

He was getting closer.

“But I can’t take another day not knowing if I can fix this… somehow…”

He reached for your hand but you pulled it away. His head fell in disappointment.

“Jungkook, I can’t listen to this… look at me.”

Reaching for his chin you pulled his head up until he was facing you again.

“I refuse to listen to you apologize for something that was out of your control. Your life was decided before you met me and I can only be grateful that I got to appear in some part of your story.”

He tilted his head and pressed a small kiss into the hand that was still holding his chin.

“God I’ve missed you” he said as he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist.

“How long are you here? I’ve got to teach class.. It’s my first day but I’d love it if we could catch up?”

He laughed at you and your knees buckled at the sound of his happiness.

Taking his chance he pressed his lips to yours and you could feel the smile forming on his face.

“I’m your private lesson Jagi, I’ve booked you for the next two weeks”

Taking a step back you had to ask, “How Jungkook? What will you be giving up?”

Pulling you back to his embrace he began to dance with you.

“There is no more giving up… on anything. Our contracts were over and I only had one thing I wouldn’t negotiate on…that’s you." 

Holding you tightly he moved you to look at the mirror.

"I wrote you something”

Please call my name one more time

I’m standing under the frozen light, 

but I’ll walk step by step towards you

Still with you

“Y/N, I promise I’ll never let you go again"

[soil-boy]

Did I ever tell you guys about my ferret Sofia? 

I had two ferrets, actually, but this is the story of Sofia. 

Also this story is about my dad, too. 

When I was applying for college I didn’t have my license and was reliant on my parents to drive me around. While waiting for a ride home after talking to the administrators, I decided to go wait at the pet store across the street, where I found one ferret left from a litter that had all been bought up already. She was still a baby and there were a couple kids who tried to interact with her and which she bit.

I’ve always let my pets play rough with me and I had no problem letting this little monster tear the hell out of my fingers. I could tell that she was just playing, albeit roughly, and when she was tired she literally fell asleep in my hands. I left her there and when I went home I asked my parents if I could have a ferret. My dad said “Go ask your mom,” and my mom said (very threateningly) “Hmph, up to you.” So I went back the next day and bought her.

When I brought Sofia home my parents were both shocked that I actually went through with it, and my dad was absolutely disgusted by her. She was this little ball of messy fuzz and, to someone who had never seen a ferret before, he viewed her as a large rodent. 

Well, I start going to school and Sofia has to stay in her cage all day long. She was not a friendly animal at all but she absolutely did not want to be left alone, and would literally yell from her cage whenever I left the room without her. I started coming home to find her cage open and her sleeping in my bed. This would happen every day. Every time, I’d make sure that her cage was secure, bending the metal so that it hooked a little bit better.

Finally, I twisted a paperclip around the door to keep it shut. When I got home, I found the paperclip removed and her, once again, in my bed. I confronted my family, asking who had been letting her out, and my dad blew up at me. He scolded me for leaving her alone while I was at school, and that the cage was too small (it was an appropriate cage) and that she needed her freedom. We agreed to convert an unused hallway into a sort of habitat for her, so she’d have a lot more space. This did not stop him from letting her out constantly, he’d fallen in love with her when I wasn’t looking and considered me an unjust warden of her imprisonment. 

Now, at this time we had two dogs, Yogo and Oliver. Yogo is a red heeler, and Oliver was a dachshund. Both of them expressed an interest in Sofia but neither were allowed to interact with her. Well, one day shortly after getting her, Oliver snuck downstairs and somehow remained hidden until I let Sofia out to play later in the evening. She wandered behind the couch and I suddenly hear SCREAMING. I bolt to her rescue and I see her literally in the mouth of Oliver. I grab his jaw and take her out and she is COVERED in blood. 

If you’ve ever seen an animal that has just recently fought for its life, they are tired things. I checked her over and she had not a single wound on her body, and she immediately went to sleep when I put her in her bed. I go and look at Oliver and his mouth is covered in dozens of tiny bites from the feral little creature he had tried hunting. From then on, Oliver wanted nothing to do with her, and for a couple weeks afterwards she would hiss at him whenever he showed his face.

Despite my worries, my family continued to have an otherwise nonchalant attitude to safety, and Sofia eventually came face to face with Yogo. Yogo is a red and blue heeler cross, and while he is not a very big dog, his breed is not exactly considered gentle. In fact, the reason my family adopted him is because he was playing very rough with the kids of a white family that my aunty knew, and when she found out he was up for adoption she and my dad decided that he’d be a good fit for our family. He is a very good boy but he did chase my sisters up trees and drag them around by their snowpants. 

I digress. There was a day when I was called upstairs to see something, and found my entire family gawking at Yogo and Sofia. She had managed to sneak upstairs (at this point she was rarely in her enclosure unless she wanted to be, and was very rarely supervised). Sofia was standing with her back to the fridge, puffed up and staring up at this dog that was easily 20x her size and with a history of violence. He was just staring back. 

I don’t know how it happened but Yogo never messed with her either. By my dad’s decree, she was eventually given free reign of the entire house, and nobody was happy about it except for my dad and Sofia. Sofia would get into everything (though she never ate anything she shouldn’t, I’d raised her on a raw diet and she’d imprinted on it). She would chase the dogs out of their own bed, knock things off of counters, and just generally be a terrible, terrible nuisance. While it is possible to litter train ferrets, my dad would stop any of us from enforcing good habits, saying things like “How would you like it if somebody interrupted you on the toilet?!” It was mostly a constant clean-up, though she thankfully went in regular spots rather than just random places.

