#this was so spur of the moment. im so busy right now i dont have time to be analysing laios touden

[vadlings]

Represention of Autistic Frustration in Laios Dungeon Meshi

Like many other autistic people, I related strongly to Laios Touden while reading Dungeon Meshi. This post isn't going to spend time disputing whether he displays autistic traits or not—while I could do that, I want to focus on why specifically his portrayal struck a chord with me in a way the writing of most other autistic-coded characters has not.

Disclaimer: as the above suggests, this post is strongly informed by my own experiences as an autistic person, as well as the experiences of my neurodivergent friends with whom I have spoken about this subject. I want to clarify that in no way am I asserting my personal experience to be some Universal Autistic Experience. This post is about why Laios' character feels distinct and significant to me in regard to autistic representation, and while I'm at it, I do feel that I have interesting things to say about autistic representation in media generally. This also got a bit long, so I'm sticking it under a read more. Spoilers for up to the end of chapter 88 below.

The thing that stands out most to me in regard to Laios' characterisation is the open anger he displays when someone points out his inability to read other people. This comes up prominently in his interactions with "Shuro" (Toshiro Nakamoto):

The frustration pictured above (Laios continuing to physically tussle with Toshiro, using crude language toward him) becomes even more notable when you remember that this is Laios, who, outside of these interactions, is not easily fazed and often exists as a lighthearted contrast to the rest of the cast. Then we get to Laios' nightmare.

In Falin's words: "Nightmares love emotional wounds. Wounds you hold in your heart. Things that give you stress, or things that were traumatic for you. They aggravate memories like that and cause the dreamer to have terrible dreams." (chapter 42, page 10.) (damn. i'm properly citing for this post and everything.)

Thus, Laios' nightmare establishes an important fact: even if he is unable to recognise social blunders while he's making them, he's at least subconsciously aware that other people operate on a different wavelength to him, and that he's an outsider in many of his social circles (both past and present). His dream-father's disparaging words stress the impact this has had upon his ability to live up to the expectations set out for him, and we also get a panel of kids who smirk at him (presumably former bullies to some degree). Toshiro's appearance only hammers home how much Laios is still both humiliated and angered by his misunderstanding of their relationship.

I've thought a lot about anger as concomitant to the autistic experience. When autistic representation portrays ostracization, it's generally from an angle of the autistic character being upset at how conforming to neurotypical norms doesn't come easily to them; as a result, they express a desire to 'get better' at meeting neurotypical standards, a desire to become more 'normal' (whether the writing implies this is a good thing or not). In contrast, not once does Laios go, "I need to perform better in my social interactions, and try to care less about monsters, because that's what other people find weird." His frustration is directed outward rather than inward, and as a result, it's the people around him who are framed as nonsensical.

The Winged Lion starts delineating Laios' anger, and Laios' reaction is to think to himself, "It can sense all my thoughts, huh?" (chapter 88, page 16.) This is the scene that really resonated with me. I'm not saying I have never felt the desire to conform to neurotypical norms that is borne from insecurity, but primarily, I know that I don't want to work toward becoming 'normal'—I don't want to change myself for people who follow rules I find nonsensical. It's the difference between, "Oh god, why can't I get it," and, "WHY CAN'T YOU GET IT?" (phrasing here courtesy of my friend Miles @dogwoodbite). And for me personally, Dungeon Meshi is the first time I've seen this frustration and the resultant voluntary isolation from other people portrayed in media so candidly. Laios' anger is not downplayed or written to be easily palatable, either.

The culmination of Laios' frustrations in this scene wherein we learn that Laios has fantasised about "a pack of monsters attacking a village" drives home just how alienated he really feels. I need not go into his wish to become a monster himself, redolent of how many autistic people identify/have identified with non-humans to some degree as a result of a percieved disconnect from society (when I was younger, I wanted to be a robot. I still kind of do.)

Obviously, wishing death upon other people is a weighty thing, but the unfiltered nature of this page is what deeply resonated with me. The Winged Lion is laying Laios' deepest and most transgressive desires bare, and they are desires that are a product of lifelong ostracization by others (whether intentional or unintentional). This is the brand of anger I'm familiar with, and that my neurodivergent friends express being familiar with, but that I haven't seen portrayed in writing so explicitly before—in fact, it surprised me because most well-meaning autistic representation I've experienced veers toward infantilisation in trying make the autistic character's struggles easy for neurotypicals to sympathise with.

Let's also not neglect the symbolism inherent to Laios' daydream. "A pack of monsters attacking a village". Functionally, monsters are Laios' special interest—he percieves everything first and foremost through his passion for monsters. His daydream of monsters attacking—killing—humans, is fundamentally a daydream of the world he understands (monsters) overthrowing the world that is so illogical to him, that has repeatedly shunned him (other people). I joked to my friends that it's an autistic power fantasy, and it actually sort of is. And in it, his identity is aligned with that of the monsters, while his anger manifests in a palpable dissociation from the rest of humanity. This is one manga page. It's brief. It's also very, very raw to me. I think about it often.

To conclude, I love Laios Dungeon Meshi. This portrayal of open frustration in an autistic character meant a lot to me, and I hope I've sufficiently outlined why. Also, feel free to recommend media with autistic representation in the notes if you've read this far—I would really like to see if there is more of this nature. Thank you for reading. I'm very tired and should probably sleep now.

[shaunamilfman]

Perv Shauna this, Perv Lottie that. Where is my depraved girl twink representation?

Jackie runs inside her bedroom, slamming the door shut and backing herself against it. She was breathing hard, had she run home? She really didn’t even process getting back to her house, she had tunnel vision. When Jackie finally caught her breath, she slid down the floor to a sitting position, took off her backpack and pulled a sweatshirt that’s all too familiar to her, out of her bag. She clutched the hoodie in both hands, bringing the soft material up to her face, and inhaling your scent.

The truth is, you didn’t really know she had your sweatshirt. Jackie had sat behind you in 10th period History for over half the year now, she was *just* starting to question her sexuality at the beginning of the year, and then along came you. She was constantly smelling your cologne, watching your back and arm muscles flex through your t-shirts, getting an occasional hand graze as you pass the worksheets to her, and Jackie just wasn’t supposed to fall in love? She latched onto you, to an obsessive degree. Desperately trying to refrain from threading her fingers through your hair, drooling as you groan in pleasure when you stretch your back, hearing you speak to friends in the class and pretending all that fondness in your tone was directed at her.

So that day, when she noticed you had accidentally left your favorite sweatshirt behind in class, on the back of your chair right in front of Jackie, she realized she had two options. One, to run the sweatshirt to you before you went to practice, maybe get a chance to have a nice but brief chat, where you’d thank her for making sure your favorite sweatshirt made it back to you. Or option two, take the sweatshirt and run.

And that’s just what she did, she acted on impulse, and now she has something of yours. She has something of yours that’s concrete, something that will make her fantasies more realistic. Because imagining you on top of her, saying and doing all of those sinful things she thinks about, late, late at night, feels all the more genuine if she can smell you and feel your sweatshirt. She could clutch at it, while she touched herself and pretend it was your hands that knew her so well. The smell of your cologne on the hoodie spurred her on to slip a hand into her pants, and begin to play with herself. Her theft had left her turned on since the moment she left the classroom, stuffing your clothing into her bag, all the while thinking of all that she could do with it. She should be ashamed of how wet she was, if she were in the right of mind she probably would be, but she was being driven by the extreme want you produce in her. She muses to herself that you’d probably love the sound of your name on her lips, she tests it out, calling your name quietly to the empty room, hoping she could manifest you n the middle of her room, feeling just as depraved as she was. Jackie touched herself with a torturously slow pace, the way she imagined it, you always took your time with her, no matter how much she pleaded with you. The way you’d pull every “please” from her until she was crying in desperation. Her eyes are rolling back in pleasure as she brings your sweatshirt up to her face and drowns in the ghost of you that haunts the piece of fabric. She’s not even halfway through her favorite fantasy of you before she’s closing her eyes, and finishing with a pathetic moan that’s muffled by the hoodie. Once Jackie is brought back to planet earth, there is only one thing she’s absolutely certain of; You are never seeing this sweatshirt again.

got way too busy to actually answer this but wowwwwwww. im fucking speechless bro honestly. once again i dont think you need to put perv in front of jackie 🤔. i think it's just implied

something about jackie developing a pavlovian response to your cologne after getting off with your sweatshirt all the time. she's sitting behind you in class and is so turned on just from the smell of you. jackie teasing herself silly every night imagining you doing it for her?? she always imagines you so slow and even regardless of how much she begs for it, as if you don't care how much she enjoys it. something about you just touching her however you want really gets her going. jackie getting frustrated with how quickly she's finishing as she breathes in your hoodie so she keeps going with that same slow pace, writhing against her own hand as it gets to be too much. but she just imagines the way you'd keep going even as she begged you to stop. she's so careful not to get her tears on the hoodie, not wanting it to stop smelling like you.

thinking about working on a group project with jackie and she's practically shaking as you sit on her bed talking about the blank check or some shit. "so what do you think?" and jackies just frantically nodding along because she's long gone. finding your hoodie underneath her pillow while she's ran off to the bathroom...

god that was so good broooooooo. holy shit

[moonshynecybin]

Can't decide on a specific scene but i'll take anything you have to say about i'll meet judgement by the hounds bc at this point i have re-read it so many times ...

the thing about ill meet judgement by the hounds is that literally no concrete planning went into writing that thing. i was up against a deadline for a grad school assignment i was procrastinating like NOBODY'S BUSINESS had two panic attacks that week (unrelated to school!!) and then flew to bath with my roommate spur of the moment. posted that ch2 late at night zooted on my anxiety meds and and woke up to some LOVELY messages that i read on a bus when i was pulling away from the airport. insane experience. i didnt even want to give it a chapter two right away i was like IM BUSY. and then i wrote it immediately.

BUT to actually talk about the fic. like you asked <3. i actually had this idea that i wanted to follow marc's pov (at that point i had only written vale) and get inside his insane headspace leading up to his arm surgery and then be like. wouldnt it be crazy if vale was there and wanted to reconcile a bit but he was also kind of avoiding SAYING THAT. wouldnt that make marc feel EVEN CRAZIER. marc marquez saw trap simulator. inside you there are two wounds one is valentino rossi and the other is your fucked up arm. anddddd 2022 seemed like the ideal place for a rosquez reunion to me! like. dramaturgically. marc is on the brink. vale has just retired (easy to get a reason for him to have an epiphany regarding marc, made even easier bc marc pov means i never have to explain it in depth !)

and the thing about this fic is that it was supposed to be. A LOT longer. go race by race until his surgery and have them talk a lot more. change a little more gradually. but uh. ive already said my life was insane at that time and i got excited and fucking SENT that badboy. (again. i was lightly tranquilized.) which i think MOSTLY makes it better but the pacing is still little wacky. anyways i do think of the scene i cut where marc talks to alex all the time but i think i also fully deleted it! dont write fic under the influence! i also cut a BIG scene of them at the french GP where vale brings marc a sandwich and makes him eat it. it should also be noted that i was doing SO much journalism research about this period and i found a bunch of WILD quotes from marc that i compiled into a small insane vision board of them to ground my fic in his crazy way of conceptualizing his life. that i apparently also deleted while zen-ed out. so

more stupid behind the scenes under the cut

actual plot summary (my "outline") that i wrote out at the top of my google doc complete with typo:

Thinking about how absolutely distressing it would be for Marc pre surgery or right after if Vale tried to reconcile. Early 2022 before surgery decision and post Vale retirement

Scenes of Vale like. earnestl y talking to him. Marc represses a panic attack every time. race by race?

and here's what i had written for aragon, which is full of lines i just thought of with NO context or structure like this part would NOT take off the ground. you might notice some of them get repurposed later in the fic:

III. French GP, 2022. P6.

Marc’s still not out of the habit of reaching for him, apparently. He looks— God. Marc’s head hurts just looking at him. He could swear he has defenses from this, from how Marc can feel where he is in every room they’re in together. He guesses somewhere in the last few weeks he’s lost them, again. Just another thing he used to be good at.

despite everything, Marc can feel himself relax, with Vale here. The warm heat of him sharing space. He used to feel like this all the time. Vale to his left. His arm, casual and pain free, on his right. Now he's scarred all the way down both sides.

He remembers when he was a kid and he met Vale. How he had winked at Marc and said, I'll look out for you, cradling the toy car that Marc had brought specifically to give to him in his hands. How Marc had turned it over in his brain for years. I'll look out for you.

Marc bargains with himself

Marc does stupid, stupid things when Vale is in his life. He knows this. Going to the ranch is a bad idea. the press alone, if anyone finds out, would feed the paddock journos for years. It would be stupid— risky

Someone needs to tell him not to race. calm him down. Usually, it’s Álex. 

MORE OUTLINE: Vale brings him a sandwich and Marc wants to cry, terrible race. They watch a movie its very Valentino voice lemme take care of you !!! but no talking about their past lmao. maybe arm

Genuinely terrible race. That one stat about alwasy finishing top 5 or crashing. Vale like actually gets him to talk about his arm which gets no where fast (guest alex?) and riding misery begins to reach a tipping point

[whosaskingwrites]

A Thousand Times (Osamu x Reader)

A/n: I'm gonna be real this took so long because I just didn't know what to do? And then I started a various! Haikyu x reader. But I got this done finally so if you've been waiting for this one here it is. Also I just really like putting Osamu through the ringer huh? I'm so sorry bby. And Forget You beat out Unrequited for top one-shot recently!

WARNINGS: Angst. There's one mention of assault as well. Told from third person Osamu p.o.v

Date: Friday November 6th, 2020

Details: 5 pages 1,800 words

Theme: Star Tears- The victim cries tiny star-shaped tears. They are extremely painful and eventually cause the victim to go blind. They produce a dim glow and make a light 'Tinkling' sound when they hit the ground. The blindness can be cured if the person the victim loves makes a statement of love and means it.

Angst Masterlist

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

There were so many other ways this was supposed to go. He thought while he looked at her. She stood twirling around the white dress catching the light and sparkling. She was beautiful to him and of course someone else thought so or else they wouldn't be here right now.

But here they were. 'Maybe' he thought if he hadn't been a coward then it would have been him dancing with her in a suit while she wore a white gown. It would have been him telling her he loved her. It would have been him calling her Mrs. Miya as they danced. Maybe he should have told her the day of their first date. While he helped her pick an outfit she had been panicked.

"Calm down Y/n," She scoffed in response "Calm down? Samu you and I both know I've never been on a date before. And now I'm going on one with my childhood best friend!" He watched her his heart rate picking up as she held up different clothes in the mirror.

"It's not that big of a deal y'know? He's known you pretty much your whole life," He stated feeling uncomfortable helping her. Maybe making her more nervous would be a better idea so she'd cancel and they could spend the day together. "I guess you're right but still! It's different now!" She stated. "Okay just...Treat it normally and you'll be fine,"

She went into the closet coming out in a cute outfit that fit her b/t figure just right. "Alright Samu I'm off. Wish me luck!" He waved by as she ran out the door a bright smile on her face and excitement in her eyes. He stood heading back to his own house with slow steps.

Arriving home he closed the door to his room intent on hiding away from everyone. He laid down staring at the ceiling as the familiar burning sensation built up behind his eyes.

"Fuck," he mumbled when he heard it the soft twinkle of a star tear and the pale glow that lit up a small area around his bed. More of them fell sparking pain in his eyes and across his face. The pain followed the trail left behind by the glowing stars and despite his best efforts to shove his palm into his eyes and stop the tears it didn't work.

"You know I didn't even think they liked each other!" Osamu tuned into her moms voice and then he heard his own mother speak and he sighed. "I know! I always thought she'd end up with Osamu not...," He tuned out knowing what they were talking about. He didn't need to listen anymore.

"Samu what's wrong with ya?" Atsumu was looking at him with judgement. His arms were crossed in front of him clearly upset and honestly he didn't blame Atsumu. "Nothing's wrong with me," He answered him. "Bullshit," His own eyes narrowed at his brother "I just don't like it okay?" Atsumu rolled his eyes "I told you you wouldnt," Atsumu voiced.

"Osamu," He looked to the right his eyes meeting the blank pair of Kita's. "Kita," he answered back watching Kita gesture with his hand. He stood following Kita outside throwing one last glance over his shoulder at Y/n as she danced around with Aran her dress sparking like freshly fallen snow.

"What is it Kita?" He asked when the two of them were outside. "You have to let her go Osamu," Kita voiced quietly. "I cant let her go," He said back. "Osamu...You shouldn't love her...Not when it causes this," Kita gestured to his face where the star tears were already prevalent. 

"And you especially shouldn't love her now that she just got married," Kita sent him a pointed look. "I would go blind over and over if it meant I could love her," He answered the male staring forward. The wind softly brushed them causing their hair to flutter. "Osamu...We all know we didn't expect it to go this far...but he loves her so you have to let her go," They heard a series of dull thumps against the ground turning they saw Atsumu jogging over.

"Hey what are you two doing out here?" Atsumu stopped as he got closer a wide smile decorating his face. "Oh we were just catching some air y'know," Kita easily responded handing Osamu his handkerchief as he stepped infront of him, blocking him from Atsumu's view. He wiped his eyes quickly hiding the star tears before they could give him away.

"Shouldn't you be inside Tsumu?" He voiced at his brother while said male hummed. "Ah they don't need me in there right now. Sakusa’s getting drunk and Bokuto’s dancing with Y/n," He flinched at the last part of the sentence. Though Atsumu never seemed to notice "Isn't Bokuto drunk? Are you sure they should be dancing?" Atsumu shrugged at Kita's question. "I think they'll be fine," Atsumu adjusted the sleeves of his button up with a hum as if he was truly thinking it over.

"You know maybe I should go-," "There you are!" The group looked past Atsumu. Y/n was there a bright smile on her face her hands were wrapped into the skirt of her wedding dress. Her head was tilted to the side eyes crinkling in pure mirth. "Hey what are you doin' out here?" Atsumu asked turning to face her. "Ah Bokuto passed out Akaashi and Hinata are sitting him down now. But I think the party is wrapping up soon," she giggled it was a light sound and God did Osamu love it.

"Alright we'll be back over soon. Kita can you bring the lovely bride back to the party?" Atsumu asked with a small smile. "Alright ya flirt," Y/n said with a laugh taking Kita's arm as they walked back. Atsumu sighed as he sat down. "So...I know you're upset about this...," Atsumu started off quietly.

"Im not upset Tsumu...I had my chance and I blew it," He voiced. Atsumu sighed as he stood up heading back to the party. "Hey Tsumu," He said looking at his brothers back. Atsumu turned back facing him with a questioning look. "You told me that if at any point I wanted her you'd back off...I know that deals off the table now so just...don't hurt her okay?" 

Atsumu shook his head "Im not going to hurt her Samu...She's everything to me," He raised a hand up to push his hair back the light from a nearby lamppost reflected off his ring. "You didn't even like her at first," He scoffed.

"Look Samu we all know you like her!" Atsumu claimed with an eye roll. "No i don't. You're just being stupid," He denied quickly just like every other time. "Alright fine Samu. I'll give you a deal," he rolled his eyes at his brothers provocation. "What?" He asked "You either ask her out by the end of the week or I do," Atsumu challenged.

He scrunched his nose in distaste "You don't even like her why would you ask her out?" He asked. "To spur you on. If you tell me to back off at any point I will y'know?" Atsumu said. "So you're just gonna string along our childhood best friend for this?" He asked incredulously. "No she'll get over it," Atsumu shrugged. "No. I'm not letting you string her along," He stated.

"You're right I didn't," Atsumu hummed in agreement. "But I love her now and that's what matters," He stared off into the distance with a smile. "You remember the day I told her I loved her? It was an accident too," he laughed.

They were playing at nationals. Atsumu and him were third years now and Y/n was watching from the stands. She wore Atsumu's jersey and everytime they looked at her she made a face at them before trying to get away from the guy next to her. Atsumu glared at the guy mumbling something under his breath "Let's finish this game," he angrily said. Sending one last glare at the man.

They finished the game with a service ace from Atsumu and as soon as the whistle blew Y/n raced down to the court the strange guy following her. She showed up on court with a smile "Tsumu!" He turned and on instinct Atsumu smiled as well. "Y/n," she hugged Atsumu while his nose crinkled. "Babe I'm all sweaty!" She pulled away placing a kiss on his cheek. "Dont care! I'll be outside okay?" She said skipping off.

Only five minutes later they were leaving the building looking for Y/n. Only for the team to pause as they spotted her. She stood trying to get away and the stranger that was in the stands with her was harshly gripping her wrist. "Come on baby I just wanna show you a good time!" "No thank you!" Atsumu moved first separating the two while grabbing the collar of the man. 

Osamu grabbed Y/n holding her close to him while she held on just as tightly. "Hey! Why are you putting your hands on my girl!" Atsumu yelled. He wasn't paying attention too busy trying to sooth Y/n the handprint already forming on her wrist. "You're okay," he whispered into her hair line.

"Y/n," He was thrown back into reality then remembering that no he wasn't the one dating Y/n. "Tsumu," He let go of her watching her throw herself at Atsumu and he held on to her just as tightly. "Fuck you alright babe?" He said catching her arm and seeing the bruise. "Im okay now," she smiled at him. He didn't know what his brother was thinking in that moment but he just watched Atsumu kiss her and pull away. "Im glad you're okay...I love you Y/n," she gasped then and smiled again. "I love you too Tsumu,"

"I remember," he got up following his brother into the party he stood off to the side watching them as Kita and Suna came over. Atsumu reached Y/n and kissed her Atsumu's voice carrying as tears started to drip down his face. "Ready to go Mrs. Y/n Miya?" She laughed taking his arm. "Of course Mr. Atsumu Miya," and as they walked out the last image he could see was Atsumu and Y/n looking at each other matching smiles on their faces.

