#tonight I’m sleeping over at an older folk’s (family friends) place and listening to the rain pour outside from my bed

[themarychain]

can’t stop blogging tonight. oopsie

[lustbile]

The Journal

TenxReader

Word Count: 7.3k+

Summary/Warnings: Smut with plot, semi public, a lot of biting, mentions of supernatural and just general weirdness, and small amount of blood play

Apart of the Club X series: Masterlist (can be read alone or within the series, but unlike others it might just be the slightest amount confusing)

“So that’s what you’re into now,” your best friend’s voice is bored and distant, her task of wiping down the bar that stretched out in front of her taking a majority of her attention away from the babbling you’ve tried to subject her to since you entered the empty restaurant only about 20 minutes before, “weird demon sex clubs?”

—

—

“Ah ah, I never said they were demons,” you correct quickly, the thought of defending yourself never crossing your mind as you petulantly slap your hands against the polished wood, “I just said it was…. weird.”

“Weird is an understatement,” she scoffs quietly as she turns to dip her dirtied rag back into the bleach water and ring it out, “I mean look, I’ve always been supportive in the witchy stuff you’ve been into but this…. is a bit much.”

“I don’t see how this is any different than any other thing I’ve read into.”

“Oh you don’t see?” you finally manage to pull her attention towards you as she harshly slaps the rag back onto the wood with a stern glare pulled on her pretty features, “you’re talking about vulnerability and abandoned warehouses and public sex. That last one is definitely new.”

You fully expected this type of response, only hoping she’d be busy enough that you would dodge the motherly scolding she liked to give you when you pitched your schemes to her with your eyes wild and wide, but nevertheless, she was completely right.

It came from an old book, tattered and torn from being flipped through one too many times, that you found at your favorite antique store. The store itself was already notorious with your tight inner circle of friends as the creepy shop that was corrupting your brain, a constant taunt being that the little old woman that ran it was the actual devil and she was just waiting for the right time to jump you and eat you whole, but this did nothing to stop you from visiting at least once a week.

But the book, it was different from any other you had found. It was completely handwritten, including amazingly done sketches in a deep unfading ink, and spoke of outlandish things.

Some were easily brushed off, like a murder that happened in the 50’s that was known to stay in the mouths of the older folks, both to them and the book it was widely believed to be the doing of some long tongued and wild eyed creature, until a local sweet old man admitted on his deathbed that it was instead his one crime of passion.

He had been a young soldier that snuck into his lover’s room one night, and upon learning that she was to marry a nice lawyer the day after he was meant to deploy, his mind went blank and his hands were carving out her heart. He luckily escaped any questioning after being shipped off, and once he returned home he captured the heart of a pretty young girl and lived out a long life sitting on top of a horrid truth.

So yeah, stories of those sorts, having been solved in your lifetime, meant very little to you, but the one you were going on about now, meant the world.

The writing looked like it had been put down by a panicked chicken rather than the woman who’s name was written neatly in the front. It lived in some of the pages towards the back of the small book and spoke of a dark club. Club X.

She went on and on about stumbling across the club purely by accident, and meeting another woman with glittering eyes. Graphic details of being taken in the middle of the dance floor with a million eyes looking but not fully seeing her as she fell apart against a dancing and eager tongue made your heart thump lodged in your throat. But the more and more she visited the club, the more incoherent her words became, but towards the end the writing had become stained and obscured by a deep brown stain, before it stopped altogether.

Thankfully, the details of where the building was was completely visible regardless of being the thoughts of a mad woman, and with a lot of thinking and staring at the town map, you’ve come to believe that you knew exactly where the mysterious club stood.

Only a street down from the restaurant you sit in now.

“Listen, I know it sounds ridiculous, and it probably is, but what’s the problem with just going to check right?” you scramble to pull the delicate book from the bag that sits in the stool beside you as your friend moves closer and closer to where you sit, laying it flat to show her the page you’ve had bookmarked since you read it, “and look at the name she puts, I think it’s the man who ran it and it’s a long shot, but maybe he’s still alive, or if not maybe some family is! Right here, Asm-“

“Don’t say it again,” she’s quick to interrupt, sliding her free hand to hover above the page you’ve glued your eyes to, “I don’t wanna hear any old man names, especially that one it gives me the ick.”

“It’s just a name,” murmur to yourself, but move to put the book away regardless, “but anyways, I have something that most people who were going to the club didn’t, knowledge of what exactly I’m walking into. I can just go and look around, worst things worst its still a freaky sex club and I just go home, but I’m willing to bet this lady was just off the shits and its just an empty building with some funky vintage beer bottles that you can add to your collection.”

You feel like you’ve won an award you weren’t even trying to compete for when she finally breaks out into a soft smile. The huff that leaves her chest is endeared, and you swear your heart began to vibrate when she reached to run a gentle thumb across the swell from your cheekbone.

“Fine, do what you want, but if the bottle isn’t completely intact when you find it I don’t want it.”

“So you’re not coming with me?” your head tilts to the side in confusion as with things of this nature in the past, she’s always followed along to ensure that you didn’t do anything to stupid. You never felt like the company was fully necessary, but it was appreciated regardless.

“Baby, as much as I’ve enjoyed your info dumping you’ve done tonight, the other person that was meant to clean with me had to leave early with a stomach bug so I’m busy pulling a clean up job that’s truly a job for about five people. But you seem to really believe in this little adventure of yours,” she leaves the rag in a damp mass next to the stack of dirty glasses beside you to take your hands in her’s, her slightly wrinkled fingers are still warm and the way they lace with yours makes you feel like nothing in the world could hurt you, “besides, you’re as smart as a whip and I know you have me on speed dial. I trust you.”

——

You no longer love the feeling of being trusted.

When your friend had given you the heartfelt speech only a little over half an hour ago, you felt like you had been put on a nice pedestal before she handed you a cookie with a pat on the head.

Now the “cookie” had turned to rot in your belly and you were faced with your own perfectly dreamed up reality.

It was already late by the time you had walked into the restaurant your friend works at, the sun already setting and the last few customers gathering their things and paying the bills, so once you got her stamp of approval and we’re heading out the door, the only light left was a bright and full moon, and flickering street lights.

You took your time walking in the direction that your book and personal sleuthing had pointed you in, the closer and closer you got to the one warehouse in town that seemed to never be bought back from the city, the knots in your belly pulled tighter and tighter.

But regardless of the almost painful twist in your gut, you surprisingly almost missed the building in its entirety.

It was as if your entire being blocked out the thumping bass that shook the sidewalk and the blinding red light that spilled from beneath the entrance and out the fractured windows. Your brain trying to force itself from entering the building you spent so many weeks trying to locate.

But the way your heart thuds in your chest when you stand in front of the entrance is something you couldn't even pretend you didn’t feel.

Your tongue digs into the side of your jaw, and you're confused at the feeling of warm tears burning at your waterlines. It’s exactly the way the owner of the journal described it in her manic writings, weirdly exact considering the other stories that surrounded it that dated it back far before you were even born.

You want to go in, the shaking steps your legs take is evident to that, but the tense muscles of your shoulders and stomach makes you hesitate and even grumble out into the air.

You almost jump out of your skin when you hear a shuffling to your side, your throat tensing when you look over, and are put slightly at ease when you see two men who you assume are acting as some type of security. You almost expect them to look up and ask you for some type of ID when you’re being very weird and blatant about your presence, but they seem too preoccupied with the dim screens of their phones and the way they lean forward at different times as if they’re waiting for someone.

Your hands are shaking slightly as they scramble down to grab for your bag, desperately looking for something to occupy you to walk by them without being even more weird, and when your fingers wrap around the flaking leather that binds the book, you grab it like a lifeline.

Your fingers flip through the pages with perfect muscle memory as you trip up the few steps that lead to the door, the tabs you carefully placed on the first page mentioning the club not even necessary with the way you could find the page even in your sleep.

You subconsciously hold your breath when you walk past the two men, almost as if the book is instead something wildly illegal and you're trying to sneak past your parents, and your washed with a temporary wave of relief when you pass through the doors without even a glance from the two.

Though the relief is stolen from your bones the second your feet touch the floor of the club.

It’s as if you’ve entered a place you’ve known your whole life, and from the amazing descriptions from the woman in the past, its not a completely surprising feeling.

But another part of you feels like this is the first time you’ve seen human beings in the flesh.

You can't help but to feel like you must look like an absolute nerd as you pull the book up to your face as you start to survey the club, but thankfully the book told at least one truth, and many of the club goers are too busy grouping and grinding against one another to even acknowledge your existence.

More truths come to light as you flick your eyes between the pages and the walls.

The bar is still tucked in the same far corner as she described, the flittering red and blue lights making it feel like a beacon of calm regardless of it being surrounded by drunken forms and its intimidatingly pretty bartender.

The dj is just a stoic and unimpressed looking as the one from so many years ago as he subconsciously bobs to the beat that he creates as he messes with the nobs and switches in front of him. He’s actually so similar, you wonder if you were right and the owner did have family floating around, and maybe the dj is one of them.

You stumble further into the room as you pick out small details she wrote about so lovingly. Your legs carry you to the back of the building as you smile at the sight of the wine stain the writer claimed to have created when her lover shocked her with a playful bite to the neck.

You almost feel like the universe is gifting you everything you could have possibly asked for when you see the loose board that she said a friend of hers would always trip over, and electricity zips up your spine in excitement when you spots the large painting that still hangs over the booth she claimed as her favorite, and she meticulously sketched out next to a paragraph about what she thought the artist was feeling.

All these things though, lead to the things that make your jaw hang slightly open.

The large balcony above you is larger than you ever imagined. The hundreds of bright red carnations she loved to sketch drip from the golden bars like water, and the black velvet curtains that hang over the room it leads to look heavy enough that they suffocate someone if they fell.

She seemed so intensely in love with the place you stand in, and the woman she met there, and those emotions were more than evident from the way the recreated the energy of the club with her words and art. Which only tips you towards the part that caught your attention perhaps the most.

It was exactly where it was meant to be. Just below the balcony that hangs high on the wall, gaping wide and dark like the mouth of a hungry monster coaxing you to enter its throat. The only issue that you can see being the hanging rope that blocks you from entering, but with only shining bright clasps holding it onto hooks on the walls, you don’t think you're above sneaking past it with little guilt.

The hall was the one thing that taunted you the most about the story the woman spun in the little worn book. The empty and dark vass space being something that coaxed her as well, but unfortunately for you, and maybe her as well, the parts of her journal that began the tale of her passing the temping rope, was the exact spot that was stained with bleeding ink and a suspicious brown color.

You survey the space around you, looking for anyone that could possibly be a worker or just a stickler for the rules, but seeing as everyone in your range of vision was attached by the mouth on someone’s neck or sloppy lips, you figured you were in the clear.

You drop the book gently back into your bag before you step slowly forward. Your heart feels like a wild animal trying to break out of the cavity of your chest, and it feels like your intestines have been successfully replaced with writhing worms that are desperately trying to reach your gut. You feel heat traveling up your chest and neck, and as you get within a few feet of what feels like the end of your life, your body begins to shake.

If you had the ability, you would have screamed, and if you had the strength, you would have fought back. But right when you're about to reach the threshold of the hall, and right when you feel like your legs are about to collapse from underneath you, strong fingers clasp over your trembling mouth, and an arm wraps tightly around your waist.

You’re turned faster than you can blink, the sudden motion making your brain swirl in your skull and making you go lightheaded and dizzy. And while keeping their hand clasped tightly over your mouth, the person that cages you in slams your back into the cold wall and knocks the air from your lungs.

The eyes that meet you are cat-like and dancing wildly, the grin the man you're faced with now smiles at you wickedly, and when your hands dart up until your nails dig harshly into the skin of his forearms, his smile only widens.

“Now,” he starts, the remains of a chuckle shaking his chest and his words slightly, “what exactly are you up to?”

You wait for a moment for him to release you from his hold, and when after a minute or so he still hasn’t budged, all you can offer in response is an annoyed arched brow.

“What?” he has the audacity to ask with taunting sincerity, “you thought you were smart enough to go wandering around, so you should be smart enough to figure out a way to talk around my hand right?”

It’s with immense irritation that you realize the two possibilities you’re faced with.

From the book you know about the weird concept of soul mates or whatever they were meant to be. The woman and the mysterious dancing girl she met so many years ago, and similar stories from the friends she met during her many visits to the club who had almost identical tales that she had to recount.

So with that information you know the possibility of this grinning man being your person is high, but your person or not, he was lighting a fire in your chest regardless.

You don’t think or even weigh the negatives before you send him a hard glare, and you show very little hesitation when you push forward to sink your teeth into the first finger you can catch.

His yelp is covered by the blaring music, but you hear it loud and clear before he reaches his free hand up to pinch at the bridge of your nose to pull you off like a rabid kitten.

“You know what I’m up to,” you huff petulantly as you lean back into the wall with your arms folding over your chest, “or at least I’d assume you’d be smart enough to use your context clues right?”

His lip curls when he glances back up to you as he pets at his now bruising finger, but even with the thin veil of irritation on his pretty features, you can tell he enjoys the sarcastic tone you’ve adopted.

“Yeah you’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” he bites back as he steps closer, crowding your personal space and pushing his chest tightly against yours, “you’re lucky I’m who caught you and not boss man.”

“Boss man?” you ask, trying not to show you excitement over him spilling the treasured information about the club that you want so desperately.

He doesn’t answer you verbally, and the sly wink he throws at you shocks you more than you would like to admit, but when he tilts his head back quickly you don’t hesitate to follow his line of sight to the edge of the balcony.

If it weren’t for the thin wires of light that create hatching over his eyes and mouth, you probably would have missed the masked figure that leers at you from over the railing. His hands and shoulders are covered by the masses of flowers, and the hollow black where he hides his eyes stares down at you two with a look that you assume is annoyance and possible curiosity.

The moment you two look up, the figure jerks back. Your eyes flick quickly between him and the man in front of you, and from the bratty grin he wears as he looks up, you feel as if the masked man didn’t have any intention at being caught.

You get lost slightly in staring at the man pressed against you, his teeth that look sharper in the red lighting and his eyes twinkle in mischief, and even with the obnoxious start to your interaction, you’d be lying to say you don’t find him beautiful.

It takes you a second to regain your senses, tearing your eyes away from the fascinating side profile of the man, but when you glance back up to the balcony, the mask man has retreated back.

“He doesn’t like much when we take people back there before they’re ready,” he attempts at an explanation as he turns back to you, and seems unfazed when he misses the mark and just confuses you further, “he let the two goons outside have a little exception, but that's because they don’t know how to go easy y‘know.”

“No,” you shake your head at him with a quiet scoff, “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I think you know more than you think,” his voice drops as he speaks now, and as he speaks he reaches out his hand to hold himself propped against the wall next to your head while his other hand moves to run gently up the side of your neck, “I mean, you know who I am at least right?”

“I have an idea,” you admit with a huff, but you also admit to yourself that this probably means you won't be getting into the hall. You do mentally jot that down as a loss, but decide to take the man pressed against you as a win and you reach to grab at his shirt in retaliation, “but you could at least give me a name to work with.”

“Hm, I didn’t expect you to be one for such formalities,” his head tilts in amusement at his own words, and the action nudges the tip of his nose into yours and makes your heart flutter up into your throat, “but you might as well know the name of the man you’ll be destined to fall in love with.”

You roll your eyes hard enough for them to start to ache, and he quietly laughs and moves to press his nose into the soft flesh of your cheek as he feeds off your annoyance.

“Ten,” he answers quietly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he moves to whisper the syllable in your ear, and you never thought that with just one word he’d have a shiver rushing up your spine.

You respond quietly with your name, but the word comes out strained and rushed when he begins to nibble on the lobe of your ear and pushes his knee harshly between your thighs.

Both your hands now hold tightly onto the sides of his shirt, and when his lips move to trail against the side of your neck that isn't enveloped by his hand, you tug roughly at the fabric and your back arches slightly away from the wall.

His tongue is hot when he lays it flat on the center of your throat, and when he swipes it up until it flicks against the end of your chin, you can't help but cringe slightly at the feeling regardless of the way it makes heat pool in between your thighs.

The wicked grin on his face never falters, it only grows wider and more hungry when your eyes meet again, and with his staring so deep that you fear he may be collecting every ounce of your soul, you two have a silent agreement on the unnatural waves of electricity that connect you.

When his lips finally land on yours, it's the roughest and clumsiest kiss you’ve experienced. Both of you fight each other with hungry and eager tongues and the way your teeth gently knock together has your skull rattling in a way that, if you weren’t so hell bent of devouring each other whole, you’d probably have to take a breather.

Your hands reluctantly release the wrinkled fabric of his shirt, and in a desperate attempt to stay occupied, they shoot up the tangle tightly into his hair. You admit, you probably tug harsher on the strands than you probably should, but the groans he pours into your mouth, and the way his hips rock roughly into yours, has you tugging again and again.

He presses you further and further into the wall, and without thinking your hips begin to kick and tilt down until you're grinding harshly and sloppily against his tense thigh.

You let out a quiet whine that's muffled and garbled by his moving at the feeling of him pressing his thumb gently into the dip beneath your jaw, and pressing into your jugular. The sound is followed almost immediately by a small yelp when he latches his teeth to your bottom lip and gives you a stinging bite.

You’re frustrated almost immediately with the lack of friction you can feel from the layers of clothing between you, and now the slight shooting pain from the tensing skin between his teeth, you can feel the impatience in your belly crawling up and invading your chest and throat.

He’s quick to pull away when you retaliate with your own nipping bite to his top lip, your teeth still sinking down when he does and making his sting probably just as much as yours. And when he eyes you as his eyelids droop down into an accusatory squint, you assume he’s not used to getting a taste of his own medicine.

He mutters something to himself about your feistiness, and a sly comment about how he shouldn’t be surprised as he was expecting to get a handful, but he gives you no time to make a snide comment or even question about any of the words, before his fingers are closing firmly but loosely around your neck.

He keeps you rooted in the spot that you stand, the only change in your posture he allows is pulling you slightly away from the wall, just wide enough for him to slink behind you and tug you roughly back into his chest.

“You like poking around into business that isn’t yours?” he asks rhetorically as his free hand reaches around your shoulder to push past the neckline of your shirt, and right as he pressed down the center of your chest and his fingers brush the bottom of your rib cage, his fingers curl and he starts to drag his blunt nails up your sternum as he continues, “need to know and see every single little thing right? So… what’s the harm of being on the other side of it for once?”

“What are you on about?” you as sharply as you try to turn your face towards him the best you can, but his hand tilts under the bottom of your chin until your head is forced to lean on his shoulder and he’s nothing but thrilled at the way it makes you struggle.

“To be seen, or not?” he presses his lips back against the shell of your ear, and the way he whispers roughly makes you shiver again as your thighs press tightly together, “you know what I mean, and you know the answer I want, but its all up to you in the end.”

The electric and slightly humiliating buzz of being seen in a mass of bodies committing the same sins as you was something the woman in the book went on about frequently. She mentioned that there were a few times where she and her lover snuck off to get alone time of course, but the almost blinding pleasure that came from being worshiped by not only one person, but the eyes of an entire room, was addictive. And you wanted just a taste.

You grumble in response, the idea of admitting to the already confident man that you did indeed wanted the same amount of attention as he did made your chest burn even more than it already was, and you’d rather take your chance with his terrifying looking boss than to give him the satisfaction of your verbal confession.

He seems unaffected by your nonverbal confirmation, the way you press into him as his hand wraps around your waist again and creeps down to the button of your shorts, and your own hand grabbing onto the sleeve of his rolled up long sleeve shirt to guide him to undo the clasp or just dip below the waistband, is enough of an answer for him to know.

He chooses to pop the button, and once he has the zipper pulled down enough that he can work with, he begins to shove the worn denim down your hips along with your underwear until they are wrapped around your knees and he can push his fingers roughly between your thighs.

You try to clear the fog that he creates in your mind from his teasing fingers long enough to reach your free hand back to give the same treatment to the dark jeans that wrap tightly around his hips and thighs in a way that had you mentally drooling from the moment you got to get a full look at him, after he ambushed you of course.

You’re not sure how he undid your shorts so quickly without being able to see, but as you fumble and scratch your nails against the sensitive skin of his hip, you give yourself the benefit of the doubt seeing as your trying to work while his middle and ring fingers tease over your entrance and the heel of his hand presses clumsily into your neglected clit.

He, on the other hand, doesn’t give you any benefit of the doubt. He at least has the decency to press his lips across your cheekbone and temple to muffle his quiet laughs, but to make your task even more difficult, his fingers shallowly curl up into you just enough to make you twist and curl.

Once the button of his jeans finally releases, you instinctively let out a huff and sink your shoulders back into his chest as you reach past the fabric to wrap your hand around his stiff length and pull it from the confines until you can press it against his lower belly. And you get just one tally on your side of the boards you’ve created in your mind when his amused laughs devolves into pleased grunts and tilting hips.

“Please,” you start quietly, trying to rock more against the parts of his hand that press against you while running your palm up and down the length of him and smearing him with his own pre come, “I can tell you’re just as impatient as me.”

He swears in your ear, using his hold on you with both hands to shift your hips up and pull you closer before he clears his throat to speak, “well could you imagine, looks like we are a match made in heaven.”

“More like hell,” you retaliate, digging the heel of your own palm into the skin just below the tip of him to egg him on even further, “but either way, that's the point isn't it?”

“I should have expected you to be just a little bit of a smart ass,” he mutters a half hearted complaint, but he only contradicts his own words when he pushes your hips away enough for you to guide him between your thighs and to glide against the arousal that spilled from your body and his hands spread messy along any available inch of skin.

He thrusts smoothly against your back a few times, bringing his arm down to guide him towards your entrance painfully slow, but when you let out a gravely moan of his name, he cant deny himself for any longer, and he’s sinking into you until your eyes start to gently flutter.

Once he’s seated inside you, his hand tenses slightly tighter around your neck, and when you both start pushing towards each other to meet in the middle of your thrusts, his other hand takes the opportunity to map any inch of you he can reach.

He gropes almost painfully at your chest, traveling over your stomach and up your shirt to dig his fingers into your skin until you swear he’s tattooed his finger prints onto you, all while nipping and lapping at the skin of your jaw and neck.

No one immediately in front of you is watching, they’re all in their own worlds of flesh and saliva, but you can still feel eyes of someone on you. His first and foremost as they burn holes into the side of your skull and glance to watch where you push back against him desperately, but there’s another feeling you get of being seen and studied thats so intense that you’re a little shocked when you chance a glance up and see that whoever the masked person was from earlier wasn’t there at all.

So no, you have no idea who, or what is watching you right now, but you can feel the unusual heat it stirs in you as your body flutters around him as he fucks you sloppily. You feel a deeper relation to the woman that owned the book that still rests in the bag that feel unceremoniously from your shoulder when he first put his hands on you, and you hope that maybe you’ll eventually slip into the life of bliss that she meticulously wrote about and possibly learn what happened that demolished the stories that lived in the back of the journal.

You could feel the pleasure crawling up your spine like a monster out creature, your panting breaths tipping the man that works you over off to this even though you’re sure he was already aware before you were, and you think your legs are back to the edge of collapsing when his creeping fingers dance along the expanse of your stomach to find their place back between your thighs.

Your back stiffens at the first touch of his rolling finger on your clit, and your head tilts even farther back onto his shoulder than he already had it. He doesn’t seem interested in coaxing you to your finish slowly, at a pace that would have mercy on your melting mind and shaking form, but he instead abuses your clit until your whimpering out and stumbling and stepping slightly on his toes.

You feel like you’re waiting out the suspense of a horror film that’s score is too obvious to the incoming jump scare. You tilt your neck in a way that seems normal to him, but in reality your trying to feel the many rings that decorate his fingers with the delicate skin of your throat to test if any of them could possibly be sharp enough to cut you and draw blood. You know what blood means to him, and you know it's something he’ll have to do soon if he truly can feel how close you are to the edge.

You feel like you’re floundering a bit, confused from the possible deviation from the story you’ve committed to memory. Was there any chance in this world that this wasn’t your person?

You push this thought away as soon as your panicked mind can construct it though, because there’s no way the spell that it feels has been placed on you would be there if that was the truth, and your body is heated almost like a furnace, but you suddenly love the idea of being burned by him.

You pull in a gasping breath of air that pierces through the music and grunting that rattles in your ears, the taste of your orgasms dancing on the back of your tongue and your back arching so harshly you fear that one of your muscles might seize up and cramp. And right when you feel his hips start to stutter in tandem with yours, and when you’re only seconds from blabbering out mixed syllables that you could only hope would come out as a coherent question, you feel it.

His teeth latch onto you again, his canines not sharp enough to make a clean cut as they dig into the muscle of your shoulder, but his determination is strong enough.