My dad ADORED her. He gave her a half a dozen affectionate nicknames and would dote on her every desire, even going so far as to buy choice cuts of meat to cut up for her dinner and quail eggs to warm up for her breakfast. When he went to the Philippines to visit family, it was pictures of her that he showed to everyone he met (even strangers on the bus!), and because they don’t have or really keep ferrets over there, he used the word for “stray cat” to communicate what she was to his countrymen. When we went on vacation, he did not trust anyone to keep an eye on her for us and so we brought her to Jasper and he smuggled her into our hotel so that she could run around off-leash. My dad also has a large presence in the Filipino community of my hometown, and people would regularly bring gifts for “his” ferret around Christmas. To this day, the pictures of Sofia (and her brother, Sebastian) sit on the mantle in the entrance of our house, bigger than any of the family pictures. 

Anyways, at some point after I moved away for University, Sofia got cancer. We were all very sad when she passed. My dad was so devoted to her freedom that he refuses to ever step into a pet store, and tells anyone who will listen how his dream is to win the lottery and take Petland to court for keeping animals in cages. 

[artistlove17]

I'm dying for this idea!!

I really really want a hippie van or bus converted into a tiny home! 💛

My fiance and I have been talking about it for a long time now and if we ever get the money for it... we will definitely be doing this!!

[damianosismyking]

Part VI

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V

[Please scroll to the end for trigger warnings. It’s potentially important and about Laurent’s uncle in this chapter. Unless you think you won’t be triggered and you don’t like spoilers]

 Laurent only got used to sleeping alone after his parents died.

Before that he would fall asleep on the couch in his mother’s arms or in Auguste’s bed with him. Either way he would wake up in his own room and with no recollection of how he ended up there. He’s never had the need – nor he wanted to – learn how to sleep by himself. It was one of his father’s biggest pet peeves, but Auguste always said Laurent shouldn’t pay his father any mind and Laurent really liked to sleep with others by his side. He felt the safest like this.

When his parents got in the accident though, Laurent didn’t have much of a choice anymore. His brother became too busy to let Laurent cuddle him until he was completely asleep.

After his parents’ death, there was only one person apart from Auguste that seemed interested in letting Laurent share a bed – and Laurent didn’t like this one. His uncle was just weird about it at first and he made Laurent feel uncomfortable enough that in the days Laurent was left under his care so Auguste could go out and sort things – either at work or so that he could talk to lawyers about the family money – Laurent would lock himself in his room and pretend he didn’t listen when his uncle knocked at the door or tried to push it open.

There had been this one time when Laurent was worried his uncle might knock the door down and he had to press his pillow over his head until the pounding on the door stopped and his uncle stopped cursing him for keeping the door locked.

After that there was no more sleeping with anyone.

Until his uncle filled a lawsuit claiming Auguste wasn’t fit to take care of Laurent and he should have the custody instead. It must’ve been something his uncle lied about - that got him to win Laurent’s provisory custody. Laurent never learned more than just that.

Auguste sat down with him one afternoon, the day before Laurent was supposed to move in with his uncle’s, to tell Laurent he was doing the best he could but “he screwed up and he wasn’t about to lie and say that there was a chance he could reverse the judge's decision.” The look in Auguste’s face was what kept Laurent from crying himself out. ‘Does that mean they’re going to make me go live with uncle for good?’ Laurent asked regardless of what Auguste just told him.

Auguste's smiled had been sad then, while he ruffled Laurent’s hair and said ‘Probably’.

The night after that was, to this day, the worst in Laurent’s life. He didn’t unpack when he arrived at his uncle’s house. Laurent's room had no door. He decided he would get away even if that was the last thing he did and that much he was sure of.

His uncle said he was going to take a shower – and Laurent supposes he did. He walked without clothes from his room all the way to the bathroom, shamelessly crossing Laurent’s room on his way in a nonchalant way as though it wasn’t the single most disgusting thing Laurent has ever seen.

As soon as Laurent heard the water run, he jumped off his bedroom window. He climbed down the roof using the tiles.

The only thing Laurent took with him was a backpack full of things he stuffed in it in a hurry, the two hundred bucks he’s been saving for a new bike, the clothes he was wearing since the morning and the jacket Auguste undressed and put on Laurent’s shoulders right before Laurent left their home and got into their uncle’s car.

What kept Laurent from going back home was the knowledge he’d be putting Auguste in trouble. He just kept running.

It took almost all of Laurent’s money to get himself bus tickets from Arles to Chasteigne, from Charteigne to Allier, from Allier to Sicyon, from Sicyon to the countryside in Dice. It took the rest of it to find something to eat during those four and a half (nearly five) days on the run.

Then he was completely alone in this ranch and there was no sleeping with anyone anymore ever.

Damen was the one to ruin Laurent’s progress. Damen spoiled him with his company in bed. That warm huge body curled up against Laurent’s own and their fingers intertwined.

Laurent meant to talk to him. To break things up between them, thank him for all the kindness and all the help over the years. Tell him Laurent's saved enough money to start a new life somewhere else – which was partially true, at least. Laurent meant to leave. He did.

It was planned.

But Damen showed up in a great mood, all smiles, celebrating he was assigned the pro-bono case he was promised and he was so, so happy that Laurent couldn’t bring himself to spoil it. Besides, it could be their last time and Laurent wanted to spoil that even less. They could talk a day or two later.

So, when Laurent woke up dead in the night because he felt the sudden empty space in his bed, it was Damen’s fault not Laurent’s. And if it made Laurent’s chest ache more than it rationally should, Damen was to blame too.

“What are you doing?” Laurent heard himself sleepy and rougher than normal.

Damen had his back to Laurent, seated on the ground with a small pile of book to his right. “Did I wake you?”

“Yes,” Laurent hissed.