Her dress sparkled next to the black suit Atsumu was wearing. They were holding hands matching rings sparkling on their hands. His vision faded until it was just black but despise that he smiled.

"Take care of her okay Tsumu?"

___________________________________________

TAGLIST: @wonhomarshmallow

[ggukcangetit]

Dreamcatchers 6

Pairing: jungkook x oc

Summary: DI Jeon didn’t need a new partner. Unfortunately, his superiors felt otherwise; especially considering the extremely high-profile murder that had just taken place in the port city. Recent transfer, DI Choi Yuri finds herself confronted with a new cityscape, unfamiliar people, a hostile partner, and a homicide that is certain to bring back unpleasant memories.  

Genre/AU: fluff/action/mystery | detective! au | police!jungkook, police!oc

Word Count: 5.2k

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: mentions of violence, alcohol, blood, drugs, death. basically stuff you’d associate with a murder mystery/crime drama.

Chapters 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 

A/N:  it’s been a while since i posted and even longer since i updated this fic but its still here and so am i! lol. updates are not gonna be very frequent but i have a list of works in progress that i plan to finish so there will be something or the other being posted at the most random moments.

also, reminding everyone that this story features a named oc because i’m still very unfamiliar with writing second person reader inserts. i’m not aiming for strict accuracy in this story, and all criminal investigation/forensics knowledge i have has been gathered by watching crime drama/procedural dramas! my knowledge of geography is also not totally accurate so apologies for that. once again, one thing right by @hobios�� prompted me to write a police inspector! jungkook story. would highly recommend reading that because it’s probably one of my most favorite pieces of writing!

21st December

"Is this how you conduct a sample analysis?! Where did you even train? I've half a mind to report you and get you kicked out!!"

Yuri stopped at her desk, surprised to hear Seulgi's yelling so loudly that she could be heard all the way from the floor above. She was usually extremely calm and even-tempered, but the past couple of days had seen her irritable, snappy, and downright furious.

"Dr. Ahn sounds really angry," whispered Jisoo, clutching a file close to her chest. "I've never heard her yell at anybody before. I hope she's okay."

"I'm sure everything's fine," said Jeon, walking over to his desk and dropping a bunch of files on it. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Yuri raised an eyebrow at him, but complied nonetheless. They walked outside, standing near a clump of trees outside of earshot of anyone in the station.

"Guess who I've just brought in on suspicion of murder for the 2nd Nov case?" he asked, lowering his voice.

"No!" gasped Yuri. "Minhyuk?"

"Yep. He's been in the country for a while now. Fancy giving me a hand with the interview?"

"Me? I mean," she bit her lip. "I wasn't part of the original investigation."

"I know, but in light of what you've found out and the fact that you're now my partner, Goh thinks it's okay."

"You told Goh?!"

"I had to. I can't restart the investigation without his permission."

Jeon stared at her for a few moments, trying to gauge her reaction. "So, what do you say?"

"Alright. Let's nail this bastard."

Ahreum was late. She had a meeting with one of her professors to decide on which medical stream she'd specialize in. Despite using forensics as an excuse to distract Seulgi, she was seriously considering it now. Deciding to pursue medicine had been a drastic career switch for Ahreum, and a lot of people had questioned her decision relentlessly. But if there was something she had learnt in the years following her parents' divorce, it was patience and the ability to block out irrelevant conversations. Namjoon had always been immersed in his studies, barely affected by the bitterness existing between their parents. Ahreum, barely in high school, felt lost and helpless during those times. After the divorce, things had become less tumultuous and she was able to see her parents as individual entities. That was when she realized that her father was never going to like any of her decisions, no matter how hard she tried to please him, and her mother preferred to stay aloof at the best of times. Ahreum learnt pretty early in life, that she needed to be there for herself. She loved her brother and parents, though the latter a lot less than the former. Her decision to study English Literature and Creative Writing had been a spur of the moment one - dictated more by the fact that her high school boyfriend was going to study at a major Arts university. She didn't really regret any of her decisions. Her degree had led her to finding a hobby she adored - photography. And having a freelance job meant that she could stay with Namjoon - who earned a significantly larger amount than her - and move whenever he needed to move as well. This was also how she had met Taehyung 3 years ago - a happy coincidence of events when she had been taking pictures outside the museum at Seoul. They had started talking about art and photography, eventually realizing that they lived in the same part of the city. In addition to Yuri, she also considered Taehyung to be her best friend. She had seen him during one of his lowest moments when Seokjin had left home; and then some time later when he had found Seokjin living in the town Ahreum and Namjoon had recently shifted to, she had stayed by him as he grappled with his anger and frustration towards his older brother until an eventual reconciliation.

But at this moment, she was beginning to lose patience with him. Five minutes before she was about to leave for her meeting, she received a bunch of frantic texts from him.

8.25 am

T: ahreum?? are u up??

T: jimins still in custody

T: im so worried

8.26 am

T: u there?

T: i want to visit him...

T: will u come with me?

8.27 am

T: hey

T: ???

T: i didnt sleep much so i dont wanna drive there

8.28 am

T: are u sleeping?

T: ???

He knew she had a meeting today. He knew how important the meeting was for her. She had spoken about it many times. Not for the first time, Ahreum wondered whether Taehyung cared about her beyond what directly concerned him. If it wasn't somehow relevant to him, he never seemed to remember much. It was a careless apathy that had hurt her during the beginning of their friendship, but she had accepted it as a part of him.

Her meeting was at 9 am and she usually needed 20 minutes to get there on her bike. She closed her eyes and mentally rehearsed the points she was going to bring up during her meeting. Her phone pinged once more, breaking her concentration.

8.30 am

T: hey

T: can u pick me up?

She frowned and shot a quick text before pocketing her phone and strapping on her helmet.

A: sorry have a meeting... talk later

As Ahreum sped through the narrow lanes, she was convinced that there was no way she was going to talk to Taehyung today. He would have to manage on his own for once.

Yuri and Jeon sat across from a very nervous Park Minhyuk, his bloodshot eyes indicating that he had been brought in after a rough night.

"Good morning." Jeon began the interview, his notes stacked neatly in front of him. "You were very hard to get a hold of, Mr. Park. Specifically because your company categorically states that you've been out of the country for business."

"I-" His face was white as a sheet.

"When we called your office, we were told that you are often out of the country on business trips. Short trips," Jeon flipped through his notes. "A fortnight, 20 days at max. Your secretary was very obliging - he told us that you traveled on October 12th and returned on October 27th. Then left the country again on November 1st and returned on November 16th. Another trip between November 22nd and December 6th. And finally, one more on December 10th from which you still haven't returned."

"Your phone records are very interesting, Mr. Park," said Yuri, joining in. "I'm DI Choi, by the way, and I will be assisting DI Jeon as his partner on the case. Now -" she opened the file in front of her and took out a particular page - "is this your cell phone number?"

"Yes, but-"

"Our Telecomms division looked over recent activity over the last 3-4 months. While your office confirms that you have been on multiple trips out of the country from October onwards, your phone has been operating in Korea for almost two months. Can you tell us why?"

Minhyuk remained silent, his hands clenched on the table.

"Do you recognize this?" Yuri placed a plastic bag on the table and moved it towards him.

The remaining color drained from Minhyuk's face as he stared at the ring inside the plastic bag.

"Let me help you out, Mr. Park," she continued. "This is an heirloom from your mother's side of the family. There was three such rings - one buried with your mother, one on your brother's finger, and one found at the scene of Son Eunbi's murder. Can you tell us how your ring found its way to a murder scene?"

"I didn't kill her!" Minhyuk looked like he was going to pass out. Jeon poured some water into a glass and passed it to him.

"She was dead when I got there!" he said after gulping down the water. His hands were shaking by this point.

"If she was dead when you got there, why didn't you call the police?"

"I..."

Faced with a possible murder charge, Minhyuk looked frightened but not nearly as forthcoming with an alibi as one would have hoped.

"Mr. Park," Yuri spoke after a period of silence. "Did you know that Ms. Son had a three year old daughter named Gina?"

Minhyuk gulped, his eyes breaking contact with hers. He removed his hands from where they had been clenched on the table, choosing to hide them in his lap.

"Are you Gina's father?" she continued. Minhyuk head shot up at her question.

"H-how did-"

"When did you find out?" she asked.

Minhyuk sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I guess there's no point in denying it since you know everything." He reached out and finished the remaining water in the glass. "In October, after I came back from a trip, I happened to meet her by chance and Gina was with her. It was odd, the way that she tried to avoid talking to me. And the fact that Gina also had clear grey eyes."

For the first time since the interview started, Yuri realised the resemblance between the Park brothers was limited but striking. Their eyes were the exact same shade of grey - while Jimin looked cold and unwelcoming, Minhyuk's glasses did well to give him a warmer appearance.

"I asked her why she hadn't contacted me when she got pregnant. Or in the three years since Gina was born."

"What did she say?" asked Yuri, softly.

"She was scared that I wouldn't believe her." Tears had started to roll down his cheeks. "I loved her... so much. And then she just disappeared one day. I tried so hard to find her but..."

Jeon poured another glass of water for him.

"I told her how happy I was to hear about Gina. That I wanted us to be a proper family. I was willing to do whatever was necessary if that's what she wanted as well. I think she was beginning to warm up to the idea. I even told my father to postpone my next trip so that I could spend a little more time with both of them. But-"

"But?"

Minhyuk stared at his hands, looking tired and dejected. "He - uh, he wasn't happy when he heard about Gina. My father has very particular expectations."

"What did he say to you? Did he threaten you, Mr. Park?"

Minhyuk let out a soft chuckle. "My father doesn't threaten. He suggests."

"And what did he suggest you do about Gina and Eunbi?" asked Jeon.

"That I stay away from them. For the sake of my inheritance."

"And did you?"

"I was planning to... I-I was meant to travel the next day and I thought I would go and see her once more before I left. But when I got there..."

Minhyuk covered his face with his hands, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself.

"What happened when you got there, Mr. Park?"

"She was lying there... in a pool of blood. Gina was asleep in the back. I-I didn't kill her. You have to believe me."

Yuri and Jeon exchanged a quick look as Minhyuk protested his innocence. They were aware that the homeless man had killed Son Eunbi. The DNA found at the crime scene confirmed the fact that he had stabbed her. But they needed Minhyuk to give them as much information as possible.

"I'm afraid we do not conduct our investigations based on belief, Mr. Park," continued Yuri, shuffling her notes meaningfully. "You still haven't provided us with an alibi for that night. Strange thing - the Park family seem to have a particular aversion towards providing alibis. Your brother was also extremely resistant when we spoke to him."

"You spoke to Jimin? What for?" Minhyuk's expression had changed completely. He looked strangely alert.

"I guess you aren't aware that Jimin was arrested for the murder of Kang Eunwoo on December 15th." Jeon spoke deliberately, hoping to elicit a reaction. And he was successful.

"What?! That's impossible! There's no way he could've done that!"

"Why are you so certain of that?"

"Because he was with me on December 15th!"

"I'm sorry but we can't take you at your word. You can't even provide a proper alibi for yourself on the night of Son Eunbi's murder. How can we be sure that the two of you aren't just covering up for each other?"

It was then that Minhyuk realised that he would need to come clean. There was no way to save Jimin without telling them the entire story.

"Fine," he sighed. "I'll tell you everything."

"Everything?"

"Yes. If it can help Jimin, I'm willing to risk my father finding out."

Yuri glanced at Jeon who gave her an almost imperceptible nod.

"Go on."

"After I saw Eunbi... lying there, I couldn't leave Gina. No matter what my father had said, I couldn't leave my daughter in such a situation. So I... took her away with me."

"Where is Gina now, Mr. Park?" Yuri asked, frowning.

"She's safe."

"Where is she?" asked Jeon, sharply.

"In Busan. I have an apartment there and she's been with me since that day."

"Why didn't you tell the police that you had her? Why does your company believe that you are abroad on a business trip?"

Minhyuk rubbed his eyes tiredly and drank some more water. "I couldn't let my father find out. Jimin and I have an apartment in Busan that we bought under a different name. It was a place our father couldn't find us. Gina's been staying there with me since 2nd November."

"Are you sure your father thinks you're abroad? It doesn't seem like something easy to cover up."

"Jimin helped with that," said Minhyuk, leaning back into the cold metal chair. "He told father that I had run away because he hadn't been understanding of my situation with Gina and Eunbi. Jimin's good at convincing people - it's a talent he's barely ever put to good use."

"So Jimin knew that you were hiding in a secret apartment with your recently discovered daughter?"

"Yes, he did. I have an alibi for 2nd November. I was in a meeting till 9 pm and then stopped for drinks at a nearby fried chicken place till 11 pm. I was a bit tipsy after that, which is why I decided to visit Eunbi and Gina. After taking Gina away from there, I went to Jimin's place, got the keys to the apartment and drove straight there. I think I reached around 2 am."

Yuri jotted down all this information, making a note to check on every new detail that had been mentioned.

"What about December 15th? You said Jimin was with you. Why?" asked Jeon, folding his arms across his chest.

"We meet once a week to make sure everything is going okay," said Minhyuk, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Sundays are usually the best days for that."

"Where did you meet?"

"At the local ice-cream shop," Minhyuk frowned, trying to remember something. "You know the one near the end of town?"

"The Dairy Berry? Yes, I know which one you're talking about." Jeon gave Yuri a brief nod to confirm that this was a legitimate spot and not something Minhyuk was making up on the spot.

"Gina loves sweet things and I thought it would be easier to take her with me the same day I met Jimin. I think we were there till 10 pm. After that, I dropped Jimin at a bar and drove back home."

"Which bar was this?" asked Yuri.

"Sunset."

"And you drove straight home after that?"

"You can check the dash cam on my car and the security tapes at my apartment building, if you want."

"We definitely will, Mr. Park," said Jeon, surveying him carefully. "In the meantime, you will be in custody until we have verified each and every single thing you just told us. So I suggest you keep yourself hydrated."

Yuri could feel a pair of eyes on her as she spoke to Jisoo and Suho.

"We need to verify everything that Park Minhyuk told us. But there's a lot of ground to cover and we've lost quite a bit of time since the murder of Son Eunbi. So I suggest you recruit some uniformed officers as well." Jisoo jotted down the locations and the times they needed to verify, and nodded to Suho to indicate she had forwarded the details to him. "We need to get the information as soon as possible."

"Will do," said Suho, giving her a reassuring nod.

Yuri waited for them to leave before walking over to the person who had been watching her for a while.

"Did you want to talk about something?" she asked Seulgi.

"I-" Seulgi tugged at her sleek, high ponytail, looking oddly hesitant. She seemed in a better mood than earlier in the morning when she had almost scared one of the interns into leaving the country. "Do you have a minute?"

"Yeah- " Yuri checked the clock on her phone - "just a minute though. I'm waiting for Jeon to get a warrant from Goh."

"Did he-? I mean, Jimin, uh... have you...? You know-" It was strange to see her grappling for words. "Are you certain he's done it?"

Yuri stared at her for a second. This wasn't what she had been expecting Seulgi to talk about. The doctor's relationship with Jimin was even more puzzling than she had originally perceived it.

"We're looking into it right now." She paused, trying to gauge Seulgi's reaction. "But you already know about the blood sample match - that, in itself, is pretty damaging."

"Y-yeah, I know."

Before Yuri could say anything more, Jeon came out of the Chief Inspector's office. "We've got a warrant to search Minhyuk's apartment. Let's go."

Glancing one more time at Seulgi's ashen face, Yuri put on her coat and scarf and followed Jeon out the exit.

Once inside Jeon's car, Yuri debated whether or not she should attempt to engage him in conversation. Her decision was made for her when he drove onto the main road, and lowered the volume of the police scanner.

"What was Seulgi saying?" he asked, his eyes focused on the road.

"Just where we were in the investigation."

"I see."

Yuri fiddled with the button on her coat, itching to say more.

"What's the deal with her and Jimin?" she finally asked.

"I- what do you mean?" Jeon raised his eyebrow and gave her the most puzzled expression he could muster while trying to stay focused on the crazy traffic.

"Their relationship is... weird. He keeps flirting with her, and she is on the verge of ripping his guts out at every given moment. But just now, she seemed almost worried about him."

"I don't really know... they've never really seen eye-to-eye on much." Jeon checked the rear view mirror to make sure he was clear before deftly changing lanes. "Jimin has always been the person who tries his utmost to push everyone's buttons. And Seulgi... well, she has a lot of buttons."

Yuri snorted loudly. "That tells me nothing and everything at the same time. You really have a way with words, Jeon."

He smirked at this, his eyes never leaving the road. "So does that mean you trust me now?"

"No." She looked at him and caught the way his face fell slightly at her response. "But who knows what the future holds..."

The smirk was back.

Ahreum had a terrible headache. She usually didn't get many headaches. So on the rare occasion that she did, it put her in a really terrible mood. The only person who knew how to handle this situation properly was Namjoon. He knew that she needed silence, dim lighting, green tea, fresh bread, and absolutely no unexpected company.

So when Ahreum got home after her grueling 3 hour long meeting, hoping to relax and recuperate, she wasn't too pleased to find Taehyung sitting in her living room, playing a very loud game on his tablet.

"You're back!" he yelled, once she slammed the door to make her presence felt. "I've been waiting for hours. How was your meeting?"

"'S okay," she replied, shortly. Taking off her coat, she opened the middle cabinet in the kitchen and searched for the green tea.

"Great! So do you wanna go and visit Jimin now?"

"No."

"What? Why not? You don't have anything else to do right now. Just come with me. Please!" He had walked into the kitchen and was standing in front of her with a pout on his lips.

As endearing as she always found his antics, Ahreum was at breaking point. She placed the cup on the counter with a loud clink, and turned to face him.

"Because I don't have time to follow you on your every whim, Taehyung. Because I have a life of my own. Because I am studying medicine, which, if you aren't aware, is a very taxing occupation." She paused for a breath, as his mouth fell open in shock. "Because I am not your babysitter. Or your handler. Or your caretaker. And I'm tired of being responsible for you. You're a grown ass adult and it's about time you acted like one."

"Ahreum, I'm-" His eyes were wide and worried, and she felt a tiny sliver of remorse. "I don't think you're my babysitter or handler or whatever. You're my best friend."

"I thought so too. In fact," she said, looking away from him. "I thought we were, or we could be, more."

"W-what? Ahreum?" Taehyung sounded so lost and confused that she was tempted to console him.

She walked to the front door and held it open for him. "I think you should leave now. I'm tired, I have a headache, and I don't want to be around anyone right now."

"Wait! What did you mean by that?" he asked, hesitantly standing at the entrance.

"I'm tired, Taehyung. I don't have the energy to explain everything to you. Now, please," she began closing the door slowly. "I want to rest."

"It's clear!" The uniformed officer confirmed to them, before opening the door further.

"Okay, let's see whether little Gina is here," instructed Jeon, his face drawn into a frown.

Yuri nodded and walked into the room on the left of the large living area. It was a study of sorts, with a large wooden desk, a swiveling chair, and shelves upon shelves of books. She quickly checked to see if there was anyone in the room before shouting "clear!". There was another door connecting to a smaller room, it's walls bathed in bright sunlight and smelling of soft lavender. This was clearly some sort of guest room, judging by the inconsistent decor theme. The furniture looked sleek and modern, but the sheets on the bed were soft and pastel colored. A bunch of soft toys stood leaning against the flat screen tv, and Yuri realised that this was probably the room that had been hastily fixed up for a small child's unexpected stay. And sure enough, soft strands of brown hair peaked through the large covers on the bed.

She walked over to the bed slowly, not wanting to startle the child. Yuri barely managed to stifle a gasp as she looked into the child's clear grey eyes - the same color as both Park Minhyuk and Park Jimin.

"Hello," she said, softly. "Are you Gina?"

The little girl nodded, bringing the covers closer towards her.

"I'm a police officer. I help catch bad people." She didn't respond, staring at her with wide eyes.

"Do you want to go to your dad, Gina?" She nodded vigorously, sitting up at the mention of her father. "Okay, we will. But first, tell me, are you okay? Do you feel pain anywhere?"

The little girl shook her head.

"Are you sleepy?"

Again, she shook her head.

"Are you hungry?"

Slowly, she nodded her head.

"Okay, we'll go and see your dad, and also get you something to eat. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes."

"Wonderful."

It was just after 2 pm and Yuri felt completely drained. After they had found Gina, she had insisted on returning to the station to ask Jimin about his alibi for the night of Kang Eunwoo's murder. From what she had understood, he had refused to provide an alibi to protect his brother and keep him out of the police's radar until the situation with Gina worked out. Even though she still couldn't get herself to consider him a pleasant person, his desire to protect his brother had humanized him a great deal in her eyes.

Sure enough, once he was made aware that Minhyuk had come forward and spoken about his daughter and the events of the past month and a half, Jimin looked much less hostile than before.

"I was at Sunset from around 10.30 pm to closing time - which is 2 am," he said, sighing tiredly and rubbing his face with his hands. "You can confirm with them."

While Minhyuk and Jimin's alibis were verified, Yuri received a text from Namjoon, asking her and Jeon to meet him at Seokjin's bakery. It was barely a 2 minute drive there, so Jeon suggested they get lunch over there and make it before Goh finished compiling the list of paperwork for them to finish.

The smell of freshly baked milk bread wafted out of the kitchen, adding another layer of warmth to Seokjin's cozy shop. The man in question picked up the large tray filled with various different confections, and brought it over to the table by the window.

"Peach danish and americano for Namjoon, chocolate fudge brownie and vanilla bean ice cream for Jeongguk, and a snow croissant and hot chocolate for Yuri." He placed everything on the table, before grabbing his lukewarm cup of tea and sitting down with them.

"So you finally find the child, then?" asked Seokjin, sipping the tea. He made a face at the odd taste that tea acquires when it's between comfortingly steamy and soothingly chilled.