It burns painfully, and makes hot tears well up in your eyes, but almost embarrassingly, is the exact thing that pushes you scrambling over the edge.

You feel like it hurts to breathe, your lungs so focused on letting out puffs of air and broken moans that they can't seem to remember how to bring oxygen in, and your eyes roll for a completely new reason for the man and much more painfully.

It’s when you feel him start to suck the rushing blood from your newly christened wound that you also feel the rumble of his groans against your skin and feel him start to come inside of you. His fist tightens again around your neck as he pushes aftershocks through your nerves with his own orgasm, and with flying hands you grab at both of his wrists, not to ask in any way for him to ease up, but from a sudden wash and need to hold onto him possibly until you die.

He lets you collapse to the floor once he pulls out, but he follows your sinking form and sits alongside you and partially underneath you as you both try to catch your breath.

The club scene in front of you is now blurs of flashing lights and abstract writhing forms, and if it wasn’t for the zaps of energy you feel from every brush of his finger tips, your brain would probably be too muddled to register him fixing both your clothes and his.

You become just slightly more aware when he shifts your body against him enough to grab at the strap of your bag with the heel of his shoe, and you try to sit up faster than necessary and give yourself a small head rush when he pulls it to himself and flips it open.

“You seemed a little weirdly unaffected by the whole,” he flails his hands in front of you for a second as he speaks, and your lagging mind takes a second to catch up with his attempts at implication, “not the fucking part clearly,” he teases, “but the leading up to it. The meeting part and all.”

“I know what this place is,” you admit, and if your legs had gained just a bit more strength you probably would have stood and requested a glass of water just from how gravely your voice had become, “I knew I was probably going to run into you.”

“But you weren’t looking for me,” he tries, and fails, at hiding the slight edge of offense his voice shows, “if you knew I was here why didn’t you look for me?”

“I didn’t worry about it,” you say, warming up a bit again in the fear that it may have come off slightly rude, “or, like, I mean I knew you’d be able to find me easier than I could find you. I was more interested in finding answers.”

“Answers to what? You said you knew this place, or at least what it is?”

“Well I only know the basics,” you shift in his hold, knocking his hands away as they sift through your bag, and grabbing blindly until you can pull out the book, “I found this journal and it-“

“A journal?” he asks in a volume that could have been obnoxiously loud if it weren’t for the thumping bass that shook the floor beneath you, and pulls the small book from your hands.

“It was written by a woman who came here a long time ago,” you explain, deciding to not take offense to his rough and grabbing hands, “I found it and tracked the club down, I needed to see if it was real.”

“Oh it's real alright,” he laughs as he starts to flip through the pages, stopping for a moment to smile at a simple sketch she had done of a cat that she said lived in the back alley, “hey wait I think I know this name, and these people.”

“What are you on about?” you ask with a scoff as you tug the book from his grubby fingers, “you can’t possibly know these people, this was written in like the fifties. Stop pulling my leg.”

“Oh I see,” he smacks your thigh playfully as he leans over your shoulder to glance at the first page that mentioned anything about the date, the ink clear enough to read 1953 in the swirling handwriting, “you think you know everything.”

“I do know everything, fuck you,” you glare playfully at him over your shoulder, “or I would know, if you’d let me go into that weirdo hall.”

“No hall, for now at least,” he sighs, the gears in his head turning as he thinks of the next thing to say, “but you know, time doesn’t exist the same way here, the woman who wrote this probably didn’t know that at the time, so I’m not surprised you don’t either.”

“What do you mean time doesn’t exist?” you look at him as if he’s grown a second head, but do you really have the nerve to question him like that? Considering that entire concept of the club you are very aware of its existence now, a time situation shouldn’t be the most shocking should it?

“Well, it's hard to explai-“

“Then don’t explain it,” you almost jump fully out of his lap at the deep voice that rattles above you, and both him and you look up at the figure that looms over you now.

The man is tall, his black hoodie looking weird in contrast to the clothes of the other club goers, and with a squinting observation and a familiar and annoyed sigh from the man seated behind you, you realize you’re being stared down by the mysterious entity that is the DJ, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pocket in annoyance.

“Huh?” Ten lets out more in the form of a noise than a word, as his arms wind tightly around your form.

“I said don’t explain shit,” the man begins to tap his foot in irritation as he speaks, and you wonder if he’s aware that he’s in rhythm with the song that surrounds you, “you need to chill out with the loose tongue, its bad enough we have the big mouths outside.”

“I wasn’t gonna go that far,” Ten sounds reminiscent of a scolded toddler, and considering the man is hindering you from getting information that you wanted so badly, you can feel yourself mirroring the pout he wears, “I know what I’m doing alright man? Why are you over here anyways, shouldn’t you be at your little booth minding your business.”

“No one minds their business over at that booth, and you should know that better than anyone pervert,” the words are sharp, but the curl to his lips and the underlying playfulness to his tone tells you the likeliness of them being friends is high, “anyways, I know we don’t follow any regulations or anything here, but I’m still gonna take a fuckin’ break or two.”

“Well breaks over,” Ten reaches out a hand to playfully swat the man away, “I didn’t wait this long for you to just interrupt my bonding time with my person alright?”

“Alright, alright,” he finally starts to shuffle away, throwing one last comment about Ten being bitter his person showed up first over his shoulder with a grin.

“What a loser,” Ten starts, looking at you playfully and rolling his eyes, “too bad he’s like my best friend or whatever.”

“You seem to have a lot of fun around here don’t you?” you take a shot at voicing your observations, your heart fluttering in a completely new way at the warm smile he shoots you.

“Just wait a see, my love. Just wait and see.”

[poison--ivory]

Uninviting Cataclysm(Alastor x Reader) Chapter 1

Daily routine isn't always good

(You call the old couple mom and dad) *Also sorry I didn't mention until now that you have really curly hair and your biracial(so you can decide what your skin color is)* •You were also raised up north and still kind of speak with that dialect• 

June 6, 1915 Age: 20

  The morning sun pushing through the curtains along with the sound of dogs barking slowly woke you up. Forcing yourself up and managing to bear from the comfort of your bed and it's still warm sheets. First, tidying your bed spread neat before mom could scold you.

  Making your way to the wardrobe to gather clothes for today's venture, you grabbed a (f/c) V-neck, short flutter sleeve dress that hits mid thigh. With matching flats to best match your dress. Oncing over the choice for today you thought it was best enough. Setting them on the bed and quickly making your way out of your room and into the hallway.

 Swiftly moving down corridor to the bathroom to freshen up before breakfast. Seeing that your old mom already set a nice bath for you. Letting your gown carelessly fall off your frame and removing your undergarments. Mindlessly going into deep thought about your day.

  You usually go to the library to read or grab a book. Maybe chat with the sweet old lady and her seven year old grandson who run the place. Then, possibly taking a stroll around the fair that just open for the summer. By that time your already bringing your twin something for lunch.

  Later, you either stop by the market to pick up groceries or you help your mom take care of wealthy white kids. Their parents pay mom a great deal to care for their children. She does literally everything for them from making meals to sewing dresses or little suits. But, some clients left after my brother and I showed up I guess they didn't want their children to be near a person of color for too long. The ones that stayed seem nice enough. My personal favorite being a middle aged man, Henry Bourgeois, who always said, 'hello' and gave me small tips for caring for his daughter Sally.

  Your skin started to prune sitting in the water for too long. Stepping out of the tub and snatching a towel from the rack you started to dry off. Starting with hair and slowly making your way down to your toes.

  Wrapping the towel around your womanly frame you crept back to your bedroom and got dressed.

__________________________

Once downstairs the smell of bacon and spices hit your nose and triggering your mouth to salivate. Walking into the kitchen you found your mom just about done with her last plate to place at the table with the two others. You greeted her with a warm hug and a 'Good Morning, Mom'. She smiled back and gave your cheek a quick peck. Then went to sit in your chair and wait for your plate.

"Good Mornin', sweetheart. How'd sleep?" She asked, turning back around to slide the eggs on the plate.

"Better than yesterday I can tell you that for sure. The dream I had was so realistic with the flames of hell melting my flesh. I could of sworn that my eyes busted through my soc-" You were cut off by a plate slamming down in front of. Looking up mom had a stern look to her aged face.

"Now ya need ta stop talking 'bout ya dreams like that. Really unladylike especially in public," She spoke with a slight authoritative tone. Lightly limping to her chair she spoke again, "it's just a dame should stay in her own lane. Not that I don't wancha to get a little fire on me now. Men just don't like that talk ya know."

Nodding to her response she took the answer and went on her to turn up the radio for the daily news.

Good Morning, ladies and gentlemen and welcome back to the radio show.

   Staring your favorite radio host, I Alastor, to brighten up your morning with a few songs, but let me darken your day for just a minute with such sad news. Another body was found by an egg last night floating down the bayou.

  Coppers have yet to capture this Button man. This tallies up to over twenty people in a span of two years.  Now what most of you fine folk want to listen to here we have, Mr. Artie Matthew's play the 'Weary Blues'

The piano playing filled in the silence that would have been forks hitting plates trying to pick up flimsy fried egg.

 The killings haven't been new and have been the norm for awhile. You can hear people talking about it at every street, alleyway and bar.

 The coppers haven't caught the guy yet and it puts lots of people on edge. Especially people with families.

 Nearly shoving food in my face causing mom to tell you to slow down. But, hardly listening you shove the rest of the bacon into your mouth and make your way to the sink to scrub your plate and placed it on the drying rack.

"Bye, mama. I'll be back before you know it!" You yelled from the front door way and before you could venture outside she yelled back.

"Pick up some milk and bread before ya get home, would ya?"

"I will, mama."

"Have a safe trip and the cabbage on the table for ya." She slightly limped over and gave both of your cheeks kisses.

Checking the table you hurriedly snatched the money and skipped out the door. Slamming it shut behind you.

Walking down the curvy road that leads into the city. The walk leads you through a small, little wood patch and into a small clearing that slowly shows small businesses and shops. The library is located near the school which is pretty far off from other buildings.

Reaching your destination, the library stairs are long wide, and white cemented staircase with two pillars on each side with the big doors that lead into the actually building. Pushing pass them you nearly run into a little boy, Joseph Bonnefoy.

"Oh, where are in such a rush to?" Smoothing out your dress asked in a slight taunting tone.

"Granny said I could go out for a short break. I'm getting myself a few chocolates as a snack." The words rushed out of his tiny mouth. Hardly catching his breath when he was finished.

"Well aren't you grown now, Joseph. Next thing you'll tell me your getting old enough to get your own house." Jokingly ruffling his hair, he smiled and waved off vanishing from sight once down the incline.

Sauntering into the building you noticed that Claire Bonnefoy wasn't at the front desk where she usually was. Probably in the back.

Making your way down the aisles of books you traveled around for a good five minutes passing books you didn't find interesting or they didn't have good covers. Coming across a couple of good ones you touched 'The Good Solider' reading the summary you decide to give it a try. °°It's set just before World War I and chronicles the tragedy of Edward Ashburnham, the soldier to whom the title refers, and his seemingly perfect marriage plus that of his two American friends.°°

Strolling around the aisle for a bit more you grace yourself with some dark writing. Traipsing on to some dark fiction you grabbed a fairytale book of the 'Grimm work original fairy tales'. Walking back to the front, Mrs. Claire was already their and ready for me. Smiling I greeted her and handed the books over. Smiling she rung them up and complimented the choice for this week.

" How have you been, Mrs. Claire. Not to intrude on your personal life, but is it true that the last person who died lived close to you." You questioned.

"Sadly, yes 'n I've been thinkin' of sendin' little Joseph up state with his aunt 'n uncle in Arkansas for awhile 'til this calms down." Her shaky hand clenched around the book harshly, "Or if they finally catch the bastard whose doin' all of this maybe mah little boy can stay. 'Til then mah old joints can't move like they use tah."

" Lititle Jo 's gonna feel so sad, he really likes New Orleans."

"Yes, I know dear. But, I'd sleep betta at night if he was somewhere safa." She slide the books in a paper bag and handed them over. A melancholy smile on her sweet face. "Been saving up on a train ticket for some time now. Most folk don't come by tah rent out books anymore. So, it took some time 'n hard work tah earn the money."

The killings have did put everyone at alert. Well, most people still hang out past sun fall just to watch the city come to life. Which I won't lie it is gorgeous to witness the night come to life. But, for old bims like Mrs. Claire she's dang plum tire and could use the time to calm her nerves. Maybe I should visit more once Joseph''s left.

"Thank ya, Miss. (Y/n). I'll see ya next week or so."

"The pleasure's all mine and I'll give these books back in no time."

Waving to the old bim you make your way back out the library and on tour way to your next destination.

    Making your way back to the house to fetch Issacs's lunch you had to maneuver your way through the crowd of busy people scrambling around to get out of the sweltering heat and catching up with friends.

 Your brother works at a boiler repair shop. Fixing cars and getting scraps of cabbage to make up for the bills that weren't paid. He's always been a hard working guy, he's selfless and protective. I still remember when we were kids and father used to hit him, so hard, but came to my defense whenever I was in trouble.

 Traveling down the dusty road you made it to the repair shop where two boobs stood out front. One was always silent and the other was a continuous flirt whenever you came around.

As soon as they could hear your shoes hitting pavement the flirt Clay shot up to welcome you.

"How are doing this afternoon, (y/n)." His hand went out to grab your, which you quickly pulled back, "you know that offer still stands that if you wanna get tonight."

"I would, but I'm pretty sure your wife would raise all hell." Walking past him to look further into the garage. "Where is my brother, is he not here?"

Floyd spoke up, which startled you. His voice is pretty deep and gravely for a man only four years older than yourself. Blowing the smoke from his mouth he tapped the ash upon the ground to stare at you.

"He left early to go out with his dame. Told us to tell ya not to worry too much and that he'll be back home later tonight." He stole another drag from the cigarette.

"He could at least gave me heads up before I came all the way out here. What I'm supposed to do with this now." Dangling the bag of food from side to side.

"I'll take it off ya hands for ya." Clay swooning in to steal the bag and retreat back to standing next to Floyd. "Wish my wife could cook like your ma."

  Huffing you said your good byes to them both with a very excited 'see ya' from Clay and a small wave from Floyd.

  Once far away enough you groaned louder to reduce some irritation of making this heart felt trip. Pulling on your face to stop tears from forming you sighed and kept walking to your next venture.

 The scratch mom gave you was enough for bread and milk. But, she also gave you enough to get something special from you little trip. You decided on a cup of coffee at the nearest restaurant with a beignet. It sounds so good right now and with more pep in your step you made it to the store in no time.

  The corner store was full of people that day bustling around to grab what they need and storm out. You being the small self you are you tried to cram your way in and failed miserably. You tried this process several times and came out with the same results. Someone bumped into your small frame and sent you falling backwards. Gloved hands snatched you up before you could hit the ground.

You were in a state of shock before being knocked out of your stooper by a young man who you realized pulled you off to the side. With eyes wide you tried to make conversation, but no words would come out the only thing you could look at was his face.

"T-Thanks for helping me." You tried to mustard a smile, but it came out weird.

"You look like you were in quite the pickle their, my dear." Hands still on your waist he motioned with his head down the street. "You know there's a nice restaurant around here that serves the best venison. I think you would just adore it. Could possibly calm your nerves my treat."

Mouth still dry you tried to speak, "I don't want to impose on your lunch regimen." Shaking your head and slowly moving backwards.

"Oh, but I insist my dear I did invite you didn't I." Pulling you closer by the hip, your face heated up more than normal. Now following the man who you didn't even pick up the name you two made your way around the corner and down the street.

  Stepping inside the small business you noticed only about six or eight people in here. Nicely decorated with bar stools and five booths along the wall and a bathroom across from the front entrance. But, it did smell really delicious in here maybe it won't be,  so bad to have just a bite to eat. He did say he was paying. He lead us to a small booth in the back and waited for me sit down first before taking his seat across from me.

 "Why did you bring me here I barely know you, sir?" Playing with your fingers to ease your nerves by making your fingers stretch and squeeze together.

 His eyes looked off to the side in deep thought before he shrugged. "You looked interesting, my dear." Reaching over he scratched under your chin and his smiled covered more of his face. "Smile my dear you know your never fully dressed without one."

 Making a smile fall upon your lips you smiled back. His eyes slightly narowed and his smirk stretched a bit. Suddenly, a very curvy and thick lady stood in front of our booth.

"Oh, Al are here to hear me sing again tonight. If you are your way too early, hun." She giggled.

"Oh no my dear, Mimzy. I'm here with a new friend of mine. She's going to have seasoned venison." His arm motion towards me and I froze on the spot.

Sticking your hand out for handshake, "HI, my name's (y/n). Nice to meet you."

She stared you up and down before slowly taking your hand and managing a small smile on her face. "You must be a fan, Al here, right. A lot of dumb dora fall head over heels for this man."

 I guess she read the confused look on your face and answered for you. "Alastor, the radio man of New Orleans."

"Oh, sorry I guess I didn't notice." Turning your attention to Alastor, "sorry I didn't recognize a popular figure like yourself."

"It's fine dear a lot of people don't recognize the voice with the look." I'm guessing he's talking the creole look. To be honest a lot of people don't sound like the ethnicity on the phone until you see their face. But, I can't really judge I get turned down in person more than on the phone looking for a job.

"Well I'll go tell the servers the usual for you, Al." She looked you over, again. "What will you have?"

"She'll be having the same as me, mim." Alastor strong smile had her face painted in a light pink. She straighten her posture and cleared her throat and told us it it'll come out in no time. Once she gone I asked how long they've known each other.

"Mimzy and I go way back when she was a small singer. Know she travels from time to time to spread that lovely voice of hers." You just took noticed he speaks with hands a lot more than most people. But, you seem to like that.

 Smiling back you told him that really amazing. It was you mothers goal before she stated using. He asked you about your occupation.

"Well, I really wanted to be a baker, but no plots are open, too expansive or I'm not the right skin tone for this establishment." Looking up for just a second you could have sworn the smile on his face fell and quickly went back into place.

"Isn't that just dreadful." He focused up at the ceiling for awhile and shot his head down to smirk at me, "How would like to work for me for a fair price a hour?"

"What?"

[chibi-pix]

Click the image, it should have a transparency effect. 

Anyway! @rueitae, I believe you said you wanted to read them stargazing?  Well, my dearies! In the “keep reading” below, there is a small, 1,850 word ficlet of pure happiness, fluff, and stargazing!  I hope you enjoy!

VLD AU - Stargazing

“Okay.” Lance nodded as he checked over his supplies. Snacks, both of the junk food variety and substantial for his health. His waterproof sleeping bag. An extra pillow with a waterproof pillowcase. A small music playing device with waterproof speakers.

“You planning on a date?” Allura asked, standing on the deck of Lance’s boat.

Lance got tongue-tied and spewed out a series of sounds that couldn’t even be considered close to works. If one had to compare his lack of words to a physical manifestation, it would be just slamming your hands down on a typing keyboard and seeing what letters are typed. “What?! A date? What makes you think that?” he asked. I mean… maybe it is a date? But logically a date is just an outing between two or more people, right? Right! He thought, his mind getting defensive and praying Allura didn’t catch on to him meeting a mermaid. Plus, I’m just staying out with Pidge to watch the stars…

“Don’t get your flippers tangled, Lance.” Allura waved it off. “I’m just teasing you. But really… strange you’re going out alone and camping out… what’s up? There’s not even a lunar eclipse or a meteor shower tonight; if you want to see the stars so badly...”

“I like how the stars look from the ocean, no obnoxious amount of lights interfering and keeping me from seeing the view.” Lance sighed. “Besides, Hunk’s busy and Keith would rather work with his blog.” And this is a Pidge and me time. Not that we’re… you know… dating or anything… He did everything he could to fight the blush he was sure was trying to threaten to show up.

“Jeez, you really do like to spend more time with fish than humans.” Allura sighed, smiling a bit; she missed Lance going rigid at that claim. “You know, I was shocked at first but then amazed when I found out you had human friends. As friendly as you are, it was strange that you struggled to make friends.”

Lance nodded. Indeed. Technically speaking, when it came to humans, he didn’t have many friends despite him being the sort who was very welcoming and got along with anyone and everyone. He was even nice to school bullies! But somehow he struggled to make friends. His family was proud when he and Hunk became friends and then later Keith. And he’d honestly like to think Shiro was a friend, too. And Pidge. Pidge was definitely a friend!

“Well, the fish don’t mind when you speak a thousand words a minute and drop a lot of moods on them.” Lance stated with a shrug. Pidge didn’t mind, either; she liked listening to Lance.

“More than that, though, I’m surprised Dad agreed to this.” Allura sighed. “After the storm incident...”

“I was fine. And if a storm brews again, I’ll be certain to let you know I’m safe.” Lance assured, going over and hugging his cousin. “Anyway, it’s just a camp-out on the ocean; Uncle’s done that plenty of times himself, even you’ve done it.”

“Yeah… true… but… you’re still so young.”

“I’m almost eighteen, cuz. I’ll be fine.” Lance chuckled.

“I still worry.” Allura sighed. She then ruffled Lance’s hair. “Well, have fun. If you need anything, you got the radio.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lance mock-saluted before he finished getting ready. “Well, time to head out.”

“Be safe and have fun, Lance.” Allura called, stepping off the boat and back onto the dock. She waved Lance off as he set out, his sail catching the perfect breeze. Lance smiled and waved back.

Lance sailed his boat to Pidge’s territory. When he reached the best spot, he set up his electronic anchor and waited, turning to watched the sun as it set. He always loved how the sun looked, regardless if it was rising or setting over the ocean. The way it reflected off of the ever-moving waters, changing the colours of the ocean with its own light. The glow that seemed to illuminate everything yet changed with each ripple of water. It was truly a beautiful sight and he never grew tired of it.

Just like the stars. The stars were always beautiful and sometimes Lance felt the only place he could truly enjoy out in the ocean. Around AARC, due to the lights, he didn’t see them as well. Light pollution, he had been told before. But in the ocean where the only light he had was either natural or the small lights on his boat, which he planned to turn off, there was no interference and he could truly enjoy their beauty.

Lance looked over when he heard a splashing noise. He smiled when he saw Pidge there, surprisingly not accompanied by her brother. Meeting Matt, he could tell just how protective the older and much larger merman was over his little sister. It was sweet but definitely frightening with how big he was.

“Hey, Pidge!” Lance greeted, going to the other side where Pidge was.

“Did you get permission to stay out?” Pidge asked.

“Indeed.” Lance nodded. “So, as planned, tonight we go stargazing!” He laughed when Pidge splashed up more water than she expected in her excitement. “The sun’s nearly set, the stars beginning to show themselves.” He looked when Pidge offered her hand for him to step onto. “Let me do a few final things before we stargaze.” Lance said, to which Pidge nodded.

Lance first set up the music, letting a gentle melody play. Sure, he loved the sound of the ocean, but music was always nice. Then he turned off the lights on his boat, leaving the indicator light on; this helped show any passing ships, not that there were many in the area if any at all, that he was there and to not hit his boat. Nodding, sure that all was well, he returned to Pidge, stepping up onto the offered hand.

Pidge moved a bit from the boat, keeping it within Lance’s ability to see and hear the music and, if needed, the radio. Pidge found the right spot before shifting her position and laying on her back, being able to float in the water as though she were a human. She moved her hand, letting Lance sit on her chest.

“If we lay here, we can just see all the stars!” Pidge exclaimed.

“Yeah.” Lance nodded as he settled down, laying on Pidge’s chest. He had been against her chest before, especially when Pidge was keeping him safe from Matt, but he never actually stopped to listen to her heart as it beat. It was a slow and deep sound. He counted the beats, finding it to beat much slower than a human’s heart. It was about ten to twelve beats in each minute, just a bit faster than an average for the blue whales. Slow. Gentle. It was actually relaxing now that he took the moment to listen.

Lance laid there, watching the sky change colours until the deep blue, nearly black, surrounded them. The stars were bright and clustered, impossible to count as they glowed up in the sky, doing their best to reflect in the waters around them. Lance had various nights in the ocean, seeing this, but this had to have been his first time actually laying there, not being in a boat, and feeling like he was truly floating in space.

“You know,” he said, “I’ve seen the stars many times in my life, from many places… but no matter what, I never find myself not marveling at how they look from here.” He smiled. “And I never grow board of seeing it far from society.”

“Can you not see them in your towns?” Pidge inquired.

“Well, it differs; due to the lights in cities, it’s harder to see the stars.” Lance explained. “Smaller towns with less light, it’s easier. But out here? Hardly any lights around? It truly is a sight to see.” He put his hands behind his head, happy to lay there. Had he laid there without Pidge in the darkness of the night, he actually would have admitted to being intimidated, nervous for his safety. But knowing Pidge was there, keeping him up out of the water save for the occasional splash of the waves, he felt like no harm could come to him.