Damen chuckled. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Laurent fought back a smile, a yawn, his blushing and the twist in the pit of his stomach at the endearment. “What are you doing?” he repeated.

Damen looked over his shoulder to meet Laurent’s gaze. “I needed some water and almost knock these over,” he pointed at the books that had once been on Laurent’s table “Then I just... looked.”

“You’re going through my stuff.”

“Yes,” Damen replied, though it wasn’t a question “I’m sorry. I just wanted to see what you like to read and I,” he took a dreadful breath “I found this.”

Laurent blinked part of the sleepiness away. The small reading lamp that he had on his desk was lit and illuminating faintly the spot where Damen was. Laurent was able to identify the book Damen held – it had a deep scratch on the hard cover and most of its dark blue fainted leaving nothing but a greyish color left. The edges were a little ripped from rubbing and shaking in the backpack Laurent took with him all those years ago and being handled too many times over the course of the very lonely years that followed.

“What happened to your family?” Damen asked in the quiet.

Laurent sat up, more awake now than he should be at this hour. The red numbers of the clock showed a three, a two and an eight. Forcing himself to Damen’s side on the carpet, Laurent folded his legs under him; he also forced his words through gritted teeth “My parents died in a car crash when I was twelve years old,” he got the photo album from Damen’s hands and opened it “This is my mom,” he pointed “This is my dad.”

He shouldn’t be saying. He knew he shouldn’t be saying because he was about to leave. It wasn’t smart to be telling Damen personal things now.

“You take after your mother,” Damen said.

“I do,” he continued anyway “I was closer to her – my father was a complicated man. Or I was. These were taken right after I was born, so they’re not looking their best, but I promise, my mother was the most beautiful woman.”

“I think she looks beautiful in this one. she looks happy.”

This one was a picture of Hennike breastfeeding a new-born Laurent. She held him protectively, smiling down at his too-tiny frame; her hair sticking up in every direction, tied in a knot on the top of her head. Laurent thought she looked beautiful too.

“This one,” Laurent turned the page “They took the day I went to kindergarten for the first time. I cried the whole morning, that’s why my face is so red.”

Damen chuckled and pointed at the picture next to the one Laurent was showing. “And who is this?”

“This is my brother Auguste.” The picture showed a young boy on the verge of puberty. He had golden hair past his shoulders, marked like he just let it down; he was holding a soccer trophy over his head. His smile was giddy and there was a dirt stain on his cheek that matched the ones in his shorts and shirt. His right knee was bleeding.

Laurent had no recollection of that day. By the looks of it, Auguste couldn’t be older than thirteen and if that was the case then Laurent was no older than one. But the energy of the picture and the happiness in Auguste’s face made it feel familiar, like Laurent was there and knew exactly how Auguste’s laughter had sounded the moment the photo was taken.

“Did he die in the accident too?”

“No,” Laurent’s voice was thicker than before “We just lost touch,” when Damen said nothing at that, Laurent added “I ran away. From... my uncle. And him. From the way life was turning out. And we’ve never spoke again.”

Damen nodded. “You never told me how you end up here.”

Laurent really haven’t. He only ever told his story before once, to Egeria when she found him; it had been his device to convince her to let him stay and don’t give his location to the police that was, at that point, looking for him everywhere. It almost didn’t work. Egeria, bless her soul, actually tried to argue with Laurent that at least his brother deserved to know where he ran off to and that Auguste would be sick with worry by now but Laurent was too afraid of what it’d mean to tell Auguste what was happening.

Thinking back now Laurent realizes his desperation and naivety had kept him from seeing things for what they were; had he contacted Auguste like Egeria suggested, Laurent could’ve testified against his uncle, told everyone about his suspicious behavior and perhaps the very fact that he ran away in the first day in his uncle’s care would’ve been enough to convert the custody back to Auguste. Who knows.

Later, when he did try to find Auguste again a few years after, Laurent watched him from a distance, holding a woman’s hand and a baby in his arms, getting out of the house that had once been Laurent’s too. Laurent didn't try to approach. It was the last he saw of Auguste.

“I haven’t,” Laurent finally said; he shut the photo album with a ‘clap’ and placed it back on his table. He guided Damen to the bed and then, after a breath, he started to speak.

---

NEXT >

[TW: The regent insists in sleep in the same bed as Laurent and is creppy about it when Laurent declines. (paragraphs 4 and 5) Then there's the mention Laurent's uncle naked. Nothing happens, he just crosses the door to Laurent's room like that. (paragraph 11)It's all brushed over and I don't linger on that too much, but, you know, if that's an issue for you, that's what happens and feel free to read the other parts. I'm sorry in advance if any of that makes anyone feel uncomfortable.]

Read on AO3

[the-magic-lava-lamp]

Enjoy Yourself (It’s Later Than You Think)

Summary: (Title based on THIS song) ! Val looked into the rear-view mirror and saw that the sky was nearly drained of all brightness. It had surely been an exhausting day. She was surprised Jane hadn’t faded off during the drive to their next motel, not even once and they’d done a lot of running around--

The sound of Jane slipping in her sleep and falling onto the car door ledge thumped in Val’s ear. 

(Sequel to ‘Too Busy Thinking About My Baby’!)

Ships: ValJane 

Word Count: 5,783

Valkyrie laid back on the front car seats as Jane hovered above her, sitting on the edge of the car door. 

Val closed one of his eyes so the sun was behind Jane’s head instead of shining down to worsen her vision. She rolled her toothpick to the other side of her mouth and whistled past the small gap. 