"Yeah we did," Yuri replied, when her partner remained silent. "Goh is dealing with Minhyuk and the custody charges. It's no longer in our jurisdiction."

"Namjoon, how's grad school treating you?" Seokjin diverted the conversation, realising that his friend wasn't ready to talk about the case at that moment. "How much longer do you have?"

"A few more months and I should be done." Namjoon wiped the pastry flakes from the corner of his mouth and nearly tipped over his americano in the process. Yuri chuckled at this, suddenly remembering those random moments in high school where Namjoon was a lot thinner and less confident, but still had a propensity for knocking things over.

"Remind me why you're putting yourself through this?" Seokjin broke off a piece of the peach danish and popped it into his mouth.

"The last time I tried to explain that, you spaced out and created a new pastry recipe for your menu. As much as I like helping your business flourish, I'm gonna preserve my energy and only talk about things when necessary."

Seokjin chuckled and picked up a spoon from the dispenser. "Jeongguk, can I get a bit of ice cream from you?" There was no response, and looking at him for confirmation Seokjin's eyebrows shot up in alarm.

"Okay okay, I won't eat any of your ice cream. You don't have to tear up about it!"

Yuri and Namjoon turned towards him as well, not sure what to do when they saw tears slowly sliding down Jeongguk's cheeks.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?" asked Namjoon, patting his shoulder softly.

They sat in silence, as Jeongguk sobbed softly and wiped his face with his coat sleeve. He turned towards Yuri, his eyes glazed with tears but holding a soft radiance unlike what she was used to.

"Thank you."

Yuri felt her face heat up suddenly. This wasn't what she had been expecting. The soft sincerity in his voice startled her. It was nothing like the person she had met only a week ago. She looked away abruptly and nodded her head.

"There's nothing to thank me for. This is our job."

Jeongguk smiled and resumed eating the disgustingly sweet dessert combination in front of him. He nudged Seokjin to take some ice cream like he had originally intended. There was silence once more, but this time, it was very different.

Back at the station, Yuri finished the paperwork for the day. There was a lot to complete, and since they had stopped at Seokjin's for a break, they had lost some time as well. Goh had been very clear about completing all the paperwork for social services to take over the case from them now that Gina had been found.

It was barely even 5 pm but Yuri felt a large yawn coming on for the third time in the past few minutes. She wasn't sure how long she would be able to carry on without getting proper sleep at night. At this rate, she would eventually burn out. There was only so much coffee could do for her.

A light tap brought her attention to another person standing in her cubicle. She looked up to see Jeon holding two steaming cups of ramen, tilting his head slightly to confirm whether it was okay for him to sit down.

"Did you need anything?" she asked, after moving her slightly. He placed the ramen on her desk and pulled up his own chair and sat down.

"I've got a peace offering," he gestured to the ramen. "I wanted to apologize properly for being an absolute dickhead to you. I-" He hesitated, looking down at his hands that lay clenched on his lap - "I don't really have an excuse for my behavior but I had a lot on my mind. Particularly about finding the little girl. And, well... you really don't know what solving this case means to me."

Once again, Yuri wasn't sure how to react. She felt embarrassed that he was thanking her for doing her job - something that he did as well. While she appreciated his apology, his entire being remained confusing to her.

"Don't worry about it," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "And thanks for the ramen; food is always appreciated."

Thankfully, her computer ping-ed with a new email before the atmosphere could get any more awkward.

"Okay, we've confirmed Minhyuk's alibi's for 2nd November and 15th December. He wasn't involved in either murder. Jimin was with Minhyuk till 10.15 pm on 15th December - his car's dash cam confirms that he dropped Jimin off at Sunset bar around that time."

"Fantastic! And what about the CCTV footage at Sunset? Does it confirm Jimin's story? He said he was there till 2 am."

"Hang on, I'm opening the report. Th-" she stopped abruptly, frowning at the screen.

"What?" asked Jeon, looking over her shoulder to read the email.

"CCTV footage does not place Jimin at Sunset from 10.15 pm till closing time at 2 in the morning. He doesn't have an alibi for Eunwoo's murder."

She turned to look at him, an odd sense of foreboding hitting her as she realized that they would have to charge Jimin for murder by the next evening. He held her gaze, his dark eyes reflecting a similar shadow of doubt.

please reblog and leave a comment if you liked this part! thank you! 😊 

[finn-nelson-for-the-win]

The Good Life: Chapter 5

Hello, my lovelies! Another week, another chapter of this story. I don’t really have too much to say before this chapter, so I suppose I’ll just get right to it.

Need to get caught up? The Good Life: Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4

If you want to be added (or removed) from the tags list for this story, just feel free to let me know!

@pink-royaute @believethaticanandiwill @milllott @likeashootingstarfades @i-dream-of-emus

The Good Life: Chapter 5

The bell to the lift chimed as the metal doors slowly slid open, signaling that they had reached their desired floor, and Finn stepped aside to allow Rae to walk out first.

“I still can’t believe that we’re on the fifth floor of the building!” Rae mused as she looked over the railing outside of the lift that overlooked one of the busy city streets.

“It’s a good thing neither of us are scared of heights, huh?” Finn joked as he adjusted his grip on the large box he was carrying in his arms.

Finn and Rae turned left after exiting the hallway with the lift, already becoming familiar with navigating the building after following the same path numerous times.

When Finn stopped in front of one of the doors, he turned to look at Rae, who was lagging behind slightly as she walked leisurely to take in the view from the top floor of the building.

“Do you have the keys, Finn, or do I?”

“I do, but I can’t get to them with this box,” Finn replied.

“Do ya want me to take the box from you?”

“No, it’s pretty heavy,” Finn replied with a slight grunt as he adjusted his grip on the box to prove his point, “but can you get the keys out of my pocket?”

“Er, sure...which pocket?”

“Back left pocket of my jeans,” Finn said as he angled his body towards her so she could easily reach his pocket.

“Alright,” Rae replied as she hesitantly reached her hand into the pocket of Finn’s jeans to grab the set of keys.

“Uh, sorry,” Finn replied sheepishly when Rae pulled the keys out of his pocket and it elicited an unexpected giggle from him, “that tickled more than I expected.”

Rae laughed and shook her head, but stepped in front of Finn to unlock the door and allow him to walk inside first.

Once inside the door, Finn walked into the large open space that would eventually resemble a living room and placed the box he was carrying beside the other tall stacks of boxes.

“Was that the last box?” Finn asked over his shoulder as he restacked some of the boxes to reduce some of the clutter.

“Indeed! Who knew that between the two of us, we’d have so much stuff?” Rae asked with a laugh as she looked around the room at dozens of cardboard boxes that had been piled haphazardly around the room.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m very proud of how efficient we were today. We got all your stuff and my stuff packed into the moving truck and got it all brought up to the apartment all in a matter of hours!”

“That’s pretty impressive! We make a good team, huh?” Rae asked as she walked to stand beside Finn and bumped his hip with hers playfully.

“We absolutely do,” Finn replied as he wrapped an arm around Rae’s shoulders and pulled her slightly closer, “I think we deserve to reward our hard work. We should order some takeaway since we have no food here yet and then after we’ve eaten if we feel up to it, we can start unpacking boxes. What do you think about that?”

“I think it’s a great idea. I’ll order and you can go pick it up, if that’s alright with you? What do you want to eat?”

“Of course! I don’t have a preference, I’m just starving and would like a lot of food,” Finn added with a smile as he walked away.

Rae called in their takeaway order while Finn reorganized the boxes against the perimeter of the room to ensure that they had a clear path to walk around without tripping.

“Alright, our order should be ready in less than half an hour. I ordered from the Chinese restaurant just down the street because their online reviews looked really good. I hope that’s alright with you.”

“It’s great, thank you. I’ll leave to go pick it up as soon as I find my keys again,” Finn replied with a nervous chuckle.

“Your keys are on the kitchen counter,” Rae replied with a fond smile at Finn’s forgetfulness, “Do you want me to try to find some plates and utensils in one of these boxes while you’re gone?”

“Yeah, that’d be great!”

Once Finn grabbed his keys, wallet, and phone off of the counter where he had left them, he left to go pick up their takeaway order.

Rae searched through the stacks of boxes trying to find whatever she thought Finn and she would need to eat their takeaway and before long she heard the door unlock and Finn walking through the door.

“Sorry if I took longer than you expected. I, uh, wanted to--what is this?”

Rae beamed with pride at the look of surprise on Finn’s face when he walked into the living room to see a small lamp on top of a short stack of boxes to subtly light the room as well as a pile of pillows and blankets strategically arranged to make the floor more comfortable to sit on, since the couch they had bought online wouldn’t be delivered until next weekend.

“I was looking for the boxes with dishes in them and I got a little carried away,” Rae replied with a shrug as she walked up to take the bags of food from Finn.

“Well it looks great! I thought it seemed appropriate that we mark the occasion today with a drink,” Finn replied as he pulled a pack of beer from one of the bags Rae had placed on the kitchen counter, “so I picked this up too. I know it’s not champagne or anything fancy, but...”

“Don’t worry about it. Champagne is disgusting anyways,” Rae replied with a chuckle as she continued unpacking the bags of takeaway containers onto the counter.

“We can go ahead and serve ourselves food and then I also have my laptop here if you wanted to watch something or listen to music while we eat.”

“I don’t feel like paying close attention to anything, so maybe we can just put on some music?” Rae suggested.

After they had served themselves plates full of various entrees, noodles, and sautéed vegetables, Rae sat down on the pile of pillows and blankets as Finn grabbed his laptop to put on one of his many playlists to listen to in the background.

“It’s crazy to think how quickly everything has moved. I mean, less than a month ago I was panicking about how I was going to find a roommate and a little over a week ago we were barely starting to tour potential apartment!” Rae mused as she ate.

“No kidding! If you’d told me over a month ago that I would have moved out of my Da’s house and be living with you, I wouldn’t ever believe it,”

“Oh wow! Thanks, Finn!” Rae scoffed.

“That’s not what I meant! I just meant that I wasn’t serious about moving out until I found out how badly you needed to find a roommate. Even when I first suggested it, it was just a spur of the moment kind of thing. I couldn’t even fathom why you had agreed to be my roommate, if I’m being honest.”

“Well I’m glad that this whole thing worked out as well as it has so far!”

“Me too, Rae!” Finn replied as he lifted his can of beer into the air in cheers.

The pair continued eating and talking until both were completely stuffed and pleasantly buzzed on cheap beer.

“Wow,” Rae began after a long yawn, “I’m so exhausted!”

“I know what you mean! After lifting all those boxes, I’m sure both our arms are gonna be sore tomorrow.”

Rae leaned over to place both of their now-empty plates on top of one of the nearby boxes. When she sat back, Rae angled her body so she was leaning into Finn’s side.

She looked over at him, silently asking if that was okay, and while he looked a bit surprised, he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around her in a loose embrace.

“I don’t want to unpack boxes tonight. I have the day off of work tomorrow as well, so I’ll unpack tomorrow while you’re at work.”

“I can’t let you unpack everything alone! I’ll play hooky from work and stay here to unpack with you,” Finn replied.

“You don’t have to!”

“No, but I want to.”

“Alright,” Rae replied with a small smile as she allowed her eyes to slowly drift shut as they continued talking and listening to music.

When Finn stood from the ground and grabbed the dirty dishes to wash, he looked back to see Rae curled up on the pile of blankets, scrolling through her phone.

“Did you want another beer before I put them in the fridge?” Finn asked from the kitchen after he had finished washing their dishes and setting them aside to dry.

When he did not get a response, Finn walked out into the living room and was surprised to see Rae asleep on the pile of blankets, snoring lightly.

Finn chuckled quietly, walking back into the kitchen only long enough to turn off the light and returned to the living room.

Finn grabbed Rae’s phone from beside her face where she was laying down and set it on the box closest to her so she could easily find it in the morning.

With all of their larger furniture being delivered over the next week, Finn and Rae had already determined that they would be sleeping on the floor for the foreseeable future, so Finn simply unfolded one of the blankets that Rae was not laying on top of and covered her up with it. Finn considered his options for just a moment before shrugging and laying down on the pile of blankets and pillows in the space beside Rae and allowed the dizzying combination of exertion and excitement to lull him into a state of much needed sleep.

A/N: Yay! Move-in day is over and Finn and Rae are OFFICIALLY roommates! I know this point took a while to build up to, so I made a point to make this chapter extra cute and show how quickly Rae and Finn are getting used to the idea of living together and how adorably domestic these two idiots are even though they’ve only lived together less than a day.

The cuteness has only just begun and even just based on the chapters that I’ve already written or mapped out, there is a lot of fun shenanigans in the upcoming chapters. I know the last couple chapters have been super dialogue-heavy between Rae and Finn (idk how y’all feel about this...I LOVE to read/write dialogue-heavy stuff, but it may not be everyone’s cup of tea), but in the future chapters I’m bringing the gang back and we’ll get to see how the gang feels about the Rae/Finn living situation now that more time has passed.

Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed reading this chapter and as always: Stay awesome, my friends! :)

[thedistantstorm]

Phoenix Protocol 03

A Zavala x Female Guardian work.

Summary: When the Traveler’s Light was returned to the Guardians after the defeat of the Cabal, it did not manifest itself the same in everyone. Miyu, an Awoken Warlock, finds herself struggling with her abilities, her Light feeling different and not her own. With her Vanguard preoccupied with grief and all eyes turned to the Reef, she finds herself turning to an unlikely source in an attempt to rediscover her connection to the Light and define what it means for her as a Dawnblade.

Previously

A voice bellows her name, puncturing her concentration in such a way that it feels like coming up for air. “Miyu!”

She knows that voice, she realizes. It’s the Commander.

When the realization fully processes and she realizes she doesn't know how long he's been watching, her head rockets up, the rift and solar fire dissipate immediately. Her hands fall to her sides, covered thankfully by her sleeves. She can feel the tingling prickle of numbness that indicates she’s burned herself severely, despite the rift. She sighs and straightens from her throwing stance.

Zavala jumps down from the spectating balcony dressed in a cotton training tunic and lacking most of his armor, with the exception of his mark. It flaps quietly as he lands on the ground in the arena, knees easily accepting the impact of the fall. He runs toward her, concern evident in the brightness of his eyes and set of his jaw.

“What were you doing?” He stands before her now. “I heard a scream.”

“Oh,” The Warlock sighs. “Sorry, Commander. Something hurt more than I thought it would. I didn’t mean to-” She looks down at his sweat-soaked training gear in surprise. She had expected to be the only one here, today of all days. “-disturb you from your drills?”

The Vanguard Commander nods and she notices his slightly heavier breathing.  “It’s fine. You are unharmed?”

“I’m fine,” She agrees.

Ghost hangs nearby, his optic narrowing on her in concern. Zavala looks up at him in turn, and the small being hovers backward, clearly caught. “You are not,” The Vanguard says quietly, “Are you?” His scrutiny is unbearable.

She moves to tuck her arms behind her back, to mimic the pose he usually takes, when he looks over the City from his post in the Tower. If she can get them behind her back, he -

Zavala grabs her left forearm with his right hand. Miyu hisses. His brows raise, eyes narrowing as he turns her palm over and peels back the sleeve of her robe. He gasps. Blistered, bubbling skin, pink and red and black, weeping and angry meets the light of day.

“How did-”

She snatches her arm from his grasp, ignoring the watering of her eyes. “I’m very sorry for interrupting you,” She repeats quietly. “My Ghost will heal me. It’s fine.” She turns her back to him, looks to her partner, and takes several steps before breaking into a run. It’s clear she does not want Zavala to follow her.

The Commander does anyway, taking measured, calm steps, her Ghost at his side, looking fretful. “Miyu is having difficulty with her Light, I’m sure you’ve noticed,” The little Light explains. “After the war… it - we didn’t,” He doesn’t know how to explain it and finally sighs. “It’s different now.”

The duo finds the Warlock braced over one of the sinks in the empty locker room, robe discarded carelessly on the ground, using her right hand - the less burned one - to splash water on her face. Being so pale in complexion, the redness of her eyes and cheeks immediately drew attention to the chaotic swirling of white aura beneath her normally equally light skin.

“Miyu,” Both Titan and Ghost say, before looking at each other in curious surprise. Zavala blinks, but lets her Ghost take the floor.

Ghost speaks. “Miyu, let me heal you,” He calls gently. “That has to hurt.” She cradles the damaged arm against her chest, her undershirt already soaked with sweat and water turning pink with plasma and blood on contact. Her eyes dart to him, and he turns to the Commander. “Give us a moment,” The Ghost implores. “Please.”

Zavala nods and retreats back into the hallway.

Pale light casts a shadow of his hulking form against the stone floor when her Ghost shucks his shell and swathes her in the glow. The Commander hears the combined sigh of Ghost and Guardian, and a quiet metallic gargle when the Ghost speaks to her. “It’s okay,” He’s telling her. Zavala feels a touch rude for listening in, though there’s no way for him to tune them out in the echoing, empty halls. “He’s worried, not mad. Just… talk to him, okay? Maybe he can help.”

Ghost transmats her soiled training robe away for a softer one. Her skin stayed sensitive afterward, sometimes - the Light not healing it all, not really, and he was always mindful of her needs. She held her hand out for him to rest when she exits the locker room, and Ghost drops to her hand - accepting an affectionate nudge of her fingers against his cones - before disappearing in a shower of sparks.

“Your Ghost cares about you a great deal,” Zavala says, echoing previous words. He does not make eye contact, like she’s expecting. She’s not sure if she’s grateful or feels like she’s being treated like a caged animal. “He said you have been experiencing difficulties with your Light, since the War.”

She nods her agreement, looking sheepish. “Both of those things are true.”

This time, he does meet her pale gaze. “Have you talked to Ikora about it? Certainly she’d be willing to help you.”

Miyu looks away, and shrugs. “I’ll do that,” She says, but his eyes don’t leave her face, staying trained on it - reading it - despite the fact that she’s looking at the ground.

“You have, haven’t you,” He intones, gently. “You’ve talked to her about this.”

The sideways pull of her lips in a disapproving frown is a giveaway. “Maybe once or twice,” She admits. Certainly more than that, but she’s not in the business of putting down her Vanguard.

“Does she not listen?”

“She doesn’t understand,” Miyu finally says, a bit more abruptly than she’d planned to. “She doesn’t understand how my Light can be so different from what it was before. I don’t think I’m supposed to use it in the way the Dawnblades do. Not anymore.” A peek up at his face reveals pensive concern, not condemnation. It spurs her onward. “She believes pushing me into the worst situations possible will help me to reconnect. But-”

“That is a terrible idea,” Zavala says, mostly to himself. He looks up at her in surprise, as if he can’t believe he’s said it out loud, but then admits, “While the Light may very well react if you feel threatened, if it does not, the cost…” He trails off, looks back at her, contemplative. The conflicted look on her face tells him that she’s thought of that, as well.

Miyu leans back against the wall, crossing her arms. “How does a Titan - a Sentinel,” She specifies, asking, “Call upon their Ward of Dawn?”

His brows furrow. “Not that I mind,” He holds out both hands as if demonstrating that her question is not unwelcome, “But what does this have to do with our conversation?”

The Awoken Warlock steps past him, looks down the hall to the empty training arena. “I believe that my Light might be better served in a more defensive manner. That perhaps my rift might hold the key.”

Rubbing a hand against his chin, Zavala thinks it over. “Your research,” He recalls. “You are trying to unlock a different type of ability.”

She nods, a little twinge of a smile here and gone when she faces him again. He understood her immediately, and yet Ikora… she didn’t seem to understand despite Miyu’s attempts at being transparent. “I think I might be able to use my Light, specifically, maybe to not hurt myself, or at least let it last longer, if I try something different. Something with a focus on healing. Protecting.” She reaches up for her ashen black hair, combs her fingers through some of the tangles. “After all, isn’t that our purpose? To protect? If I want to reconnect to my Light, I think that might be the way to do it.”

He still gives her Vanguard the benefit of the doubt, saying, “Certainly Ikora would be interested in-”

Miyu shakes her head and Zavala stops short. “Maybe it will change, but…” She shrugs. “She wants me in the Reef. Up until today, I think she wanted me to help find Uldren.” Zavala doesn’t react to the name, though Miyu watches him carefully. “I don’t want anything to do with that.”

“What do you want?” Zavala asks her. Not judgmental. Neutral. Perhaps curious, just a little.

“I want to feel like me again. I want to prevent what happened - what the Cabal did,” Her fists clench. “I don’t ever want it to happen to us, ever again.” She sighs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to unload on you. I know Ghost said you’d hear me out, but this - it isn’t your problem.”

“No,” He agrees. “But perhaps I can help. I’ll show you how my power manifests, and let you determine if the Ward of Dawn could assist you in your search for answers. However, we cannot do it now. My schedule is-”

The apology stumbles from her lips as she realizes how much of his valuable time she’s taken. He was trying to train, too. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

“Stop apologizing, Miyu. It is not your fault I am the Vanguard Commander.” This time, his lips do almost make it to what would be considered a smile, and his tone is nearly teasing. “I lead the Titans in drills most mornings, before dawn, in the training facilities here. You’re welcome to come spectate, if it will help. The schedule should be posted.”

She bows, pressing her hands together. “Thank you,” She chimes. “I appreciate it.”

“I hope you find what you are looking for,” He replies, and his hand finds his way to her shoulder, a gentle squeeze. An affirmation that someone beyond her Ghost might actually care. It makes her flush. “I cannot imagine…”

“It’s difficult,” Miyu admits, voice quiet. “I don’t know if it was because I was in the middle of casting Dawnblade when the Traveler was captured and the Light was ripped from us,” The words are a whisper that she’s not shared with anyone besides Ghost, who was there. “But it feels like it’s all there, you know?” He doesn’t, she knows, but he doesn’t interrupt. She sees the uncomfortable shift in his stance, knows that from his perspective she’s describing something horrific he never hopes to experience. “I can feel the Light there, to be called upon. It just… won’t come out all the way.” She shrugs. “Anyway,” She transitions, not paying attention to the brilliant eyes that soften as they listen to her resolve, “There has to be a reason. I’ll figure it out and persevere. That’s what we do.”