“Oh!” Pidge sounded excited. “Lance! A star fell! Did you see that?”

Lance chuckled. “Indeed. We call them shooting or falling stars.” He sat up and looked to Pidge. “They aren’t actually stars that fall, though.” He got to his feet and walked along Pidge, the mermaid not minding; or maybe she just hardly noticed due to their difference in size. He got up to her face, sitting close to the edge where her hair was.

“You see,” he said, “there’s so much more to space than the planets and stars. Nebulas. Asteroids. Comets. Dust. And that falling star was a form of debris, most likely a meteroid, as it fell, going through Earth’s atmosphere.” He watched the sky, seeing another one speed across. “The light is it burning up, making it look like a star falling out of the sky.” He looked to Pidge, seeing her eyes, wide and dark in the night. More than that, he saw the stars reflect in them, as though they were pools of galaxies themselves.

“Some people make wishes on them.” Lance explained. “Whether or not those wishes come true...” He shrugged. “But it doesn’t hurt to wish.” He watched the reflection in Pidge’s eyes as another shooting star darted across the sky. Pidge closed her eyes. Was she making a wish? When they opened again, he smiled. “Wish for something?”

“I dunno about you humans, but we sea-folk don’t tell our wishes, it brings bad luck.” Pidge hummed.

“Yeah, many humans feel the same way.” Lance chuckled as he got up, not wanting to leave Pidge’s eyes but deciding to return to her chest and gentle heartbeat. He laid back down again. And I don’t want to jinx my own wish of being able to have many more days and nights like this with Pidge. He thought.

He smiled happily. Stars. Music. The gentle drumming sound of Pidge’s heart. Before the human knew it, he had dozed off. Of course he would, he was safe and happy there.

Pidge had remained there for a while longer, maybe hours. Despite how tiny Lance was, she could tell when he fell asleep. After those hours, she shifted, carefully getting Lance into her webbed hand. She moved back to the boat and slid him off and onto the boat.

“I wish days like this can continue for as long as they can.” Pidge whispered softly. “For as long as you live.” She gently kissed the tip of one finger and moved it, gently touching it to Lance’s cheek. “Sweet dreams, Lance, I’ll be here when you wake.” She nodded and went under the water some, staying relatively hidden in the darkness but close enough for Lance to find in the morning or should he wake in the night.

I hope you enjoyed it!  Because of the image and for its transparency to be seen for both app and desktop, I had this post as a photo post rather than text post (with inserted images).  Until the next story and/or art!

[hinabes]

Soft Serve Cone’s Backstory

A story about promises.

I.World Demolition

It was the best of times-- Humans had bested the elves and created a new world where they ruled.

It was the worst of times-- Fallen angels, bad guys born from the curses of elves, kept invading human settlements.

“--And you food souls,” With an air of self-satisfaction, Westminster went on and on, talking about things I didn’t really understand while he struck a match.

“See, you guys are like the flame. While we humans are the friction on the match, in the end, you guys are the lit fuse.”

He turned to face me, the prancing, flickering flame in his hand putting a crafty smile on his face, eyes brightly lit.

“Little Cone, are you afraid?” “What’s there to be afraid of! Go on! Toss it in to see what happens!”

I didn’t want to listen to his boring and cryptic philosophies and pestered him to toss the match in the fuse notch of the experiment.

“Hahaha, you’re so like me!”

He let go. The burning match fell into the notch and the fuse instantly lit, its flame racing into the inner workings of the experiment. Sparks flew, and Westminster grabbed my hand, pulling me to duck away.

A huge explosion resounded, followed by Westminster’s excited chatter.

“--And so, let’s blow this world up.”

Alas, moments later.

“Ah… Another failure!”

I picked through the debris of the experiment for the thing we were refining for, to no avail.

“Don’t get too down, failure is but another step to success.” Westminster comforted me.

“This… Alright, how are you able to convince me every time?” “Because I’m a genius, best scientist in the world.”

“Say that all you want… You’re just a student… Crap! Let’s run, someone triggered the ice trap I put by the entrance! It must be the warehouse guard!” “What? Isn’t today the open house? Shouldn’t that guy be having a blast at the idol performance?”

Westminster was shoved forward by me, his shock not impeding his complaints.

“Who knows, let’s get out first!”

“Party pooper… I’ve already come up with the next experiment too… Coney, I’ll definitely become a professor here in the future and build my very own lab here! Nobody will disturb me then!”

“Alright alright, you’ll definitely get it! As long as you don’t get caught sneaking into a warehouse and kicked out of school today!”

I collected the moisture in the air to form a snowflake, making our escape on it through the skylight as always. The sparrows sleeping on a cedar tree outside were startled awake and jostled about with chirps and screeches, followed by the angered complaints of the tardy security guard.

Westminster and I shared a smile. --This was the most interesting experience I had at the magic academy.

II. Life Creation

To me, I was quite lucky. Because the first person to summon me was an interesting guy.

He was Westminster, and he often proclaimed himself the “number one science prodigy” to me. Though in reality, this was just something he said.

In the Academy, Westminster wasn’t on particularly good terms with the other students. He said that prodigies have always been alone since time immemorial as nobody understood them, so he didn’t bother with the common folk.

That was why, even though it was the celebrated open house when all the students were having fun with their families, friends and other visitors, I was the only one by his side.

“Hey, Westminster, since we can’t continue the experiments, where should we go?” “Where do you want to go?” “Hmm… We could take a look at the fallen angel weapons display? Or the master attendant appliances display?” “Those are all plagiarized off my work, what’s there to see?” “Then… the puppet show?” “That time would be better spent researching how to make puppets move by themselves.” “...Then what do you want?” “It’s getting late, let’s go back to the dorms.” “...Hey! Westminster!” “What?”

I turned around somewhat angrily to see him innocently grinning at me. We were flying above the school, wind whooshing past our faces.

“It’s my birthday!” “What did you say, the wind’s too loud!”

He played dumb, and I got ready to shake the snowflake under us--

“Hey hey hey, alright alright, I heard it!” He laughed out loud. “I remember! How could I forget your birthday? I’m going back to the dorms to get the tent and warm clothes I prepared--”

Like a conductor, he pointed elegantly towards the snowy peaks looming over the academy grounds.

“Then we’ll go there, how about it? We’ll get to see lots of stars.” “Woah! Let’s go!”

This was why I was happy to be with him; he made every new day unlike any that came before.

My birthday’s easy to remember, it’s the annual Academy open house.

It’s been so many years.

Back then, Westminster wasn’t so arrogant as to go against the proceedings. He, like the other students, was assigned a task-- To create something new that will be on display in the exhibition, that will be promoted and advertised to visitors from around the world.

Teachers and students alike were worried over what sort of “hazard” Westminster would create, but he went against his usual antics.

He didn’t create anything like the music box that could wake a dormant fallen angel, nor the perfume that could revert a food soul into an uncontrollable younger form.

Using cream made from a base of water from the Lake of Ice Tears, he created ice cream that wouldn’t melt. He then baked a thin omelet till it was hard and crispy, which he placed the ice cream into-- --That’s right, that’s the food I’m based on: the soft serve cone.

The day of the open house, the soft serve cone that was very convenient and didn’t create waste was well received and praised by the guests. Westminster managed to sell cart after cart of it.

Unable to keep up with its popularity with the visitors, Westminster received a permit from the Academy for large-scale extraction of water from the Lake of Ice Tears. He then extracted and collected the inedible magic crystal components of the water in secret.

The last day of the open house, Westminster somehow sneaked into the vault of the old enchantment furnace behind the main hall, and using ice cream infused with magic crystal energies, he summoned me.

“Hey, Little Cone. I’m Westminster. Welcome to the world of Tierra.”

He stood before me, face covered with machine oil, yet his eyes shone bright.

III. Remember the Stars

Atop the snowy peaks.

I sat in the tent with Westminster, stars circling the sky above us, and I saw in them his eyes when we first met. I never could find an apt comparison, but it suddenly came to me that night, under the stars.

“Are these stars your birthday gift to me?” “Stars are the universe’s reply to stargazers. And you, are the universe’s reply to me.”

I blushed.

“Sounds nice and all, but if you can’t take it, you can’t keep it.”

Westminster opened his eyes and reached out his right hand, grabbing nothing but air.

“We’ll come more in the future, you’ll remember them after looking at them more.” “There are so many stars, there’s no way I can remember them all.” “How will you know if you don’t try?”

Some things are only proven to be impossible when you try.

“Westminster, are we going to the mountains tonight?” “Not tonight, there’s an assignment I have to do.”

“Westminster, can we go stargazing? Even the school observatory is fine.” “Sorry, I have to record experiment data tonight… I might have to stay in the warehouse late into the night.”

… Slowly, I understood-- Change is the law of the universe, people and stars both change, new interests, new goals, new lights at the end of the tunnel. Nothing stayed the same forever.

Not excluding Westminster and me.

Not long after the trip to the snowy peaks, one day, Westminster and I sneaked into the warehouse through the skylight again. This was our secret base; besides having to avoid the security guard and covering up our traces as those of stray cats and birds, many successful experiments went on here.

But this time, we had an unexpected encounter. He seemed to be a teacher or a higher member of the Academy staff.

“Crap, what if he’s forced to drop out…”

As Westminster was taken away, I had uneasy thoughts. If Westminster had to quit, would I have to as well? Would the outside world be more interesting than here?

But I was wrong. After a long chat with the person, Westminster returned with the happiest expression he’s ever had.

“Haha, didn’t I tell you, I’m a genius!” He showed me the key in his hand. “Coney, I’ve got my own lab from now on!”

Seeing him so ecstatic, I felt oddly worried.

IV. Promise of Reunion

From then on, it was as if Westminster became a different person. He was very, very busy, often falling asleep in the warehouse, going days and nights without food or water, mumbling to himself in front of various strange devices and data.

“Empty shell, empty shell.” Often did I find him chanting to himself repeatedly.

Westminster told me that the mysterious man offered him limitless riches and power for him to research the creation of food souls and life itself. And empty shells were what he couldn’t wrap his head around.

Westminster always said that empty shells were food souls with practically no soul power, and their existence proved that food souls were more than soul-powered weapons created by humans, that food souls were preexisting beings. Then, what power does the human’s imagination hold that is able to summon us unknown life-forms? As he got more and more engrossed in the topic, he said that behind all of this hid the secrets and origins of the world and soul power.

In the beginning, I was still able to understand what he was talking about. Later on, the lab’s security got tighter and tighter. Finally, one day, as I was flying in through the skylight, I was blocked by a strange, invisible barrier.

That day, only when it turned to night did Westminster trudge out of the warehouse, exhausted. His eyes were bloodshot, his unshaven face making him seem decades older. It was as if the warehouse was a man-eating demon, having consumed all of his life force. He faced me, an apologetic look in his eyes.

“Sorry, Coney, my experiments are dangerous, so I can’t let you into the lab from now on.” “I wasn’t coming to disturb you, I just…”

I lowered my head, doing my best to hold in the sadness-- I just wanted to tell you, it was the day of the open house. Have you forgotten my birthday too?

I didn’t want to cry. I’ve never cried. The ice from the Lake of Ice Tears will never melt, and having inherited its properties, how could I ever cry?

“Coney…”

Suddenly, my hand was grasped.

“Come with me.”

I followed Westminster dazedly. We didn’t follow the usual path, instead, he brought me into the majestic main hall and after making a few turns, we somehow came to a secret passageway.

“In here, we won’t be found by anyone. Shh, don’t tell anyone either.”

He brought me into the warehouse.

It was completely different from when I was created; filled with strange, rotating devices, it had become a real lab.

Still holding my hand, Westminster led me into the depths of the lab and handed me something that looked like a telescope.

“Look.” “At what? The kaleidoscope?” “Even better”

Withholding my disbelief, I looked into the telescope. --To see a skyline out of this world, with the brightest stars I’ve seen.

It was the same sky we saw that night on the snowy peaks, stars in neverending rotation; there were two particularly eye-catching ones, swimming in irregular orbits.

“Happy birthday.”

I heard Westminster’s voice. Averting my sight, I saw his forced smile, an uneasy premonition settling over me.

“See those two stars?”

Westminster patted my head, the coarseness of his hand unfitting of a young man.

“I might have to leave this place.” “Remember, when those two stars come together… I’ll be back.”

V. Soft Serve Cone

Nevras is home to the best academy of all of Tierra, the Academy of Magic.

It is the genius’ cradle, one of whom being Soft Serve Cone’s master attendant.

He was the youngest professor in the academy and had his own laboratory, and with the support of a mysterious investor, he researched food souls in utmost secrecy.

Due to the high security of the research, for a long time, Soft Serve Cone was separated from her master attendant and was unable to see him.

Later, for the next stage of his research, Westminster left the academy for a long-term study, declining Soft Serve Cone’s request to go with him.

And so, Soft Serve Cone stayed behind at the academy, and entrusted by Westminster and his investor, she lived fruitfully and was allowed to take part in the various classes the academy offered.

Like a human student, she studied everything she found interesting.

Time flew by, until that year, that open house.

A bored Soft Serve Cone picked up the kaleidoscope on a whim, to see the two stars suddenly come together. Her heart beat fast as she dashed to the warehouse-turned-secret-lab.

Passing through the secret passageway, opening the door, she saw the absent professor.

“Is that… you?”

Soft Serve Cone hesitated. The figure of the person before her had changed far too much.

“Long time no see, Little Cone. Now… will you create a new world with me?”

TL Notes

EVERY SINGLE TIME! Every single backstory’s chapter 4 just gets me soft and kinda wanna cry! Every single time! How does funtoy keep doing this!

This one was kinda very a little bit self indulgent.......... stars.......... kaleidoscopes............. deep lore............. westminster............. the academy.............. cute gorl............ its got it all.....................

The significance of the kaleidoscope: 

Soft Serve Cone in Chinese is 冰淇淋花筒 (bing qi lin hua tong, lit. ice cream flower cone, where the last 2 characters mean “flower cone”). 

Kaleidoscope is 万花筒 (wan hua tong, lit. million flower cone), feelssoftman

“The figure of the person before her had changed far too much.” haha funney joaks hahah

lil coney here better not be lookin at this and thinking “omg westy is that u??????” unless he already looked like this as a human in which case WHAT THE FUCK

anyway. this entire story is a lot of feelssoftman. see ya im off to make a kaleidoscope and cry a little from the softness

also if u were wondering yes the original does swap between kaleidoscope and telescope like that one katy perry song

[archivedatl]

AP web exclusive: All Time Low tour diary

Posted by Scott Heisel on 08-Dec-06 @ 04:43 PM

Last month, Baltimore pop-punkers All Time Low took to the road with Sugarcult for a series of shows on the West Coast. Here's some of what they saw, in words and pictures. Learn more at www.alltimelow.com.

#1------------------------------------------------------------ Ooohooo So last night we celebrated two awesome occasions...well 3 since matt's molars finally grew in...anyways yesterday was Haloween and our first night of our tour with Sugarcult. I must say, it is pretty strange touring with a band who I spent the better years of my middle school life watching on MTV. Regardless of where this band has been, it definetly didn't eff with their personalities. They were all super nice to us and each came up and introduced themselves. The show went pretty well but it wasn't a good judgement of our the whole tour is going to be because Sugarcult didn't even headline, the Eagles Of Death Metal did, and the tickets for $25 on Haloween night :) I'm sorry but I would never go to a show if those were the circumstances...I'd be out expanding my collection of holiday treats. Tonight the 'real' tour begins so we will see how it goes. We are playing Washington State University in Pullman Washington. We haven't done too many college shows, so this should be interesting...anyways before we got on the road a couple days ago we were couped up in Ben Harper's (formely of yellowcard, now in amber pacific) house/studio in long beach, CA working on our new CD :). We demoed some hot licks that were going to send over to our producer matt squire so that he can put in some input. I heard my blogs are going to be posted on the Alternative Press website for this tour, so if that's the case then...helll yeah! Well I just woke up from sleeping in the van so I am gonna walk out into the freezing streets of Pullman, WA crack my back and grab some Qudoba. Much Love, Jack --jbstar #2------------------------------------------------------------ Yoo dooodds, So I'm gonna update you guys on the passed couple shows...on Wednsday we played Washington State University. Those kids are freaking crazy! Everyone seemed to be having a good time and we made some awesome new friends. I cannot stress enough, how cool the Sugarcult guys are. Which is really cool because I have been listening to those guys since 6th grade! Anyways before we played, matt thought it would be a good idea to have a fork and knife fight backstage...yeah it turned pretty ugly and we should have some footage online soon enough. That night we partied at 'The Christmas House'. Lets just say that I'm pretty sure alex made out with a dog...I really miss Hit The Lights :( Anways...we played Seattle after the college show and it was offf the hoooook. Everyone in the room was dancing and it got pretty redic. As soon as we told them the alex/dog story they went nuts. We met up with the Pink Spiders that night. We were nervous about that because we've heard some stuff...but for real those guys are the shit. There all super nice and we have no complaints about them. We have yet to tour with a band who we don't get along with (fingers crossed). We also heard that we may be doing a few shows with Cobra Starship in Dec, if that happends that would be sick. I'll keep you guys updated. Someone made us a bucket of the craziest donuts ive ever seen at the portland show last night!! They were reallly good. Sorry for the lack of pics, I'll make sure my next post has more, its just hard to take good pics on a sidekick :). Talk to you guys soon!!Jacko #3------------------------------------------------------------ Yo Babaayyss, Last nights show was off the hook! I love playing at The Boardwalk in orangevale calii. The crowd was as wild as usual and a bunch of kids were singing along. A lot of the same kids who saw us there on the Amber Pacific tour came back. Its always cool to see so many familiar faces,,,cough cough hint hint nudge...you get the idea folks! The next couple shows should be interesting...reno and vegas. I wont be able to gamble but at least ill be able to look at a lot of lights. We all have family comming out, so that should be exciting. I havent seen my brother and sister in ages and i know their gonna be wasted so that means they will be even more friendly :) Also Meg n Dia join up in vegas which is sick, SO SIKED FOR THAT!!! We met them on warped and their super nice. anyways i think its time, i go to In and Out because after this tour im not going to be able to go back for a while :( im going to eat there everyday twice a day until we leave Arizona. Ive attached pics from our set on the Epitaph stage at this years Bamboozle Left and also some pics of our acoustic set the 2nd day! Thanks to everyone who watched us either/both days :) love you peace peace n a bottle o' hair grease, jack #4------------------------------------------------------------ Wow...vegas has to be one of the strangest places on this earth. First of all we showed up in Reno (shity city) only to find that only sugarcults crew was there and the show probably wasnt going on. We were welcomed by a hooker in a pink tanktop and no teeth asking if we had any shirts we could give her...Thankfully we have power windows and middle fingers. Thankfully zack was asleep or he might have took her up on some of her offers...he's getting desperate you know..just kidding! Anyways we decided to hang out with sugarcults crew for a little then start the drive to vegas early since it was 8 house. We got to go over the Hoover Damn which was sweet. It's seriously Vegas Vacation all over again! Anyways, we got to vegas around midnight and it was a fantastic site! My bro and sis were staying at the MGM so thats where i headed. Rian to the Excalibur, Alex and Matt to the Venecian and Zack to the Luxor. We all split up and hung out with our fam for the evening. My brother took me around vegas and boyyy was it interesting. I was approached by numerous drunk people. It was basically like an Ocean City, Maryland for older people. It's just a place for adults to drink, walk around drunk, act like teenagers and maybe gamble a bit here n' there. it was Akward to say the least. Anyways the next day was the show at the House Of Blues at Mandalay Bay...probably one of the nicest venues we have ever played. We introduced ourselves to the Meg n Dia folks and got to know our new tour mates as we shared a dressing room. We soon found they are awesome people and they share a love for getting wild! The show was pretty cool, and the crowd was big. It was weird though because the merch was not in the venue, it was in the cassino haha. Anyways Vegas was an experience we wont forget, and I cant wait till we go there again. I hope the next time we go, were 21...actually nevermind because that would be three years :)stay rad, Jack #5------------------------------------------------------------ Lame! Tonight was our last show on the Sugarcult Tour featuring The Pink Spiders and Meg n Dia :( Damone will be taking our place on this great lineup. I am jelous that they get to join up! Anyways we made some lifetime friends on this tour and it was a great experience for everyone. Every single show was amazing and the fans never let us down. Traveling to bumfuck arizona and hearing a couple hundred kids sing your song is the coolest feeling ever. Sugarcult was very warming towards us and their personalities suprised the shit out of me. they were such cool guys and even when zack was sick they made him soup and gave him Emergen-C. WHO DOES THAT !?!? Thats like something my mom does...so in a way Sugarcult are our parents. They actually reffered to us as their younger brothers on stage. At the last show of the tour in Little Rock, Arkansas us and Meg n Dia ran on stage during "Bouncing Off the Walls" and started bouncing around and took over Tim's Guitar n Mic, Marko's (my twin) guitar and Airens Bass. It was so fun to bro down with a band that ive been listening to since middle school haha. Alex also got to soundcheck with sugarcult at Texas AM College because tim was at the hospital taking care of his sickness (i think he had a nasty cold). It was so crazy to see alex soundcheck with a band who for the past few years have held a special spot on my ipod and in my cd player :) I attached a pic of him sound-checking for fun. At the end of the show we said our goodbyes and gave our hugs. This is'nt the end of these friendships though, only the beggining...now we head home to write a new cd. Catch us on the road in the northeast in december when we head out with Cobra Starship! Stay safe, Jack

[drumie]

Salutatory Speech.

So as Salutatorian, I was told I would have to write a speech focused on the history... I find that a bit challenging, but here it goes.

A very long time ago, the universe did not exist. There was infinite mass and density, and said universe couldn’t take it, so there was a boom. A big bang of sorts…

Then in the late 90’s and early 2000’s we were born. One of us, in fact, was born on this very day. I want to wish Alicia Hernandez a happy birthday. (sing alicia happy birthday)

So we were born. Our worries were few, but substantial. Two of my personal struggles included catching the next spongebob episode and drinking chocolate milk too fast.

We started pre-school. My only memory from there is getting sick on one too many pigs in a blanket. We met some of our first friends here. Simple times.

2004 - Facebook was created.

2005 - Youtube was created.

Then we started Elementary school. I was at east ridge. Our worries here included getting the last breakfast pizza that was left over because “adam wasn’t here and he would want me to have it.” They included  obsessively cramming for spelling tests, memorizing multiplication facts,  and taking our first TAKS test. TAKS test. Feel old yet?

2006 - Twitter was created

We moved onto 4th grade at SIS… The turf wars began. And for the folks that don’t know, there were two different elementary schools that brought up Kindergarten through 3rd grade. And then these two schools would feed into SIS, Sweetwater Intermediate School. This was our world now. Where we came from defined a person… were you from east ridge, or were you from south east? And I’m ending the beef now, East Ridge was the better of the two. Only kidding! It didn’t matter. There were good things from both schools. I’m just glad that hating and judging people from where they’re from is only something 4th and 5th graders do.

I digress. We’d rack up AR Points ca ching! We’d party like the year we were born… Flamingo fling. Not many worries, but we were still in a hurry, learning about history and Martin Luther King. And those days remained romanticized because again, our biggest concerns only included passing a TAKS test and… our first puberty class.

2010 - Instagram was created

Speaking of puberty, here came middle school. Oh my God. Puberty was like Everyone telling you to look both ways before crossing the street to watch for cars and then a falcon swoops down from the sky and attacks you. Folks I thought that was it for us. As soon as coach Huskey said “Let’s go hit that creek” I recall thinking to myself “yeah I’m going to die in the next few hours.” I found my passion: Band. I also found what I thought was my passion: Football. I remember one day Kiante hit me and I was like “I don’t think I like this very much.” Life got real. Technology took off. We all got phones, social media, iPads. Remember how cool we thought we looked with all of our decent selfies  camwow retro logo in the bottom left? Instagram, Snapchat, facebook, tumblr (lowkey though), Jokebox, iFunny, Youtube, and for the first time, We stopped going to older people for help and we got online and googled it. We were the pioneer generation that was raised by technology. Surrounded by information in the times of our lives when we needed it the most. We began to comprehend the different weights of life. As a middle schooler I pulled a few all-nighters to finish projects and homework… I may or may not have procrastinated on. Our priority list was fine tuned. School and extracurricular were up there now. But memes, relationships, and social media were among them as well.

2012 - Vine was created

Then came High School. lots of smells in high school have you noticed that? The big room smells like shredded tires and hard work and dedication with a hint of Trent tears scattered here and there. You could always tell when bunsen burners were on because the science hall always smelled unpleasant. And Mrs. Melendez’s room when she would burn those Orange Buttercream Scenses that smell like fruity pebbles oh my god.