They had about ten minutes to kill before they'd have to move to keep the trip on schedule. A small shiver seemed to pass through Jane as she pulled at her shirt. Val lifted the toothpick from her lips and put her elbow next to her on the seat, hand put through his steering wheel. She squinted one open eye and read the patch sewn into her t-shirt. Just above her heart read 'The answers are out there!' .

"Val, take that out of your mouth before you swallow it." Came Jane’s voice, followed by a soft kick to the bottom of Val’s shoe that was only half on. She rolled her eyes and sat up so that he was between Jane’s legs, arm resting on her thigh. 

Jane’s eyebrow lifted but gladly accepted the curious little kiss Val offered when she removed the stick. Decidedly, Jane pecked her girl’s cheek when she glanced off towards the rest area. “Baby, believe me-” She spoke softly and planted a few more kisses “This trip is going to be perfect.” That time she just nuzzled her nose against her neck. 

Jane pulled up to allow Val a look at her. The sudden movement made the sunglasses, which had been resting on her head, fall over her eyes and slip down the slope of her nose. 

Val glowed and pushed them up for her with an easy-going bliss. “Go pee. I’ll drive the car up to the sidewalk and meet you on the way out.” She chuckled, patting Jane’s knee before the girl hopped off the car. 

: : : : : Jane was just passing the cute little bushes outside of the building when the familiar honk of Val's car pulled her out of her thoughts.

Val had one outstretched arm lounging on the wheel, that toothpick hung from her sideways smile again. "You goin' my way doll?" She smirked as some kind of vaguely vintage voice fell from her lips. 

Jane strolled over, gripping a nearby sign pole and twirling around it. Hues of the rising sun tinted her cheeks. "Is there any other way to go, darling?" She giggled and galloped over. Flinging her purse inside first than herself, jumping over the door. 

Reaching into her bag, Jane grabbed the long thin summer scarf Val had bought her. It was intended to help her live-out some strange fantasy she’d had as a young teen, involving up-and-leaving home & traveling in a convertible car with it blowing in the wind...Man, Val adored her. 

Val tilted her chin down and allowed her suns-glasses to fall, pursing her lips. “Let’s roll, baby.” 

Jane pointed her finger towards the open road and laughed madly. 

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Valkyrie had planned a small road-trip back to New Mexico for the couples one-year anniversary. Which, was a very big deal in Val’s opinion. 

The two of them had basically been stuck together since they’d begun dating but funny enough, they never really took themselves too seriously. It was more because of Val’s hesitation of commitment, if anything. But Jane was happy to take things slowly too. They were girlfriends. They were 100% exclusive. But they pretty much kept away from serious talks. Val felt a little guilty but at the same time...proud her feelings were a part of a true relationship. 

Jane was curled up against the door wearing Val’s hoodie as the orange sky faded to deep purples. The sleeves were pulled over her hands & she kept drifting in-and-out of sleep. 

“Wake up, sprite.” Val gently reached over and shook her knee, listening once again to the soft sighs which escaped her girlfriend’s lips when she woke up. “Don’t leave me on my own.” 

Jane sat up and grinned. “Sorry.” She rubbed her eyes and moved to take her cell which was hooked up to the radio. “I had a dream that I was psychic. I kinda wanted to know where it was going.” She stretched and made herself comfortable again. 

Val smirked. “Oh yeah? What did dream Jane see in her visions?” 

The girl shrugged and took a sip of Val’s coffee. She opened her mouth like she was about to answer but blinked up towards the sky. “Was that lightning or did I just rub my eyes too hard?” She scrunched her nose. 

Val turned and caught a quick glimpse of another bolt. Her answer was to roll up the roof and close all the windows. Just in time. 

The violet sky thundered above them poured down hard drops of rain which pounded against the car. Jane giggled as the air conditioning blew her hair back with that stale breeze. 

She pulled herself up in her seat to get a better view from Val’s window. Another bolt crashed and seemed to crackle in the shine of Jane’s watchful eyes when it reflected in the brown. 

“Y’know, I wanted to be a storm-chaser when I was little.” Val stole a quick glance at the woman and gripped tightly on the wheel. 

“Me too.” Jane fell back into a relaxed position and grinned like she was in the presence of something truly magical. “It probably started with weather; I was fascinated by the natural elements we lived our lives around-”

Val smirked. “But it wasn’t enough. Sky wasn’t the limit for you, baby.” 

Jane gently pinched her arm. “I’m who I am today because as a child...I just decided science was what interested me most.” She paused and stared out the windshield. “I just liked space and now...” She shrugged. “Isn’t that crazy?” 

“Crazy, yes.” Val nodded, turning the car into the small parking lot of a gas station. “But believable.” She smirked and turned the car off. “You get where you’re going when you work hard for it, Jane.” 

Jane shrugged. “You’d know.” She said with earnest pride and brushed a curl away from Val’s eyes before planting a small kiss on her cheek. She admired her girlfriends work with an organization which helped to match people with possible career options, internships etc. Val really enjoyed working with people & guiding them in their search for jobs they were actually passionate about. 

Plus, Val was one hell of a fighter in her spare time too. She consistently trained at the gym and was the swiftest, smoothest...warrior (that was the best word for it) Jane had ever seen. 

Val parked the car and slowly climbed out, watching Jane hop out to look up into the storm. Heavy raindrops fell down upon them & soaked through the comfy outfits they’d been wearing but neither cared. 

“Buy me a crappy gas station hot-dog?” Val made a puppy dog face even though Jane was sure to agree. 

She nodded & made a ‘come here’ gesture before swirling on her heels. 

                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“A toast!” Val raised her body, legs now curled under her thighs. Behind her, the wind blew her curls around and annoyingly through the large-ish earrings she loved so much. 