-/

That evening, when she finishes up her late patrols and checks in, Kadi, the postmaster, has a message for her. The frame produces two books, old ones. Tucked within the cover of the first one is a small note, written on thick ivory paper with neat handwriting.

She doesn’t need to know his handwriting to know it’s from him, the two symbols denoting her name in its proper, original form tipping her off. Pre-Collapse Japanese, he’d said, when he learned her name. It brings a smile to her lips. He seemed like the kind of man who would know about languages, how to read and write them. She found herself curious as to what he’d write her, after their encounter earlier in the afternoon.

--

実優

Perhaps these texts would prove useful. I am not sure how the translation would be made between the Void and Solar energies as they are very different, but it might be worth a read.

I will be focusing on training my new Sentinels in two days’ time, at the place and time we discussed. Afterward, I anticipate being free long enough to answer your questions, should you have any.

-Zavala

--

Ghost looked down at the paper, then back up at her face and the pleasant surprise he sees there. “See,” He says, “What did I tell you, Yu-mi? He might be able to help. At the very least, he wants to.”

Miyu smiles. “Yes,” She agrees, cradling the books to her chest and letting Ghost rest atop them as they head home for the night. “You never steer me wrong.”

[divinedeceptions-blog]

The roof ridge walk

Quick note - I’ve posted this on my AO3 account as well so feel free to check that out. Also Im back from the dead hello. 

Word count: 3978 

Josie Pye had been very smug when she'd successfully walked the fence, glancing around at everybody in an extremely boastful manor. Anne had scoffed loudly, proclaiming that she'd know a girl who could walk the ridge pole of a building.

She'd felt an obligation to one-up Josie, and found great pleasure in watching her face twist and contort into sour expressions which made her look like she was sucking on a very bitter lemon. Anne had previously endured her not so subtle comments during class, biting back her rather insistent tongue and exchanging irritated glances with Diana. They weren’t an uncommon occurrence as it seemed Josie wasn’t the only one who enjoyed belittling Anne whenever the opportunity showed itself. Billy Andrews often had a very enjoyable time announcing that she was the ugliest dog he’d ever seen, and would then proceed to make barking sounds until he either got bored or Anne threatened to push him in the river.

So, naturally, when Josie Pye had told her explicitly that no one could do such a thing as walk a roof, and had very quickly dared her to do just that, Anne had of course jumped at the opportunity to wipe the smug grin off of her face and prove exactly what she was capable of.

A few groans and several gasps had spurred Anne on to confidently stride around the back of the school building and begin to ascend the ladder that was used for maintenance. She was only two rungs up when she heard calls from Ruby, Jane, Tillie and Diana telling her not to listen to Josie and come back down before she fell and hurt herself. Anne determinedly chose to ignore these, although she did tell Diana that if she did indeed fall to her most dramatic and possibly rather romantic death, she could have her green dress. This however didn't seem to comfort Diana at all.

She turned to grin down at Josie, admittedly wanting very much to gloat as much as she could, however Anne regretted it almost immediately and had the sudden realisation of how high up she really was. Her fingers curled harder around the rungs so that she wouldn’t loose her balance. The roof looked far taller from up there than it did on the ground.

For a few short seconds, she considered feigning illness and climbing right back down, hoping that that would be a plausible excuse and no one would mention the incident again. But she was already half way up the ladder and she'd come to the conclusion that she'd rather fall than loose all pride and dignity if she didn't pull through with her plans. With a solemn and heavy heart, she continued to climb up, rung by rung and step by step, a tingly nervous feeling pulsing in her hands and feet at the anticipation.

The ladder was slightly slippery, and Anne had trouble keeping her grip as she climbed higher and higher to the brim of the rooftop, her hands clawing at the tiles to find a grip for her to hold onto. Once she had, she heaved herself onto the roof so that her stomach lay flat on the cold surface. She could still hear the shouts and pleads from the others to come back down, but she blocked them out hastily, steadying her balance and attempting to stand up. Anne nearly slipped in doing so, holding onto the roof ridge to keep herself from falling off.

She took the time to glance around at her surroundings, making sure her eyes didn’t linger on the ground for more than a second. Her gaze had been caught on the edge of the hills, a thin strip of light brushing the silhouetted trees. For a short moment, she forgot exactly what she was doing and watched as the sun poured gold onto horizon. She was sure she could see all of Avonlea, small houses speckled around the land and the church steeple just peeking over the hills. Grinning, she felt a sudden surge of confidence at the sight, feeling as though she were the Queen, the fair and noble ruler of all land as far as the eye could see. The wind almost seemed colder up here then it did on the ground, and as Anne began to stand up again, she felt courageous and brave, as if leading on her mighty army to conquer whoever dared to harm her people.

And then reality kicked back in as she took her first step, although she maintained a steady balance her feet felt as though they could slip at any moment on the thin surface. Why did it look higher up than it did on the ground? Anne tried to focus her attention on the spot at the end, mentally counting down how many steps it would take for her to reach her goal. There was silence below her as each person held their breath. Billy had a rather nasty smile on his face, Josie seemed to be looking rather worried now that she knew the extent of what she had made Anne do, perhaps she would get in trouble if she fell. Gilbert hadn't kept his eyes off of her, trying very hard to fight the urge to shout out encouragement in fear that it would distract her and she'd fall. Diana was very close to tears, screwing up her lace handkerchief in one hand and clinging onto Ruby with the other.

Anne had made it half way across the ridge pole, a smile beginning to itch at her lips as she led her army on through the raging fires and battling winds, a purple storm stirring ominously above. When all of a sudden, her knights and soldiers had fallen away through the cracks, her stormy skies and billowing winds sucked dry from her imagination as her feet left the roof and she came tumbling and spinning down the side of the school building. It felt as though she'd been swept beneath the waves of a roaring sea, being twirled and turned by the relentless currents trying to pull her further and further down into the watery abyss.

Then she hit something. The ground she assumed. It was a very strange feeling because at first, Anne felt totally fine, slightly dazed at the most but other than that, she felt perfectly alright. Then she realised she couldn't hear very well, and there was a queer ringing in her right ear which made her feel very fuzzy. When Anne tried to open her eyes, there were about 10 blurry people who all looked like they had multiple heads sprouting from the necks, crowding around her. Everything seemed to be spinning as though someone had spun the earth like a spinning top and sent it hurtling through infinity.

"Anne!" Someone was shouting her name, and although the ringing had started to grow quieter she still couldn't make out who it was.

"Anne!" Her hands began to stroke the soft grass, it was a bit cold and rather wet but it felt nice. She'd never really fully appreciated its beauty, and she almost felt a bit guilty for leaving it out.

"Anne!" Then a very recognisable head popped in front of her face and she began to focus on what they were saying and who they were. Diana had firmly gripped onto Anne's shoulders, curls of hair falling out of its neat bow and sticking to her face. She still looked very beautiful and Anne almost felt like laughing at such a vain thing to think of whilst she seemed to be in quite the state of despair. Marilla would’ve scolded her at the thought.

“Are you alright Anne?” She seemed to be crying. “I think I’m unconscious Diana”, and Diana then let out a huge breath and allowed a smile to peak through her lips. Anne tried to sit up but another, much deeper voice told her to stay still for a moment. She tilted her head up slightly to see who it was, her eyes laying on a very concentrated Gilbert who was examining her very swollen looking ankle. Anne though it was a bit strange that she couldn’t feel anything wrong with her ankle despite the fact that it was a vivid shade of red and purple, and it appeared to have doubled in size.

“I think you’ve broken it” Gilbert grimaced, shooting a reassuring smile her way.

Anne stared at him. “Broken?!” She said with a bit too much enthusiasm “but that’ll take far too long to heal!”.

Her head seemed to be clearing and her ankle began to throb, a slightly nauseated feeling building in her stomach. Gilbert ignored her, taking her under the arm and slowly helping her stand up. Diana was staring through very red looking eyes as the other children began to disperse and whisper to each other.

“Diana can you please let Miss Stacy know that I’ve gone to help Anne home as she’s broken broken her ankle and needs assistance walking” Gilbert spoke aloud, sounding very professional and business like. Diana protested mildly, saying that she didn’t mind taking Anne herself. But Gilbert shook his head with a smile in response and swung Anne’s arm around his shoulder, holding onto her wrist to support her.

Anne, who was having a hard time trying not to enjoy the physical contact, tried to focus on the pain of her ankle as that seemed like a much better thing to do than admit any type of feelings regarding Gilbert. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to supress them. She’d been doing a very good job at it actually, and for a short while, she even concluded that they’d once and for all disappeared. Although when summer came back around and Gibert had turned up to school with eyes suddenly looking extremely green, hair looking extremely dark and curly, and a grin that could make anyone swoon, Anne had realised that she might have to try a bit harder.

Anne inhaled at the thought, drawing Gilbert’s attention who now had that very stupidly attractive grin on his face. His fingers were still clutched around her wrist, not quite daring to go any further down as his other hand hung onto the top of her waist gently, in fear of it seeming invasive. “You feeling alright? You haven’t said a word to me since we left” he joked, limping towards the forest and out of sight of the school.

“Fine” she replied rather quickly, her breathing slightly heavier than normal.

“I can take another look at if you lik-", “No no! Its fine- im fine, dont worry, just keep going” Gilbert frowned inwardly, but consequently decided that it was best not to try and persuade her. He knew as well as anybody that she had a temper to match her hair, and shortly concluded that he did indeed enjoy being liked by Anne, so he didn't push the topic any further.

Then a silence fell between them like the first leaves of autumn, rich and serene in the subtle hues of sunlight streaming through the canopy of branches above. Gilbert thought that he quite enjoyed being with Anne, even when she wasn't talking. He'd occasionally make short glances in her direction to see if she was okay, secretly enjoying the feeling of his skin on hers. Anne also enjoyed being with Gilbert, even without the conversation. If it were up to her, she would be relishing in the bliss of such a beautiful day, with the thick ivy cascading down friendly trees and the smiling faces of yellow and orange flowers greeting her as she moved past. But alas, her brain had other ideas.

On one hand she was thinking about how much her ankle was now beginning to painfully throb, and on the other she was thinking about how she could get out of the predicament that she had found herself in. She knew Ruby would not be happy if she could see Anne now, and Anne much preferred being friends with Ruby than letting her mind wander to people it shouldn't be wandering to. Although she couldn't help but notice the light trace his fingers left, making her tug at her sleeve nervously and subtly shake her head to try and dissolve the tempting feeling it gave her.

It almost felt like when a cold spring breeze passes through the forest trees and whistles gently to you, the soft wind caressing your cheek and leaving you flushed, feeling as though it had breathed new life into you. But then again, she thought, it wasn't cold like those mornings of dew and freshly grown flowers, it was warm like the midsummer nights. When the air was still and stars painted graceful hues of silver in the purple ecstasy of night, the smell of slightly dried wheat soaking through the soil. Skin slightly sticky from the water she'd allowed herself to slip into when she thought no one was watching, just to allow the cool ripples to lap at her neck whilst still maintaining a strong grip onto the river bank beside her.

Anne made a mental note to jot that down as idea for her new story.

She thought of making conversation so as to distract her from this new and unknown feeling, but had reservations as part of her thought that that might just make the whole situation a lot worse. Anne was surprised that Gilbert couldn't hear her thoughts as they seemed to be exerting as much volume as possible, each one trying to be louder than the next to catch her extremely divided attention.

Maybe he had however because he began to slow down and head towards a slightly damp looking tree stump in the middle of a small clearing, setting Anne down with care and allowing his hands to reluctantly fall from around her. He stayed quiet for a moment, breathing in the autumn air slowly, as though prolonging his very persistent question. Anne had already averted her eyes, choosing to stare at a fallen birch leaf which glowed a rather beautiful shade of gold, as though it had been dipped in treasure.

She knew she couldn't avoid his gaze for long but thought it was best to try and drag it out for as long as possible. She'd been doing rather well at it too, as Gilbert had already said her name three times before asking her something which managed to raise her head at a surprising speed.

"Are we friends?", he'd said, smiling as though she had said a joke, although letting it flicker and drop as he watched her blink in response.

Anne didn't answer, trying to see where she'd gone wrong in order for him to think that they weren't. She thought that perhaps she'd said or done something which seemed impertinent, or came across the wrong way.

"Gilbert th-" she stuttered momentarily. She wasn't particularly used to not knowing what to say. "Gilbert of course we are", her teeth began to nip at her lip nervously, wondering how exactly she could answer without slipping up and revealing too much.

He looked up at her slowly, allowing his gaze to travel up from her buckled black boots to the tips of her red braids. In the soft sun rays which filtered onto her face, her hair seemed to glow like fire, her eyes alight with the burning flames and her skin iridescent from the warm orange light. Gilbert thought that he quite liked looking at her like this, he could definitely get used to it.

"Gil I never mean to be rude or to ignore you, I certainly dont want you thinking that I dislike you. Its just difficult for me to be close friends with you because of wh-" and then Anne stopped herself with a sharp intake of breath. She knew Ruby would never forgive her if Gilbert found out about how Ruby 'had dibs'. Not that she wanted 'dibs' of course (although she internally smiled at the prospect); besides she's thought, Gilbert wasn't an object or an animal that she could claim her own.

Gilbert's ears had pricked up, his attention more focused on the words spilling from her lips rather than just her lips.

"Because of what? What do you mean?", he moved closer, rising slightly so that their heads were level.

"Im sorry but I can't say, it would be an injustice and I swore I wouldn't tell" Anne replied stubbornly, beginning to regain confidence at the thought of her friends.

"Oh how honourable of you" he grinned lightly, pulling at his sleeves so he could distract himself from the smile that was playing at the corners of Anne's mouth.

"Well I believe no less would be expected from Princess Cordelia", and now Gilbert was really grinning, and Anne was having trouble controlling her heart rate and the way her stomach would twist and flip at the sight of him.

There was a thread of light lacing itself across his face, weaving from the top of his right temple, down through his eye, across the bridge his nose and barely brushing the edge of his lips, finishing just on the line of his jaw with a golden pigment. She noticed the the way the slice of sunlight illuminated the green of his irises, reminding her of the lush green forests that were flush with dark wood and glistening leaves that she so often read about in books. Freckles lightly speckled and painted across his pink cheeks and nose, something she hadn't quite realised were there before. His lips red and soft looking, quirking upwards and exposing his teeth. His hair lay touched by soft shadows, each strand curling and winding as a few hung limp over his forehead. Anne quite liked his curls. Gilberts smile had began to fade, leaving behind a mellow expression on his face which looked so tender, and so kind that Anne was surprised that she hadn't melted into oblivion right then and there.

"I really am sorry Gil, I never meant to upset you", but he shook his head and blinked up at her, stretching out his fingers to push back a few strands of scarlet hair. As his skin touched hers almost torturously slow, he breathed in how soft it was, how warm she felt, how the contact could make the hairs on his neck stand on end and his heart skip what must've been at least several beats.

Anne thought it was a very peculiar feeling to suddenly have all of the breath sucked dry from her lungs, and to have feel each pound of her pulse as though it was a huge drum. It was such an extreme reaction compared to how lightly his fingers were brushing her cheek and neck, as if he were cautiously trying to touch a growling tiger that was ready to pounce at any given moment. They lingered on her jaw, his gaze flicking so quickly and so subtly to her lips that Anne was barely convinced that she saw it all.

"We should get going I suppose", he said quietly as though he didn't quite mean it, eyes still firmly focused on the redhead in front of him. "I suppose so" she replied with the same reluctance to avert her gaze.

So they watched each other for the few short seconds of hesitation. Taking in the angles of each others cheek bones and the spindles of light which so delicately embroiled itself into their iris's. Still focusing on the feeling of where they had touched, as though it had left a physical mark for them to see. Gilbert stood up slowly with a crunch of dry leaves beneath his feet. He held out his hand for her, pulling her arm around his neck once she had a solid grip, before looping his own arm around her torso and steadily walking as one down the crisp golden path.

"So 'Gil' huh?" he grinned lightly, allowing his fingers (which had gripped her wrist to help support her) to slip down to hers.

"Well I suppose that if you've given me a nickname, you should have one too" Anne replied quickly, her face turning a dark shade of pink. "Not that I particularly like my nickname, you really should come up with a better one"

"What?" he smiled, not noticing the small orange leaf which had just floated onto his shoulder "Carrots isn't good enough for you?".

She glared at him, allowing his fingers to gently lace between hers. "Its not very imaginative Gilbert, you could've at least been much more creative if you were going to mock me".

"Oh but carrots really does suit you, it'd be a shame to change something so good"

"I would've thought someone of your intellect couldn't possibly be so small minded, as to come up with the almost insultingly dim nickname of carrots. Something like... oh I don't know, 'rusty outhouse', would be much more subtitle".

It was many moments before Gilbert could regain his composure after that, he had to lean on a tree so that both himself and Anne wouldn't go toppling to the floor. All the while his fingers were still curled around hers tightly, eyes smiling wider than his lips and looking at her a though he would never stop. She quite liked that idea.

"Anne, you really are something else" he exhaled, only moments after he caught back his breath.

"Well you know I should hope so, how boring it would be to be plain and normal", she faltered slightly, "I mean personality wise, if we were talking about looks than I'm afraid to say I am far from interesting or beautiful, but I suppose you can't have everything in life".

Anne was grinning as though they were still joking around, and hadn't seemed to notice that Gilbert was no longer smiling. He could see green gables coming into view and knew that they had little time left, so very spontaneously, and almost as though his lips were leading him, he spoke the first thing that came to mind.

"If you want my opinion Anne, I think you're incredible. Im sure you can come up with a better word than I can as you have previously pointed out, but I think you look exquisite", and with that, Gilbert Blythe raised his chin confidently and tried to concentrate on anything but Anne incase that would stop her from noticing just how red his face was turning.

He didn't say anything else, only allowing his fingers to break free from hers, and instead gently fold them around her forearm which he deemed was probably more appropriate. She looked right at him, very ready to harshly berate him and potentially whack him over the head with a fallen tree branch - but she couldn't do it. Instead she could feel the heat from his skin and the fire from his eyes which were hooded with shadow. And she could smell the fresh pine needles beneath her feet which played so well with the sunken smoke in his coat and the sweet scent of toffee which seemed to follow him everywhere. And there was that constant lurch in the pit of her stomach which reminded her so vividly of when she fell from the roof ridge, but this time, she wasn't afraid of it.

Green Gables really was very close, the trees began to get thinner and thinner and Anne could see the clearing to the farm within a few metres of them. So, she did something rash.

Quickly, so quickly Gilbert wasn't even sure if it happened, she kissed his cheek.

"No," Anne was watching his eyes closely, her lips curling ever so slightly at the edges, "'exquisite' sounds perfect".

[slowbladed]

HOW I RUN MY BLOG

SPEED.

i get to it when i get to it. its as simple as that. i try not to force myself to write, sometimes i kind of have to with certain threads in order to get over a hump. but really i go through what i need, see if something inspires me, then write. things tend to domino effect afterwords and ill be able to spit out replies in quick succession before needing to sleep/do something else. because of that im all over the place with who i reply to. i also like to actually do things other than rp (draw/vidya gayme) alongside school work so... speed is really not my thing. lmfao

REPLIES / DRAFTS.

i draft everything and, like above, get to it when i get to it. my replies are extremely affected by music and what i’m listening to at the moment among other things (books, quotes, etc.) i will literally spend 10min in finding a song for me to write to that matches what i want to get (and if i really cant find any i just slap KAIRI on). a lot of my writing is winging it and i dont particularly plan stuff out. i might think about certain ways to reply in the shower or when i’m idle, but often it comes to me on a spur of the moment and i just WRITE and hope for the best. but hey, it hasn’t failed me!

STARTERS.

i’m quickly learning that i’m awful at starters and i’m now kind of avoiding making them. now i just go off of ask replies/ask memes and generally go from there. it isnt that i dont like putting in the effort but im just Awful at starting stuff unless i am PARTICULARLY INSPIRED by something thats been in my head. unfortunately these tend to be for specific rpers and at that point i just go to them and shoot it back and forth (i am also very bad with keeping up at messages on tumblr so if i ever just dont reply back its me being extremely forgetful). overall? im awful at them. does this mean i wont do them? no, but don’t expect something amazing. 

INBOX.

i have a lot in my inbox. stuff i save for later or just didn’t get to. if i need to i’ll delete older asks thats just been growing dust and are way past their expiration date. it isnt that i dont want to interact its just that nothing has hit me that i will produce something worthwhile. i dont like clutter and even though i have a lot of asks in my ask box right now, it hasnt gotten to the point where i wont reply to any of them. art asks are ust going to be kept in my back pocket in case i need a warmup or im feeling particularly motivated but uninspired to draw. i also tend to keep asks from people that are positive in case i need a pick me up.

SELECTIVITY.

i will follow pretty much anyone. if i like your characterization ill stay, but sometimes ill unfollow if i a) become uninterested b) you are starting shit or c) im just not feeling the waves anymore. it isnt so much to insult but i like keeping a dash that i enjoy scrolling through when im bored. we dont really need to interact but it would be a plus. generally i just ride the waves and see what happens, as with everything on this blog. 

WISHLIST.

ive a couple. but one thing i want to explore is the what ifs. specifically if marluxia managed to control sora and take over the organization. alternatively broke away from the org and created his own organization for himself. it would be interesting to see how different things would have gone with 5 different groups (xehanort, maleficent, trios, MoM, mar) going for largely different things. especially how having sora out of the mix would completely ruin some ppl’s plans. idk. i’d just like to explore that. and another thing i’d like to explore is just talking about how marluxia is doing awful things for an ultimate greater good. not excusing his shitty manipulative actions but how he just wants his heart back in the same way (kh2 characterization) xemnas wants his heart back and having to do ultimate evils to accomplish it.