Smells like the big room, bunsen burners, teen spirit, and those scense’s are the things I think I’ll remember the most.

I learned a few important things in my time in High school that I’d like to share with you.

Freshman year I learned that if you’re unhappy in your situation, you have the ability to change it. Whether it be relationships, extracurricular, or any aspect of life, you can change it. I also learned that social media can be a cruel blackhole, that can distort views, reputations, and relationships. Even more so today. Tread carefully.

Sophomore year, I learned the true value of hard work thanks to Mrs. Judith Brentz. She taught us many valuable lessons, the most important being “how to use our heads for something more than keeping your ears apart.” I also got my first B… Thanks Mrs. Mac. I also got my second B… Thanks Mrs. Brentz. I also learned how to rid my life of toxic people, and for the first time I began to see the world for what it really was. All the variables, and the factors that can play into what, when, why, and how we think the things we think.

Junior year was the toughest for me. Between band, Round 2 of Brentz for chem 2, Coach Mayes, Work, and family…. It taught me that you can’t do everything you want to, and at the same time get enough sleep. I also learned that it’s healthy to rock the boat every now and then. You’ll either get humbled, humble someone else, or if conditions are just right, a healthy mix of the two.

I also learned probably the most important lesson I’ve learned thus far. This applies to everyone listening, Teachers, families, current students, etc. If you don’t get anything about my longwinded speech, please hear this.

My junior year, I stopped worrying about grades, and I started doing the best I could to learn and retain everything that was being taught to me. Numbers are just Numbers. But what we should understand is that we have the world’s most powerful computer between our ears, and once we start using it, we become unstoppable. There are people that will disagree with what I’m about to say, but stop trying ace tests. Stop trying to do the bare minimum to get by. Learn and retain the information, and those good grades will come. I guarantee it. And class of 2018, it’s not too late to apply to your lives. Whether you’re going to college or not, this is a fundamental principle that can be applied across the board, and I encourage you to do so.

Alright back to jokes.

My senior year I learned lots. Like how you can overcook a TV Dinner and still get food poisoning, ruining your chance for perfect attendance that year. Once I started seeing colleges I started learning how a world that I thought was so big is about a whole lot bigger. I learned that if you fall asleep exactly 47 minutes before the first bell, you’ll wake up and be in a sour mood the entire day. I learned that once people figure out that you’re doing a speech at graduation, everyone wants a shout out. I also learned that you can market shoutouts and get a headstart on paying tuition by selling them for a dollar a piece. I also learned that I should've thought of that sooner and not just the night before I gave the speech. Nobody bought shoutouts. (this was what was originally written, but nick gomez bought a shoutout lol)

But our priority list is strict now. When we have to be where and with who? Some of us are paying bills, we have to worry about finances, college tuition, student loans, our next meal, car payments, gas money, textbooks, toothpaste, medical, dental, water, electrical, internet, phone bills. Oh my God I thought I wanted to be an adult but this isn’t what I meant. Of course, those are all things we should be concerned about.

I for one have my priorities just a little bit different

My biggest worries are still catching the latest episode of spongebob and drinking chocolate milk at the right speed.

So welcome. I hope you enjoy tonight's ceremonies. I’m going to wrap this up with a few thank yous, and we’ll get on with it.

Thank you God, for the many blessings you’ve laid upon my life as well as the blessings you’ve given my friends and family. I know I tick you off sometimes, so, I just ask that you’ll bear with me. I’m still learning

Thank you to my dad. You’ve taught me a lot. The most memorable being the wisdom you passed on from my grandmother in heaven… To never take life too seriously.

Thanks momma. You make me laugh like no one else can. And you get me the way no one else can. You can bet everything you say I’m gonna steal and make it my own. I love you.

Marlee, you’re the only one that gets me emotional anymore. I’m so proud of you. I once described you to a friend as a little packet of sunshine that grew arms, legs, and a face, and now you just walk around spreading happiness and joy. I’m glad you made your own path and didn’t follow in my footsteps. I know you’ll continue to make me proud with everything that you do.

Band - Thank you for giving me a place I belong. I’m odd, and yall were okay with it. Without you, I wouldn’t be standing up here.

Directors - Thanks for making me feel at home. I still cant wait to call yall by yall’s first names here in about an hour.

Teachers and Administrators - Thank you for bearing with me. I know I was a thorn in yall’s side from time to time with scandalous assignments and requests. And Mrs. Reyes and Mrs. Little… I made it.

(With the exception of what’s bolded, the other shoutouts made were ad-libbed and did not have a concrete order. I recall thanking other teachers, friends, and family, and shouting out nick gomez, lauren rodriguez, and trini and bell.)

And last but not least, I’d like to thank Jeff Stein and Richard Ferguson for keeping me on their staff after numerous hiccups on 96.7 FM, 1240 AM, KXOX. Good times, great country. For the job opportunity you’ve given me, you helped ease the financial stress that comes from being a poor high schooler, and a soon to be college student. I cant thank you enough.

And in closing. Heed this warning, everyone listening.

We are strong.

We are persistent.

We are mustangs.

We will go on.

We will succeed.

We will prosper.

We are coming.

We are graduating

We are the Class of 2018.

Thank you, and God Bless.

“Salutations” //Trent(on) Hicks. May 25, 2018

[we-are-guildmaster]

Original Story: Dreamer

I like to write in my spare time and I’ve decided to share a little of it here when the mood strikes me. Below is the first part of a story I’ve been working on for a while, I got off to a good start then stalled a bit. I hope you enjoy.

It’s 6:32 am on a Sunday and I was woken up by a Dream. I don’t Dream often anymore, I find as I get older my nights are filled with normal dreams. But tonight I had a Dream. It was of the get together of course, it almost always is. Normally, I would roll over and go back to sleep. But this early morning I received a text.

Prepare to report.

That’s all the text says, and it’s from a number I’ve never seen before. But I know the message is for me, and that there is so much more to it.

The hunt went wrong this year.

Let me tell you a story. On a small farm some where deep in the countryside lives a family, we’ll call them the Johnson family. The Johnson farm is in a remote part of the country and is far from just about anything. It doesn’t produce much, a little of this, a little of that. But each year the Johnson Family farm plays host to a get together.

People from all walks of life come out. They drive for hours, fly, bus, take trains, or do what ever it takes to get there. Most years it’s a different group of people, rarely the same person twice. They show up on what ever day they are suppose to, great the Johnsons with familiarity, even if they have never met before. They are welcomed in and treated as old dear friends. Each person, never more that 13 in total, sometimes as few as two, leaves their donation on the hall table as they arrive, a cashier’s check for $100,000 U.S. funds. Dad Johnson collects the checks in the morning and deposits them in the bank.

The rules are simple. On this one night a year, you don’t go outside, you don’t invite your friends over, you forget the world outside your bed room door even exists. You stay inside. Because this is the night the monsters come out.

Simple back ground, in nature there are predators, the best ones look like something other than what they are. Insects especially are good at this trick. They can look like sticks, or leaves, or chunks of wood, but when the time is right their true colors show through.

Now that that idea to the next level, there are predators who hunt humans as prey, their trick? They look like us. A mistake most people make is thinking that these things are, or were human. They aren’t and never were. They just wear our look to fit in and bide their time. The good news is that just like every other predator-prey relation ship, there are a lot more of us than there are of them.

The ones that are good at what they do, you never hear about. They lead their seemingly normal lives and no one is the wiser. People on the fringe of society near them just disappear from time to time, old folks in nursing homes who have no next of kin, homeless people on their last leg with nothing left to loose, you get the idea.

The ones that are not so good, well, you read about them in the paper and their names are hard to forget. Gacey. Daumer. Bundy. They have the monster equivalent of an eating disorder.

To keep from being wiped out wholesale the monsters have what are essentially game wardens. They monitor the heard and let the other predators know which members of the heard can be picked off safely, when, and how. The world is divided up into 13 regions, and each region has a warden.

Each year, if a warden is having a problem with one of his monsters, he comes to the Johnson farm on the right day and meets with other wardens who are also having problems. They trade information about their problem children, decide on a course of action, and then seal the pact with a traditional hunt.

And what do they hunt you may ask with dread in your voice? One of us of course. Not one of the dregs this time, not this night. When you are sealing the deal, it’s a full on prime specimen. An athlete, a career violent offender, a military special forces operative, someone who actually has a fighting chance. They hunt them, kill them, and feast on the body. The next day Dad Johnson goes out with the tractor, digs a very deep hole, and drops what little remains in and buries it.

But this year there was a problem. This year dinner didn’t go down quietly. And now here I am on a Sunday trying to rub the sleep from my eyes and waiting for the next phone call.

You might be thinking, this guy must be one of the wardens, after all he knows so much. Or maybe he’s just one of the monsters, a silent hunter who has a guilty streak and wants to share his story. Unfortunately wrong on both counts. I am one of the few humans who is born with the ability to Dream. Capital D.

When you go to sleep, your brain takes the miss matched chunks of information, throws them into a blender, and spills them back out across the inside of your eyelids as dreams. Little d. There is no real rhyme or reason to them, it’s just a random bunch of crap your mind puts out there for you to unwind.

When I, or some one like me, which is about 1 in a 10 million people, go to sleep we normally get what you get, dreams. But sometimes, when it’s important, we Dream.

Look at it like this. Jim and Frank get into a fight and they both get arrested. Jim says Frank started it, Frank says Jim started it and no one can figure out what really happened. Jim’s story paints Frank as the bad guy, Frank’s story paints Jim as the bad guy, and both of them believe in their hearts that they are telling the truth. Now in most cases there isn’t much you can do. A judge will listen to both sides and decide what’s what and hand down his verdict. Who ever is ruled against feels cheated and it’s fairly inefficient.

But let’s change it up a bit, let’s say that there was a video camera hidden where Jim and Frank were and caught the whole thing. Now the judge has a blow by blow accounting from an unbiased source. Things become a lot easier for all involved. Those of us who Dream, we’re the video cameras, and we only video tape monsters.

No one knows why we can Dream. Even the really old monsters can’t remember a time when there weren’t Dreamers. But every monster knows we’re out here, and every monster knows that if something big goes down, a Dreamer is going to see it. So from time to time we get asked to come in and tell the higher up monsters what went down so they can keep the rest of the beasties in line. The rules concerning Dreamers are simple. We come when called, answer truthfully and completely, and we stay off the menu, that’s it.

Now why would we be on the menu in the first place you ask? A good question. You see Dreaming take a lot out of you. It’s kind of all we’re good at and built for and it takes up most of the resources out bodies produce. So your average Dreamer is sickly, and dysfunctional in a big way. People on the fringe of society, old folks in nursing homes who have no next of kin, homeless people on their last leg with nothing left to loose, you get the idea. Prey.

Me, I’m one of the really lucky ones, a high functioning Dreamer. I’m confined to a wheelchair, barely able to make it from chair to bed on my own, but completely together in the mental department. That makes me a valuable tool for monster society.

The phone rings, it is 7:04. They must be really on the ball this time, usually takes then over an hour to get to me on the list. As tempted as I am to let it ring I answer on the second tone. “Did you Dream?” the voice on the other end is raspy, and impatient.

“Yes.” I try to hid the fear in my voice, but I know he can hear it.

“We’ll send the van. Be ready in an hour, pack a bag.”

“I’ll be ready.”  Pack a bag. That’s a new one. I slowly transfer into my chair and begin my morning ritual, bathroom, hair, clothes, meds, pack the bag. That’s what life boils down to in the end. Rituals. What we do when we go into auto pilot, the things that pass the time between. I finish up and check the clock,7:49. They’ll be here soon.

8:02, a sharp knock on my door, prompt as always. I roll over to the door, place my bag on my lap, and open it. Big guy this time, serious looking, smells of expensive smoke and leather. “You are prepared?” his voice is deep like distant thunder.

“I am.”

“Then we go.” I roll into the hall and lock my apartment door. He takes the handles and moves me down the hall at a study pace. I use to wonder what they were under the skin. I gave that up after a few visits. Monsters don’t like people asking questions. Besides, it’s better that I don’t know. I have nightmares enough with out seeing the naked truth.

We exit the building and he rolls me over to the van, the ramp is already down with the engine running. I’m the only passenger. No surprise there. We make good time to the airport, no small talk, no radio, just driving and my own thoughts. We bypass security with the wave of some credentials, probably fake. A private jet is waiting for us on a back runway. A tall slim woman in a tan suit is waiting by the stairs to the jet. The big guy lifts me out of my chair and loads me into one of the front seats with out a word.

The lady suit and the big guy board and he closes the hatch behind them. She taps the pilot’s door and says, “We’re ready.” I hear some chatter from behind the door and the cabin starts to pressurize. She sits down across from me, “Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?” She has a soft voice with a hard edge, like a razor covered in velvet.

“A glass of juice would be great.” I answer. She waves a hand to big guy, and he pulls open a mini bar and pours me an apple juice. As he does that I look around the plane, nice interior, plush carpets, leather seats with work stations tucked into the sides.

She points to the big guy as he hands me the glass. “Anthony will be your escort. I am Ms. Landers. Our flight is international, do you have your passport?” I nod and pat my bag. “Good. It’s always nice to work with someone who is efficient.” She pulls some papers from a side pocket of her chair. “Have you ever met the Council before?”

The Council. Shit. I try to keep my voice calm and study, no need to tempt fate by appearing any weaker then normal, “No ma’am. I always report to my local handler and he relays to his superiors.” Shit, shit, shit. This is really bad. The Council never sees Dreamers. There are always intermediaries. One of the game wardens must have been important.

“If I may ask ma’am, why am I meeting the Council? My reports have always been factual and prompt when requested.”

A sly grin passes her lips, the kind that makes you think of a fox in a hen house, or a snake in the grass. “Indeed they have been. In fact that is the primary reason you are being selected. The Council has recently…” She pauses as if looking for words, “come under new leadership, and they wish to meet such a valuable asset as yourself.” She leafs through the papers, a bare glimmer of amusement wrinkles the corners of her mouth. “The First Lord wishes to have a better grasp of events than what was being offered through the local handlers.”

A new First Lord, new Council members, could mean a shakeup in the whole monster rank structure. I sip my apple juice slowly, trying to figure out if I am being called to my last report. Anthony sits across from me, his big frame causing the leather of the seat to squeak as is settles under his weight. Ms. Landers hands him a several pieces of paper. “Your travel papers.” He glances over them and slides them into his inside pocket. “Make yourself comfortable, it’s a 7 hour flight. If you need any of your needs met, Anthony is a skilled nurse provider.” Her tone tells me that the conversation portion of our flight is over.

I settle into my chair and adjust my leg blankets. I close my eyes and drift in and out of sleep. Snippets of conversation between Ms. Landers and Anthony drift through my mind as I rest. They speak in a language I’ve heard before, but never learned the name of. Images of castles and dungeons pass through my worried mind, with all the dread of a child waiting for the monsters to come out of the closet.

I hear the wheel screech on the tarmac and feel the impact of the plane hitting lightly on the ground as it lands. The pilot says something in that language and we begin to slow down and taxi onto the runway towards a terminal. The sky outside is cold and grey as the plane comes to a halt we’re still well away from the terminal. The door opens with a slight hiss/ pop and the steps extend. Outside is a long black car with the rear door open.

[unofferable-fic]

The Flower & The Serpent (Arthur Morgan x OFC)

Chapter 9 - Once More into the Fray...

Summary: In the early 1890s, the Van der Linde Gang were truly at their finest. Experts at stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, they’ve made a name for themselves across the West. Two of their newest recruits, a pair of rebellious Irish siblings with an unknown past, slowly find their footing and settle into their new lives as outlaws. And yet, as they grow older, threats from all sides begin to appear. A strained relationship with Colm O'Driscoll spells disaster for the gang, and no matter how far they roam across America, the world continues to change around them. If they want to survive, difficult choices must be made. No one is as they seem and the impending arrival of law and order threatens to tear the siblings, and everything they hold dear, apart. Is it too late for anyone to find a happy ending?

————

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x OFC

Warnings: Language, fluff, violence.

Word Count: 6,926

Previous Chapter    Next Chapter

Playlist: “Minnesota, WI” — Bon Iver, “In God’s Country” — U2, “God Slap” — The Scratch, “Future Glory” — Jed Kurzel

————

A/N: Also available on AO3.

“Now son, why do you got that gun pointed at me and my friend here?”

Had Maebh been expecting Dutch’s tactics for dealing with a drunken highwayman to be laughter and sympathy? Not even remotely, but it wasn’t like she had any option other than to trust him. She had seen him talk his way out of many a situation in the last three years, so had no reason not to have faith that he could do it again. She kept her mouth shut, holding and pacifying an on-edge Copper, his hackles raised in defiance.

“’Cause I want your money, mister,” the robber replied. When Dutch laughed again, his cheeks went red. “You shut your damn mouth laughin’ at me!”

Dutch’s tone revealed just how unfazed he was by the situation. “Well what has you all the way out here tryin’ to rob some good folk such as ourselves?”

“Ain’t none of your business. I’m not lookin’ to talk.”

“I very much doubt that, my friend,” Dutch replied steadily. “You look to me like a feller who could do with some talkin’. I’m Dutch, this fine young lady is Maebh, and that’s Copper.”

The larger man grumbled. “I don’t give a shit.”

“What’s your name, sir?”

“None o’your business! My only concern here is money.” Dutch chuckled again at that, prompting an aggressive response. “I told you to shut up laughin’!”

“How can I not laugh, my friend, when you insist on pretendin’ like you don’t need some help. You can’t tell me that you planned on spendin’ your life on the highway robbin’ any folks that wander by. Don’t you want some purpose?”

“How I spend my life ain’t no concern o’yours.”

“Well if you’re strugglin’ it is.” Dutch took a step towards the attacker, small enough that it wasn’t intimidating, but sure enough that he appeared confident in the move. “I have a gang, ya see — a family of misguided souls who were hard done by this country’s leaders. If I see someone I think needs help and has somethin’ to offer, I’ve no problem extendin’ a hand. Now, we got food, shelter, and booze, and you look like you can handle a gun. Why don’t you put it to better use makin’ a difference with some likeminded folks?”

The man hesitated, his rifle still aimed steadily, but his tone shifting into something more inquisitive. “And why don’t I just shoot you two down now, take your money, and be on my way?”

Dutch hummed with an amused grin. “Well, there’s two outcomes for that Mister…?”

A pause, then a gruff answer. “Bill.”

“Mister Bill, then. Either you shoot me, Maebh, and Copper there before lootin’ our corpses and wanderin’ off before you either die alone by the bullet or the bottle. Or outcome number two; I draw my pistol so quickly you can barely make a noise before I blow your brains out. Now, I would much rather it didn’t come to either of these, but it ain’t gonna end well for anyone who threatens my family.”

Maebh opted to keep quiet, knowing Dutch was far better with persuading crazy criminals than she was. She focused her attention on keeping Copper calm. Thankfully, the dog had stopped growling, but he was still very much wary of the stranger. She patted his side gently, reassuring him that he was alright and that he was, of course, a good boy.

“Tell me, Bill,” Dutch began again. “You ever heard of the Van der Linde gang?”

Bill released a huff. “Heard of ’em? They’re famous for robbin’ banks all over the damn place. Are you tellin’ me you’re Dutch Van der Linde?”

“Well I certainly ain’t talkin’ through my ass, son. Either you can join one of the most famous band of outlaws in the country, or you can go ’bout your business on your lonesome. It’s your choice, and I implore you to make the right one. It would be good to have ya onboard. You don’t gotta be alone anymore.”

There was a tense silence. If Bill was expecting Dutch to further try convince him to join, he was met with merely a stare down. The older man had already laid out his cards on the table and waited for the reveal of Bill’s hand. Maebh fixed her gaze on him, ready and willing to have Dutch’s back if it came to it. The barrel of the rifle rattled in Bill’s shaking hands before it abruptly lowered to the ground.

He quickly pulled down his bandana to reveal the rest of his pudgy face. “Suppose I would be dumb not to take it.”

Dutch smiled widely and quickly grasped his hand to shake. “Right you are, Bill. A wise choice indeed.”

At Dutch’s insistence, Maebh stepped up and accepted Bill’s handshake. “As long as you never point a rifle in Copper’s direction again, we’re good.”

He nodded, looking down at the young woman. “I ain’t gonna argue with that.”

“Just a warnin’, ’cause his owner would have no problem stranglin’ you for it.”

“You’ll meet him at another time,” Dutch began. “For now, you can come to camp and meet the rest of the gang. We can have some drinks and you can tell us about yourself. How’s that sound?”

“Good,” Bill replied, standing with his shoulders slightly more relaxed that before. “I guess.”

Even still, Maebh was wary. This wasn’t like when they had previously recruited Reverend Swanson. He had joined after saving Dutch’s life, whereas Bill had just threatened to shoot them both. Even still, she had to place faith in her leader and assume there was logic to his offer. While this newcomer certainly appeared lost and directionless, he also seemed ruthless if he was willing to rob and shoot innocent people along the highway. Perhaps that could be knocked out of him. She knew from her experience with Arthur that a hard and threatening front used to get your own way could always be just an act.

So, she listened carefully as they walked back to camp and made idle conversation. Bill was an army veteran, having been assigned to the 15th infantry that fought against Native Americans. When asked about why he left, he admitted to being dishonourably discharged for deviancy and attempted murder the year before.

Jaysus, not off to a great start, she thought to herself. Although I guess I can hardly judge…

He admitted to sleeping rough for the last year, just about surviving off robbing people along various highways while drinking to pass the time. Not exactly a pleasant life or ideal situation for anyone to be in. She could at least understand why he had been so inclined to accept Dutch’s offer when he had little else to live for.

Back at camp, her friends were surprised to see them returning with not just the ginseng.

“Everyone!” Dutch announced, standing outside his tent. “Everyone! Gather round!”

At his words, the ever loyal gang members who were present stood together before him. William found a spot beside Maebh while Karen appeared nearby too.

She gave Maebh a nudge with her elbow before nodding to the newcomer who stood awkwardly next to Dutch. “Who’s that?”

“New recruit,” Maebh whispered. “Met him when he tried to rob us on the highway.”

“Rob you?” Karen repeated in disbelief. “And he took him in?”

“Guess he figured he was another lost soul. I think he sees some potential... He looks like a big gruff bastard, but I trust Dutch on this. He did threaten him for tryin’ it on us, to be fair.”

“O’course. Trustin’ Dutch ain’t my problem, but threatenin’ to shoot and rob y’all don’t sit well with me.”

“As much as I appreciate you defendin’ me, let’s just see what happens.”

Maebh quickly finished the conversation just as Dutch began to address the group. “Now, friends, I wanted to introduce you all to a new recruit for our family. This is Mr Bill...?”

He threw a glance at Bill, who cleared his throat. “Williamson.”

Maebh heard the small snort that William let out under his breath as Dutch continued on. “... Mr Bill Williamson, and Maebh and I met him out on the highway. He’s another man lookin’ for purpose, just like all a’you. And just like all a’you, he has somethin’ to offer. So for tonight, everyone who is here is gonna sit ’round the fire and celebrate a new member on our mission to find paradise. What do you think?”

“We’re always with you for a party, Dutch!” Davey cheered, already going to grab a bottle of beer.

“Boss’s orders!” Mac agreed, following his brother’s lead.

There were unanimous cheers from the gang, during which Maebh met the eyes of a very happy looking Karen. “Right, I ain’t happy he threatened you two, but I ain’t never gonna turn down an opportunity to drink.”

As Dutch asked for Mr Pearson to grab the boxes of beer he had stashed, the group began to disperse and William turned to the two women. “Is no one gonna talk about how that fella’s name is William Williamson? Even better, William Son of William? I can’t be the only one who thinks that’s hilarious.”

Maebh linked her arm into his before replying. “As long as you wait a few months to say that to his face, it’s grand.”

“Are you three gonna catch up or keep whisperin’ to each other?” asked an already half-cut John Marston. He wobbled up to them with beers in hand, fully intending on getting them locked.

Maebh took the beverage he offered with thanks. “But we’re goin’ t’have’ta drink two whole beers before we catch up with you.”

“You sayin’ I’m a lightweight?”

“Yeah,” Karen agreed, though not unkindly. “Because ya are. We say it all the time.”

John let out a raspy wheeze. “Well at least drink with me after insultin’ me.”

Happy to oblige, the group all sat around the campfire and began to work their way through multiple beers. As Dutch had requested, it became an evening of everyone introducing themselves to Mr Williamson, and the latter sharing what he could about himself. Even though she was surrounded by her family and friends, Maebh couldn’t help but feel the loss of Arthur’s presence on such a celebratory occasion.