The old fashioned lawn flamingo shapes were covered by her hair & missing great opportunities to catch the light. The florescent plastic pieces were always a hit. 

She raised her delicate paper cup filled with the tea they were splitting. They’d picked it up a couple stops ago when they were too lazy to go back for their forgotten credit cards. So they’d paid outta pocket which afforded just one can.  

Jane whistled and raised her own tiny cup from the holder as she turned into their desired motel. ‘The Pink Moon’ 

“To...?” 

“To us!” Val tapped the cups as they pulled into the parking spot. When it came to a stop, she wiggled around until she was successfully unbuckled and sitting criss-cross. She pushed some hair away from her eye and swallowed. “Happy first anniversary, Jane.” 

Her girlfriend grinned, downing the small drink with her. “Happy first anniversary, honey.” She swallowed and pushed forward for a kiss which would be on both of their minds for a long time after. 

Val blushed and rolled her shoulders back to stretch out a little when he feet hit the pavement. The sun light trailed down Val’s skin and comforted her. 

The sidewalk was cracked and the dirt bled through with small dead flowers pressed down like veins, quietly Jane was muttering the lyrics of a song that would be plugged into both of their brains when they tried to sleep that night. 

She wondered if ‘The Pink Moon’ had comfortable beds. She grabbed her bag and pulled it over her shoulder. As Val squinted in front of herself, looking through the rose tinted filter of Jane’s sunglasses, her hands dampened. 

Naturally, both girls stopped to take in the location before collecting their key. Just searching for little things to look at. The round sunglasses dipped to the tip of Val’s nose as a tall dusted orange bus plowed down the street. 

Jane whistled again, turning her chin to Val with a sly smile. “You got a smile so bright, You know you could have been a candle...” She raised the volume of her previous singing.

Val pursed her lips. “Is that supposed to be good?” She teased but swept Jane’s hand up in her’s for the girl to twist under. She spun Jane to her chest and they bobbled in their spot before finally breaking & walking to the office. 

: : : : : : : : : : Jane watched her girl prepare little drinks for their enjoyment which was actually quite interesting. Val moved with such rhythm and...joy. The girl was just so full of life. She was fresh from the shower and wearing perhaps the comfiest looking robe in the world. 

When she was finished, Val launched herself strategically on the bed (not spilling a drop of their drinks) and held one under Jane’s nose.

Val’s dark hair dripped water down in a slinky path against her dewy skin, tired droplets paused and waited as flybys sped down to collide against them. Cold air breezed from Jane’s mouth and settled into the air as she admired her. 

Val took a deep breath, eyes fluttering closed with satisfaction as the heat in her chest returned. She brought her knees up as her back curved, making her body a true reflection of her current state. Tiny pins and needles poked from under the bottoms of her feet, she wiggled her toes. But after a few seconds, she let them be. Sometimes it was a little euphoric to feel that little vibration of sleeping limbs.

She turned to her girlfriend, confused at the large amount of attention she was giving her. She chuckled. “What’s up, sprite?”

“I wanna eat the eat the mixed nuts we bought and watch dumb TV with you. Right now.” She surprised herself with a tiny giggle and pulled the remote towards her. 

Val pulled the bag over and dropped the can into her lap, pulling the lid open and offering Jane the first grab. 

: : : : : : : : : :

The drips of coal black mascara (that had not so long ago dripped down her cheeks) was tightening against Jane’s skin. The dark river was now drying on the canvas of her face with astoundingly beautiful blue reflections from the cut of her fake crystal ring. As she held the thing just over her face to admire her own handy kaleidoscope, Jane felt her body tingle from the afterglow of their night spent together.

Val reached over with her thumbs and rubbed at Jane’s runny makeup. 

“It’s gross. I sweat way too much.” Jane helplessly giggled and tried to rub it off herself...with Val’s sleeve. But she broke off to enjoy the nice feeling coming over her.

Starting from her curled toes, the tickling pleasure traveled her body through electrifying shivers. She let her head fall back to sigh towards the ceiling before she attempted to calm the natural reaction down. Val obviously took amusement from the sight. She crawled to the side of the bed, the silky sheets pooled at her hips while a smile instinctively came across her face.

“Tired?” She asked, lazily resting her chin on her palm. 

Jane nodded, squishing down on her pillow. “But pass the can first?” She made a grabby gesture towards the mixed nuts on the night stand behind Val. 

Val cuddled up next to her as she crunched down a pistachio, absolutely melting Jane’s heart.

                           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What’s there to do in Indianapolis?” Val scrunched up her nose and threw her arm around Jane, who was trying to read one of the pamphlets she’d swiped. Their hair blew in the wind and smacked against them in uncomfortable swirls. 

“Ummm-” Jane bit into her cheek. “Watch competitive driving?” She nodded, rolling her eyes. Val hummed and sat her chin onto her girlfriend’s shoulder.

“You want to see some driving, don’t you?” Jane giggled and flipped the pamphlet, tucking it back into her back pocket. “There’s fifteen dollar admission today to see some practicing on the track.” She squinted towards the sun, already a master of information. 

“You wanna spend the day in the sun, listening to loud cars?” Val grinned, eager just from saying the words. Jane winked and took her hand. 

“Sure thing, baby!” She swung their grip between them, feeling their palms slide from slick sweat. 

: : : : : : : : : :

The sun was forgiving to them that afternoon. Glittering yellow and orange hued beams bled down from the sky & dusted their sun-burnt shoulders. 

Jane’s slender fingers traced thin lines up and down Val’s legs. Rubbing the pads of her fingers over the budding stubble. It was mostly a subconscious act, her mind was focused on the track in front of them. Her hair fell into her face as the speeding car went round the corner another time. 