HONEST NOTE.

although i love talking to others and sharing in the fun i am just as human as the rest of you guys. i get overwhelmed, i have a lot of school, and that takes priority over everything. im here to have fun, get better at writing, and make some friends. if i ignore you, drop a convo, im not mad at you im just actually busy lol. be nice to me and ill be nice to you. 

tagged by:   i stole from @critsnipe

tagging:   i dk take the thing

[calebwittebane]

ok so the actual story. getting amity was a bit of a spur of the moment decision... ive been really wanting another cat for a while now especially cuz ive been p much at home 24/7 what with finishing up my college stuff and just working from home and my new flatmate is rarely around so its just me and gaia, and gaia gets kinda bored cuz im busy a lot (and dont take many day naps anymore now that im on ritalin LOL she is Outraged about that, she loved to get this spontaneous sleepy cuddle time at random hours) and also has been missing francis, plus a change in the plans my fiance and i have for the future have made it a lot more logistically viable to get another pet. though i wasnt sure if i was ready for this Commitment also what kind of cat id want. then i found out by chance that a neighbor had these semi-stray kittens on his property living in his shed with their mama, he did feed them all but otherwise had no idea what to do with them, they just kinda Happened to him. i was So Hesitant And Conflicted And Worried but also like, i chose to take it as a sign, and so i Received A Kitten... amity is not like, super baby, shes about 2 months old, but she is tiny... i took her to the vet to get her dewormed and checked for parasites (she had a tick) and stuff and to have her scheduled for her shots, and the whole way there and back home she Refused to be in the carrier and instead just like clung to me, i held her under my tshirt so her silly little head was sticking out from under it by my neck and she was clinging to me like a baby monkey and falling asleep. she was a little dusty and stinky but i brushed her out thoroughly and let her clean herself and now she has that baby kitten smell 🥺 she seemed really mellow and timid early on but turns out shes really energetic and sillay and its not what i was expecting but i love that! shes so smart and polite though. she loves to play and run around and observe stuff but she doesnt cause any trouble or destroy stuff or go places shes not supposed to, and shes good at playing on her own too, like i love to play with her but also if i give her a little crumpled paper ball she is ALL GOOD shes gonna play soccer with it and carry it around in her mouth and have a great time. oh and she loves to look out the window and watch cars go by. alsoooo one of my favorite things abt her is that she is literally purring and making biscuits 24/7. like she seems so delighted at all times. just standing there and making biscuits, eating and making biscuits, looking at new things and making biscuits, always purring, especially if im around.

gaia has been SO good about this as well. i was rly worried she'd be upset or jealous but it seems i was right and she really did want a sibling. like with her you can really tell when shes sulking, even though she tends to forgive quickly, but when i brought amity home she was perfectly happy, cuddly and gentle as always. shes really interested in amity but not pushy or territorial or suspicious at all. just being very patient and gentle with her, and like casual enough that amity gets to like observe her from a distance, see her normal routine etc. even though again i can tell shes a bit sad that amity still gets so spooked - but theyre making progress! i cant wait for them to get used to each other and hang out.... you cant really predict how close two cats will be and how much time theyll be spending together, but i really hope they get to snuggle and nap together eventually...

but yeah, ahh, this was a rly good decision. kind of a big deal, i really dont take adopting animals lightly ahah, and this was FAST... but im so happy about this and i love this baby. shes cuddled up to me and making biscuits rn as im typing this lying on my bed but she keeps getting distracted by her own tail but shes too sleepy to keep playing either. idk i feel like ive given this little creature a safer happier life and that means a lot to me. ahhh shes gently making biscuits against my forehead. a pastry chef...

i named her after amity blight from the owl house of course

amity clearly wants to befriend gaia like she loves to watch her from a distance and blink at her and shes rly curious abt whatever gaia is doing, and keeps carefully and slowly approaching her, but she gets spooked every time and starts hissing and freaking out and exploding into the air and running away. meanwhile gaia is fully chill like shes just being her big fluffy gentle self and in fact seems very sad and concerned that this little creature is a little bit afraid of her. shes just standing there like <:(

[gryffvndors]

oh, baby [draco malfoy]

request: “Could u do Draco x reader with prompts 97 and 103 please? It would be so interesting plus I love your writing. You're so cool xoxo” -anon

word count: ~3000

a/n: why thank u anon, i AM pretty cool! (kidding im actually SO lame like u dont even know omG) anyway i wrote this at like 3 am and im posting it at 5 am so. i’m a few hours late (like a day actually but who’s counting, NOT ME) but happy bday to the real OG man draco malfoy! now enjoy this hot mess of sleep deprivation, angst, snark, and marina and the diamonds inspiration

97: “i don’t want to have a baby.”

103: “i had to see you again.”

When you were twelve, your grandfather died.

(Sometimes you still hear his voice, late at night, when your window is open a crack and the wind is whistling against the glass, making the tree branches outside of your room shake. You sit up straight, eyes wide, clutching your duvet in your fists. You usually come to the conclusion you were dreaming in your half-asleep state of mind and drift back off, only to recall nothing the following morning.)

You don’t remember much; while you weren’t exactly too young, you moreso blocked the memories from your mind. You do remember holding your mother as she wept into your shirt, face blank, eyes cast to the ground. You remember sneaking around your house in the middle of the night, creeping upon the pinprick of light that casted out from behind the door of your father’s study. Putting your eye against the crack between the floor and the wood, you only saw pacing feet. You remember your grandmother frequenting your house many times, usually around dinner, when she would join you. Just you - your mother would not leave her bed, your father would not leave his office. She smiled at you with glassy eyes and tearstained cheeks, slipping you a piece of candy after you were refused a bowl of ice cream. Not so much refused, actually - just ignored, for your mother would not leave the pile of blankets she called home and your father would not answer the door.

It was a rough time. The rough period lasted for a good few months, until your father threw a few cardboard boxes in your room and grunted, “Pack up your things. We’re leaving.”

Days later, you stood in front of one of the largest houses you’d ever seen. Your father, holding hands with your mother for the first time in years, smiled and laid a hand on your shoulder.

“This is our new home,” he’d announced. “When your grandfather died-”

You coughed, scowling at the brick driveway.

“-your mother inherited the house from him. He handed me the business. We’re rich now. Go, choose your bedroom.”

You chose the bedroom with the most windows. The house was dark inside, curtains drawn and candles lit. You traveled down the many hallways and didn’t stop until you found at least two windows.

That summer, as you explored the neighborhood (mostly just trees and a long, winding paved road that no cars ever drove down), lonely, you finally came upon another mansion, this one even bigger than your own. There was a boy outside, staring at the ground with a frown. You approached him tentatively. At the sound of your footsteps, he turned, frown twisting into an even deeper scowl.

“Who are you?” He called, voice laced with authority and scorn. When you said your name, he scoffed. “You aren’t one of us. Go away. We don’t want your kind here.”

You planted your hands on your hips, brows raises. “My… kind?”

“Yes. Go away.”

“What if I don’t want to? I’m not on your property. Therefore, I have a right to be here,” you smirked triumphantly, chin raised. The boy muttered something under his breath.

“Your kind is so annoying. Just get out of here.” He looked behind him, towards the door. When he looked back, his expression was one of concern. “My parents don’t like me talking to you people. If they catch me, we’ll both be in trouble. Save both of our arses and go back home. Where do you live, anyway?”

You pointed behind you. “Some mansion back there.”

He smiled then. Well, more of a smirk than a smile, but you were just glad he wasn’t upset anymore. It had been weeks since you talked to people your own age. Even if he was rude, he was still your age.

“So you’re rich, then?”

You shrugged. “I guess so. I don’t really care about money.”

“Don’t care about money? How could you not care about money?”

“I just don’t. There are more important things in the world. Like… chocolate,” you grinned, leaning against the nearest tree. You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your shorts. “I have loads at my house. Would you like some?” He seemed vaguely intrigued, but unsure. You added, “I know you’re not supposed to talk with… my ‘kind’,” you made air quotes, “but I will keep my lips sealed if you keep yours sealed.”

The boy finally muttered, “Fine. But I am only coming because I want chocolate.” He climbed over the fence and followed you back to your mansion. Halfway there, you asked him his name. Grumbling, he said, “I’m Draco Malfoy.”

He disappeared during the school year but, without fail, he always showed up over the summer. When you asked him about his school, all he said was that he went to some boarding school in Scotland. You didn’t “bond” over summers, really, but before you knew it, you found yourself looking forward to seeing him. You didn’t kiss him until you were fifteen, cheeks rosy from running around in the woods. It was a spur of the moment thing - you weren’t surprised when he left immediately, not showing up for a week. When he saw you, though, he pushed you up against a tree and pressed his lips against your neck, muttering something about how disappointed his parents would be. You only grinned and said, “Well, I find it very entertaining to disappoint my parents, don’t you?” He pulled away and rolled his eyes, but kissed you again anyway.

The summer of the year you were sixteen, you snuck him inside your bedroom for the night. He snuck back out before dawn, pressing a kiss to your forehead and mumbling a goodbye. You faked being asleep.

When he was seventeen, he told you he could do magic. He told you about his world, why his parents would be so disappointed, who he was. Instead of yelling at him for being crazy, like he thought you would, you kissed him hard and tangled your hands in his hair, laughing at the word “muggle”. He changed a simple wildflower to a bird with a wave of his wand, then changed the bird to a bouquet of roses. You teased him for being so sappy. When you got home, you stuck the roses in a vase of water and left them on your nightstand.

The thing with falling in love is that it’s like you’re standing at the edge of a cliff, holding onto invisible railings. All of a sudden, the railing is gone, and you’re lurching over the side, falling, falling, twisting in midair - until you finally hit the ground, a broken body in the broken world you live in. It’s opening your mouth to take a breath, but your lungs suddenly fail, the only thing you inhale being smoke and ash and the smog that hangs in the horizon. It’s opening your heart, your most vulnerable place, your secrets, and leaving it out in the open, the only security blanket your hopes and words asking for nobody to harm it. It’s crazy. It’s wild. It’s when you can’t sleep at night, can’t eat in the morning, can’t think ever.

The night Draco tells you about his magic, you sneak him into your room again. This isn’t the second time, this isn’t the last time - but something is different. Something is… more intimate, really. It’s like you’ve opened the floodgates and a whole wave of emotions come, not caring about the destruction it leaves in its wake.

Falling in love is being completely and utterly at the disposal of the soul before you.

And you can’t do anything about it.

“So you’re leaving in a week?” You ask, mouth dry. Draco nods, his fingers laced in his lap. His hair is messy, shirt untucked, which is rare for him, the proper git he is. Your hand itches at your side to smooth out the blond. “Oh. Well, you’ll be back soon.”

“A year,” he laughs humorlessly, looking anywhere but your face. You sigh, dropping onto the ground. The dry leaves crack and snap under the weight of your body. You rest a hand on his shoulder. He still refuses to look at you.

You wish this is easier. This… isn’t easy. This is harder than anything you’ve done before. Deep in your mind, deep, deep down, you know this is the right thing to do. He has a right to know. He… has a say in this. But that doesn’t tell the nerves eating at your stomach to stop chewing, or your frantically beating heart to slow down a bit, it’s okay. It will be okay. It has to be okay. He… is nice.

He’s actually kind of a prick, but he means well.

You clear your throat. A second later, you hear yourself saying, “I have to talk to you about something.”

“We’re talking right now, aren’t we?”

“This is… important,” you take a deep breath. “Very, very important. This is the most important thing we have ever talked about.”

Draco looks at you then, an amused expression on his face. “Most important? What, do I not exist? What about the fact that I’m a bloody wizard?”

You swallow. It feels like there’s something in your throat. You realize it’s the words you’re about to say - you have to force them down, keep calm, keep the situation under control. This is not the time for word vomit. This is the time for collected speaking. This is the time for-

“I’m pregnant,” you blurt.

Fuck.

Draco whips around. His slate eyes are wide, lips parted. You hear him say, “You’re what?!”

“You’re the only person I shag. So.” Out of the corner of your eye (you’re staring at the ground so hard, your vision is blurring), Draco is tugging at his blond hair. You think you might want to do that, too. Instead, you keep your hands balled at your side. “So,” you repeat. “So. It’s. It’s yours.”

“Oh my - fuck, Merlin, fuck,” he drops off the log he was previously sitting on to your side. His hands find yours, fingers fitting into the crevices you feel that, well, they were meant to. It’s like a puzzle, really, and in your mind, it works. This jigsaw the two of you make, anyway. Like, you’re kind of a bitch and he’s kind of a dick, so it works. And you’re pretty emotionally numb and. Well. His family situation is so bad he might as well be.

“Yeah,” you laugh shakily. This isn’t funny. You don’t know why you’re laughing, so you do it again. “Yeah. I. Um. I am. For, like, two months. I thought I was just gaining weight. And my. Uh. Period has always been kinda irregular, so. I took a test.”

“And you’re…”

“Yeah,” you nod. You can’t look into his eyes. You can’t look at his face, or you might burst into tears. “Yeah, yeah. There’s a fucking baby is my stomach. Well. Uterus, really, but, uh. Somewhere down there.”

Draco is deadly silent for a good few minutes. You are, too. You don’t speak. You wait for him to say something, anything. Finally, he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulls you into his side.

“Fuck.”

That’s all he says. You think you agree.

You nod, “Yeah. Um, I,” you wipe at your eyes, sniffing. “I don’t want to have a baby. I’m only seventeen.”

“Then don’t. Isn’t there a… procedure? A muggle procedure?”

“I don’t wanna do that either. I’m gonna have the baby, but. I’m scared,” you’re whispering now, and despite your wishes, tears are falling down your cheeks, landing on your lap. “And you can’t even be with me, so.” Draco ducks his head. The ends of his hair tickles your cheek. You lean your head against his. “Please say something.”

“Did you tell your parents?”

You shake your head. “No. I’m more worried about yours.”

“I’ll handle it. I’ll try.”

The next day, you meet outside. His face is expressionless. You know him too well - his eyes speak wonders. They’re broken, like shattered glass, a longing deep inside of them. It’s like looking into a well and seeing something shiny at the bottom, something you want, but can never get without falling in and never being able to get out.

“I can’t speak to you anymore.”

You freeze. In your mind, gears whirl, ice freezes over, your stomach drops. You choke out a, “Wh-what?”

Draco swallows, “I told my parents. If you cannot get rid of… it,” he snaps, “then fine. But you cannot talk to me. Ever again. I am going to my last year of school, then I am becoming an Auror.”

“Draco-”

“I must leave now. Goodbye.”

Your knees shake as you force yourself to stand, to watch him walk away. You wait until he’s gone to cry, so you don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you in pain. When you get back to your house, eyes bloodshot, lips red, you tell your parents. It takes you an hour to convince your dad not to go to his house and tell off his father.

“It won’t work,” you cry, holding onto his shirt. “They’re… different. I made a mistake, talking to him. Now I’m paying for it.”

Your mother whispers, “Do you love him? Did you love him?”

When you nod, she wraps you in her arms and lets you weep into her shirt. You get a mysterious sense of deja vu. Your father locks himself in his office for only a day. When he comes out, he hugs you, whispering how everything will be okay.

For your last year of school, you go to a special school with pregnant teens. Your grandmother moves into a spare room once she learns of the news, unjudging and supportive. You grow bigger and bigger, stomach inflating, until you have to get new clothes. As soon as you can, you find out that the child inside of you is a girl.

(You were hoping for a girl. You love girls.)

You’re due in late February. When December rolls around, you’re already sick of everything. It’s hard to sleep on your stomach and you can’t wear your favorite sweater and you’re so irritable, it makes your grandmother laugh.

“When I was pregnant with your mother, I craved salty pretzels and I dipped them in Earl Grey,” she says, handing you a mug and a bag of crisps. “When your mother was pregnant with you, she craved salty chips and ate them with green tea.”

“I want chocolate.”

She produces a bag of chocolate, as well. “Anything for my beautiful granddaughter.”

A week to Christmas, you’re sitting on the sofa in the den, remote in one hand, chocolate in the other. Somebody knocks on the door. Your grandmother is in the kitchen with your father, mother out in the garden; you roll yourself to your feet (it’s the only way you can get up now) and lug your body to the front door.

When you open it, you hate yourself for feeling excited at the image of Draco Malfoy.

You open and close your mouth a few times, much like a fish. When you finally get your bearings, you try to say, “What are you doing here?!” It comes out a whisper.

Draco frowns, looking at your stomach. His gaze is hopeful, awestruck, amazed. “I…” he takes a deep breath and meets your gaze. “I had to see you again.”

You scowl, clutching the chocolate and doorknob tightly. “I thought you couldn’t talk to me for the rest of your life,” you pause. “Wait, why aren’t you in school?”

“I came home for the holidays. So I could see you,” he sighs, casting his eyes to the ground. “And that’s what they told me to say. They… made me tell you that.”

You cross your arms. “I thought as much.”

“I really care about you,” says Draco. “And… the baby. It’s-”

“She,” you interject.

“Sh-she?” He murmurs. “I’m going to have a daughter?”

You nod. When you find your voice, you whisper, “If you’ll take her.”

“Of - of course,” he bites his lip. “And… you. I will take you. Please. I… frankly, I don’t give a damn about what my parents say. They’ve always looked down on muggles, and that’s the way I was taught to be, but… obviously, that didn’t go down well.”

“Obviously.”

“And… I am about to finish school. I am taking my N.E.W.T.s and then becoming a potion’s master, or an Auror, or something. I’ll decide that… later. You already know about magic. We could… move in together. If you’d like,” he says hurriedly. “Look, I know I said terrible things. I am kind of a prat. I-”

“I love you,” you dig your nails into your palms. “And I have for a. A while. So. I do want to be with you. Because I love you.”

“Fuck,” he breathes. “I love you, too. So much.” Leaning down, he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Please. Take me back.”

You shrug. “Okay. Sure. But I’m naming her, because you ditched me for, like, five months.”

Draco snorts. “Deal.”

“Okay. Cool. I love you, I guess. My show is on, are you coming inside and meeting my family and watching it with me, or are you going back home?”

He turns to look behind him. When he faces you again, he’s smiling. “I’ll come inside.”

“Good answer. It’s a bloody amazing show.”

You lace your fingers together and lead Draco through the house. “Just a warning,” you add, “my parents will probably dislike you at first. You kinda left me, your baby mum, in the dust. But my grandmum will love you to death. You’re hot.”

“She’ll love me… because I’m hot?”

“Also you’re a dick. For some reason, she loves mean, attractive people,” you turn to beam at him. “I mean, she loves me the most, after all.”

[madi2112]

Day 152 152 days on HRT. Not a nice round number like 150 but I was busy that day so this is close enough. Lol Its been a heck of a ride so far. Started on February 7th after a lost appointment in January. In those 150 days I have noticed a lot of changes in attitude and emotions but not much physically. My chest is sore and "up" to AA size at best. But its a start. I don't have to remove hair from my body parts as often as I once did. Which is nice. Although my facial hair is still a problem and right now I dont have the financial ability to start the laser removal process. But it's a start. I have a tiny bit of a figure. Meaning I don't just look like a cardboard box any longer. Now it's a cardboard box with a notch cut out on each side. But it's a start. A lot of this is slow pace of change is due to my age and a longer time period on minimum dosages. At first the trail stage and then in response to now frequent battles with my health. But it's a start. Emotionally, things are different. I seem to feel more now then ever. The highs seem higher, the lows lower (which is odd considering how low I was for a while) but the lows dont seem so helpless. I cry now at at a sad movie, or commercial or anything. Things are the same. Only different. Tough to explain. Where HRT has made the biggest difference is in attitude. Where once I was scared to go anywhere as myself, now I go everywhere. All the time. I went full time female about a month after starting HRT. Having to switch between myself and my guy costume was incredibly difficult. Each time I did it was more and more challenging to do. After a few days as me, having to go back to who I wasn't tore me apart. It couldn't have lasted much longer. So in that respect losing my job at Universal was for the best. It allowed me to go full time. A status I will NEVER stop. EVER. On the other hand. I now have had four jobs since HRT began. Universal. Postmates, Crossmark and Uber Eats. At the presrnt time Uber Eats is next to impossible. For health reasons and the heat of Florida in the summer. The A/C in my car has quit and estimates of $700 to $1300 to have it repaired. Tough to do when you have about $20 in both bank accounts. Total. But its ok. My car will most likely be repossessed soon anyways. But Im looking for a "real" job with steady hours, decent pay that must accept Madison. Even job hunting though is not easy. Everything is done online and my 12 year old laptop is useless and my tablet was lost (stolen?) when I was being moved while in the hospital. So Im trying to apply with my phone. Doesn't always work. But it's a start. (If anyone has a laptop lying around and wish to donate it. I'll give you my mailing address. Newer then XP please LOL) In the last 152 days I've also gotten back togather with Vicky. For really the first time EVER someone who knew me as I was has accepted me for who I really am. Something I never thought would happen. We dated from May to September last year. I found myself falling for her but broke it off. I wasn't prepared to tell her about my need to start transition (again) nor was I prepared for the rejection I was sure would happen if I did tell her. So I ended it. When she contacted me out of the blue on March 2nd. I took a week to mentally wrestle with myself and decided I was going to tell her, damn the consequences. Best decision I ever made. She accepted me, loved me and supported me now more then ever. We hope to have a future togather. Hope is the over riding feeling right now. Three days after revealing Madi to Vicky on March 12 I passed out and have been sick ever since. Found two days later, in a coma for 8 days, in the hospital for 2 weeks then a month to recover. Only to begin being sick again a few weeks later culminating in another 4 day hospital stay and tomorrows visit to the urologist for more tests. Fun stuff. So its understandable that I'm especially anxious and worried about tomorrows visit. It could be good news, or not. It could be the beginning of feeling better or the beginning of the end. The not knowing is maddening. But knowing might be worse. Still I have to face it all as it comes. Not something I was expecting on top of all the finanical, transition and other things maximizing my stress level. But it's a start. ~Madison HRT152 The above pix are in Cedar Key. Taken by Vicky in the spur of the moment. Im retaining over 2 gallons of fluid at this time! No wonder I was so big!