Just over a week later, Arthur was happy to see those familiar tents and wagons as he steered Boadicea down the little pathway that led to camp. He had enjoyed him time away even if it was only a short trip, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn't missing the gang. It was late at night again he returned, choosing to spend as much time as he could with Eliza and Isaac. The first one he met was Marston, who sat at a table on the edge of camp cleaning a repeater with a cloth. He looked up as he heard the hooves on the dirt path.

“Welcome back, Morgan!”

“Good to see you, Marston.” He carefully eased his faithful steed to a hitching post and allowed her to get her breath back as he dismounted. Offering her an oatcake, he continued talking to his brother. “How’re things?”

“Good,” the younger man replied. “We’re all ready to go tomorrow. You made it back just in time.”

“Yeah well, figured I should get the most outta my trip.”

John got to his feet, gun cleaned and ready to head off to guard duty. “How’s the boy doin’?”

“He’s doin’ good. Gettin’ big!” Arthur smiled at the memory. “He seemed happy to see me.”

“I’m sure he was. And how’s Eliza?”

“She’s good too. I brought them some supplies and money to keep their stocks up, but she said they were managin’ just fine. She took it after some insistence.”

“She sounds almost as stubborn as you.”

“Just about.”

The sound of his name being called grabbed Arthur’s attention. William offered a small wave as he made his way over to the pair. “It’s good to see you again, pal.”

“You too, kid,” Arthur replied and gave the younger man a firm handshake. “How’ve you been gettin’ on?”

“Just preparin’ for the train really,” he replied. “Dutch wants us to try keep our heads down beforehand so we don’t make too much noise. How was your trip?”

“Good,” Arthur affirmed. “It was nice to have a little break from bein’ an outlaw. What are you still doin’ up anyhow?”

“I’ve got guard duty with Marston,” William explained, gesturing to the carbine slung over his shoulder. “We make a good team, don’t we, John?”

“Sure,” John mumbled with a raised brow. “I guess so.”

“Why are you pullin’ that face when I just gave you a compliment?”

“That’s the exact reason why I’m makin’ this face, Hennigan.”

“Look,” Arthur cut in quickly. “I’m gonna get some sleep before the heist tomorrow. You two try not to shoot each other, alright?”

At his insistence, the pair swiftly left to take up their spot amongst the surrounding trees. With the rest of camp either sleeping in their tents or passed out drunk, he was relieved he could sneak off to his tent and grab some much needed shut eye before tomorrow. Now that he was away from his son, it was back to the reality of the Van der Linde gang.

“What d’you think?”

Maebh looked up from her book to see William standing over her, one hand gesturing to his face. She blinked twice upon realising that his beard had been replaced with a dark blonde moustache on his upper lip.

“Had you told me you were goin’ t’do that,” she began, shutting her book after marking the page. “I would’ve said you’re mental, but you actually pull it off.”

William smiled at her compliment and turned to look at his handy work in the small mirror beside his shaving utensils. “Cheers. I figured I should go all out if I’m to look like a fancy salesman on a trip for business.”

“You definitely look the part,” she agreed and got to her feet. “Mrs Matthews and Miss Grimshaw said they would do my make-up for it.”

“Make sure Susan doesn’t go too dark on your eye shadow.”

“I’m pretty sure she knows that’s a look only she can pull off.”

Maebh stretched slightly, looking out at the rest of camp from their tent. It was mid afternoon in Iowa, the entire gang having just finished their lunch for the day. Trelawny was still at camp, agreeing to stay up until after they rob the train, considering he was due a cut for his services. Said train was due to pass through Saint Charles that evening, with a change of guard coming at the state line. While running her eyes over each member of camp, she spotted a familiar face coming towards her.

“Hey, Arthur!” she greeted the visitor.

Arthur had returned last night while she had slept, and he had been asleep all morning. Unwilling to disturb his much needed rest, she waited patiently to welcome him back home.

“Miss Maebh,” he offered in return, tipping his hat. “Mr Hennigan. How’re y’all doin’?” At that, William turned around and Arthur saw his new look on full display. “Damn, kid. How the hell do you manage to pull that ’stache off?”

“It must be my youthful good looks,” William replied. “Who fuckin’ knows.”

Arthur chuckled before idly stroking his thick beard. “I actually gotta shave myself, now that I think of it.”

“How was your trip?” Maebh asked, recalling her previous conversation with Bessie about his privacy.

“Good, good,” he replied with a small smile. “Always nice to get away for a little while.”

“Well you’re gettin’ thrown into the thick of it again now.”

“You’re tellin’ me. By the way, who’s the big bastard I’ve seen drinkin’ with Mac and Davey?”

“Awh Jesus, let me tell ye…”

With their departure time getting ever closer, the trio only spoke for a short while before Maebh went off to see Bessie and Susan. Though Bessie’s health had still been on the up and down, she was happy to help Susan do her make-up so that that she looked the part for the heist. With her makeup resembling something simple yet elegant, they helped her get into the outfit Trelawny had brought as part of her wealthy facade. The grey shirtwaist, decorated with white floral patterns and white lace, also included long sleeves that ruffled at the shoulders and a high neckline, beneath which she had stuffed a bandana for later use. Her skirts, matching in colour, were long and reached down to her black boots. Her footwear thankfully sported a small, chunky heel so that she wouldn’t fall on her face mid-robbery. A white brimmed hat covered her hair, that Miss Grimshaw tied up into a neat bun. On top of this, she wore a matching linen suit jacket and black leather gloves to complete the look.

“You look stunnin’ and pompous,” William later noted as she emerged from the tent. “It’s perfect!”

Maebh shook her head. “Thank you. I’m just happy that Josiah picked up something I can still move in. Plus, there’s plenty of room under my skirt for a revolver.”

“It’s also a good thing that crooked clerk will be able to get us on without bein’ checked for weapons,” he added before shrugging on his own dark grey suit jacket. He seemed happy and confident in his attire — a striped waistcoat, a white dress shirt, a purple tie, dark grey pants, and black shoes. “How do I look?”

“Great,” she complimented, surprised by how much older the attire made him look. “You’re the perfect amount of pretentious. I know I was originally worried ’bout how we were gonna pass for rich people, but we actually look really good…”

“Don’t we?”

“You two ready to go?” John asked, walking up to them briskly in his worker uniform. His eyes darted between them, awkwardly flitting up and down Maebh’s ensemble. “You two look, eh… good.”

“So do you,” she offered in reply. “I have to give you credit, you do look like a convincin’ worker.”

Finishing up the group, Arthur made his entrance. Maebh couldn’t help but give him a once over, noting the well-fitted suit that seemed to create a whole new Arthur Morgan. She tried not to stare — she really did, especially considering he could be so damn self-conscious for some reason — but her eyes took him in with genuine appreciation. He carefully smoothed the front of his grey coat as he joined them. Smartly dressed and beard neatly trimmed, he was ready to go.

“Y’all ready?” he asked before making eye contact with Maebh.

The intense gaze of his blue eyes caused her to blink and look away quickly, realising that he most certainly caught her staring, a gesture she hoped hadn’t made him uncomfortable.

“I think we’re set,” William answered, straightening his tie. “Where’s Trelawny?”

“Right on time,” John announced pointing to the tree line behind them. “And he’s got a friend.”

Maebh, relieved to have a chance to tear her gaze from Arthur, turned to see a coach commandeered by two men coming down the pathway. Trelawny waved from the driver’s seat. “Afternoon, gentlemen, madame!”

The coach came to a halt by the patch of grass where their horses were grazing. Trelawny joined them while the driver waited in his seat.

“You all look wonderful,” Josiah noted before glancing back at the driver. “Don’t mind  Andrew — he’s a friend. Are we ready to go?”

“Indeed we are,” Dutch called as he briskly walked to join them. “Are we all clear with the plan?

Arthur nodded firmly. “You’re gonna take John up to the station on Norwalk where he can sneak onboard, the coach will take myself and Maebh to Saint Charles where we’ll board, and Josiah will drop William on the outskirts of town so it don’t look like we’ve arrived together, before he leaves our horses at the quiet spot where we’ll start the robbery.”

“That clear with the rest of you?” With unanimous positive answers received, Dutch clapped his hands. “Then get your guns and let’s rob ourselves a train!”

They each hurried excitedly to their tents, grabbing revolvers, pistols, and sawn-off shotguns that they could sneak onboard. Once they were armed, they set out on their mission. John and Dutch were the first to leave, quickly mounting The Count before galloping out of camp. William climbed atop Dantès while Trelawny grabbed himself one of the spare mounts. Together, they gathered the horses belonging to Maebh, Arthur, and John, then quickly led the animals out on to the main road.

All that remained were Arthur and Maebh. Still feeling a bit awkward having been caught staring, she accepted the hand he offered to help her into the coach. Sitting together in the back seat, the driver carefully steered them out of camp and onwards to Saint Charles.

“Well,” she sighed, looking out at the open country. “This is a bit weird.”

“How you mean?” Arthur asked curiously.

“I’m not used to takin’ a coach to a heist, especially in such fancy clothes.”

He hummed at her admission. “I know how you feel. I don’t mind wearin’ a suit, but the coach and driver is a new one.”

“I think you look really nice in the suit,” she blurted before realising what she had said. “Eh, y’know, you pull it off really well.”

He seemed to take her compliment well, but she wasn’t quite sure if she had made him uncomfortable or not. He scratched at the hair on the back of his neck and offered a humble response. “Thank you. It’s uh, always nice to get a compliment off a good-lookin’ woman.”

Her hands clasped each other in her lap, tapping rhythmically with the movement of the coach. “You sound like you’re bein’ overly generous, Arthur.”

“Trust me, I ain’t.” He paused, gesturing a hand up and down her form. “I meant to say, you look lovely in the outfit Trelawny picked out. Not that you don’t usually look good, I just ain’t used to seein’ ya this dressed up.” He cleared his throat before mumbling something self-deprecating under his breath. “Apparently I ain’t good at givin’ compliments.”

“Thank you.” She noted the slightly awkward air, and placed a reassuring hand on his forearm, which had unexpectedly given her a small sense of ease and comfort at the touch. They could both probably do with a change of subject, and she was more than happy to oblige. “At least we know we both look the part together. Speakin’ of, I guess we should come up with some names if they ask, right?”

“I suppose it ain’t a bad idea.” He pondered it for a moment before throwing out a suggestion. “How about Mr and Mrs Barnes? It’s a common enough name.”

“Sounds believable. I think, if I’m honest, you could pull off the name Henry.”

Arthur let out a bark at that. “Henry Barnes? If that’s the case, then you’re gonna be called Margaret.”

“I know you’re jokin’, but I think it works.”

“Then that’s what we’ll go with, my dear Maggie.”

The journey was thankfully not as awkward as Maebh thought it would be. Arthur was very much happy to fill the silence with just the right amount of conversation. Most of it involved their plan for the train or the last time he was required to dress up for a heist.

Upon arriving in town, the driver left them to their own devices and they strolled into the train station arm in arm. Inside, Arthur handed their tickets to the clerk, who quickly patted them down before allowing them through the doors on to the platform. As planned, he completely ignored their weaponry. She quickly spotted William sitting alone, barely acknowledging them as they walked through the doors. Technically speaking, they didn’t know each other in their current getups, so it was better to act as though they had never met. There were another three people on the platform, presumably boarding the same train as them. Arthur kept a close eye on his pocket watch (another part of Trelawny’s costume apparently) and the familiar chugging of the train could be heard in the distance as it approached the station only fifteen minutes after their arrival.

“Right on time,” he noted as it slowly came to a screeching halt on the tracks. “You ready, Maggie?”

“Of course, my darlin’ husband,” she answered in her best southern accent and kept a firm hold on his arm. “Let’s hope Marston got on alright.”

She felt his gaze burning into her, and looked up to see his blue eyes shimmering with amusement. “Since when can you pull that off?”

“I guess I’m full’a surprises.”

“I guess so, my darlin’ wife.”

The train was, as planned, brought to a stop in Saint Charles station. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed William getting to his feet and waiting for the vehicle to stop. Once safely parked on the tracks, a steward appeared from inside to usher them on, calling out their destination to alert passengers waiting on the platform. He threw a glance at the tickets Arthur offered, before replying. “You’re to be seated in the front carriage, sir. Have a pleasant journey.”

Arthur thanked him and began to lead them through the carriage passageways to the front of the train. Inside, several couples and travellers where already taking up numerous spots. All dressed to the nines, Maebh suppressed the urge to stare and quickly sat where her partner had ushered them. Across the aisle, William took his own seat on a lone bench and focused his attention on the view out the window. Arthur completed the trio, taking the outside seat once Maebh had settled herself down.

“All good?” he asked under his breath, his low timbre a surprisingly calming sound in its own right.

Appreciating the concern and eager to keep up appearances, she patted the hand he kept rested on his thigh. “Dandy.”

He returned the gesture by flipping his hand over and interlocking their fingers in a careful hold. “Did you spot Marston?”

Right on queue, the door at the front of the carriage opened and John appeared in full worker’s attire. As he walked down the aisle and passed their seats, she made brief eye contact with him. “Well, seems he made it on. Everythin’ is goin’ well so far.”

“Let’s make sure it stays that way, alright?”

She had very little time to contemplate that her friend, Arthur Morgan, was currently holding her hand with a tenderness that was new and unfamiliar and a tad daunting. She had assured him that such contact for the sake of the heist was entirely okay, but she was surprised to feel a little nervous at his touch. The rational part of her mind was frowning at her blatant display of overthinking, but dare she say she enjoyed feeling his fingers intertwined with her own? She had seen Arthur beat men nearly twice his size into submission, seen him unload shotguns like he barely felt the power behind the gun’s blow, and seen him break in the wildest of horses along their travels. And yet it was the timidness and the gentleness he offered when carefully wrapping his rough hand over hers that sent her unexpectedly reeling.

Her gaze wandered out the window as the train began its journey along the steel tracks below them, the countryside passing slowly by as they neared the quiet strip of land where the robbery would take place. The familiar hint of anxiety was hopping around her stomach as she realised the robbery was imminent. Despite the awkwardness, and despite her own confusion around the subject, she clung to his hand and clung to the small sense of comfort it brought amidst pre-job nerves.

“You doin’ alright?” she heard him ask. Turning her eyes from the outside world to the man sitting next to her, she was met only with concern.

“Just standard jitters before we y’know, eh, do the job.”

“We’ll be alright,” he assured her. “We got a great team at work here. Ain’t nothin’ to worry ’bout. You just gotta keep her head and you’ll be fine.”

She felt her lips pulling into a smile, his firm yet soothing words seemingly always there to help her doubt her own doubts.

“Would you go over the plan again with me?” she asked in a hushed tone, aware of nearby passengers.

He leaned into her slightly, ensuring that anyone who was curious enough to nose would merely see a couple having a private conversation. “Right well, once we start approachin’ the quieter land, John will give William a nod to cause a distraction. Once that’s goin’ on, he’s gonna get himself to the driver and force him to stop the train before subduin’ him. He’s gonna hop off the train and head to the back to the baggage car. Then once we stop, you and I kick off the heist while William heads to the last carriage without givin’ anythin’ away. He robs from the back, us from the front. We then meet in the middle, get off the train, call for the horses, and bolt back to camp. Just remember, these are innocent folks, so we don’t want any of ’em gettin’ seriously hurt, or worse.”

“Got it, got it.”

With the plan clear in her mind once more, they sat calmly for another twenty minutes, knowing that the time for action was surely upon them. John made himself known in the cabin, passing through once more and giving the trio a very subtle nod to let them know that he needed the distraction now.

“What was William’s plan again?” Maebh asked Arthur under her breath, readying herself for action.

“He never said,” Arthur replied, eying her sibling curiously. “But he better do it now.”

As if hearing his queue with Arthur’s words, William let out an exaggerated gasp and spoke out in the most ridiculously posh British accent she had ever heard. “You! Worker!”

Maebh looked over at her brother in surprise, as did the rest of the passengers.

His finger was pointing squarely at John, who stood there like a deer in headlights. “Uh, yeah?”

“You got grease on my suit!”

The passengers looked to John for a response, but all he could muster was a stuttering apology. “Uh, I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t see how I could’a—”

“You don’t see how you could have?” William repeated, punctuating every word with utter distain. “Are you inept, man? You are covered in grease from head to toe and you don’t see how you could have stained my suit? You brushed past me and left an entire oil slick in your wake!”

Maebh stared between the pair, mouth agape and not even remotely faking any of her shocked reaction for the sake of their innocence. She genuinely thought this whole thing was hilarious. Her brother was full on shouting now, on his feet and making intense demands.

“Do you have any idea how much this cost me?” he screamed, voice cracking as he got more agitated. Suddenly, he addressed the crowd. “Fear not, fellow passengers! I shall see to it that the expense of cleaning my suit will be taken from this greasy raccoon’s measly wages!”

“Sir,” John began, visibly frowning. “If you could just calm down—”

“I will not calm down, you miserable wretch! I will have you removed from your post for this heresy!”

“You show him, mister,” Arthur mumbled, mostly to himself, very much getting a kick out of this interaction. “Make a big scene.”

As William’s shouting grew louder, the passengers’ mumbles grew more confused, and John grew more embarrassed, another member of staff came hurrying into the carriage. Judging by his dress, Maebh assumed he was someone of higher position than John at least.

“What seems to be the problem here, sir?” he asked, trying his best to remain civil despite the mayhem that was occurring in front of a live audience.

William whipped around with the elegance of a panther and pointed a shaking finger at John again. “This man is leaving a trail. I demand you find a new worker immediately. I came all the way from North New York and I demand better, sirs! Since when do Cornwall Kerosene and Tar employ slugs upon their trains?”

The steward looked stunned. “A trail?”

“Of grease and filth and poverty!”

Visibly confused by the altercation, he turned to John with a tired expression. “Son, did you not bathe before your shift?”

“Uh, it’s just train oil, I swear.”

“Train oil?” William screeched and threw his arms up in the air. “Train oil? Are you calling me a liar, man? I have never in my life dealt with such hypocrisy and disrespect, not in any of my journeys across the settlements in this country! I swear on my dearest mother’s grave — God rest her soul — that this man is the most petulant pustule I have ever had the displeasure of meeting! And now my suit is ruined when I have to do business in the next state over! What am I to do, sirs? What am I to do?” The steward had no time to respond before William visibly wobbled on his feet, breathing deeply with wide eyes. “My God, I think I am about to faint. All because of this greasy, husky, mongrel hick of yours! Oh my—”

As quick as a light, he was out. William went tumbling to the ground, feigning unconsciousness and rousing screams from some of the other passengers. Chaos ensued. The steward tried to shake him awake, but he remained on the ground, mumbling incoherently about ‘suing the raccoon for damages’. The steward panicked, stumped for what to do before he asked if anyone onboard was a doctor. As one man answered his call, Maebh watched John quickly slip out of the room.

“And there’s our distraction,” Maebh announced, nudging Arthur with her shoulder. “You ready?”

“After a performance like that?” Arthur laughed. “I feel like I could take on a damn army.”

“Inspirin’ as always.”

Seconds later, the train suddenly jerked, sending some of the standing passengers tumbling to the floor. Maebh clung to the seat in front of her and the train screeched in exertion as it forced to stop, the metal-on-metal ringing out and piercing her ears. The crew and passengers looked dumbfounded, some peering out the window to see where they were. With the sun setting in the distance, the world outside looked dark and empty.

“Ready?” she heard Arthur whisper as he pulled his bandana on over his face.

“Ready,” she confirmed, and quickly covered hers as well. “Let’s do this.”

With the experience that came with multiple hold ups and years of gunslinging, the pair got to work. On his feet in an instant with his hidden pistol revealed, Arthur yelled at the top of his voice. “Everybody stay calm, and nobody’s gettin’ shot!”

“This is a robbery, fellas!” Maebh added before whacking the stunned steward out cold with her sawn-off shotgun. “Everythin’ you got goes into the bag! Anythin’ worth a cent, is that clear?”

In the midst of the confusion, William was up in an instant and sprinting into the next carriage over to head to the back of the train.

The passengers cowered in their seats, visibly taken aback by the strange turn of events that sent their normal day spiralling downwards. They begged and pleaded to be left alone, that they weren’t bad people, they didn’t deserve this, but Maebh paid them no mind, walking down the aisle and shoving the bag into their laps until they threw whatever they had inside. Some hurled abuse, but it fell on deaf ears that had heard far worse. Arthur stood over her the whole time, ever the imposing figure sporting a pair of fiery eyes to scare anyone who refused into submission.

“Let’s make this quick, people,” he snarled over her shoulder and at a man whose stubbornness nearly got the better of him. “We ain’t got all day and we don’t wanna hurt none a’ya!”

With the front carriage quickly cleared, they hurried into the next one down and repeated the process over again. She waved her gun in the air, instantly having their full attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is a robbery! Everythin’ on y’all — money, valuables, that nice lookin’ necklace — into the bag, or you’ll get a bullet in the brain!”

“Do as the lady says! We ain’t here to play goddamn games!”

“The sooner you hand it over, the sooner we’re outta here!”

Their threats worked like a charm for the most part, bar one obstinate husband who received a broken noise for his unyielding attitude. Just as they finished the second carriage, William came through the door, face covered with a bandana and his own bag filled with the results of an apparent successful hold up. John appeared behind him was his own take slung over his shoulder.

“We all good to go?” William asked, voice muffled from the mask.

Maebh quickly tied the bag shut. “All done on our end.”

“We ain’t nothin’ short of efficient, fellers,” John noted, slightly out of breath. “So let’s get.”

“Thanks for your cooperation today, folks!” Arthur called over his shoulder as the four of them hopped off the train, three heavy bags of money and valuables coming with them.  As they each released a loud whistle, their horses came galloping from a short distance away, safely hidden where Trelawny had left them.

“Good job today,” Arthur praised them, hurriedly climbing atop Boadicea and patting her neck. “Real good job.”

“A fine job, my husband,” Maebh chuckled happily. “Very fine.”

“You are one mighty supportive wife, Mrs Barnes!”

As she was briskly strapping her bag to Dullahan’s saddle, a bullet suddenly whizzed overhead, cutting through the air with a howl. For a split second, the air escaped her lungs in a heaving gasp. It had narrowly avoided her and her horse, causing her to yell out in surprise. “What the hell was that?”

“Is that the law already?” she heard Marston shout back.

“They don’t look like no law to me,” Arthur replied before grabbing his repeater and firing at the attackers. Maebh looked to the distant tree-line, seeing five riders coming from the brush armed to the teeth and faces covered with green scarves and hoods. Their harsh shouts and cries could be heard clearly on the wind, but they had little time to contemplate these new arrivals. Arthur downed one with ease, the bullet tearing through his chest and seemingly ending his life. “I think we just stole some other gang’s take, boys!”

“You recognise ’em?”

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen these idiots before!”

William was quick to draw too and managed to shoot another rider off his horse. “These shots are goin’ t’bring a whole load’a unwanted attention!”

John quickly agreed. “Then let’s get the hell outta here!”

“We split up then meet back at camp,” Arthur decided as he let off a final shot that hit its target. “Marston, with me! Hennigans, you two stick together, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” William replied hastily. “Fágfaimid, Maebh!”

Maebh asked no questions, choosing to grasp her horse’s reigns tightly in her hand and urge her into a gallop. “Maith an cailín, let’s go back home now, alright? Fágfaimid!”

As the number of their pursuers dwindled down to two, the four outlaws didn’t hesitate to ride as fast as possible. Maebh pushed Dullahan to the limit, the animal breathing and voicing the effort as she and William tore through a tree line and out into an open field. Arthur and John had already disappeared in another direction, but she couldn’t afford to check for them with a curious glance over the shoulder now. Guns, though less so than before, were still heard going off behind them. All she could do was focus on her horse, focus on her brother, and focus on making it back home safely.

It didn’t take long for the shots to stop. Racing and winding through forest and field alike was something with which she was familiar. As the crack of bullets died away, the thundering beating of hooves on earth slowed its rhythm. The horses’ breathing slowed with relief, as did the wind whipping through her hair. They eased the animals into a trot, noting the stillness of the night around them. There were no lawmen, no gangs, no one following them. With calming words, they assured the other that they were alright.

They were safe, and they made it out with the money. The relief in her heart was a welcome feeling of which she would never tire. When these jobs went well, they were considered a great success, but while she felt pride and joy knowing they made it out, she knew they could be snuffed out with simply one well-timed bullet.

The thought made her think of Arthur and John riding back to camp.

The siblings soon found themselves tired and alone in Madison County’s endless plains, slowly making their way home, and hoping that their friends had made it too.

[neverending2012]

My Journey To You Chapter 29

SUMMARY: Finn, Matt and Lucy continue on their RV journey honoring Rachel's request and find challenges in their relationship and meet new friends; Sam and Mercedes attend Unique and Ryder's wedding.