The grassy hill was the perfect spot for them. They cuddled together at one of the least populated spots to mindlessly enjoy the practiced speeding & enjoy the warm summer day outdoors. Crawling across their spread of a new blanket, Val gripped her girlfriend’s non-dominant hand & took the cup of soda. She sipped at it every now and then just to get the feeling of a sour bite at her lips.

With that moment’s satisfaction, she decided to tune back into full life where Jane was taking down some notes about one of her many projects in a spare notebook she kept on hand. The pad was balanced atop Val’s legs where it occasionally wobbled.

Jane was under the shade of a new hat with the number of a driver they’d randomly chosen to be their favorite. She peeked a look to her side to admire the lovely company she was sharing. 

Another car zoomed past as Val blew a whistle of relief from her lips. The sunlight was bouncing off the crevices of her skin, naturally she leaned her neck back so it could dust across her cheeks. When the music playing suddenly blasted louder, she was mouthing the words slowly and drawing them out thoughtfully. The moment was unspoiled and sweet, the wind was blowing in a few small bursts that curled her baby hairs to her temple.

“I love you.” Dropping her pen, Jane spoke without really thinking while it rolled down the paper and onto the blanket.

Val snapped her head over and looked at her with an...unreadable expression. Not bad but...not exactly perfect either. 

“Mmmm.” Jane pursed her lips and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I just made this day weird.” Her hair whipped around as she shuffled to get her stuff into her purse. 

“No.” 

Both girls paused when Val sat up to grab Jane’s wrist. They stared down at the grip just so they wouldn’t have to make eye contact. “Jane...I’m sorry. I’m just not very good at this.” She frowned. 

Ever the impressive, Jane playfully twisted out of the grasp flawlessly and shrugged without a care in the world. Though she cared very, very deeply. “You don’t have to say it back if you’re not ready.” 

Val leaned forward and pressed their lips together, gently but with enough passion to draw Jane’s hands to caress her cheeks. After a few seconds, they pulled apart and Val looked about ready to pop with anxiety. Her eyes, wide & adoring. 

“That’s good with me, baby.” Jane nodded and happily snuggled under her girlfriend’s arm. 

“Are you sure?” Val let some of her walls come down, feeling vulnerable and guilty. Jane didn’t like her feeling that way when there was absolutely no need for it. 

She grabbed her cheeks again. “One-Hundred percent. I know how you feel.” They smiled at each other for a few minutes before Jane rubbed their noses together and fell back onto the blanket.

: : : : : : : : : :

The end of the day was creeping up on Val as she turned the car down another street. The sun was setting, burning the rest of the afternoon oil out and she had sweat sticking to her forehead. 

Val looked into the rear-view mirror and saw that the sky was nearly drained of all brightness. It had surely been an exhausting day. She was surprised Jane hadn’t faded off during the drive to their next motel, not even once and they’d done a lot of running around--

The sound of Jane slipping in her sleep and falling onto the car door ledge thumped in Val’s ear. 

She laughed and picked up the pace just a touch while the sun fell perfectly align with the curve of their windshield. She squinted and used a spare hand to playfully rub the side of her girl’s head. Ruffling her hair, she turned the wheel onto the next street after what felt like an eternity.

‘The Jewel Cowboy’ stood at the end of the empty street with a friendly looking neon moon towering above it. Inside lived the outline of a neighborly cowboy who’s lasso buzzed towards the entrance. 

“C’mon sprite.” Val slowly came to a park and gently unbuckled herself and then her girlfriend who was now pretending to still be asleep. 

Her eagerness to get inside to relax was pulling some speed out of her quick fingers. Jane’s lovely eyes fluttered open as sweat dripped down her temple. The ache to just sit down to eat was immense. So when her girl finally hopped out to follow her, Val breathed in and out slowly to really enjoy the relief of rest.

After collecting their key, the girls headed straight for their room. 

The motel carpet beneath her cradled her aching feet and soothed any pain. It had been non-stop walking and running all day and she was dead tired. Cracking her neck gently, in a way Jane had advised her against many times, she sat down on the bed.

“The sun is sinking in the west,The cattle go down to the stream. The redwing settles in the nest. It's time for a cowboy to dream--” 

Jane strolled around their fun little room, admiring the framed photos of cowboys & sprinting horses. She sang to herself in that soft voice which Val had come to adore. “I love this Motel, by the way.” She giggled and flung herself onto the bed. 

“I know. It’s incredible.” Val shifted so that Jane could climb into her lap. They admired each other with the same glow in their eyes, starlight breaking in through the window. Val gently ran a hand through the satin of Jane’s hair and laid it to rest on the back of her neck. 

Jane hummed and reached out to tap Val’s nose with her finger. “What time do we have to wake-up, again?” 

“Five a.m.” Val scrunched up her nose with an apologetic expression. “It’s eleven hours to Oklahoma City, our next stop.” A tremble passed through her when Jane sleepily leaned forward and put her head on her shoulder. 

She hugged her close and found that it was easier to allow her emotions to take over when Jane wasn’t looking directly at her. 

She thought...maybe she could say it now...

Her mouth opened but closed once she realized...she wanted to say it while admiring Jane’s beautifully curious face. If she wasn’t ready to admit her love to her girlfriend’s face, than saying it over her shoulder was not going to happen just because it was easier. 

                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All around them small-town businesses stretched out until the view fell over the edge of the horizon. The road looked as if it would do the same if they just kept driving. 

“Sandman.” Val squinted and mumbled to herself, noticing Jane’s confused look instantly after. She carefully pointed to the sign they were about to pass. 

Jane blinked towards it. 