[berjhawn]

Bucky Barnes X Reader - I Don’t Need You

Warnings: Angst, lies, fighting, misunderstandings, heartbreak, ETC

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader

(A/N) This is a one-shot i had playing around in my head. It’s angsty since that’s the mood i was in when i wrote it. I hope you all enjoy it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One sentence… just one little sentence was enough to bring my whole happy world crashing down. I had been working at Stark Tower as a liaison between Pepper and the UN, when I was reassigned to ‘Bucky’ duty by Captain America himself. When Bucky first arrived, he was a little unstable and prone to panic attacks, all of which I was able to bring him down from using different methods. As my mission, so to speak, progressed; as did my relationship with Bucky.

At first the two of us were always together. I don’t know whether that was Steve’s plan from the beginning, putting two emotionally unstable individuals together or not, all I know is that it worked. I fell and I fell hard for Bucky. He was broken and damaged just as I was. I hadn’t grown up in the best of circumstances, hell I spent my childhood begging for food in the center of town, but after a kind old man took me in and put me through school and College; I made it my mission to help others.

Hence, I joined the UN, or the United Nations. I graduated top of my class and became a government liaison. That was many years ago, now. I’ve been a liaison for many different superheroes, starting with Reed Richards and then of course ending with Tony Stark. My job was simple, be the go between for both and keep the chaos to a minimum. Also, I was there to report on any and all tests and secrets.

Anyway, I’m getting off track. Like I said Bucky and I were constantly together, we spent every waking moment near each other. It was inevitable for me to fall for him. It happened about three weeks ago, Steve thought it would be a good idea for Bucky and I to take a day and go to Coney Island. Perhaps it might rekindle some of Bucky’s memories that hadn’t come back yet. So, we went and at first it was magical.

 We were having a great time. That was until I said something I shouldn’t have. I was so stupid, I got caught up in the moment and in the spur of it I told him I loved him. His eyes, he looked at me like I had betrayed him. I froze. I didn’t know what to do. It was just like when I was a kid and my mother abandoned me. He didn’t say anything. Like he was avoiding my confession so I decided to take him back to Steve.

The rest of the way back to Avengers tower we rode in silence. My heart was breaking and I just wanted to get him back safely and then I would decide what I was going to do from there. When we arrived, after I climbed out of the cab he grabbed my hand and said, ‘I don’t need you anymore, today proves I can do just fine by myself.’ I froze in my footsteps as he releases my hand and walks into the tower. I couldn’t breathe. My heart was crushed. Tears stung my eyes but I wasn’t about to cry.

 Flashbacks to my childhood filled my mind. Abusive words slung at me from every direction covered me making me lose all the confidence I had gained over the past few years. I was broken. I don’t remember how I got home or even how I didn’t end up dead in a ditch somewhere. All I remember was waking up the next morning and returning to my original job as Miss Potts assistant. I didn’t try to avoid him, I didn’t make things awkward, I was just being professional. Everything was fine. Even though the very sight of him made my heart hurt I had to be professional.

 Then it happened. I saw him with another girl. He was smiling a smile I had never seen before. It crushed me. That was when I decided to leave. I put in my resignation letter with Miss Potts, packed my bags, sold my apartment, and headed back to Paris. I traded in my field work for a desk job. I didn’t want to get attached to anyone ever again.

 “And that’s why I’m here.” I say as I look across the room to the Shrink my supervisors requested I go to. The middle-aged woman had her hair pulled tightly back in a bun, and she wore a gray pinstriped pants suit. This was the last place I wanted to be.

 “(Name), I’ve read the reports you wrote about your time at the Avengers tower; It seems like you had many friends you could have turned too, so why did you leave without notifying anyone other than Miss Potts?” She asks as she pulls her glasses from her face.

 “Miss Potts was my boss; it’s only fitting I tell her I was leaving.”

 “And this Bucky individual you mentioned, you didn’t feel the need to tell him you were leaving?” She asks and my heart clenches.

 “No ma’am, I figured it was best that I break off contact without delay. That is also why I decided to stay here in Paris. I’m finished with field work.”

 “You do realize it’s your superiors who want me to clear you for the field do you not?”

 “I do ma’am, but I wish to remain at my desk.”

 “I understand your reasons, I will go through my notes and let them know what I think.”

 “Thank you,” I say forcing my business smile.

 “That is all the time we have for today, I will see you again next week at the same time.”

 “Yes ma’am.” I say as I stand and grabbing my coat and purse head for the door. I was not happy. Leaving the therapists office, I step out into the cold winter air and let out a heavy sigh. I hated shrinks, I never believed they worked and I hated the fact that I was to tell a complete stranger about my tortured past. As the cold wind blows I take a deep breath and wince as the cold air fills my lungs. It burned but that was just proof that I was alive.

 Turning I decide to take the long way home and walk past Notre Dame. It was my favorite place in the whole world. When I was begging for food I used to go there. The Archbishop and Deacons used to slip me whatever food they could and then on extremely cold nights they would allow me to sleep inside the cathedral. It was the first act of kindness anyone had ever shown me. I smile at the people as I pass by them.

 As the church comes into view I remember Philippe, the old man who took me in off the streets. He was a baker, every morning he would wake up early to start preparing the dough. I loved smelling the smell of bread baking. Bread baking was my favorite smell in the whole world. Although he passed away right after I graduated college he left his bakery in the hands of his workers.

 Rounding the corner, I spot a familiar face and I smile as I rush over to the flower woman. “Bonjour Marie,” I call out to the redhead as I reach into my purse to pull out some money for her beautiful yellow Roses.

 “Ah Bonjour (Name), Je ne vous ai pas vu depuis des années. Comment allez-vous?” (I haven’t seen you in years. How are you?) She replies a bright smile covering her withered face.

 “J'ai eu un peu de malchance en amour mais à part ça je l'ai bien été.” (I've had a bit of bad luck in love but other than that I’ve been well.) I reply holding the blooming petals up to my nose.

 “Eh bien, je ne vais pas édulcorer et dire que vous allez rencontrer quelqu'un savait. Est-ce que vous aimez cet homme?” (Well I’m not going to sugar coat it and say that you'll meet someone knew. Did you love this man?) She asks and I feel tears sting my eyes as I think of him.

 “Oui je l'ai fait.” (Yes, I did.)

 “L'amour fait mal. Voilà comment vous savez qu'il était réel.” (Love hurts. That's how you know it was real.) She replies and I nod.

 “Eh bien, je serai hors tension. Merci Marie pour la belle rose.” (Well I'll be off. Thank you, Marie, for the lovely rose.) I say as I start to walk toward the bridge. She waves me off with a smile and I grip tightly to my little bouquet as I slowly walk across the Pont au Double bridge. I take one last glance toward the church and smile softly before I turn back and continue my walk home.

 Walking into my apartment, I am greeted by the familiar face of a one Steve Rogers and I freeze in my footsteps. “Mr. Rogers? Um, what are you doing in my apartment?” I ask a knot welling up inside my throat.

 “Pepper told me you resigned. I have to admit I was a little surprised that you didn’t say goodbye.” He says a sad smile covering his lips.

 “I apologize; I admit I wasn’t thinking rationally when I left.” I reply as I close my door and setting my purse and roses down start to pull my coat off.

 “Don’t apologize. I’m sure you had every reason to do what you did.” He says and I nod as I hang my coat on the hook and grab the roses.

 “Um, would you like something to drink?” I ask as I walk past him to the kitchen to find a vase.

 “Ah yes, a water would be nice.” He replies as he follows after me.

 “Water it is.” I say as I set my roses down on the counter and grab a glass. Reaching into the fridge I grab a bottle of water and twisting the cap off pour it into the cup. Handing it too him I turn back and reach for a pair of scissors to cut the stems of my rose. “So how is everything?” I ask making small talk as I gently arrange the roses in an antique blue glass vase.

 “Well the towers still standing if that’s what you mean.” He jokes and I chuckle.

 “I guess that’s a good thing then.” I reply setting the vase on my kitchen table. “How long are you going to be in Paris?”

 “A few days,” He replies and I nod.

 “Are you alone, or did the rest of the team come?” I ask dreading his answer. I was not ready to see Bucky. I wanted to be alone.

 “Tony, Natasha, Pepper, Sam and I came.” He says and I let out a sigh of relief that wasn’t visible on my face.

 “You’ll have to tell them I said hi,” I comment smiling softly at him.

 “I will, we’ll have to have dinner together.” He offers and I tense.

 “I’ll have to check my schedule, but that would be nice.” I reply as I move from the kitchen to the front room. “Would you like to sit down?” I ask as I motion to the couch.

 “Ah yeah sure,” He replies sitting down across from me.

 “Is it just me or does it seem really awkward?” I ask smiling.

 “So, it’s not just me.” He replies and I smile.

 “There’s no need to be on your toes around me, please just be yourself.”

 “Thank you. Sorry it’s just,” He pauses as he rubs his fingers along the smooth glass, “Been a hectic few weeks.”

 “Again, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything about me leaving. I just needed,” I pause as I clasp my hands together. “I missed my home. I grew up in Paris you know?”

 “I remember you saying something about it before. I got your address from the UN. I hope you don’t mind.”

 “Although I am a little surprised to find you inside my apartment,” I giggle making him laugh before I continue, “It’s a nice surprise though, so thank you.” 

 “No problem. If I’m being honest, I missed you.” He says and I feel my heart lighten a bit.

 “I missed you too Steve.” I reply honestly as I smile at him.

 We spent the next few hours talking and reminiscing about old times which was nice. I hadn’t lied, I had missed Steve. Truth be told I had missed them all, but I just wasn’t ready to see them. Steve was enough. As the hours passed I glanced up to the clock to see that it was almost nine and my eyes widen. “Oh my, I didn’t realize it was this late. Um do you know your way back? Should I call you a cab, or if you’d like I have a guest room?”

 “Oh um, I think I can find my way back. It’s not that I don’t want to take you up on your offer but I just think, you know,”

 “Right, It’s completely understandable.”

 “Um how about lunch tomorrow?” He asks as he stands up and walks toward the door.

 “Uh yeah, sure, why not? Um, my lunch breaks at one. There’s a little Bistro I like to frequent for lunch called La rose floraison. They have the most amazing food there.”

 “Then I’ll see you tomorrow at one.” He says grabbing his coat and pulling it on.

 “I’m looking forward to it. Goodnight Steve,” I say giving him a soft smile.

 “Goodnight (Name),” He says returning my smile before he heads off down the hall. As soon as he heads down the stairs I close the door and let out the heavy sigh I had been holding all night long. I lean my back against the door as I slowly slide down the door onto the floor.  What was I to do now? If Steve knew I was here, then it wouldn’t be long until the rest of the team knew. Not that Bucky would come even if he knew.

 The recollection of his name sent a shiver down my spine. My heart tightens in my chest and I take a deep breath to keep from crying. I look over at the clock and watch as the time slowly ticks by. There was no way I was going to get any sleep tonight. Not with my mind full of the past. Clearing my throat, I push myself up off the floor and grabbing my cell phone head to my room. Sitting down on the bed I reach over and opening my nightstand drawer I take out my sleeping pills.

 I set my alarm and plug in my cell phone before I twist the cap of my pills and pulling two out slip them in my mouth. I swallow them down dryly before I lay down on top of the blankets. It was definitely cold outside and it was slightly drafty in my little apartment but I didn’t care. I wanted the cold. I needed to feel numb. As I close my eyes I slowly slip into an all too familiar nightmare.

 Bucky’s POV

~Going back~

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Bucky yells out in confusion before running past his friend and up to her room. She couldn’t be gone. Why would she leave? His mind drifts back to the day they had gone to Coney Island and her sudden confession and his heart clenches. It was true that he had rejected her but it was for her own good. He couldn’t love her the way she deserved to be loved. Granted he had rejected her rather roughly but she had been acting just fine since then.

Throwing her bedroom door opened he found all her belongings gone. No trace of her was left. “(Name)!” He yells out as he runs throughout her entire floor in search of her. He feels his heart start to clench and its pace quickens. “No, no, no. (Name)!” He yells again his adrenaline kicking in. Unable to control his body he grabs the closest thing to him and throws it against the wall. He reaches for the next thing-                                        

“Bucky calm down!” Steve yells as he reaches out and tries to restrain Bucky who is thrashing around wildly.

“Where is she Steve? Where did she go?” Bucky cries out pain lacing his voice. 

“I don’t know Buck; all I know is she turned in her resignation and left. Even Pepper doesn’t know where she is.”

“It’s all my fault?” Bucky says his body stilling.

“What? Why? How is it your fault?” Steve asks confusion filling his voice.

“It just is okay,” Bucky snaps causing Steve to narrow his eyes at his friend.

“What exactly happened between the two of you Buck? I noticed she was acting strange but I didn’t think it had anything to do with you.”

“That day, the day you sent us to Coney Island; everything was perfect. She was beautiful with the sunlight in her hair and a happy smile on her lips. Then when we were about to get on the cyclone she told me,” He pauses as he narrows his eyebrows. “She told me she was in love with me.”

“Really? Buck that’s great.”

“I rejected her.” Bucky interjects making Steve stare wide eyed at his friend.

“What exactly did you say to her Bucky?” Steve inquires in a serious tone.

“I panicked. At first, I didn’t say anything. Right after that we climbed into a cab and came back here. Then when we got out of the cab I stopped her and,” He pauses as tears start to fill his eyes.

“And?” Steve presses his friend for more information.

“I told her that I didn’t need her anymore. That that day was a test that I passed and I could live normally without her.”

“Jesus Bucky, what were you thinking?” Steve chastises his friend as he runs a hand down his face.

“I wanted her to find someone else. Someone better than me. I’m broken and I’ve done a lot of bad in my life. I didn’t want to hurt her but I didn’t want to see her get hurt because of me either. My brain picked the easier of the two. I didn’t think she’d actually leave though. She acted normally after that day, I just figured she decided to stay friends.”

“Buck, you may have wanted to keep her from getting hurt; but in reality, you hurt her more than anyone else ever could.” Steve shakes his head. He knows this isn’t going to help his friend but Bucky needed to know the truth.

“But why did she wait so long to leave then? Why didn’t she leave the next day?” Bucky asks his eyes full of curiosity and pain.

“Did something happen recently?”

“No,” Bucky shakes his head. “We have barely talked since that day.”

“I’m sorry Buck, but I think it’s safe to say that she’s not coming back.” Steve says blatantly and Bucky nods.

“It’s all my fault.”

“Come on Buck, let’s get you something to drink and maybe go for a run to clear your mind.”

“Please just leave me Steve. I wanna be alone.” Bucky replies his eyes growing cold.

“Are you sure?” Steve asks as he places a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Bucky says his voice cracking. “Just leave me alone.”

~Today~

Bucky stares at the building that held her apartment with mixed emotions. He wanted to rush up the stairs to her. Tell her he had been wrong and all he ever wanted was for her to come back but he couldn’t find the nerve. Gulping down a breath of air he stares up at the window Steve said was hers, his entire body crying out for him to run to her but he held himself back. The light was still on and at times he could see her silhouette against the curtains.

He wanted to see more. He wanted to hold her in his arms and tell her he was sorry. Steve had been up there for a while talking with her and he had said that she seemed a little awkward and nervous. Steve hadn’t mentioned that he was in town and that gave him the element of surprise. Steve had made a date with her to have lunch tomorrow and as a surprise he would be there instead of Steve.

There was no doubt she would be upset and a little betrayed but he needed to talk to her. He needed to see her, to tell her that the words he had told her had haunted his every waking moment. She would probably reject him but it was a chance he was willing to take. As the lights of her apartment turn off he takes a deep breath and turning heads back to his hotel room where he would sleep tonight for the upcoming battle tomorrow.

Reader’s POV

I stare at the blank screen before me. My mind wasn’t able to focus on anything work related at all. “(Name), I needed those files regarding the Wakandan royal family on my desk five minutes ago!” My boss Michael Ross yells out bringing me from my stupor.

“Oh!” I exclaim as I look down at the open file showing a picture of the young prince of Wakanda. “I’m sorry Mr. Ross, I have it right here.” I say as I quickly close the file and hand it over to him.

“What’s with you today? You were doing so well.” He asks his deep brown eyes filled with worry.

“Just didn’t get enough sleep last night. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” I say straightening my back and putting my best businesslike face on.

“Okay, if you need an ear to listen to your troubles, my door’s always open.” He says with a quick wave before he started off back to his office. When his door closes, I let out a sigh of relief before I lean back against my chair my head falling back so I could stare at the ceiling. Damn Steve for showing up and causing my mind to be so muddled. Speaking of Steve. I look at the clock to see that it was almost time for me to go on my lunch break and contemplate sending him a message. I grab my phone only to realize that I had deleted his cell number when I came back to Paris.

“Just my luck.” I groan out as I toss my phone onto my desk and pinch the bridge of my nose. No turning back now. Pulling my cac-card from the reader I place it inside my wallet and standing up I grab my phone and shoving it back into my purse grab my coat. Rolling my shoulders, I slide my chair up to my desk and turning head for the elevator. I give Michael a quick wave signaling that I was leaving for lunch and he nodded.

He gives me a head nod in return as he is on his phone before I climb into the elevator and hit the lobby button. I watch the numbers slowly count down as I try to think about what I was walking into. I thought about somehow running away and hiding but now that they knew I was here that wouldn’t work. Letting out a heavy sigh I hail a cab. When one stops I quickly climb inside and telling him the address fold my hands over my lap and let out a heavy sigh.

It took no time at all to make it to the little café. I hand the cabbie the money I owed before I climb out of the cab and taking a deep breath I head inside. I smile softly as I am greeted by the familiar host who quickly leads me to a table where I could wait for Steve. I order a water as I pull my cell phone out of my purse and start to fiddle with it. A few seconds later I see someone walk up to me out of the corner of my eyes and thinking it to be Steve I fake a smile and look up only to stare wide eyed at the last person I ever wanted to see again. “Bucky…”

“Hey (Name), mind if I sit?” He asks his icy eyes pleading with me. My heart starts to race and my palms grow sweaty as he sits down across from me.

“I thought I was meeting Steve.” I say in disbelief as I stare across the table at him.

“Sorry about that, Steve asked you here for me.” Bucky replies as he leans his elbows on the table.

“Why?” I ask as my throat tries to close up.

“Because I wanted to see you.”

“Why?”

“Because I miss you.”

“Why?” I ask again not getting where he was going with this. Why did he miss me? He was the one who told me to go.

“Because…” He pauses his eyes finding mine as they fill with a silent plea.

“Sargent, I have a very busy schedule. I’m sorry but I need to get back. Tell Steve not to contact me again.” I say as I grab my purse and tossing down some money stand up and leave.

“(Name) wait.” Bucky calls out as he follows after me. I ignore him as I continue on down the street headed anywhere but there. “(Name)! Stop!” Bucky yells out angrily making me stop in my tracks and turn back to him. He gulps down a breath of air as he closes the distance between the two of us and before I have a chance to think crashes his lips against mine. At first I fight against him trying my hardest to push him away so I could keep my sanity but just like before I found I couldn’t.

I grip tighter to his coat as his hands cup both sides of my face holding my lips to his. Tears fill my eyes as I with one last surge of sanity push him away. As he stumbles away from me I feel my hand move on its own as it collides with the side of his face. “Why?”

“Why what?” HE asks making me try to choke back sobs.

“Why now? Why did you kiss me? What do you want from me Barnes?” I question as I try not to burst out in tears. “You told me to leave so I did. What more do you want? How much more will you hurt me?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He says a pained expression filling his face. “I told you I didn’t need you cause I didn’t want to place you in danger. No matter what I do I will always have bad people after me and I didn’t want to put you through that. I couldn’t see you hurt.”

“Well you failed there, you hurt me more than anyone else ever could.”

“Then why did you stay after I told you to leave? Why did you take so long to leave?”

“Because I saw you.”

“You saw me what?”

“I saw you with another girl,” I answer and he cocks his head in confusion. “You wore a smile I never saw before. You looked happy with her and it broke my heart. I left because I knew you would never look at me like that. I couldn’t stay and watch the man I loved love someone else. I left to get over you. Why won’t you let me do that?”

“Because I love you (Name).” He replies taking me aback.

“You… you love me?” I ask as I start to take a few steps backwards away from him. “It’s not true, you don’t do that to someone you love.”

“It’s true (Name),” He answers as he clenches his jaw. “When I found out you were gone, I lost it. I went crazy. I wanted you to find someone else who was better that I am; but I never expected you to disappear. I never wanted that.”

“Then what did you expect me to do? Flaunt whoever I met in front of you? I couldn’t do that, no matter how upset I was.”

“The more I thought about it while I sat in your old apartment sulking,” He starts as he closes the distance between the two of us. “The more I realized how much I hate the thought of you being with someone else. It would kill me to have to stand by and watch you be happy with someone else no matter how much better they would be for you. I couldn’t do it. I realized then how much I love you (Name). I really and truly love you.”

“What am I supposed to say?” I ask tears silently falling from my eyes.

“Whatever you want. You can tell me to go to hell, to never see you again; hell, you can tell me to eat shit and die and I will.” He adds making me chuckle slightly at his words. “But if there is even the slightest bit of a chance that you can forgive me, and give me a second chance, the please tell me now.” I contemplate all the emotions and feelings running through my body as I stare up into his handsome face. I wanted nothing more than to tell him I loved him and that I wanted to be with him but what if it wasn’t enough. What if all this was, was just smoke and mirrors? It would probably kill me.