RATING: Mature

WARNING: Sexual situations, cursing, bullying, mild violence, discussion of death and grieving

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a Finn centric chapter.

CHAPTER 29

A MILLION WAYS TO SAY GOOD-BYE

"Why are you throwing dirt in the ocean?" A chubby little blond girl asked Finn. She held an old man's hand, and her arms and legs were tomato red and peeling. Finn figured it was her grandfather. It was early morning, and the sun slowly rose on the horizon. The beach was empty, and Finn thought they would have privacy, and then this child and her grandfather appeared out of nowhere; he wore a blue sun visor and a colposcopy bag was attached to his waist, and white hair grew out of his ears.

"Maybelline, leave him alone," the old man said, trying to walk away, "Let's go."

Finn looked at the girl, who gazed up at him, her big blue eyes searching his for an answer. Silver glitter stars decorated her green bathing suit stretching across her fat belly.

"It's not dirt," Finn said.

"What is it?"

"My wife."

The grandfather raised his bushy eyebrows, but he didn't say anything. Maybelline laughed.

"Not uh," she said, revealing tiny pearl teeth as she smiled, thinking this was all a big joke, "That looked like my daddy's ashtray when it gets full."

"Come on," the grandfather said, pulling her along, "We have to go."

Lucy, who stood next Finn, her blue and purple streaked hair blowing in the wind, said:

"She's dead."

"Who's dead?" Maybelline said, "I – "

"My mother is dead, and we just threw her in the ocean. Is your mother dead?" Lucy said, staring at her.

"No, she's in bed."

"Mine is in here," Lucy said, tapping the gold urn Finn held, "And every day we throw her away."

Maybelline stared at the urn shining in the early morning sun.

"Can she hear us in there? Like a genie?"

"Maybelline, shut up," the grandfather said, he looked at Finn.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled and hurried away, holding Maybelline's hand, as she looked back at them in bewilderment.

"I hate this," Lucy said, kicking the sand with her foot.

"Lucy, she's just a kid," Matt said, "Calm down."

"I don't care. I just, I just… -"

"Just what?" Finn said.

"Nothing," Lucy said.

They walked away from Finn, who stood in the wet sand, at the ocean's edge, foamy white water, seeped between his toes. He stood there a long time until the sun became too hot to bear. The air smelled like saltwater and seaweed, and a flock of squawking seagulls flew overhead. He found Matt and Lucy under the boardwalk, heads down, staring at their phones, Lucy was crying and talking to someone. Finn figured it was Abby. Matt was texting.

"Hey," Finn said.

"Bye, Abby," Lucy said and ended the call.

"Let's go," Matt said.

Finn nodded.

"Ok."

Lucy wiped away her tears with her hand.

"I'm tired of losing her."

Finn said nothing. Rachel told him of all the places she wanted him to go. But since their trip began, it was harder and harder to spill the ashes. They visited six locations so far and though he told them this is what Rachel wanted; it fell on deaf ears.

But one thing he couldn't deny, the road trip was beautiful, the scenic American landscape was breathtaking. They saw peaked mountain ranges with early morning white mist hovering above them and sun-dappled lakes surrounded by trees with brilliant red and yellow leaves. When Lucy was little, she called autumn leaves, "fire leaves" because to her the bright colors burned like logs in a fireplace. Finn had forgotten this until they were in Vermont and he remembered; this trip unlocked his memories and he recalled every tiny thing.

As they traveled through Iowa and passed by numerous yellow cornfields, he thought of all the Children of the Corn jokes Rachel made when they lived in Iowa for a year. Her father Sean had been an extra in the movie, and she saw it a lot growing up; nobody knew Rachel could be funny, but Finn knew, and it was a part of herself she only shared with him. The cavernous red canyons they saw in sun-drenched Arizona made him remember how Rachel held her pregnant belly, she was eight months pregnant at the time, and Matt and Lucy were active in the womb, kicking and turning about, and as she looked out across the canyon, she told him about the kids:

"I can feel it, Finn," she said, "They're special." She wore a sleeveless white maternity dress, revealing her suntanned arms, golden brown and delicate, she grabbed his hand and put it on her belly. "Wait and see," she whispered.

Finn wasn't happy when she was pregnant; they were in dire financial straits at the time; he wasn't even sure they could feed them, but Rachel had faith it would all work out. She believed in him.

Rachel was in every natural wonder they saw on their trip. At night, while the children slept, and he drove along the lonesome dark highway, he replayed their lives in his mind.

"Come on, let's get something to eat," Finn said, guiding them toward the row of restaurants facing the beach. They were in California.

"I'm not hungry. Let's just go," Lucy said, folding her arms, "I've had enough of this place."

Finn didn't argue with her and Matt wanted to go too. They walked to their RV at the far end of the parking lot, got inside and began their journey once again. Matt and Lucy went back to sleep, cuddled up in their little beds. A few hours later the sky turned steel-gray, and it started to rain.

Finn listened to the raindrops falling on the roof and windows. By noon, he was starving, and he got off the next exit in search of a place to eat. They ended up going to a restaurant called the Chuck Wagon restaurant located at a rest stop. The outside resembled an old Wild West saloon and painted a dark red, and two big black wagon wheels framed the white wooden sign above the sloped awning, there was a boardwalk in front that was higher than the paved street, along with a long, oak hitching post.

"Can't we just go to McDonald's?" Matt asked.

"This could be fun," Finn said, as he pushed open the heavy wood door.

Matt wasn't convinced. Lucy said nothing as she flipped her long hair over her shoulder. She let it grow, and now it reached the middle of her back. Once inside the restaurant, a perky hostess in tight jeans, a plaid blouse and a bandana tied around her slender neck greeted them with a dazzling toothpaste ad smile, her brown hair was swept up into a ponytail. She looked no older than 18.

"Welcome to the Chuck Wagon," she said, how many in your party?"

"Three," Finn said.

"Right this way."

She seated them in a big brown leather booth and gave them their menus.

"Mandy will be your waitress. She'll be with you shortly," she said and bounced away.

The place was empty except for a few truckers at the bar. It was dark inside with the faint light coming through the windows. It smelled like beer and barbecue sauce, and stacked against the wall were bales of hay. A mechanical bull was in the next room, and Finn could see it from their table. The faint sound of the flat screen television over the bar and the truckers talking was the only noise in the restaurant. Finn opened the menu

"Get whatever you want," he said.

They were silent as they looked at the menus. Finn wanted the steak platter that included a porterhouse steak, a loaded baked potato with cheese, bacon, sour cream and chili, and steamed broccoli. Not that he needed it. All the weight lost during his crazy exercise phase had returned, with even more pounds on top of that. He was officially fat, with chunky thighs, huge ass, and a beer belly. But he couldn't stop eating. Food soothed him.

Their waitress Mandy came to their table. She had thin blonde hair pulled back in a bun, washed-out gray eyes with faint crow's feet surrounding them. Long, ugly, jagged scars ran down both sides of her face beginning at her temple and ending at her chin; she was scrawny with skinny arms and legs, her plaid shirt had a few buttons missing, and her jeans were wrinkled. Finn wondered how she got those scars and thought of how his father would've said she needed a good meal to get some meat on her bones. "Hi I'm Mandy, what can I get you?"

"I'll have the Lone Star steak platter medium rare and a sarsaparilla."

Mandy nodded.

"I saw you guys pull up in the RV. Where are you headed?"

"We're on a death trip," Lucy said, "I'll have the Campfire Chili and cornbread and a diet Coke."

Mandy raised her eyebrows.

"Death trip?"

"Don't mind her," Finn said.

"I'll have the Chuck Wagon Cheeseburger, well done, with no pickles," Matt said, "And I want a sarsaparilla too, but no ice."

"Two sarsaparillas in one day. I knew you folks were special."

"Our grandma likes it," Matt said, closing his menu, "We drink it at her house all the time."

Mandy gathered up the other menus.

"I'll be back with your drinks soon."

"Thanks," Finn said.

When she was gone, Lucy got out her phone and began texting.

"Lucy, could you knock it off?" Finn said.

She sighed and put away her phone. Matt stared at the table. Finn said:

"For a change of pace, we're staying in a hotel tonight. There's a Hyatt nearby."

"Does it have a pool?" Matt said, sprinkling salt onto the table and running his finger through it.

"I don't know."

"What do you think happened to her face?"

"Probably an accident," Finn said, then added, "Don't stare. You know better."

Matt rolled his eyes.

"I wasn't staring."

"This is our last stop isn't it?" Lucy said, leaning back in the booth with a heavy sigh, "I'm ready to go home. I miss Abby, and Aunt Mercedes and Uncle Sam and the twins."

"We have a few more places to go."

"Are you serious?"

"And we're getting a place when we go back; we can't live with Sam and Mercedes forever."

"How?" Matt said, "We're broke."

"We're not broke."

"But they're our family. I want to live with them," Lucy said, shaking her head, "I don't understand why we can't, they have room."

One of the hardest things that Finn had to do was sell their house; he did it after Rachel died because he couldn't bear to live there anymore, and also because he wanted to get something cheaper and live beneath his means as opposed to above them. Mandy came back with their drinks and set them on the table.

"Your food will be out in a bit. Is there anything else I can get you in the meantime?"

"Does that Hyatt up the street have a pool?" Finn said.

"Yes, it does. A nice outdoor one."

"Thank you."

Mandy nodded toward the window, the rain pattered against the glass.

"It doesn't look like a good day for swimming, though."

"You need to buy new trunks, your old ones don't fit," Matt said.

Finn turned red. He wanted to smack him.

"I know."

Matt sipped his sarsaparilla, staring at him.

"Humph," was all he said.

Finn knew his son was just difficult because he was ready to go home, but it hurt that he pointed out how fat he'd gotten since they've been on the road. They went swimming last week, and Finn could barely fit his big ass into his trunks, he looked ridiculous in the pool and only stayed in the water a short time before getting out.

When the food arrived, he was grateful for the distraction of his juicy, grill-marked steak and loaded baked potato, oozing with melted cheese, and sour cream. Matt and Lucy devoured their food; they were hungrier than he thought. After he finished his meal, he ordered the Chickabiddy Chocolate Cake with a big scoop of homemade Vamoose Vanilla ice cream. Lucy warned him about his lactose intolerance, sounding just like her mother.

"Maybe you shouldn't get the ice cream," she said, "Just get the cake."

"I'll be fine."

"You ran out of Lactaid."

"I won't eat all of the ice cream; I'll only have a few spoonfuls."

"You never have a few anything," Lucy said.

"Don't be disrespectful."

"I don't want you to get sick. I'm only trying to help."

"Regardless, watch your mouth."

"Fine, but don't blame me when you get sick."

The kids got Ace-High Apple Pie with Blazing Butterscotch sauce. The pies came out in little black skillets and were sizzling hot, and drizzled with sweet, amber butterscotch sauce, creating a zigzag pattern across the flaky, golden brown crust.

Finn couldn't help himself and ate the entire dessert. The thick slice of cake was moist and smooth as velvet and full of creamy chocolate goodness, sweet and sumptuous on his tongue, and the ice cream was the best he'd ever tasted, the vanilla flavor was stronger than the typical ice cream; it also had faint notes of honey. Mandy said they used Madagascar Bourbon Vanilla to make the ice cream and of course vanilla beans and just a touch of clover honey from the local beehives. One spoonful became two spoonfuls, and then it spun out of control, and he ate it all with relish. He was beyond stuffed, and his stomach churned. Sweat trickled down his forehead.

"You look awful," Lucy said, regarding him with concern.

"Are you going to throw up?" Matt said, his eyes wide.

"I'm going to the restroom," Finn said and left the booth.

The men's bathroom door was fire engine red, and a had silhouette of a cowboy leaning against a hitching post, his head faced down, and his hat was low on his brow. Finn was thankful the bathroom was clean and empty. He didn't need an audience for his gastrointestinal hell. The waxed red and white checker tiled floor and the white porcelain sinks gleamed, even the stainless steel faucets shined beneath the bright light overhead.

The air smelled like Lysol and bleach. He went into the stall and vomited into the toilet; it was like The Exorcist, and he wondered if a priest should be called in. This lactose intolerance attack was the worst he's ever had in his life. He threw up until he couldn't anymore and flushed the toilet multiple times. He sat on the toilet and clutched his stomach, it roiled and churned, then he had to relieve himself and it was the worst diarrhea he's ever had; it was foamy, and it burned like fire. He thought of the Old West term for the runs: backdoor trots, and now he felt like he was in backdoor hell. It seemed like he had been on that toilet for a lifetime, either sitting on it or bending over it. Closing his eyes, he leaned against the cold stall wall, praying the agony would pass.

Somebody banged on the bathroom door.

"Are you ok?" Mandy said.

"Dad, we're coming in," Matt said.

Finn opened his mouth to speak, but then he had to bend over the toilet and vomit again. His body heaved, and he was sweating.

"Do you need to go to the hospital?" Lucy asked.

Finn couldn't respond. He was embarrassed and ashamed. The bathroom door opened and they came in.

"We heard you puking from the hallway," Mandy said.

Finn flushed the toilet and finally managed to speak.

"I'm fine, just give me a second."

"You don't sound fine," Mandy said.

"Dad, I'm scared. You've been in here a long time," Lucy said, and he could tell she was crying.

Mandy murmured something to her. Finn couldn't hear them, and his head pounded. But Lucy's cracked voice broke his heart, and he had to reassure her.

"I can't believe you ate all that Chunky Monkey," Rachel said, rubbing his back as he puked into the toilet.

"I didn't mean to."

"Daddy is sick," Lucy said, with Matt standing beside her, "He ate all our ice cream." They were six years old, cherubic and innocent, with a father who wore a cape and could fly in their eyes.

"He'll be fine," Rachel said.

"Kryptonite," Matt said.

"What?" Rachel said, looking over her shoulder.

"It's like Superman's kryptonite. It makes him weak."

"Your father is strong, don't worry," Rachel said, "Go back to your room."

"He is strong," Lucy said, "He can do anything."

"Sweetie, I'm ok," he said, and silent tears ran down his cheeks, and he held back his sobs.

"Dad?"

There was more quiet murmuring between Mandy and the kids. He heard the bathroom door bang shut. Then someone knocked on his stall door.

"Finn? Mandy said.

He flushed the toilet, wiped his face, and unlocked the door. Mandy stood there holding a package of Cottonelle wipes.

"Here," she said, handing him the wipes, "You might need them. Matt and Lucy are waiting in the hallway."

"Oh… thank you so much."

He was grateful that she ignored the tears running down his cheeks. Instead, she squeezed his shoulder.

"Give yourself a chance to breathe," she said, and he could tell by the tone of her voice that she wasn't only speaking of his illness, her gray eyes reached inside him, finding places he thought were hidden, "I'll keep an eye on the kids. I'll tell them you're ok."

Finn nodded, and tears trickled down his cheeks. Mandy washed her hands and left him in the bathroom, the door banging shut behind her. His stomach roiled, and he rushed back to his stall and vomited again and then he used the toilet and afterward waited until the storm in his stomach and ass subsided. The lactose battle ceased, and Finn cleaned himself off with the wipes, flushed the toilet a few more times and stood. He stumbled out of the stall and went to the sink, washed his hands and face and rinsed out his mouth, wishing he had mouthwash with him.

He stared at his reflection: he was fat, pale, and needed a haircut and shave. Dark circles were under his hazel eyes. Chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream stained his oversized blue Nike t-shirt. What the hell happened to him? He rewashed his face again, to cool himself down; and longed for a shower and a long nap. After inspecting himself once more and running his hands through his thick brown hair that sat high on his head, he opened the heavy bathroom door, though he had little strength to do so. Matt, Lucy, and Mandy stood in the hallway waiting for him. They hugged him immediately.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Matt said.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm sorry I scared you and Lucy."

Lucy pulled him down toward her and kissed his cheek.

"We can't lose you too," she whispered in his ear.

Finn blinked back his tears.

"I'm fine, and I should've listened to you."

Lucy gazed at him. Then she pinched his belly, taking a good chunk of his flesh between her skinny fingers and squeezing hard.

"Ouch, what was that for?" Finn said.

"For not listening."

Finn smiled and kissed her forehead.

"I'll listen from now on. I promise."

Mandy touched his arm, and he saw another scar, it was like the ones on her face, but this one was on her right hand.

"You should probably rest for a bit before you start driving again. I can fix you up a cup of peppermint tea, that's good for indigestion. Lucy said you couldn't eat dairy. My brother has that problem too, and it helps."

"Sounds good. We'll go sit down in the booth."

"Ok," she said and walked away, patting his arm once more.

With his arms wrapped around Matt and Lucy, Finn walked on wobbly legs to their booth. The table had fresh white linen napkins, and clean silverware was on it, along with a black leather check holder embossed with the Chuck Wagon logo, with their bill enclosed inside. The rain stopped and the sun shined. The truckers at the bar were gone. The place was ghost town empty. Finn sank down into the plush leather booth, thankful for the quiet, and the comfortable place to rest. He needed to regain his strength.

Matt and Lucy sat across from him and reached for his hands.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?" Lucy said.

"I'm good. Once the lactose is out of my body, I start to feel better. It was a bad attack, that's all."

"You sounded like someone was torturing you. The guys at the bar said demons possessed you," she said.

"Really? Well, it wasn't pleasant that's for sure."

Matt squeezed his hand.

"Are you ok?"

"Come sit with me," he said to them, and they got up and squeezed into the other side of the booth, despite his girth, and he put his massive arms around them.

"What happened today was a stupid mistake."

Matt and Lucy nodded and laid their heads on his shoulders. They were like babies again. He felt horrible for scaring them – all for some damn ice cream. Mandy came over with a hot cup of peppermint tea and a glass of water and sat it in front of him.

"You need to stay hydrated," she said.

"Thanks, Mandy, sorry for all the trouble I caused."

"No worries. It's dead this time of day anyway," she said and looked at the kids, "You two need anything?"

Matt and Lucy shook their heads.

"We're good," Lucy said.

"Alright, just holler if you need me."

After Mandy left, Matt said:

"Make sure you give her a big tip."

Finn sipped his tea and gazed out the window.

"I thought we could do a dine and dash."

Matt looked up at him and laughed, and for a brief moment, he became Rachel, with his slight, delicate features and big brown eyes. Finn's heart clenched.

"Dad, be serious," Matt said, poking his flabby waist.

"I am. You said we were broke."

Matt snuggled against him.

"I know, but we can afford a big tip."

They sat in a calm silence. Two customers drifted in: a heavy-set, white-haired man, with a walrus mustache and wearing a cowboy hat, pressed jeans and red shirt and sunglasses. A deformed, curly red-haired boy around twelve years old accompanied him; the left side of his face was stretched, and his nose and mouth were pulled upward, giving the appearance of a distorted funhouse mirror reflection. He was pale and freckled, and he wore a white Batman t-shirt and black shorts, and beat-up brown sandals were on his feet. Mandy walked over to them and hugged the boy.

"Hi Beau," she said.

"Mom, I'm hungry."

"Well, that's a fine hello," she looked at the man, "Why didn't you give him lunch?"

"He didn't want what we had. So we came here."

"You came to check on me," Mandy said.

"Maybe."

"Go sit down," she said and went to the kitchen.

The man and Beau sat down in a booth across from Finn and the kids. The man took off his hat and nodded at them. Beau looked at them and then quickly looked away. Finn smiled at them.

"Hello," he said.

Just then Mandy came over to them with two menus and put them on their table. She turned to Finn and said:

"Finn, Lucy, Matt, this is my father Harvey and my son Beau."

"Nice to meet you," Finn said.

Matt and Lucy greeted them too. Harvey smiled and returned their greeting, but Beau only whispered hello and opened his menu.

Harvey looked at his grandson.

"Don't know why you're looking at that thing. You know darn well what you want."

Beau shrugged and stared at the menu.

"So do you."

"Smartass," Harvey said, chuckling, and he turned to Finn and the kids and said to them, "How do you know Mandy?"

"Dad got sick in the bathroom," Matt said.

"We just got to chatting," Mandy said, "I'll go get you some water."

Harvey nodded, and when she was gone, he said:

"Where you folks from?"

"Tennessee," Finn said, "Are you from around here?"

"Nope. Maryland. Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah."

Beau watched them talking. Finn smiled at him.

"So, Beau, I guess you're a Batman fan."

Beau nodded. His small blue eyes gazed at him a moment then went back to his menu. Finn tried to determine if he was shy or didn't like strangers.

"Did you see Batman vs. Superman?" Matt said, "It sucked didn't it?"

Beau gave a hint of a smile and nodded.

"Yeah," he said, "It did."

Mandy came back with two glasses of ice water and placed them on the table.

"Here you are. Adam's Ale."

"I want the Gitty-Up Grilled Cheese and Outlaw Onion Rings," Beau said.

"Big surprise," Mandy said, "How about you, Dad?"

"The usual but bring me a salad too with ranch dressing."

Finn finished his peppermint tea and drank his water. His watch said 4:00.

"Come on, kids, I'm beat, let's go."

"Ok, Dad," they said.

As they got out of the booth, Finn said to Harvey and Beau:

"It was nice meeting you."

"Same here," Harvey said.

Beau just looked at him and drank his water. Matt and Lucy waved good-bye. As they walked out, they ran into Mandy near the exit chatting with the young hostess, Finn handed her the black check holder.

"I don't need any change," he said, "And thanks again for your help today."

"You're welcome and good luck with your trip. Get plenty of rest and stay hydrated."

"The peppermint tea was good, and it helped."

"I'm glad; she said," placing a loose lock of her hair behind her ear, "Well… good-bye."

"Good-bye."

Finn and the kids walked outside into the bright sunshine. He still felt weak, but at least his stomach no longer felt like bombs were exploding inside his body. They went to the RV, got inside, and then as bad luck would have it, the damn thing wouldn't start.

"Shit," Finn said, hitting the steering wheel.

"Try again," Matt said.

He tried three more times again. Nothing happened. They were stuck.

"What are we going to do?" Lucy said.

Finn took his phone out of his pocket.

"Call RV Road Assistance. They can tow it to the nearest repair station."

As he made the call, he saw Mandy walking across the parking lot, waving at him and smiling. She held a small box. He quickly finished the call, giving the customer service representative the restaurant's address, and got out of the RV to see what she wanted.

"Hi, Mandy."

She hugged him.

"You gave me a two hundred dollar tip!"

"It's the least I could do."

"But I didn't do anything to deserve it."

"Yes, you did."

"If you say so… well, thank you so much. I mean it. That's the biggest tip I've ever gotten, and I needed it," she handed him the box. It was peppermint tea.

"Thought you could use this. Consider it a thank you gift."

Finn smiled at her.

"Thank you."

"Why are you still here?"

"She broke down."

"That sucks."

"Yeah."

"I guess you called road assistance."

"Yeah. The tow truck should be here in forty minutes."

"How are you getting to the Hyatt?"

Finn paused. He hadn't thought of that.

"Uber, I suppose."

"Don't waste your money. My shift ends at 5:00 and I can give you and the kids a lift. It's no problem."

"Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't be offering if I wasn't sure."

"Thanks, I accept. I'll get our stuff together."

"Ok, see you soon."

After she left, Finn went back inside the RV where Matt and Lucy were watching TV.

"What did she want?" Matt asked.

"To thank me for my tip."

"Oh."

Finn put the tea on the table.

"Listen, Mandy is giving us a ride to the Hyatt."

"Ok," Lucy said.

"So you guys get your stuff together. We're leaving at 5:00."

They pulled out their duffel bags from underneath their beds and began packing. Finn made a few more calls about the RV repair. Then he got his stuff together as well. By the time they were ready, the tow truck had come, and Mandy and Beau came out to the parking lot, and they walked to her car. She changed out of her waitress uniform and put on a yellow sundress. Jagged scars were all over her arms, some more prominent than others. Her father Harvey had to go to a Lions Club meeting, so he was already gone. Finn focused on their kindness, but he couldn't help but wonder what Mandy and Beau's story was and why he was deformed and she had severe scars.

Mandy's car was an old 2000 black Honda Civic with a dented door. Boxes of broken porcelain and glass knickknacks cluttered the seats.

"Sorry about the mess," she said as she removed the boxes from the back and front seats and put them in the trunk, "You kids can get in the back seat."

Beau got in first followed by Matt and Lucy, and Finn got in front. He felt like a giant in her compact car, his arms, and legs had nowhere to go.

"Buckle up, everyone," Mandy said as she started the car.

She turned on the radio, and Mel McDaniel's Baby's Got Her Blue Jeans came on, she turned up the volume.

"Country music ok?"

"It's fine," Finn said, looking over at her, "Thanks again for taking us."