‘Sandman Music Fest. Tonight & Tomorrow. Been here all along. Bring your friends!’ 

She smiled and rubbed her palms down her jean-clad thighs. “Oklahoma city is going to have to wait.” 

Val whistled and raised her right hand, pumping it into the open, dusty air. 

: : : : : : : : : : 

Jane had heard herself described as ‘fatally-focused’ from an ex...far too set on her career in a way which pushed people away. Quite the jewel of a comment made her feel dull and dim. She supposed that may have been true for a while. But she wouldn’t have called it ‘fatal’. Maybe just ‘successfully focused’. 

She smiled to herself as music poured from the stage in front of her. 

It propelled her into her dream career & brought her to a meeting a girl with equal determination and a bright personality. Val took everything in stride, somehow finding beauty in everything. 

Her childlike eyes would brighten at the simple chance to just speak. And there she stood, under the low hanging sun with grass stains painted all down her legs, talking. Any energy she’d had, had up and left Jane a little over an hour and a half ago. 

But something about her girlfriend just made everything something you wouldn’t dare to miss. 

The sky was a fading orange color & rain was just beginning to fall. Jane was yawning more than she was talking. But a simple look to Val with that fire in her eyes mysteriously left her thirsty for more home-town music.

Some band was playing a song about a rambler finally coming home to the place where they belong & Jane swept herself under Val’s arm. They didn’t know the words to the local songs but both girls sang along anyway. Swaying to each tune and laughing the words out with an odd passion. 

The hoops Val wore, which were shaped like suns, bounced as she tried to guide her girlfriend in one of the few dances she knew. In a flurry mixture of soft and bright colors, Val and Jane were quite literally frolicking through the grassy field of the Fest. 

The insides of their shoes were beginning to slosh around with puddles of water which only lead them to the decision to kick them off. Jane was mid-spin when she nearly fell over. Droplets of rain flung from each strand of her light hair and pelted against Val’s hot skin. It only urged her on. Never in her life had Jane been so carelessly into having fun. 

But in the year she’d grown extremely close to Val, things within her were changing. 

Val heaved her heavy-weighted shoes off and felt the earth between her toes. Mud squished just under her heels. She tilted her chin to the sky and smiled with nuanced disgust before taking off (shoes now in her hands) after her girl who was now running towards the tables. 

Their laughter carried through the air with distinct pleasure. Jane glided across the huge lawn with a smile anyone could easily become obsessed with. Val partly envied the grace in which Jane moved with. It came naturally to her whereas that was something she had never mastered. 

The calm surrender it took to move so fluidly was a trait lost on herself. But maybe today was different because her heart was beating in time with Jane’s. 

“What happened to your shoes?” Jane chuckled as Val came to a stop in front of her, sitting on one of the benches. 

Val held them up, the bottom of the right was torn up due to the cheapness and the left just gave her blisters. She plopped them down on the wood table and sat across Jane. Stretching her legs to rest on the bench next to Jane and wiggling her toes. 

“Are you having a good time?” She asked, a little mischievously. 

Jane glanced over from the stage where her eyes had previously rested and tilted her head. Amusement was clear in her expression. “The best time.” She shrugged with a tiny bashful grin. “I’m gonna call Bruce to see if he’s had any problems apartment sitting for me.” 

She pulled out her phone as a young woman on stage began her own rendition of Selena’s ‘La Carcacha’. 

Val tuned out of the phone conversation, just fine with watching Jane’s expressions and movements. Her eyes were wide and bobbing up & down as she nodded along to whatever it was Bruce was saying. And then she simply smiled, pushing hair behind her ear.

: : : : : : : : : :

Val cuddled up inside Jane’s flannel shirt and watched her girlfriend do the same in the sweatshirt she’d borrowed from her. The girls were standing under the shade of a slanted road-sign with their comically large map clenched in each of their fists.

After around 18 + hours, they’d made it to New Mexico and made it their mission to explore all the hot-spots the state had to offer. 

“I’m hungry. Are you hungry?” 

Val pursed her lips. “Yeah, we should probably eat. But do you want something like breakfast or lunch cause it’s that weird in-between time-?” 

Both girls paused as an older gentleman passed by, not paying them any mind. He walked between them without even looking up but what made the girls smile was the music pouring loudly from his large headphones...

"I ain't gonna act politically correct. I only want to have a good time. The best thing about being a woman is the prerogative to have a little fun-”

Jane watched him walk off, not a care in his world, with the happiest grin. Val chuckled and held out her palm which was clasped in mere seconds. 

They walked off in a random direction in search of some kind of diner. 

: : : : :

The one they ended up inside was charming and indeed tiny. 

The television in the corner was running some old episodes of ‘The Golden Girls’ and Jane was lazily sipping her coffee while occasionally explaining why certain lines were funny. Val, who’d never seen the show in her life, kept herself busy by pressing soft kisses to her warm cheek. 

“Sweetheart?” Jane mumbled into her drink and wiggled happily as Val hummed in her ear. “Try my coffee, it’s the best cup I have ever had in my life.” 

Val allowed her to hold it to her lips and swallowed a nice steamy gulp as their fellow customers loudly enjoyed their conversations. Jane watched her drink and felt a tug in her chest as she let her chin rest on her shoulder. “You’re my greatest discovery.” She mumbled into the fabric of Val’s shirt as the girl set down the mug.

Val raised her brows with amusement and smirked. 

“I’ve dedicated my life to my research and discovered some amazing things, Val-”

“Show-off.” Val teased and Jane pinched her arm. “Just keeping you humble, Honey.” 

Jane kissed her briefly on the cheek. “All I’m saying is...meeting you was the greatest discovery of my life.” She leaned against Val as her arm laid across her shoulders. 