I take a deep breath fully intending to tell him no when I hear myself say, “I love you James Barnes.” He smiles and goes to hold me but I hold my had up stopping him in his tracks, “But I’m scared that this is all just…”

“It’s not what you think (Name) I really and truly love you. I will gladly spend the rest of my life proving it to you. If you’ll let me.” He says as his hands reach up to rest on my shoulders. I stare at him for a moment my eyes searching his for any hint that he might be untrue but there is none. Giving him a hopeful smile I wrap my arms around his waist and hold tight to him. “You better not be lying Barnes.” He kisses the top of my head as he gently smoothes my hair back.

“I promise (Name), I’ll always be here for you; and I’ll say it as much as I can. I love you.”

“I love you too James Buchanan Barnes.” 

LATER

“I swear you are never allowed to leave the tower again.” Tony says as he sets a glass of whiskey down in front of you.

“Oh really? Why?” I ask a smile covering my lips as I hold tight to Bucky’s hand.

“Because Frosty here is annoying when he’s sulking. I almost tossed him back into Cryo to lighten the mood around here.”

“HEY!” Bucky argues making me laugh at the two of them as I look around at all our friends. Bucky grips tighter to my hand and I smile lovingly at him as I think to myself that I couldn’t be happier.

[allofbeercom]

The day I went hunting for the Ku Klux Klan | Dave Eggers

Following Trumps win, one KKK chapter announced plans for a victory parade in North Carolina. But where was it going to be, and who might turn up? Dave Eggers joined the protestors playing cat-and-mouse with white supremacists

No one knew much, but the crowd was growing. We were at the rest stop off Highway 29 between Eden and Pelham, where North Carolina meets Virginia, and everyone was looking for the Ku Klux Klan. It was 8.40am.

The day after the election of Donald Trump, the Loyal White Knights of Pelham, a chapter of the KKK with a suitably unhinged website, had announced that they would be holding a victory parade on 3 December. In the weeks since, there had been no word on the Knights website or anywhere else about when or where the parade would be.

But the initial declaration was perhaps the most dramatic manifestation of what we might call the New Emboldening a coast-to-coast rise in everyday American racism and bigotry spurred by the rhetoric and election of a billionaire who had taken swipes at certain Mexican-Americans and all Mexicans, certain women and all women, certain Muslim-Americans and all Muslims, all African Americans and all immigrants.

In the month after the election, the Southern Poverty Law Center had tracked more than 900 incidents targeting non-whites. A Muslim college student in Ann Arbor had been told, by a young white man, to remove her hijab or he would light her on fire. At a Utah high school, two Mexican-American sisters were told by their white classmates, You get a free trip back to Mexico. You should be happy.

The idea of a Klan rally in this kind of atmosphere was potentially explosive. The KKK had demonstrated a year earlier, in Columbia, South Carolina, and the results had been ugly. Three hundred Klan members had been there. The New Black Panthers had countered with 400 of their own members. In all, there were 2,000 protesters. There were cops in body armour. Ripped Confederate flags. A grandmother with a bloody nose. A Klan member, trying to flee in his vehicle, ran into a lamppost.

This 3 December parade, then, coming after Trumps election and during this New Emboldening, had the potential to be far worse. The promise that the parade was coming was a blight on the soul of the nation; the vast majority of the country, whether they supported Trump or not, dreaded it. There is no more wretched and horrifying segment of the American people or history than the Klan, who in their darkest years had lynched black men and women and had terrorised anyone who wasnt white or Christian. At their height, in 1924, the Klans membership was 4 million. In 2016, estimates put their strength at no more than 8,000.

Two masked Ku Klux Klansmen giving an interview on a rural backroad near Pelham, North Carolina on the night of 2 December. Photograph: Jay Reeves/AP

But Trump, like a snake charmer, had coaxed the rise of the alt-right, who embodied the spirit of the Klan, but in different robes and with better social media. And because the depth of Trumps support so much of it invisible to polls and data had shocked much of the nation, there existed the possibility that the Klan, too, would emerge with far greater numbers than anyone thought possible.

But for a month, no one knew where the rally would take place. Activists marked it on their calendars but had no clue where to go, other than Pelham, North Carolina a tiny town of 3,592 souls, with no central business district through which to parade. The night before, Id driven around Pelham and found nowhere a potential parade might happen. Guessing the Klan might be gathering at the home of Amanda and Christopher Barker, the only Knights listed on their website, I drove past the home listed as their address. It was a humble clapboard house in nearby Eden. There were no cars parked outside, no sign of an assembling of regional racists.

Then, late on the night of 2 December, an article appeared on the website of the Times-News of Burlington, North Carolina. A reporter there, Natalie Janicello, spoke with a Loyal White Knights representative who called himself the chapters exalted cyclops. He confirmed that the Klan would indeed parade. Probably at 9am, he said, and in the vicinity of Pelham.

So here we were, at the rest stop, waiting for word. The sky was grey and the temperature hovered at 40F. Cars continued to arrive, and their passengers disembarked to use the facilities. Most were young and dressed in black boots, pants, hoodies and sunglasses. A few were wearing bandanas to cover their faces. These were black-bloc activists some anarchist, some communist, some apolitical in general more willing to engage in confrontation and property damage (thus the efforts to anonymise themselves). There were six of them. Then 10. Then 20. Thirty. They made up the largest group of the assembling activists, but there were also members of the International Workers of the World (IWW), a few people with Black Lives Matter signs, and a smattering of unaffiliateds men and women, most of them under 30, standing in the cold, waiting for word of when and where. But 9am was fast approaching and there was no update.

I befriended a trio of activists who seemed to have the most up-to-date information. Megan Squire, a red-haired professor of computing sciences at nearby Elon University, was earnest and funny and determined to confront the Klan. She was with her husband, Tony Crider, a professor of physics, who, in Ray-Bans and a leather jacket, was a bit more detached and sceptical (for reasons that would become clear later). With them was Sugelema Lynch, a bright-eyed second-grade teacher from nearby Alamance County.

Im more of a tag-along, she said. She was wearing a lime-green scarf and teal-coloured sneakers, and had an enormous camera around her neck. I just want to get a couple cool photos and tell my kids, Look what I did this weekend! She had moved from California five years earlier, when shed married a man who grew up nearby. She was still getting used to this once-Confederate state, whose Latino population had grown from 76,000 in 1990 to 800,000 in 2016.

When I first moved here, she said, living in the Burlington area, you just felt the tension. As a Hispanic woman, just walking around felt awkward. She is one of two Latino teachers at her elementary school, where most of the students are the children of Latino immigrants. Its not really a surprise to hear about the Klan here. Things dont ever just go away. But Im not offended just looking at the Confederate flag. I grew up watching The Dukes of Hazzard, too.

Megan was periodically checking in with the IWW and black-bloc groups, and returned with news. OK, she said. The rumour now is that the Klan is organising itself, planning to go to Danville via Highway 29. Everyones trying to find someone who might have a car shitty enough to block the highway.

Black bloc protesters some anarchist, some communist, some apolitical who formed a large part of the turnout against the KKK march. Photograph: Carol Guzy/Photoshot/Avalon

Danville was a city of 43,000, just over the Virginia border. It had been on the list of possible sites for the Klan march.As we waited, Tony told a story of a recent Trump-fuelled incident on the Elon campus. The day after the election, he had arrived at his classroom to find the words Bye bye Latinos. Hasta la Vista written in large letters on his whiteboard. There had been recent activity in the area by another neo-white supremacist group called Actbac (Alamance County Taking Back Alamance County), and Tony thought this might have something to do with them. Deciding to make it a teachable moment, he took a picture of the board and posted it on his Facebook account.

When his first class arrived that morning, he left the words up. He asked the students to write down their thoughts on the election and drop them in a bin, so each students opinion would remain anonymous. (He planned to read them aloud a week later, when they had some distance.) He taught the class as planned, then went back to his office, closed the door, and cried.

Meanwhile, his photo had been shared with a student reporter at Elon, who tweeted it. That tweet was retweeted 2,000 times, and by the next day, it had been reported in the Daily Mail and the Associated Press. It was referenced all over the world.

Then we found out it was a hoax, Tony said. It turned out that a Latino student at Elon had written it. The student considered it satire.

Now the assembled protesters gathered around Greg Williams, an organiser from the IWW. With long dark hair and a beard, he was calm and in control. He introduced the protesters to four men and women wearing bright green baseball caps. They were from the National Lawyers Guild, he said if anyone got arrested, they would be available. He provided one of their phone numbers. It had a San Francisco area code. The activists passed around a black marker and wrote it on their arms.

Anyone with a smartphone that can be opened with your fingerprints should disable that function, Megan said. If youre arrested, she explained, police cant make you give up your password, but they can compel you to use your fingerprint. The heads of the assembled protesters bent downward as they busily made adjustments to their phones.

Finally, Williams instructed the protesters to think about your positionality. White protesters should, he said, try to keep at least two of them (white protesters) between the Klan and any protesters of colour. Speak for yourself, a black protester said, and there were laughs. The bottom line, Williams said, is look after each other.

A parking attendant had been making her way through, marking tires. The police would soon have reason to move the group, so everyone got in their cars and caravanned to the Pelham Community Center just across the highway. A sign out front promised a visit from Santa Claus later that week.

Behind the community centre was a dirt road with a narrow stretch of grass running alongside it. The area was flanked by a high wire fence on one side and a dense forest on another. Everyone parked their cars, got out and waited. The protesters milled and talked and looked at each others placards. RAPIST PRESIDENT read one. NO HATE IN OUR STATE read another. A white man in shorts held a sign declaring that The Worst Thing to Ever Come Out of a Vagina Was a WHITE MAN. Another white man demonstrating every protests struggle to keep focus had a sign pushing for a $15 minimum wage.

Word was that the parade would happen at 11am. Now the black bloc got serious. Baseball bats were removed from car trunks. Masks were adjusted. One man wore a leather jacket covered with silver studs. Another put on a motorcycle helmet. The scene began to have the look of troops assembling before battle.

More members of the media appeared. There were about a dozen small video crews and an equal number of journalists walking around with notebooks and tape recorders. They roamed among the assembled and waiting protesters, and, with nothing else to do, pretty much every journalist and photographer interviewed and photographed pretty much every protester. A trio of young activists with hand-drawn signs were photographed at least 10 times in precisely the same pose. Sugelema took a picture, too. What the hell, she said.

An SUV with tinted windows arrived. Two men emerged wearing identical outfits fleece jackets, khaki pants, sunglasses and hats. Security contractors with a group called ESG, they were there to protect a TV newscaster, an older gentleman, well-tanned, who emerged from the SUV with a cameraman in tow. His security detail followed.

Two young men removed two crates from their car trunk, one full of bottled water, the other Red Bull, and distributed them. The mood was upbeat. The current joke, Megan said, is that were just a bunch of goth kids playing Pokmon Go.

With an hour to kill before the Klan parade, there was general anxiety that some faction of the protesters would start a drum circle. The anarchists dont like drum circles, Megan noted. Sugelema pointed to a man with a red drum at his feet. Two other men were carrying cymbals. Another man with an elaborate moustache appeared with a saxophone. A few days before, at the Standing Rock protests, Sioux tribal leaders had asked the white people, arriving in great numbers and in festive spirit, not to treat the protests like Burning Man.

Megan checked in with Natalie Janicello, the reporter who had the trust of the Loyal White Knights. Janicello happened to have been a student of Megans at Elon University. She conveyed the latest: the Loyal White Knights had pushed their parade back to 3pm. The theory circulated that the Klan had been scared off by the size of the counter-protest, and had postponed their rally to gather a comparable volume of paraders of their own. One woman with hair dyed blue carried around a sign, newly made, that said Big Bad KKK: 2 Scared 2 March.

Protesters in Danville after the theory circulated that the Klan had been scared off and had postponed their rally. Photograph: Carol Guzy/Photoshot/Avalon

Sugelema and I went to get snacks. At the local mini-mart, where the staff and customers were all black, there was no awareness at all of the parade and counter-rally happening down the road. Next door, three young African American men were offering car washes. It was business as usual. We drove through Danville, quiet as a tomb.

They used to make socks here, Sugelema noted. A wide river, the Dan, cut through the town, and there were abandoned factories decomposing alongside its grey water. Around this part of North Carolina, there had been textile factories specialising in hosiery. In 1951, two local manufacturers, the Riverside Cotton Mill and Schoolfield, merged and became the largest single-unit textile mill in the world. But the plant closed in 2006. Now the city looked like the kind of place that might see its red-brick warehouses turned into lofts, and its riverside factories transformed by non-profits. But this kind of revival had yet to arrive in Danville.

Sugelemas parents were migrant farmworkers from Mexico. We moved every couple months, she said, following harvests up and down the Pacific coast. They picked apples in Washington and Oregon, melon and strawberries in Californias central valley. Thats where she was born, between harvests, and was given an unprecedented name.

Its Estonian. In the hospital, my mom didnt know what to name me, so the nurse suggested Sugelema, making her name at birth Sugelema Guadalupe Gonzalez probably the only person with that name the world has ever known. As an adult, Sugelema had looked up the meaning of her first name. According to the internet, in Estonian her name means itchy.

Of the 17 students in her classroom this year, 14 are from immigrant families, most of them from Mexico. Since Trumps election, some of the families were worried, fearing that he would follow through on promises to deport millions of people, but Sugelema had not rushed to judgment. Growing up, her parents had admired another Republican, Ronald Reagan. With the Immigration Reform and Control Act of 1986, Reagan had granted amnesty to millions of undocumented immigrants, including many seasonal agricultural workers like her parents. It was Reagan who allowed us stay in the US, she said.

Her parents found a small town in Oregon and settled down. Sugelema and her older brother were sent to a public school where most of the kids were white. Later, her brother joined the marines and became a successful IT specialist, with most of his contracts coming from the US military. He now lives in San Diego, where Sugelemas mother is comfortably retired. Sugelema went to college and is the mother of five. Her oldest son is on the local football team.

The American dream is not perfect, but it is real. Sugelemas parents arrived in the 1970s from Mexico with nothing. They worked the fields, and now their daughter is a teacher and an indie-rock singer-songwriter. This I learned on the drive. Later, Sugelema showed me one of the music videos she had made with her husband. The song was called All Things Considered, and the video has the manic energy and lurid colours of 1980s MTV. In it, Sugelema wears Tweety Bird pyjamas as a cast of costumed partygoers dances around her. Megan is dressed in lederhosen; Tony wears the mask of a devil. In the centre of the frame, Sugelema sings, not quite awake and not quite asleep.

We returned from the convenience store to find that the protesters had decided to have an impromptu march down the dirt road. The Caswell County sheriff had blocked off one entrance, so we went around to the other, parked, and arrived in time to see the march in full swing. The photographers dutifully took pictures and the videographers filmed. In every way it had the look of a real protest, and any close-cropped photo would imply a rousing demonstration in favour of equality and diversity.

But there was no Klan and there were no spectators. It was about 60 activists marching for about 100ft on a road in the woods. After a few minutes, the group stopped marching and went back to waiting. It was not quite noon.

Soon there was news. Apparently there was a group of white supremacists demonstrating in nearby Danville. Sugelema and I had just come back from there, and had seen nothing of the kind. I think we should head out there! Williams roared, and the crowd cheered. Someone started drumming. The saxophonist played a ditty as everyone ran to their cars. Saxman, youre my hero, someone yelled.

We followed the 30 cars back on to Highway 29. There was one catch: no one had an address. There had been some mention of the centre of town. Someone else had heard the word Sutherlin. Megan sleuthed that this might be the Sutherlin home in downtown Danville. During the waning days of the civil war, when Union troops had overrun and burned Richmond to the ground, the home of Major WT Sutherin in Danville had become the last capital of the Confederacy. For a week at least 3-10 April 1865. It was now a museum.

There was no Klan and there were no spectators anti-KKK protesters march outside Danville, Virginia. Photograph: MWAA/ZDS/WENN.com

We raced into Danville and were the first to find the building. It was a grand, red-stone home in the Italian villa style, on a hilltop, with a wide lawn and a stone obelisk on which were engraved the words Guarding Our Future by Preserving Our Past. The property occupied an entire city block, and would have been a fitting site for any demonstration. But there was no one there. No white supremacists. No one at all.

We drove through Danville and soon found the ESG Security SUV in a parking lot on the edge of Danvilles downtown. Theyd found something. The white-haired newscaster stood outside, flanked by his private security guards, talking to a tall man with a wild grey beard. He wore a black leather cowboy hat and a denim jacket bearing at least 10 Confederate flag patches. There were two trucks nearby. One bore the Virginia license plate CNFEDRT.

The bearded mans was named George Randall. He and the two women with him were bewildered, like Custer caught in an ambush. Were not part of the Klan, Randall said. They were part of a group called the Virginia Flaggers, whose motto was Heritage, not hate. Periodically they held rallies to preserve Southern heritage and fly the Southern flag. He said he hadnt heard anything about a Klan rally, and hated getting confused with the Klan. This kind of mix-up, he said, was the fault of the media. And the young people. And the liberals. He monologued for a time, at one point complaining about a woman hed seen on the internet defecating on a picture of Trump. While he was speaking two more cars, carrying activists and journalists, pulled into the parking lot. Randall looked alarmed.

We better get out of here, said one of the women in the CNFEDRT truck. Randall jumped in and they took off.

Back at the Danville Museum of Fine Arts and History, a handful of black-bloc activists stood on the corner. Passing motorists, most of them African American, gawked and pointed. Thought experiment: what would the reaction have been in a reciprocal situation? If 30 or so young black people, most of them men, showed up in a small predominantly white town, wearing masks and carrying baseball bats, what might happen?

Megans phone dinged. The activists were headed back to the rest stop where we had started the day almost five hours earlier. Sugelema and I left Danville and got on the highway. When we got to the rest stop, the 30 cars were leaving. They were going back to the Danville Museum. Theyd heard that a different Confederate group was about to demonstrate. We tried to convince them that we had just come from Danville and that nothing was happening there, but it was too late. They were gone. We followed. It was a lot like high school, where dozens of cars roamed the same few suburban miles, looking for a party, stopping at the mini-mart, getting a Slurpee, exchanging specious information and driving off only to repeat the whole process half an hour later.

We arrived at the museum to find a few disappointed black-bloc members. No Klan, no Confederates, no neo-Confederates. Megan and Tony arrived with news. Tony had seen some police cars a few blocks away, parked near a playground. He thought it might be the protest, or at least a protest. We raced to the park, but there were no Klansmen there, no black bloc. Instead, about 25 Danville residents, most of them African American, had assembled before a video camera, in rows, as if posing for a school picture. Put down the guns! they all said in unison. The gathering had nothing to do with white supremacists or Trump. It was about ending a recent cycle of violence in Danville.

David L Wilson, who split his time between selling life insurance and working at a tyre-manufacturing plant, explained. Weve had a lot of shootings in our city. Weve had 14 murders recently. Even last night, a young lady here had a gunshots outside of her house. He took the arm of an older man next to him; he had tired eyes. This was the idea of this man, Gerald Holmes, Wilson said. Holmes had organised a movement called 434 Lives Matter, named for the local area code.

We have to change the mindset of the people, Wilson said. We cant do it from a top-down position. We cant do it just with the police. If we dont change the mindset of the people in the community, and change the way theyre dealing with each other in terms of conflict resolution, were going to continue to see this robbing and shooting and killing.

The members of 434 Lives Matter planned to go canvassing that day, door to door, in the neighbourhoods affected by the violence. For a moment, what the rest of us had been doing all day seemed hopelessly irrelevant. A mass of interlopers, many of whom were in costume, were chasing the Klan like it was some urban scavenger hunt. Meanwhile, the actual residents of the town were trying to figure out why their young men were shooting each other.

Sometimes they do things out of their character, Wilson said. But theyre doing what they think they have to do in order to survive. Theyre trying to do what they can to make ends meet, to take care of their families. Our main thing is listening now. We have to listen to what peoples hurts are.

We left the park. Megans phone went off again. The protesters were marching in downtown Danville. Apparently they were tired of waiting for the Klan. We raced to Main Street and found them. It was happening. And their numbers had grown there were now about 100 people marching. There were more locals. There were parents with their children. It was loud and it was real. No hate! No Fear! The KKKs not welcome here! they chanted. Leading the march were the black bloc, their baseball bats dragging on the pavement. Minutes before, I had felt like whatever the anti-KKK activists were doing had no tangible meaning, but now, seeing it happen, it seemed vital and necessary. The last vestiges of the Ku Klux Klan must be met with this kind of demonstration of resistance.

Trailing the marchers were three Danville police cars, their lights spinning brightly. They had sanctioned the march and were ensuring that it had the run of the road. All of which was remarkable. The police had allowed the protest on incredibly short notice, and were OK with dozens of black-clad protesters marching down their street with bats. It was a model of accommodation and restraint.

But because it was a Saturday, and because the stretch of road they marched was not a busy pedestrian thoroughfare, and because the march had been organized in the last half-hour, there were only a few people to watch it. A beautician peeked out the window of her shop, but otherwise the witnesses to the march were entirely members of the media.

After a few blocks, the protesters gathered in a parking lot. Williams spoke first. We shut shit down! he said, and the crowd repeated it: We shut shit down! they roared. The mood was ebullient. We shut shit down, they roared again and again, their baseball bats hammering the pavement. Then, in the call-and-response style he had used earlier, Williams added a coda.

One more good piece of news before you go, he said.

One more good piece of news before you go, the crowd repeated.

We just heard from folks, he said.

We just heard from folks, the crowd repeated.

Who are watching the Twitter account, he said.

Who are watching the Twitter account, the crowd repeated.

Of the official spokesperson, he said.

Of the official spokesperson, the crowd repeated.

Of the Loyal White Knights, he said.

Of the Loyal White Knights, the crowd repeated.

Who says they fucking cancelled their march.

One more good piece of news before you go, he said. We just heard from folks who are watching the Twitter account of the official spokesperson of the Loyal White Knights who says they fucking cancelled their march.