"My pleasure," she said and sang along with the radio:

Down on the corner by the traffic light Everybody's lookin' as she goes by They turn their heads, and they watch her till she's gone Lord have mercy, baby's got her blue jeans on

Her voice was off-key and tone-deaf, but she sang like she was giving a concert. Finn laughed. It was endearing in a way. Beau blushed in the back seat.

"Mom, stop," he said, sinking into his embarrassment.

"Sing with me, Beau."

Beau didn't join in. Matt and Lucy laughed.

"Your Mom is funny," Lucy said.

Beau shook his head and stared out the window. When the song was over, Mandy turned down the radio and rolled down her window, letting in some fresh air. She almost looked carefree, with her messy ponytail and sundress.

"I like how it smells after it rains. You can't smell the car exhaust anymore."

"Yeah," Finn said, "It's nice."

"Do you know what it's called?"

"What's called?"

"The smell after it rains."

"Uh, no."

She smiled at him as she switched lanes.

"It's called petrichor."

"I didn't know it had a name."

"Yeah, crazy huh?"

"A little," Finn said, "But that's interesting."

"I think so too."

Finn closed his eyes, feeling the summer breeze on his face; he listened to Beau and Matt talk about comic books and video games. Beau was a reserved child, but there was something sweet and pure underneath his guarded façade.

"You should come swimming with me," Matt said to him.

Beau looked at him.

"I don't know," he said.

"It could be fun, honey," Mandy said, "We need to get out more, and we have your swim gear in the trunk."

"I can swim at home."

"But this is something different. Come on; you might have a good time."

"Is this one of those things where you think it will help me but I don't want to do it, and I'm supposed to listen to you anyway?"

"Pretty much."

"Please come. I hate swimming alone. Besides, Lucy can't swim today," Matt said.

"Why can't you swim sweetie?" Finn said.

Lucy glared at him, her cheeks flaming red.

"Dad, you know why."

Finn felt like an idiot. He forgot she was on her period and hated to swim during her cycle.

"Sorry, I forgot."

Finally, Beau spoke.

"Sure, I'll come."

"Great," Matt said, smiling at him.

Beau smiled back, his eyes twinkled.

Mandy pulled in front of the Hyatt.

"Here we are."

"We have to check in and everything, so you can wait for us in the lobby," Finn said.

"Ok."

Every one unbuckled their seatbelt and exited the car. Mandy opened the trunk, and they got their bags out and then went into the hotel. The lobby had waxed gray marble tiled floors, plush purple velvet couches, and a purple rug with yellow circular designs on it. While Finn was at the front desk checking in, he noticed a few of the hotel patrons staring at Mandy and especially Beau. She smiled at everyone who looked at her and her son, and they looked away awkwardly since she caught them gawking at her. Beau avoided their eyes and stayed occupied with his phone. Finn didn't like the staring. It bothered him. Something about it was intrusive and rude. When he got the card key for their room, he went over to Mandy and Beau seated on a nearby couch.

"Do you want to come up so Beau can change in our room?" He asked Mandy.

"That would be great, thanks."

The room was on the third floor. Upon entering, Finn put their bags on the floor. He turned on the light and cracked the blinds. The room had two king-sized beds covered with white duvets, a red tapestry sofa bed, desk and chair, and a TV and chest of drawers – all dark wood with silver knobs. Heavy brown carpet covered the floor. An oil painting of a beach at sunset hung above each bed. Lucy and Matt sat one of the beds; Beau went to the bathroom to change. Finn turned on the TV out of habit, and Mandy sat down on the sofa bed. The AC was on full blast, and it was chilly.

"Nice room," Mandy said to no one in particular.

"Do you want anything to drink? "

"Sure, bottled water."

"Ok, I'll be right back."

Finn left and went down the hall to the vending machine; he got several bottles of water and a few bags of chips. When he returned, Beau and Matt were ready to go to the pool, perched on the edge of the bed in their swimming trunks; big, blue beach towels slung over their shoulders. Finn took a quick shower, brushed his teeth, and changed in the bathroom, donning a clean, green t-shirt and black basketball shorts. As they headed out, Lucy said she wanted to stay in the room and relax.

"You don't even want to work on your tan?" Finn said.

"Dad…"

"Call me if you need me," he said, kissing the top of her head.

"I will," she said and yawned, lying back on the bed, TV remote in her hand.

Several people were at the pool, a few loud kids, tanned and rambunctious, and an older silver-haired couple with bronze skin, who swam slowly, reminding Finn of the senior citizen swimming class at the YMCA. White lounge recliners and tables with bright, multicolored striped umbrellas surrounded the long, rectangular pool. The air smelled like chlorine and sunscreen.

Finn and Mandy sat at one of the tables, seeking shade beneath the umbrella. Matt and Beau took off their t-shirts and got in the pool. Finn noticed that Beau had a medium sized fatty mass on his stomach, resembling a growth and covered with a large port wine stain. As they horsed around and splashed each other, the other kids pointed at Beau and avoided contact with him. He never acknowledged them, or even looked in their direction, he and Matt swam and played and had a good time. Beau was an excellent swimmer even better than Matt.

"Beau loves the water," Mandy said watching the boys in the pool.

"He's a talented swimmer," Finn said, "Is he on a swim team or anything like that?"

"We tried but," she paused then said, "Things didn't work out… Hey, how long will it take for your RV to get fixed?"

"About three days. They had to order a part."

"We should get together and take the kids to the movies or something. I'm off for a few days."

"Matt and Lucy would like that."

"Give me your number."

Finn recited his cell number, and she put it on her phone.

Thank you for inviting us today," Mandy said, as she watched the boys, "Beau doesn't like going out much. But it's different if he has someone else with him. Matt is a good kid."

"You're welcome and Beau is a good kid too."

"Well, today he's good. He can get an attitude real quick," Mandy said smiling at him, and taking a drink of water, "He has Cloves Syndrome, in case you're wondering, everybody does at some point."

"What's Cloves Syndrome?"

"It's a rare genetic overgrowth syndrome that causes deformities, and one half of your body grows faster than the other. Only a few hundred diagnosed cases exist. And it affects everyone differently, and some cases are more severe than others."

Mandy opened a bag of chips and ate a few then said, "And now we'll discuss the other elephant in the room." She pointed to her scarred face and arms.

"It's ok, Mandy, you don't have to tell me," Finn said.

"No, it's fine. I'd rather tell people what's up."

"Ok."

"Long story short. My asshole ex-boyfriend and I were fighting in the car; he was screaming at me about God knows what. He always screamed. He ran into another car, and all I remember is seeing glass flying toward my face. Everyone told me I was lucky I survived. I was pregnant and didn't know it. I found out in the hospital. We stayed together for a while. After I had Beau, he couldn't handle it… he blamed me for how his son turned out, said I was a dumb bitch for not knowing I was pregnant. He said I should've been more careful, if I hadn't pissed him off, the accident wouldn't have happened, and Beau would be fine. Then he left. The End."

Finn wasn't sure what to say. She was so straightforward about everything, and there wasn't even a hint of self-pity or sadness in her voice, only acceptance.

"I can't imagine going through that."

"I'm leaving a lot of stuff out. I'll give you the juicy tidbits later," she said smiling at him as she took a sip of water.

Finn finished eating his chips and watched how well Matt and Beau got along in the pool. Then he said:

"I'm spreading my wife's ashes across America."

Mandy reached over and squeezed his hand. Finn kept talking; succumbing to his need to open up.

"That's why Lucy called this a death trip."

"I see." She said.

Finn was quiet for a moment, squeezing her hand in return.

"Honoring a dying wish can be hard."

"I'm sure it is."

"I can't figure it all out."

"What do you mean?"

"My wife Rachel wanted this. She wanted them to see the road. I just think I'm doing it wrong. Matt and Lucy are ready to go back to Kentucky."

"Maybe it's a question of when."

Finn didn't know what to say at first, so he remained silent.

"I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?"

"No, you made me think."

"Oh… I hope that's a good thing."

"Don't worry. It is," Finn said finishing off his bottle of water, "I'm going to get more water. The boys will probably be thirsty pretty soon."

"I'll go with you. I need to use the restroom."

Before they left, Mandy and Finn went to the edge of the pool and called out to the boys to come over for a second. Matt and Beau swam over to them.

"What's up?" Beau said.

"We're going inside to get water and use the restroom. We'll only be gone a few minutes."

"Ok."

"Behave yourselves," Finn said.

"We will," Matt said and he and Beau swam away again.

They went inside the hotel. While Mandy used the restroom, Finn went to the hotel shop and got six bottles of water and some sunscreen. Mandy was just coming out of the bathroom when he met up with her again in the hallway leading to the pool.

"Perfect timing," he said.

"Yeah," she said, looking at him, then quickly averting her eyes and smoothing out her dress.

As they opened the door to the pool entrance, they heard kids shouting:

"Trap the monster!"

They ran outside and saw the kids who ignored Matt and Beau before now circling them like a pack of wolves.

"Shut the fuck up!" Matt said to the kids.

"Yeah, fuck off!" Beau said, "You're nothing but a bunch of assholes."

The old couple was climbing out of the pool, amid the chaos, their wet liver spotted limbs, moved slowly, but they tried to stop the bullying:

"Leave the child alone," the elderly woman shouted over her shoulder, her silver swim cap was askew, "He's done nothing to you."

"Somebody should tan your hides!" her husband said, his voice sounded like gravel, he held up his withered fist.

"Trap the monster," they continued chanting.

"Beau!" Mandy yelled as she and Finn ran to the pool and jumped in, swimming toward the boys.

A pale, brown-haired chubby boy wearing lime green trunks, said to Beau: "You're goddamn ugly. You need to get out of this pool and stop grossing everybody out. Did your Scarface Mom make you like this?"

Beau moved closer to the bully, splashing water on his doughy face.

"Fuck you!"

The boy pounced on Beau, hitting his face, but Matt and Beau overpowered him, each giving their tormentor many blows to his face and chest. The boy cried out in pain, and he got a few pitiful jabs as they fought back in an angry fury. Finn and Mandy pushed through the group of kids surrounding them and pulled Beau and Matt off the boy before the fight escalated further.

"Everyone out of the pool! Now!" Finn said, shouting above the raucous.

The children jumped upon hearing his loud, baritone voice, and scurried out of the pool, including the bully who started it all.

"I'm telling my stepdad," he said, holding his bloody nose once he was out of the pool, "he'll come kick all your asses."

Finn couldn't hold back.

"Yeah, well my room is 305, I'll be waiting for him. And you need to learn to stop being a dick."

The kid ran off, tears running down his fat, red cheeks. Finn felt ashamed and embarrassed at his behavior, but he couldn't help himself: that little bastard had it coming. They swam to the pool's edge and got out. Mandy's sundress was dripping wet, her hair drenched. She leaned down and hugged Beau:

"You need to work on your right hook, but you got a good shot."

"What an asshole," Beau said, his lip bled and he had a bruised chin.

"Yeah," she agreed, "Are you ok?"

"I want to go home."

"Ok."

Finn put his arm around Matt. His son had a bruise on his cheek but otherwise looked fine.

"How are you feeling?"

"Pissed."

"Does anything hurt?"

"Nah, I'm alright."

"You know I don't like violence but, well, I understand what you did."

"Thanks."

They walked over to their table. Finn's feet squished inside his wet sneakers and made a loud squeaking noise with each step. He sat down in a chair and took off his shoes, pouring the water out of each one. Matt and Beau wrapped their beach towels around themselves and slipped on their flip-flops. Mandy wrung the water out of the skirt of her dress, and it landed on the concrete in little streams; Finn offered her a towel that she used to dry herself off the best she could.

"Do you want to freshen up in my room?" he said.

"No, we're going home," she said as she slung her big denim purse over her shoulder. Thank you for your help with the fight," she said.

"Did you still want to get together?"

Mandy paused and looked at Beau who was talking to Matt near the pool exit a few feet away.

"We'll see."

Finn didn't press her, and he and Matt walked them to her car, and as Mandy drove away, giving a final wave, Finn looked at Beau and saw a single tear trickle down his cheek.

THE WEIGHT OF MEMORY

The next day Finn got up around 5:00 in the morning. He couldn't sleep and lay in bed staring at the ceiling and thinking about his life. Matt and Lucy were fast asleep, Lucy's purple and blue streaked hair spread across the pillow, she lay on her side facing Finn and Matt lay beside her on his back, with part of the covers thrown off of his slender body, his right leg draped over Lucy's legs. Though they had the other bed in the room, they fell asleep in Finn's bed instead. He got out of bed and went out onto their balcony.

He sat on the patio chair and looked out across the parking lot. The sun rose in the distant horizon, filling the sky with brilliant gold light. The breeze was warm, and yellowish-brown smog choked the air; he breathed in the scent of exhaust and tar and watched the cars on the primary road drive past the hotel. He thought of Mandy and Beau and the fight at the swimming pool. He was proud of Matt for how he stood up for a boy he knew for less than a day. Matt channeled his Uncle Sam at that moment, or maybe the Hummel spirit embodied him. Burt raised them to stop an injustice if they saw it.

When Sam told him about what happened to Mercedes last winter, he was angry, but thankful his sister-in-law, niece and nephew were unharmed. Finn knew for sure that if Sam had been there, that guy would either be dead or close to it; his brother never tolerated anyone hurting his family. He called Mercedes and let her know he was sorry for what happened to her and told her he loved her and the kids.

He thought of Rachel's ashes. He believed this trip would help them heal, and he was doing it for their well-being because this is what Rachel wanted, and she would never ask for something that harmed them, but Mandy's observation stayed in the back of his mind. The memories he shared gave them no peace, and he felt as if his voice became white noise in the background.

He heard Matt and Lucy waking up, and he went back into the room, where he found them sitting up in the bed, all bleary-eyed and yawning. He gave them each a good morning kiss on the forehead.

"You should go back to sleep," he said them, "It's still pretty early."

"I might," Lucy said.

"Why are you up?" Matt asked him.

Finn shrugged.

"I couldn't sleep. Anyway, I've got to step out for a while."

"Where?" Lucy said.

"To the store for a few things. Why don't you order room service?"

Matt picked up the black leather menu from off the nightstand and opened it.

"They've got pancakes. But I bet they won't be as good as Uncle Sam's."

"Yeah," Lucy said, looking at it with him, "Maybe we can get Belgian waffles."

"You can get whatever you want," Finn said, "I'm going to take a shower. Oh, and don't forget to finish your history lesson. It's due today."

The online school program they enrolled in was quite good, and Hiram had vetted it for them. Matt and Lucy were both excelling in their studies; Finn was never much of a student, and he was thankful they inherited their intelligence from their mother. He didn't consider himself to be dumb, far from it, but academics had never been his thing, and he was smart in other ways. Rachel, on the other hand, with her private schooling and tutors, and voracious appetite for learning was the epitome of academic excellence.

"We won't forget," Lucy said, "And we're calling Zaide today to go over some stuff."

"Great," Finn said, standing in the doorway of the bathroom. "I'll probably be gone for about an hour."

"Do you think we can meet up with Mandy and Beau again?" Matt said.

"We'll see," Finn said.

"I hope you don't get into any more fights," Lucy said, touching his bruised cheek.

"I'll try not to… we just wanted to swim in the pool. We weren't looking for trouble."

"Well, you found it," Lucy said, "I hate bullies. Does his disease hurt?"

"I don't know. Beau only said it was Clove something and then we started talking about something else."

"Oh, so what do you want to get?"

"I'm still deciding."

While they pored over the menu, Finn closed the bathroom door and took a quick shower. Then he shaved and changed into jeans and a black T-shirt. When he opened the bathroom door, Matt and Lucy were on the phone placing their order. Slipping on his sneakers, and grabbing his wallet and phone, Finn waved goodbye and left the room, to catch an Uber to the supermarket about five miles away.

Upon arriving in the store, he grabbed a cart and got the items they needed like soap, lotion, maxi pads, Advil, adhesive bandages, candles, and laundry detergent. He went to the bakery section and gazed at the decorated layer cakes and selected a round two-layer yellow cake with buttercream frosting.

Then he went to the produce section and got a bag of apples and oranges; and some carrots. After he checked out he saw a barbershop across the street, so he got his haircut. Every so often, he checked his phone to see if Mandy had texted him, he thought it would be nice if they took the kids to the movies as she suggested, but he understood her hesitance after the fight.

He returned to the hotel. And while he was in the hallway outside of their door, he set the bags on the floor, and took out the cake and lifted off the plastic lid. Then he got the package of taper candles, opened them, and stuck two in the cake and lit them with the hotel matches in his pocket. Carefully putting the card key in the lock, he opened the door, and sang:

"Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday, Matt and Lucy. Happy Birthday to you."

Matt and Lucy sat on the bed with their laptops. They looked up at Finn with solemn expressions. Despite the lack of enthusiasm, he smiled at them and set the cake on the coffee table in front of the sofa bed.

"Blow out the candles and make a wish."

Lucy closed her laptop.

"Why did you use taper candles?"

"The store didn't have birthday candles."

Matt and Lucy stared at the cake, looked at one another, then got off the bed and walked over to the coffee table. They closed their eyes and blew out the candles.

"Did you make a wish?"

Lucy sighed.

"You know we didn't want to celebrate."

Finn took their hands and pulled them down on the couch with him.

"I know. There's something I want to talk to you about."

"What is it?" Lucy said, pulling the long candles out of the cake, and placing them on the table, curls of smoke floating from the wicks.

"What's your first memory of your Mom?"

"Dad, why are you asking that?

"I haven't been doing this right."

"Doing what right?" Matt said, leaning back against the sofa.

"This whole trip. I've been sharing all these memories with you two, thinking it would help you know your mother even better, and celebrate her as she wanted, but I should've been asking you for your memories too. This trip isn't about one story; it's all our stories. But there's more to it. We left too soon. I should've waited. I was afraid to wait because I thought I would lose the nerve and never carry out your Mom's wish, and I couldn't live with myself if I didn't do it. She wanted us to do this as a family. I'm so sorry for being blind and selfish. The journey was for all of us, and that means the right time had to be for everyone. I love you both so much, even when you hate me, I'll love you."

"I felt like I was on Mom's RV Tour Across America and you were our guide telling stories, but I couldn't connect," Lucy said, holding Finn's hand, "I understand Mom wanted this, but we needed time."

"I know, and I'm sorry for pushing this. I thought I was doing the right thing."

"Sharing our memories would've helped though."

"I think so too."

Finn now understood this trip provided no solace to Matt and Lucy, for them each day was another funeral, watching pieces of their mother float away into the air, a perpetual reminder she was no longer there to hold them and sing songs.

"So why do you want us to celebrate our birthday? Even though we don't want to?" Matt said, laying his head on Finn's broad shoulder.

"You didn't want to celebrate because it didn't feel right since your Mom is gone, but I think you're wrong."

"Why?"

"Your birth is worth celebrating. Your Mom always said you were special even before you were born. I guess what I'm trying to say is, you can't stop living, you know? I'm not saying we should have a big party, or let the world know, and I'm only saying it's ok to have this day - private just like this. I know I'm going against your wishes, but I never want you to think your birthday is something mournful, even though your Mom is gone."

Matt and Lucy hugged him.

"I understand," Matt said.

"I do too," Lucy said.

"After the RV gets fixed, we're going back to Kentucky. When the time is right, we'll finish the trip," Finn said, hugging them tightly, "Happy 13th Birthday, you're officially teenagers."

After their group hug, Lucy said:

"When you got sick at the Chuck Wagon yesterday that scared me so bad. I kept thinking you had to go to the hospital. Then I remembered seeing Mom lying on the floor of that cabin… it was too much."

"After she got cancer, Mom used to vomit all the time," Matt said, "And hearing you get sick in the bathroom, brought it all back."

Finn hugged them again.

"I'm sorry."

Matt and Lucy cried, and he held them to his chest, rubbing their backs. When they calmed down, Lucy said:

"Mom gave me honey and milk because I couldn't sleep. I was three years old and in my favorite pink pajamas. It was storming outside with thunder and lightning. I was scared, and so I ran to you and Mom's room and woke her up. I was crying. She told me not to be afraid because God was bowling. I thought that was funny, even though I was scared. And she got out of bed, put on her robe, and we went to the kitchen. On our way downstairs, lightning flashed, and thunder rumbled, and she said God got a lot of strikes in Heaven and the angels cheered. Then she sangAngel By Your Side, and when we got to the kitchen I wasn't afraid, and she made me a little cup of warm milk and honey, and I remember how good and sweet it was, and how the stove light shined on her hair, and she looked like an angel. That's my first memory of her."

"She used to sing that to me too," Matt said, tears filling his eyes.

Lucy smiled at her brother, reached over and held his hand. Then together she and Matt sang the song with Finn joining in:

I'll be the angel by your side I will get you through the night I'll be the strength you can't provide on your own 'Cause when you're down and out of time And you think you've lost the fight Let me be the angel The angel by your side

Finn kissed the tops of their heads. Then Matt said:

"My first memory is when I was four. "She was hanging up sheets on a clothesline in the backyard of a brick house, and Lucy and me were playing in the sheets as they blew in the wind. The sun was shining, and Mom was laughing, and then she picked us up and twirled us around. I felt like I was flying because the sky was so close and blue; I could touch it. I remember smelling laundry detergent and when she put us down I touched her belly and – "

Matt stopped talking. He squeezed Finn and Lucy's hands.

"Oh, God, I –"

"Matt," Finn said, "What is it?"

His son remained quiet and stared at the floor; until he finally looked up; his face pained.

" I just remembered something."

"What?"

"When I touched her belly, I said, 'HI Baby Three stay good in there for Mommy,' and me and Lucy felt the baby kick and, Dad, I – Dad I can't believe I forgot, how could we not remember?"

Finn and Rachel rarely spoke about their stillborn baby boy. They grieved and carried on, the loss crushed them but they survived.

"You kids were so young that we didn't expect you to remember. We just told you he went to be with the angels after he was stillborn. We called him Baby Three before he was born. We named him Jeremiah. Your Mom and I mourned and cried together behind closed doors. Our families supported us. We got through it. I'm shocked you remembered."

"I can't believe I forgot too," Lucy said.

"It's ok; we never tried to get you to remember. We thought it would be too much for you," Finn said.

"Mom was beautiful that day," Matt said.

"Keep that part with you," Finn said.

"I just realized a gingerbread heart is made for Jeremiah every year. I thought it was a distant relative that died," Lucy said, "I didn't know it was our brother."

"To you and Matt he was Baby Three for a long time."

They sat in silence. Finn wrapped his arms around them.

"He's not alone anymore. Mom is with him now," Matt said.

"Yeah," Lucy said

Finn nodded his chest heavy with grief. When Rachel accepted her death, she told Finn she would be with Jeremiah, it was one of the few times she mentioned their son since they lost him all those years ago.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Matt said.

"Why?"

"I didn't mean for my memory to hurt you."

"It's fine. You have nothing to be sorry about," Finn said, hugging him, "So how does it feel to be thirteen?"

"The same as twelve only a year older," Matt said, looking up at him, smiling.

"Very funny," Finn said.

"I don't feel any different either," Lucy, said, "Maybe I will tomorrow."

"I have something for both of you."

"What is it?"

"Give me a sec," Finn said, getting up from the couch. He went over to the bed and opened his duffel bag sitting on top of it. He took out two envelopes and returned to them, handing each of them an envelope.

"I wrote you two a letter."

"Can we read them now?" Lucy said.

"Sure."

Lucy opened the envelope and took out the letter. She began reading aloud:

Dear Lucy,

You're beautiful, challenging, stubborn, sweet, kind, intelligent and bold. You make fake blood out of corn syrup, turn your hair into a rainbow, and box like a champ (at least by adolescent standards). And when you were little, you never let Matt forget you're two minutes older than him (those two minutes meant the world to you), which I think is funny. You understand what people are feeling without them saying a single word; you look inside them and that's an excellent gift. You have your mother's courage and grace. Every day I see the woman you will become and it scares and excites me all at once because I'm not sure how the world will handle you, but maybe I got it all wrong, maybe it's you who will handle the world. I love you, Lucille Leona. I'm blessed to be your father. Always know I'm here, even in your silent anger, I'm with you. Happy Birthday!

Love,

Dad

Tears shined in Lucy's hazel eyes and she wrapped her arms around Finn, hugging him tightly, he smelled her lavender shampoo, and that indescribable powdery scent she's had since she was a baby, before life took over.

"I love you, Dad," she said, her tears falling on his neck and shoulders.

Finn kissed her cheek.

"I love you too."

Matt looked down at the envelope and opened it.

"Do you want me to read mine too?"

"Only if you want to," Finn said, ruffling his thick, brown hair.

So Matt read his letter aloud too.