Val tried to collect her thoughts on that beautiful sentiment and found it to be rather difficult. The words for a response were somehow not enough...so she wrapped both arms around Jane and squeezed, nuzzling her head into her shoulder. “More than words, Jane. More than fucking words, you know?” She mumbled. 

Jane hummed. “Yeah baby, I know.” She giggled.

: : : : : : : : : :

Two days later, Jane was relaxing on the balcony area of their next motel suite as Val sat atop the railing. Her legs swayed back and forth without a care in the world while she enjoyed the sights and sounds of harmonious joy from the other guests in the pool. 

The light was golden with a dusting on pink as it laid over them & warmed their skin. There were moments where the woman felt like she may never be given something so peaceful as this scene again but...looking back at Jane (subconsciously making faces at her open novel) she smiled. 

The neighboring door flying open almost made Val fall forward. 

“Hey. Anyone up for a round of volleyball? I’m so bored that I accidentally zoned out for like an hour. So I need to get outta my room.” Came a cheerful woman as she stuck her head out of her room with the sport-ball in her hand. 

Jane looked up and smiled. 

“Yes please!” Val turned and hoped off the railing and glided over towards Jane. “My girlfriend would love to watch me play volleyball.” She ruffled Jane’s hair as she teased her. 

The woman chuckled, shutting her door behind her. “You two are cute.” She stuck her hand out. “I’m Sif, by the way.” Both Jane & Val shook her hand and introduced themselves. 

And Val ended up being right....

When the girls went downstairs to the court just outside, Jane pulled up a deck chair to the edge of the sand to watch her girlfriend serve & flawlessly dive for the ball. Her book completely forgotten in her lap.

: : : : : : : : : :

Elephant Butte Reservoir.

A place for great swimming, water-skiing, boating, with plenty of soft sand to stretch out on.

Val had planned on visiting the not so secret beach from the beginning of their New Mexico trip. Considering Jane had expressed interest in the spot but never had the chance to go on her own when she lived in the state. 

The whole State Park was just about the most gorgeous way to spend a sunny summer day. The girls walked the path down to the beach and felt the sand between their toes. 

From across Jane was the young face of her lovely companion in the sun and nothing could be better. Val waved her hand around her face to feel just a little bit of a teasing cool breeze. She sighed pleasantly, audibly relaxed with how the day was going which was no grand surprise. It had been perfect so far. 

Val began to adjust and re-adjust their towel in the nicest way to avoid too much of an annoying glare from the sun. But Jane guessed it was no use because the girl just continued to gradually grow more and more annoyed while the towel blew in the wind. 

She was no stranger to huffing and puffing about minor issues herself, however, her girl just seemed plain tired of it like a woman who’d been on the road for days stressing over making the perfect trip. The sunlight coated her face with a sharp orange stripe that went across her cheeks. Jane just knew it had to be undoubtedly warm and she envied the feeling of a sun fever.

After a few moments of what Jane assumed was either contemplation or disassociation, Val handed the towel over to Jane to lay over the sand instead. Which took a few more minutes. 

The waves collided with the sand and washed up to the tips of their toes. Val reflected on the landscape while creeping her hand over to Jane’s. Cupping them together eased her into complete peace. It’s rare for something to feel so right but...they did. 

The words finally came naturally to the tip of Val’s tongue with no hesitation. Why waste anymore time holding back her feelings? Time sure as hell goes by...

The waves spilled over her feet once more & as quick as a wink, they retreated back. 

“Hey sprite?” 

Jane turned and let her sunglasses slip down to the tip of her nose, the summer color scheme looking unbelievably good on her. “Hey Val?” She grinned. 

“I love you.” Val couldn’t believe how gentle & nervous she sounded. Which was ridiculous considering Jane had already voiced her love. 

Jane was overcome with a blushed grin which was as vibrant as the sunset they’d watch last night. She attempted to hide behind her hands as she happy giggled. “I know.” She reached over to tenderly rub down Val’s thigh. “And I love you too.” 

Val smashed their lips together. 

: : : : : : : : : : After the New Mexico Road-Trip, home seemed so boring to Val. But she did enjoy following Jane into her apartment. The girl was checking her mail and mumbling ‘Please Mr. Postman’ under her breath. 

They hopped up the stairs for the first time in a long time and opened her door to see...Thor, Bruce, Darcy & Loki all in various seats watching ‘Jurassic Park’. 

Jane set aside her suitcase and smirked. “You people don’t live here.” She ruffled Loki’s hair as she past him just to annoy the shit outta him. 

Val did the same to Bruce but more as a ‘Hello’ to her little buddy than an annoyance. 

“Neither does she.” Loki pursed his lips and pointed his hand towards Val with elegant grace. Darcy chuckled and threw a handful of popcorn into her mouth. 

“That reminds me, Jane. Want to change that?” 

Childishly, Darcy and Thor erupted in ‘ooooh’s of interest while Jane nearly tripped over the leg of a side-table. Val could see a curious look coming from Bruce who always seemed to understand her in the oddest ways. She shot a smile back to him. It was to reassure that she was ready for the kind of commitment that Bruce also feared sometimes in his own relationship. 

Jane fumbled for words for a solid few seconds. “Hell yeah!” She chuckled and threw her arms around her girlfriend’s neck. 

The happy couple was rewarded with happy shouts from Thor & Bruce, disinterested clapping from Loki & Darcy’s handful of popcorn being whipped at them like it was confetti or something. 

Jane never felt more lucky in her life. She couldn’t believe someone as beautiful, strong & downright cool as Val was in love with her. 

Val was also sure she was the luckiest girl in the world as she squeezed Jane to her body.