The crowd erupted. Megan was ecstatic. The Klan, she and the activists had deduced, had been scared off by the strength of the counter-protests. Maybe the Loyal White Knights were really only two people Amanda and Chris Barker. And maybe they had been trying to gather enough people all day to make their parade worthwhile, and had failed. It seemed like a suitably pathetic end to a hateful but powerless cabal. There was still the alt-right, and David Duke was running for office again, but at least the KKK, or this head of the serpent, was dead.

Since the Loyal White Knights announcement of the rally, there had been much debate about what to do. There was a school of thought that said paying the Klan any attention at all was only encouraging them. There were those elsewhere in North Carolina, from Greensboro to Raleigh to Charlotte who preferred to hold counter-rallies, focusing on inclusion and featuring speakers and songs, far away from any confrontation. But the people in Danville believed it would be a terrible thing, in 2016, if a Klan rally happened, and happened uncontested. Slightly better would be a Klan rally that was vociferously confronted. Best of all, though, would be a Klan rally cancelled in the face of opposition. And this is what had just happened. And even though this was a modest counter-protest in a modest city, it mattered just as Birmingham had mattered in 1963, and Ferguson had mattered in 2014. Maybe it mattered more because it was Danville, the last home of the Confederacy.

Terrell Simmons was feeling good. A tall African American man wearing combat boots and a red bandana, he had led some of the post-march chants. The Klan dont have the people, so they dont have the power! he had yelled. The establishment dont have the people, so they dont have the power! He was a high school test-prep teacher from Mobile, Alabama, and had driven 12 hours to confront the Klan. Now he was basking in the victory and planning what would come next. Were going to have a lot of cohesion between the groups that have been divided, he said. Were going to see that we cant build this country without one another. A lot of the things that have held us up in the past are going to go away. Reality is going to set in that without actually meeting the needs of the poor people, the sick people, this nation is doomed to fail.

He walked away smiling, joining the black bloc, whose members were taking off their masks and disbanding. Soon there were only a few people left on Main Street. Tony and Sugelema were looking for a place to get a beer. Shit, Megan said. In the parking lot, now nearly empty, she was reading her phone. Natalie Janicello had just posted a tweet. ITS HAPPENING, she wrote. KKK just came through Roxboro. Battle flags and shouting WHITE POWER.

Natalie A. Janicello (@natalie_allison)

IT’S HAPPENING. KKK just came through Roxboro. Battle flags & shouting “WHITE POWER!” pic.twitter.com/rcjHbmUUiR

December 3, 2016

While the anti-Klan protesters marched through Danville, the Klan had paraded through a different town, 45 minutes away. Janicello had embedded film of it into her Twitter feed.

In the video, about 20 vehicles speed through an intersection. Some of the cars have Confederate flags flapping from their windows. Some cars are unadorned just gray sedans driving down the street. No spectators are visible. None of the drivers are visible. A woman in one of the cars yells White power from a window. Then its over.

Megan was despondent. Not just because the Klan had trolled the protesters and had pulled off their parade. But there was the matter of her former student, Natalie Janicello, who must have known about the location of the parade, and had opted not to tell any of the protesters or members of the media. She was the only media member, and maybe the only person, who saw it.

The next day brought one last twist. A Klan member named Richard Dillon, who had made the trip from Indiana, was in the hospital with multiple stab wounds to the chest. Two other Klansmen, Chris Barker and William Ernest Hagen of California, were charged with the crime. Apparently, in the early morning before the planned parade, the Klan had assembled at the Barkers house. Drinks were drunk. Dillon had hassled Hagen about a Klan rally Hagen had put on in Orange County, where the Klansmen had been beaten up by counter-protesters. Hagen didnt much appreciate that, so he stabbed Dillon repeatedly, while Barker blocked the door. Bleeding profusely, Dillon managed to escape, drove to Danville, went to the hospital and told the doctors on duty what had happened.

Police arrested Barker and Hagen that morning. So they didnt get to see the parade, either.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/the-day-i-went-hunting-for-the-ku-klux-klan-dave-eggers/

[love-god-forever]

After My Son’s Sudden Heart Attack, Who Can Keep Him Alive?

By Zhongshi

Hovering Between Life and Death After a Medical Emergency

The evening of October 5, 2017, my youngest son Xunxun and his family came to my place for dinner, just like always, and afterward Xunxun went to the school to teach a class. A little after 8:00 p.m.

 my daughter-in-law called and said hastily, “Mom, Xunxun’s been taken to the hospital!” I was shocked, and rushed to ask: “He was totally fine when we had dinner just now. How could he suddenly be in the hospital?” Before I could finish she hurriedly hung up the phone.

I couldn’t help but feel panic rising in my heart. My son had just eaten more than a bowl of food and hadn’t mentioned feeling unwell—how could he suddenly be hospitalized? It occurred to me that he had had heart surgery before—could there be something wrong with his heart again? If it was a recurrence of his heart condition, that would really not be a good thing. I was burning with anxiety and wanted to go to the hospital to see him, but I didn’t even know which hospital he was in. What could I do? I thought and I thought, and then called my oldest son, plus my daughter and her husband—only then did I learn that they had already been to the hospital, but no one wanted to tell me about my son’s condition. The more I thought about it, the more anxious I became. Standing or sitting, I couldn’t get comfortable—I was at a loss. In my desperation, I thought of God and rushed to kneel down and pray: “Oh God! My son has been suddenly hospitalized and I’m so worried for his safety. I don’t know what Your will is, but I believe that You have allowed this to happen. I don’t know what I should do now. Please protect me and allow me to quiet my heart!” After praying, I thought of God’s words, “The fate of man is controlled by the hands of God. You are incapable of controlling yourself: Despite always rushing and busying about for himself, man remains incapable of controlling himself. If you could know your own prospects, if you could control your own fate, would you still be a creature?” That’s it! God is the Lord of creation and every single person’s fate is within His grasp. We are created beings; not only can we not control our own fates, but we particularly cannot control others’ fates. Since my worry and anxiety was useless and my son’s life or death was in God’s hands, all I could do was put him in God’s hands. When I thought of that my heart settled considerably.

Two hours later when my youngest son’s wife came back home with my daughter’s son to get some things, I asked them about my son’s condition. Tears welled up in her eyes and she said to me comfortingly: “It’s nothing. You stay here at home; we’re there for him in the hospital!” She then hurriedly grabbed some of my son’s clothing and personal items, getting ready to drive back. I thought to myself: What really is wrong with my son that they are keeping me in the dark? I insisted that they take me with them. On the way, my daughter-in-law received a call from my oldest son, who was at the hospital. All I could hear was her saying anxiously: “Hm? Why is his heart beating that fast?” A bit later she said with a worried look on her face: “What? There’s no heartbeat now?” From her words I could tell that my son’s condition was probably very serious. If his heart wasn’t beating, at any time couldn’t he…. I didn’t dare think any further, nor did I dare ask my daughter-in-law any more questions. My heart was tied in knots and I was thinking: “My son is still so young, and his son is just five years old. If something were to happen to him, how would we get by? Considering all of this was deeply upsetting. I fought to hold back my tears and prayed to God in my heart nonstop, asking Him to watch over me so I could stand firm in such a situation and not sin with my words. We arrived at the hospital soon after.

God’s Words Display His Mightiness, My Son Is Revived

When I got to my son’s bedside, I saw that he was unconscious, his face was pale, he had an oxygen tube in his nose, and ECG electrode clips on his hands and feet. There were several doctors and professors surrounding the ECG machine tensely watching its display. They would occasionally shake their heads and show a look of consternation. Two of the leaders from his school were also off to one side having a discussion in low tones, and I vaguely heard them say: “It was so scary when he collapsed, it looked like he wasn’t even breathing….” Seeing the look of helplessness on the doctors’ face was very disconcerting for me, and then when I looked at my son in the hospital bed, utterly unaware of anything, an indescribable wave of panic welled up in my heart. I was afraid that my son might be gone in the blink of an eye—wouldn’t I be a parent burying her child? The more I thought about it the more pain I felt, so I rushed to make a silent prayer to God: “Oh God! I don’t know whether my son is going to live or die—I’m really struggling. God! May You safeguard my heart, and no matter what happens, may You give me faith so that I can stand witness and not complain. I only wish for my son to be in Your hands, and to submit to Your arrangements.” During the prayer, I suddenly remembered that God said: “Of everything that occurs in the universe, there is nothing that I do not have the final say in. What exists that is not in My hands?” God’s words bolstered my faith. It’s true! God does have the final say over life and death, and my son was also in His hands. All of my worries stemmed from not believing in God’s rule. I generally talk about how I’m okay with whatever situation God may set up and that it’s all His benevolent will, but when I saw my son so ill, all I could think of was fretting over his condition. I hadn’t quieted myself before God to seek His will. When I realized this, I called out to God continually within my heart.

I thought of a hymn of God’s words, “While undergoing trials, it’s normal for people to be weak, or have negativity within them, or to lack clarity on God’s will or their path for practice. But in any case, you must have faith in God’s work, and not deny God, like Job. Although Job was weak and cursed the day of his own birth, he did not deny that all things in human life were bestowed by Jehovah, and that Jehovah is also the One to take it all away.”

Pondering God’s words, I thought of the great trials that Job went through in which his wealth and his children were all taken from him, but he never lost faith in God. He said, “Jehovah gave, and Jehovah has taken away; blessed be the name of Jehovah” (Job 1:21). This was his testimony. But there I was afraid of losing my son and incredibly hurt when the doctors still hadn’t come to a conclusion—I just saw that their expressions seemed off. How could that be faith in God? I realized I had to follow the example of Job and be able to have genuine faith in God. No matter what the outcome of my son’s condition, I could not grumble about it. Encouraged by God’s words, I felt that I had gained strength and faith. I called out to God, and then carefully sat down by my son’s side and gently called his name a few times. Seeing him finally have some response, very slowly opening his eyes and looking at me, my heart rejoiced and rushed to ask him, deeply concerned, “Are you feeling a bit better?” He nodded, sighed, and then weakly pointed at his chest and said: “It hurts … in my chest.” He then lost consciousness again.

A little while later I heard a doctor say with surprise: “Come look at this! His heart rate and blood pressure have normalized! Everything is normal!” The whole family crowded around—everyone was very happy. Seeing His mercy and protection, I gave thanks to God over and over again in my heart. It was God’s words that gave me true faith, allowing me to understand God’s mightiness and authority in ruling over everything. I said excitedly: “Man’s fate is determined by the heavens. This is truly thanks to God!” The doctor in charge added to that: “That’s right. God really is the One to thank. It’s fortunate that the patient got here in time after his myocardial infarction. If it had been half an hour later, the outcome would have been terrible. A little bit ago his heart completely stopped—I never imagined that he would miraculously come back to life. However, his condition is not stable. He has to stay in the hospital for monitoring.” My son was then transferred to the Intensive Care Unit; only his wife stayed behind to take care of him, while the rest of us went home.

The moment I walked in the door I rushed to kneel down and offer up a prayer of thanks to God. I was full of gratitude. At my most helpless time God was always by my side leading me and spurring me on with His words, giving me faith and something to lean on. I felt that God’s love really is so great.

His Condition Fluctuates and God Once Again Shows His Wondrous Deeds

A week later, the doctor in charge told us: “Testing has revealed a sarcoma on the patient’s heart that will require two surgeries. The first is to excise the sarcoma, and then we need to implant a pacemaker. You need to get 200,000 yuan together right away—if this is delayed, his life could be in danger.” I felt very tense hearing that my son was still in mortal danger. In my anxiety, I once again prayed to God: “Oh God! I believe that You rule over everything. At this moment there’s nothing I can do—I can only rely on You. I put my son entirely into Your hands, and I am willing to rely on my faith and experience Your work.” My oldest son and my younger son’s wife went all over the place raising money and before long, they had come up with the required amount. When my son was examined again in preparation for surgery, the doctor said that his condition was complex plus he was very weak; he would need to be very carefully nursed back to health and then transferred to a large specialist hospital for surgery. He wrote some prescriptions and then had my son discharged to recuperate at home.

After a period of care my son’s health had improved somewhat. The day he went to the specialist hospital, his wife came back and told me that they had scheduled surgery for the next day at 11:00 a.m. That evening, I offered up another prayer to God: “Oh God! My son is undergoing surgery tomorrow. It’s a very risky procedure, but please give me faith and courage. I believe that whether it’s a success or a failure, my son’s surgery is in Your hands. I believe that everything You do is good. Whatever the outcome tomorrow is, I am willing to submit and I will not complain. I am willing to stand witness and satisfy You” After praying I no longer felt worried or afraid; I had faith and strength to face my son’s surgery the following day.

The next day, my son was wheeled into the operating room right on time while we, his family, were all outside anxiously waiting. While waiting, I turned God’s words over and over in my mind, thinking of God’s love, and before I knew it two hours had gone by. A doctor suddenly said my son’s name, calling for us. Flustered, we all rushed over to him, and he said with emotion: “We’ve never seen anything like this. Today this really has been a wonder! In our pre-surgical examination we found that there was nothing at all wrong with the patient. We couldn’t believe it so we did another careful examination, and that also showed that everything is normal. After discussing it, we decided that there’s no need for surgery. He’ll be fine if he just goes back home and gets lots of rest.” Hearing this, we were all stunned for a moment—it took us ages to come to our senses. I just saw my daughter-in-law happily clapping her hands and saying: “That’s wonderful! From now on, not only will Xunxun not have to suffer, but it will save us 200,000 yuan!” At that moment I was the only one who clearly realized that this was God’s mightiness, this was God’s love. In my excitement, the words “Thanks be to God!” came out of my mouth. I didn’t know how to express what I felt—all I could do was thank God over and over in my heart: “Oh God! You have given me faith and strength time after time through Your words, giving me the ability to stand firm through this situation. Now my son’s condition has miraculously disappeared. Your love for us is so great!”

After going back home, I kneeled down before God to offer up a prayer of gratitude. Afterward, I saw this passage of God’s word, “Life can only come from God, which is to say, only God Himself possesses the substance of life, there is no way of life without God Himself, and so only God is the source of life, and the ever-flowing wellspring of living water of life. … Man’s life originates from God, the existence of the heaven is because of God, and the existence of the earth stems from the power of God’s life. No object possessed of vitality can transcend the sovereignty of God, and no thing with vigor can break away from the ambit of God’s authority. In this way, regardless of who they are, everyone must submit under the dominion of God, everyone must live under God’s command, and no one can escape from His control.” God’s words tell us with absolute clarity that He is the source of all life, that all things on heaven and earth—both animate and inanimate—are not exempt from His rule. Only God is the foundation of our lives as humans, and all things are changed and renewed under His control and His rule. This is a manifestation of God’s authority. I thought of how my son had pulled through crisis after crisis since falling ill, and how time after time the doctors’ conclusions had not panned out. Through adversity it was God’s words that had given me faith time after time giving me something to lean on, allowing me to overcome weakness again and again. When I had faith in God I saw His wondrous deeds—my bedridden son, at his last gasp, miraculously regained his health.

I truly experienced that God rules over and controls everything through this experience. If it hadn’t been for the guidance of His words as well as His grace and protection, no matter how much money we had or how skilled the doctors were, that could not have saved my son. I give thanks to God that, through my son’s illness, I gained understanding of God’s rule and understood that our future and fate are entirely within His hands. From now on I wish to put everything into cooperating with God and fulfilling the duty that a created being ought to in order to repay God’s love!

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Aisling Bea: My fathers death has given me a love of men, of their vulnerability and tenderness

The comedians father killed himself when she was three. She was plagued by the fact he made no mention of her or her sister in the letter he left. Then, 30 years after his death, a box arrived

My father died when I was three years old and my sister was three months. For years, we thought he had died of some sort of back injury a story that we had never really investigated because we were just too busy with the Spice Girls and which one we were (I was a Geri/Mel B mix FYI). Then, on the 10th anniversary of his death, my mother sat us down and explained the concept of suicide. Sure, we knew about suicide. At 13, I had already known of too many young men from our town who had taken their own lives. Spoken about as inexplicable sadnesses for the families, spoken about but never really talked about terrible tragedy nobody knows why he did it. What we had not known until that day, was that our father had, 10 years beforehand, also taken his own life.

When I was growing up, I idolised my father. I thought his ghost followed me around the house. I had been told how he adored me, how I was funny, just like him. Because of our lovely Catholic upbringing, I secretly assumed that he would eventually come back, like our good friend Jesus.

My mother, being the wonder woman that she is, never held his death against him. When she looked into his coffin, she felt she saw the face of the man she had married: his stress lines had gone, he seemed free of the sadness that had been dogging him of late. But it was still tough for her to talk about. She didnt want to have to explain to a stranger in the middle of a party how he was not defined by his ending, but how loved he was, how cherished the charismatic, handsome vet in a small town had been. She didnt want his whole person being judged.

Once she had told us, I did not want to talk about him. Ever again. I now hated him. He had not been taken from us, he had left. His suicide felt like the opposite of parenting. Abandonment. Selfishness. Taking us for granted.

I didnt care that he had not been in his right mind, because if I had been important enough to him I would have put him back into his right mind before he did it. I didnt care that he had been in chronic pain and that men in Ireland dont talk about their feelings, so instead die of sadness. I didnt want him at peace. I wanted him struggling, but alive, so he could meet my boyfriends and give them a hard time, like in American movies. I wanted him to come to pick me up from discos, so my mother didnt have to go out alone in her pyjamas at night to get me.

I look like him. For all of my teens and early 20s, I smothered my face in fake tan and bleached my hair blond so that elderly relatives would stop looking at me like I was the ghost of Christmas past whenever I did something funny. You look so like your father, they would say. And as much as people might think a teenage girl wants to be told that she looks like a dead man, she doesnt.

Aisling Bea with her father. Photograph: Aisling Bea

And then there was the letter.

My mother gave us the letter to read the day she told us, but, in it, he didnt mention my sister or me.

I had not been adored. He had forgotten we existed. I didnt believe it at first. When I was 15, I took the letter out of my mothers Filofax and used the photocopying machine at my summer job to make a copy so I could really examine it. Like a CSI detective, I stared at it, desperate to see if there had been a trace of the start of an A anywhere.

I would often fantasise that, if I ever killed myself, I would write a letter to every single person I had ever met, explaining why I was doing it. Every. Single. Person. Right down to the lad I struck up a conversation with once in a chip shop and the girl I met at summer camp when I was 12. No one would be left thinking: Why? I would be very non-selfish about it. When Facebook came in, I thought: Well, this will save me a fortune on stamps.

Sometimes, in my less lucid moments, I was convinced that he had left a secret note for me somewhere. Maybe, on my 16th no, 18th no, 21st no, 30th birthday, a letter would arrive, like in Back to the Future. Aisling, I wanted to wait until you were old enough to understand. I was secretly a spy. That is why I did it. I love you. I love your sister, too. PS Heaven is real, your philosophy essay is wrong and I am totally still watching over you. Stop shoplifting.

This summer was the 30th anniversary of his death. In that time, a few things have happened that have radically changed how I feel.

Three years ago, Robin Williams took his own life. He was my comedy hero, my TV dad he had always reminded my mother of my father and his death spurred me to finally start opening up. I had always found it so hard to talk about. I think I had been afraid that if I ever did, my soul would fall out of my mouth and I would never get it back in again.

Last year, I watched Grayson Perrys documentary All Man. It featured a woman whose son had ended his life. She thought that he probably hadnt wanted to die for ever, just on that day, when he had been in so much pain. A lightbulb moment it had never occurred to me that maybe suicide had seemed like the best option in that hour. In my head, my father had taken a clear decision, as my parent, to opt out for ever.

My father had always seemed like an adult making adult decisions, but I suddenly found myself at almost his age, still feeling like a giant child. I looked at some of my male friends gorgeous idiots doing their gorgeous, idiotic best to bring up little daughters, just like he would have been.

Finally, just after my 30th birthday, a box turned up.

The miserable people he had worked for had found a box of his things filed away and rang my mother (30 years later) wondering whether she wanted them or whether they should just throw them in the bin.

She waited for us to fly home and we opened it together three little women staring into an almost-abandoned cardboard box.

Now, most of the box was horse ultrasounds which, Ill be honest, I am not into. But there was also his handwriting around the edges and, then, underneath the horse X-rays and files, there were the photographs.

Any child who has lost a parent probably knows every single photograph in existence of that parent. I had pored over them all, trying to put together the person he might have been.

The photos in the box had been collected from his desk after he had died. We had never seen them before. They were nearly all of me. He had had all of these photos stuck on his desk. I was probably the last thing he looked at before he died.

My fathers death has given me a lot. It has given me a lifelong love of women, of their grittiness and hardness traits that we are not supposed to value as feminine. It has also given me a love of men, of their vulnerability and tenderness traits that we do not foster as masculine or allow ourselves to associate with masculinity.

To Daddy, here is my note to you:

Im sad you killed yourself, because I really think that, if you could see the life you left behind, you would regret it. You didnt get to see the Berlin wall fall or Ireland qualify for Italia 90. You didnt get to see all the encyclopedias that you bought for us to one day use at university get squashed into a CD and subsequently the internet. You have never got to hear your younger daughters voice it annoys me sometimes, but it has also said some of the most amazing things when drunk. I think you would have been proud to watch your daughter do standup at the O2 and sad to see my mother watching it on her own. Then again, if you hadnt died, I probably wouldnt have been mad enough to become a clown for a living. I am your daughter and I am really fucking funny, just like you. But, unlike you, Im going to stop being it for five minutes and write our story in the hope that it may help someone who didnt get to have a box turn up, or who may not feel in their right mind right now and needs a reminder to find hope. Aisling

In the UK, the Samaritans can be contacted on 116 123. In the US, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is 1-800-273-8255. In Australia, the crisis support service Lifeline is on 13 11 14. Other international suicide helplines can be found at befrienders.org

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