Dear Matt,

When you were born, we were afraid we might lose you. A hole in your heart kept you in an incubator with tubes stuck in your tiny shriveled body, but you survived. And now we're here thirteen years later and you're thriving and I couldn't be more happy or blessed to be your father. You're kind-hearted, strong and smart. You get excited when you hear a song you've never heard before, and then you make me listen to it and I can't help but get excited too; you take small moments of happiness and make them larger, inviting everyone else into your joy. You waltz like a ballroom dancer, sing Love Will Tear Us Apart when you're feeding Speranza, tell stories about the stars, beat me at most video games, and fight for your family. I know you're not the same little boy who called rainy days soggy days or liked racing shopping carts in the parking lot, but I still see glimpses of him when you laugh or cry. But I also know the man you will become will be brilliant, and that makes me proud. You carry your mother's heart and her compassion. Whatever path you choose, I'm right there with you. I love you, Matthew Peter. Happy Birthday!

Matt hugged his father.

"Thank you… I love you," he whispered.

After wiping their eyes and blowing their noses, Finn said:

"Let's cut the cake."

While they cut the cake, Finn's phone vibrated. It was Mandy.

"Hi Mandy," he said, "How are you doing?"

"Fine, and you?"

"Hanging in there, so what's going on?"

"Instead of going out, how would you like to come over to my father's house for dinner? He's a great cook. Maybe all of us can watch a DVD or something. And we have a pool, we can swim too if you like."

"Sure, let me ask them. Hold on."

"Ok."

"Do you guys want to have dinner with Mandy, Beau, and her father?" Finn said to Matt and Lucy. They nodded.

"Yeah," they said.

Finn returned to Mandy.

"They said yes. What time?"

"How about 5:00? Beau has some doctor's appointments and I have errands to run. I can pick you up."

"Sounds like a plan. See you this afternoon."

"See you soon. Bye Finn."

"Bye."

Lucy handed him a piece of cake; a pale yellow sugar rose was stuck in the frosting.

"It's good," she said.

Finn took a bite and she was right. The cake was good with its whipped lemon frosting and fluffy vanilla layers. He and the kids continued talking about everything as they ate their cake.

Spending this time with Matt and Lucy warmed Finn's heart; he couldn't explain it, but he felt as if something had shifted in their relationship and for the better. Somehow he knew Rachel was smiling.

HEALING SCARS

Harvey's house was not what Finn was expecting. He wasn't sure what he was expecting but the rambling ranch-style home in the California hills was not what he envisioned. It reminded Finn of a ski lodge or log cabin with all of the wood. Harvey greeted them at the door, his stomach strained against the white t-shirt he wore with a big American flag on it; his feet were bare, and his bald head was smooth and red, shining in the sunlight from the window.

"Welcome, folks, take off your shoes please," he said, shaking Finn's hand, "Nice to see you again."

They quickly took off their shoes and Finn was grateful he remembered to use foot spray; stinky feet were the last thing he needed. The air smelled like steak and ginger.

"Something smells good," Finn said.

"I'm making Mongolian Beef," Harvey said.

Beau stood beside him, in another Batman outfit, his pale freckled skin was sunburned and peeling. His lip had a scab from the fight.

"Hey," he said to them.

Mandy patted his curly head.

"Go show our guests around the house while I help Grandpa in the kitchen?"

"Ok."

Beau gave them a tour. The house was gorgeous and even had a guesthouse and studio where Harvey created bronze and burlwood sculptures he sold in art galleries, a man who looked like a character from that old show Dukes of Hazzard town did not seem like an artist which intrigued Finn. Each room had reddish brown hardwood floors and stone tiles were in the kitchen and bathrooms. Redwood paneled walls were throughout the house, and an in-ground kidney shaped pool was in the backyard next to a beautiful gray stone patio and rock garden. In the center of the garden was a life-size bronze sculpture of a mother, father, and their children- a little boy and girl all hugging one another forming a circular bond of love. The mother and daughter wore long dresses of shimmering green and the son and father wore white shirts and blue pants. It mesmerized Finn.

Hand-woven Native American style rugs with diamond geometrical designs in brilliant colors of fiery red and calming turquoise covered the shiny floors. Installed in the living room ceiling were skylight windows providing lots of natural light. Above the exposed red brick fireplace, were a series of black and white family photos; and Finn saw a young Harvey standing on the beach in swim trunks with his arm around a woman who resembled Mandy, and he figured that was her mother. Then he saw pictures of a teenage Mandy and her brother, sitting on the front steps of a small, white house, Mandy is smirking, and her brother looks annoyed; they both had blond hair and wore t-shirts and shorts. And Finn saw who she used to be: flawless with bright eyes and smooth skin. When the house tour was over, Matt and Beau went swimming in the backyard and Lucy went to Beau's room to play video games. Finn hung out in the living room, sitting on the long, brown leather couch, and stared at the photos.

"Yeah, that was me," Mandy said from behind him.

He looked over his shoulder.

"These are good photos."

"My Mom took most of them."

"Oh."

"She passed before Beau was born."

"I'm sorry."

Mandy sat down beside him, her short-sleeved blue chambray shift dress rode up her skinny legs, exposing patches of light blonde hair on her thighs, reminding him of corn silk. She smelled fresh and clean, like unwrapping a bar of soap and getting the first whiff of its fragrance, sharp and mellow.

"So what do you think of the house?"

"It's beautiful."

"Yeah… it was nice growing up here. And now I'm back."

Her voice sounded hollow as if coming back was a failure of some sort.

"You never know where life can take you," Finn said.

"Don't I know it," she said, running her hands through her long hair, "I'm glad you came today. Beau is down, and having company cheers him up."

"Was he ok after the fight?" Finn said, remembering his face as Mandy drove away. The only way he could describe his expression was silent sorrow.

"He had his moments."

"Dinner's ready!" Harvey shouted.

"Come on, let's eat," Mandy said, rising from the couch and pulling Finn along with her.

OOO

They ate dinner on the patio. The decorative marble stone tiles in soft shades of brown and tan complemented the round red picnic table and matching chairs. Sitting near the rock garden and pool was serene. Finn almost felt like he was in another country surrounded by the greenery growing between the large, jagged gray and brown rocks, each situated in such a way that enclosed them inside this rustic stone hideaway, far from the traffic, pollution, and noise below the hills.

Harvey served the Mongolian Beef in glazed red-clay dishes. The tenderized sliced beef flank in a thick brown sauce with scallions and chili peppers served over steamed jasmine rice was better than anything at PF Chang's. A glass pitcher of iced tea with slices of lemon floating on top was in the center of the table. Everyone drank from glasses with American flags on each one. A warm wind blew over them as they ate the delicious dinner. They kept the bugs at bay with a few citronella candles burning at opposite ends of the table. The sun was setting, and the daylight turned orange and gold.

Finn looked at the Finn wasn't into art, but he found himself admiring the sculpture.

"I made that when Mandy was four and her brother Charles was five," Harvey said.

"It's beautiful," Finn said, looking at the statue shining in the fading light.

"I'm never selling it," Harvey said, taking a bite of beef, "Folks ask me all the time."

"It's your family," Finn said.

"Yep, and that's why it's staying right here."

"What do you call it?" Lucy asked, pouring a glass of iced tea.

Harvey laughed and scooped more rice on his plate.

"I call it Family. I keep things simple. No time for deep meaning titles."

"I like it," Lucy said, "It's pretty."

"I do too," Matt said.

"Thank you," Harvey said.

"I'm forever four years old in that sculpture," Mandy said, "It comforts me."

Harvey kissed his daughter's temple and smoothed a few stray hairs away from her face.

"Because bronze doesn't wither away, and neither will you."

"Thanks, Dad."

Harvey put his arm around Beau.

"Doing ok, champ?"

Beau laid his head on his shoulder.

"I'm ok, Grandpa," he said.

"That was quite a scrape you fellas got into yesterday," Harvey said.

"Yeah," was all Beau said. He looked down at his plate.

"Well, I reckon I got into quite a few scrapes when I was a kid."

Beau pushed his food around on his plate; his voice was soft as he spoke:

"But that was different," he said.

"Tell you what, after dinner, I want you and everyone else to come to my studio, I have a surprise you."

"Really?"

"You bet."

Beau brightened and began eating again.

After they finished dinner, Mandy brought out three pies: one blueberry, one cherry, and one apple with lattice crusts, golden brown and fresh from the oven, glossy with egg wash and glittering sugar granules; they were almost too pretty to eat.

"Those look fantastic," Finn said.

"Thank you, I used a family recipe, and in light of what happened yesterday, we're skipping the ice cream and sticking to the pies.

"No objection here," Finn said.

Harvey cut the pies and Finn helped Mandy clear away the dishes, following her into the kitchen.

"Where's your dishwasher?"

"Over there beside the sink."

Finn began loading it, and Mandy watched him for a moment before she said:

"Thank you for your help."

"You're welcome, and thank you for dinner."

"I can finish up in here; you better go get your pie. Beau gets greedy with sweets."

Finn chuckled as he put a dirty plate on the bottom rack.

"Ok, I'll go get my pie."

"Would you like some coffee?"

"I'd love some."

"I'll brew a pot."

"Thanks."

When he returned to the patio, the kids were laughing and joking with Harvey, and Finn realized that the older gentleman was like Burt with his easy-going, friendly demeanor.

"Which one would you like?" Harvey said to him, pointing to the pies.

"I'll have cherry."

Harvey put a big slice of cherry pie on a bright red paper plate along with a napkin and plastic fork and slid it over to Finn.

"Here you go."

"Thanks."

Finn took a bite of pie, and he was in heaven, the cherry filling most certainly was not from a can, with its sweet dark red cherries in a thick, glaze-like syrup; and the crust was buttery and flaky. He took his time eating it, savoring each bite, until it was gone and he scraped up the last bit of filling on his plate.

"That was wonderful," Finn said and belched.

Everyone laughed, even though his face burned with embarrassment. Then Mandy came out with three red ceramic mugs of coffee and a silver dish of sugar on a serving tray.

While the adults enjoyed coffee and chatted, the kids floated big, round white paper lanterns in the pool, with LED lights inside each one, making them glow as they drifted along the chlorinated water, resembling balls of moonlight in the twilight darkness. It was enchanting.

Mandy gave them the idea to do it because they wanted to go inside and play video games, and she coaxed them to stay outside and put the lanterns in the pool. They watched them float and took a few photos on their phone while sitting on the edge of the pool and wading their feet.

"Aunt Mercedes will like these pictures," Lucy said.

"You talk about your Aunt and Uncle a lot," Beau said.

"I miss them. And my sister Abby and the twins."

"You have a sister?"

"Yes but not like you think. It's complicated, but Abby feels like my sister that's all."

"She's my sister too," Matt said.

"That's not complicated," Beau said, kicking his feet in the water, "You just feel what you feel."

"Yeah," Lucy said.

"I get what it's like to miss people. I miss my uncle too."

"Let's take a picture with all of us together," Matt said.

Beau shook his head.

"No, thanks."

Then everyone heard a mournful cry echoing throughout the hills.

"What was that?" Matt said, his eyes fearful.

"Just a coyote," Beau said, "Don't worry."

"Come on, kids," Harvey called out to them, "Let's go to the studio."

They took their feet out of the pool and walked across the tiled patio, leaving wet footprints with each step, and followed Harvey to the studio, with Mandy and Finn trailing behind them.

OOO

Harvey's studio was a large airy room with wood paneled walls and a panoramic view of the California hills from his window. There were various unfinished burlwood sculptures on the big workstation in the center of the room. A band saw sat across from his station and tools hung from the walls. It smelled like sawdust and chemicals.

The kids sat on wooden crates, and Mandy and Finn sat on the extra stools.

"What's my surprise?" Beau said.

Harvey walked over to the corner of the room where a large object covered by a sheet stood.

"This was finished at the foundry a few days ago," Harvey said, removing the sheet, "I'm not one for big intros, so this is for you."

Underneath the sheet was a horizontal sculpture of a curly-haired young boy swimming through a wave. He was in mid-stroke, one arm raised in the air, and the other in the water, and his face appeared twisted as it was in real life. But it looked as though he was becoming one with the water, and it enhanced the sculpture's beauty with this unique facial feature and expression. The statue had a light and dark shaded blue patina with a glossy sheen; it reminded Finn of blue swirled marbles in the sun; a black metal pole held up the sculpture.

"That's you, Beau," Harvey said, "Every time you swim, every time you show people who you are, that's what I see. And that's what I want you to see."

Beau stood up, awestruck by the magnificent sculpture.

"Grandpa..." he whispered.

"I call it Beau. We're putting it in the rock garden. I'm never selling it. It's yours."

Beau hugged Harvey tight.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. I know people are cruel. I also know that I don't understand everything you go through because what you have sets you apart, but that doesn't mean anyone has the right to treat you like you're less than a human being or be cruel. We've been teaching you to defend yourself. I know this isn't easy, but Beau, we love you so much. We're here for you."

"Dad, it's beautiful," Mandy said, a few tears ran down her cheeks, "I can't believe you kept this a secret for so long."

"It was challenging, but now it's done. I'm hiring a crew to install it in the rock garden."

Matt and Lucy took pictures of the sculpture. Beau was so happy and proud. Finn felt for the kid, and he was joyous he got this moment. It wasn't pity or sadness he felt for Beau, no, it was more like wondering why the world was the way it was.

They stayed a while longer until it was getting late and Finn said they had to go.

Beau hugged Matt, Lucy and Finn good-bye.

"Thanks for coming."

"You have our number, right?" Matt said.

"Yeah, I do."

"Maybe we can do something else," Lucy said.

"Ok," Beau said.

Harvey hugged them too, saying they were welcome in his home anytime.

Mandy drove them back to the hotel, country music playing softly on the radio, the windows cracked.

Matt and Lucy fell asleep in the back seat. Finn looked over at Mandy.

"Thanks again for tonight. It's been rough for us and spending time with your family was a good break."

"Same here," She said, stopping at a traffic light. "There's a lot more going on with my son aside from the pool fight yesterday, my brother was supposed to be back in California today, but it didn't work out. He's in Japan for his job, and he and Beau are close, so today was supposed to be a Welcome Home day, but whatever."

"That's too bad."

"He'll be ok."

"Will you be ok?"

"I don't know. I want to be. But I don't know. As you said, you never know where life takes you."

When she pulled up in front of the hotel, Finn squeezed her scarred arm. He wanted to convey something, yet he wasn't sure what it was until he said:

"I know I don't know you well. But for some reason I know you'll be ok."

Mandy turned and looked at him, the streetlight shined in her gray eyes.

"Well, Finn, I hope you're right."

He leaned over and hugged her.

"I believe I am."

OOO

Back in the hotel room, after they all showered and were in bed, Finn listened to Lucy snoring and the sounds of traffic outside their window. It was a strange day: happy, sad, tragic, and even funny. He wondered about their future if he could ever buy another house and they would have a yard and dog. But perhaps those things didn't matter. They had each other, family support, and their whole lives ahead of them. Maybe that would be enough.

AT THE STROKE OF MIDNIGHT

Sam and Mercedes watched as Unique walked down the aisle wearing a shimmering blue wedding gown that was a replica of the dress worn by Lily James in Disney's Cinderella movie. The many shades of blue reminded Mercedes of a watercolor painting. Her hair was curled and hung down her back like a cascading waterfall and decorated with tiny sprinkles of blue hair glitter. A dark-haired woman with an olive complexion and statuesque figure, wearing a tight red gown that accentuated her bountiful curves, sang Ave Maria with a small band consisting of a pianist, harpist, and violinist accompanying her.

A soft breeze blew and the sun shined through the trees; they were outside at the Searles Castle grounds, and everyone sat in gold chairs with white rose garlands wrapped around each one. Mercedes held Jake on her lap, and Sam had Rosy. The twins were adorable: Jake wore a little black tuxedo with a blue bow tie, his hair freshly cut, and Rosy wore a sky blue gown with a full skirt and puffy sleeves; her hair was in a ballerina bun and decorated with baby's breath and tiny blue violets. Abby sat beside Sam, looking like a young princess, in her knee-length, sleeveless green dress with a big bow on the left-hand side.

Her hair was in a curly Afro adorned with a green satin headband, and her beloved emerald locket was around her neck. The summer days spent at the pool with Melanie and Travis tanned her skin, and now she had a lovely dark glow, mahogany-hued, and golden as honey. Mercedes couldn't help but think what a beautiful woman, Abby would be, and she knew Shane was looking down on them, thinking the same thing, and the thought brought her comfort.

When Ryder saw Unique walking toward him, his eyes lit up, and tears rolled down his cheeks. Sam squeezed Mercedes' hand and kissed it. They knew the feeling all too well. Finally becoming husband and wife was an indescribable joy. Unique said her vows first:

"Ryder Hunter Fabray, I don't know why God put you in my path, but I thank Him every day that he did. For everything we've been through together, from losing family to dealing with harassment to finding love time and again, you are my King. The love, compassion, caring, kindness, just every damn thing a woman like me needs, you gave it to me three-fold. So, baby, I promise to be phenomenal (not that I'm not already).

Everyone laughed, and then she smiled and continued:

"As I was saying, I promise to be your phenomenal, awesome, fabulous wife you deserve and stand beside you for every obstacle we face together; and we've been through many storms, and now I'm standing here in my happily ever after. I love you so much Ryder, and I'm blessed and honored to be your wife.

Unique was crying toward the end of her vows, her voice cracking on each word as tears streamed down her cheeks. Ryder held her and whispered in her ear. And then he said his vows.

"Unique Angelica Adams, you're right. You are already phenomenal. And I thank God, or whoever is in the universe every day for you too. I want to do better every day because of you. You held me as I cried just as I've held you. I'll never forget our early days when we struggled, and ramen noodles were a luxury, even then, you never lost hope, you pretended we were eating in a five-star restaurant and said the soy sauce was made of diamonds. That's when I knew I loved you. You make everything special, you opened your heart to me, and I love you with my entire being. I promise to be a phenomenal, wonderful, fabulous husband (not that I'm not those things already).

Everyone laughed again, and Unique said:

"I know that's right baby!"

Ryder chuckled and then his voice became overwhelmed by emotion:

"You're my heart, and I'll be beside you too. You're my Queen. Forever."

The officiant pronounced them husband and wife, Ryder cupped Unique's face in his hands as if she were the rarest jewel in the world that he had the great fortune of claiming as his own, and kissed her as everyone cheered. Rosy and Jake clapped their hands and yelled joyously; for them, it was like watching the Disney film come to life. Abby whistled with her fingers, a skill Sam taught her during their early morning hairstyling sessions.

Then a gold pumpkin carriage pulled by two white horses with white roses twisted into their manes rode up to where Ryder and Unique stood near a weeping willow tree. The horseman wore a white renaissance wig, black leather boots, and a maroon driver uniform complete with a black hat with a white plume sticking out from it. He hopped down from his seat, opened the carriage door, took Unique by the hand and helped her step up into the carriage, and this was not an easy task due to the fullness of her dress. But she and Ryder managed to get inside, and they waved to everyone as they whisked away to the other side of the castle where the reception would take place inside the grand manor ballroom. Then a trio of gold shuttle vans pulled up to take the guests to the other location. As they rode to the reception, Mercedes said:

"That was beautiful. Unique looked gorgeous."

"She finally got her fairytale," Sam said.

"I should say she did. She was a queen."

"With all due respect, I think the queen is sitting right here beside me," Sam said kissing her, "You look radiant."

"So you approve of my attire?"

"The dress fits you in all the right places," he said, his eyes roving over her curvy figure poured into a form-fitting azure blue gown, "But I'm not talking about the dress. It's you who shines."

"Sam…" she got a tingle in her stomach, "You still smooth talking me? I married you remember?"

"Smooth talking? No, it ain't smooth talking when it's the truth. And I thank God every day you did."

She kissed him.

"I love you, Mr. Hummel."

"And I love you, Mrs. Hummel."

When they arrived at the ballroom and went inside, they were amazed at how enchanting everything looked from the pink uplighting with a rose pattern shining on the walls and ceiling, to the ivory and gold column archways that transported you to a time of elegance, lace handkerchiefs, and Sir Walter Raleigh chivalry.

The golden marble floor gleamed beneath the Swarovski Crystal chandelier. White lace tablecloths covered each table, and gold pumpkin carriage centerpieces with burning white candles inside, and Summer Sparkle Baby's Breath wrapped around the base were on every table. The twins' eyes grew wide, and their mouths were agape as they looked around the ballroom, while tightly holding onto to their parents' hands.

"Mommy, look," Rosy said, tugging her hand, and pointing to the chandelier.

"Isn't it pretty? That's called a chandelier," Mercedes said."Chanchier," Rosy said with pride as if she pronounced the word right.

Mercedes laughed.

"You almost got it."

They found their table. Sam put the twins in the chairs with booster seats; then he pulled out Mercedes and Abby's chairs. The twins sat between their parents.

"Unique thought of everything," Mercedes said to Sam as she sat down.

"Yes she did," he said, leaning down and kissing her, before sitting next to Jake, "It's quite an affair."

Abby sat next to Mercedes, closed her eyes, and inhaled.

"Mmm, she said, "It even smells like a fairytale. What's that scent?"

"Probably the candles," Sam said, "You having fun, Sugarplum?"

"Yes, Papa, this is great. I want all of this for my wedding," she said.

"Well, that's a long way away," he said.

"I know. But this is all like a dream or something. Unique and Ryder love each other like you and Mommy."

"They do," he said reaching for her little hand and squeezing it, "That's the kind of love you want, but not until you're 40."

"Papa!" Abby said, laughing at his joke.

Mercedes shook her head and smiled at Sam's teasing; she could only imagine what he would be like when Abby and Rosy became teenagers. She inhaled the floral fragrance drifting in the air: it smelled like lavender, tulips, and hyacinths; she felt as if she were in a magical flower garden where fairy godmothers turned pumpkins into carriages and mice became footmen.

The wedding favors were shimmering gold bubble bath inside carriage shaped bottles, glass slipper key chains, rhinestone bracelets, and chocolate crowns wrapped in gold foil.

Rosy tried to open one of the chocolate crowns, but Mercedes took it from her pudgy little hands.

"No, we have to eat first, then you can have some."

Rosy pouted but put down the candy. Luckily, the wedding party was seated, and soon the food was served.

Dinner was a choice between herb roast chicken or filet mignon. The Hummels opted for the roast chicken that was delicious along with the rice pilaf and steamed vegetables. And for little kids like the twins, there were chicken fingers, curly fries, and steamed broccoli. Rosy and Jake did well eating without assistance, and Mercedes was glad the formal atmosphere did not make them clingy. She and Sam were able to enjoy their food.

After dinner, Ryder and Unique cut the cake. It was a five-tiered cake with sparkling gold sugar crystals covering the first three tiers, and the bottom layer was pale rose pink. On top of the cake was a glass castle illuminated by a tiny LED light inside of it. It was endearing how Ryder and Unique fed each other cake, kissing each other between bites. However, when the bride and groom danced to the Diana Ross classic I'm Coming Out for their first dance, this moved Mercedes even more and altogether surprised her, but the song captured Unique's flamboyance and Ryder's freedom to love whom he wished without approval from anyone. So in a sense, they were both coming out (not in the out of the closet sort of way) but being true to themselves. And it warmed her heart to see them dance together, in well-choreographed moves that had everyone clapping and tapping their feet, cheering them on, and as Aunt Josephine would say: "Child, they brought the house down." And bring it down they did. Unique shined brighter than the chandelier, and Mercedes felt joyful witnessing their love for one another in such a marvelous dance routine.

Once they ate their decadent pieces of wedding cake that were fluffy layers of white cake with lemon buttercream frosting, Sam, Mercedes, and the kids went out on the dance floor and had a ball. They danced until they were breathless and Sam had a slow dance with Abby and then she sat down for a break and then he danced with Rosy, while Mercedes danced with Jake.

Her son looked up at her, his big brown eyes so much like her own, and his creamy skin had a pink glow from the lights.

"Am I doing good, Mommy?"

"Yes, Jake, you're a good dancer. I am so proud of you."

Jake beamed at her praise. Rosy put her little patent leather shoed feet atop Sam's black dress shoes.

"I'm a princess. Just like Abby," she said, grinning at him.

"Yes, you're a princess, baby."

When the song was over, they sat down with Abby at the table. They cooled down and drank water, and Mercedes let Jake and Rosy have a chocolate crown, which they devoured, getting chocolate on their hands and cheeks. As Mercedes was wiping their faces, a woman walked up to their table, she was tall, and had long chestnut brown hair that reached the middle of her back and styled in tousled beach waves, her purple dress hugged her Coke bottle hips. Her pillowy lips were cherry red, and her face reminded you of old black and white movies when women wore garters, smoked cigarettes with slender black holders and frequented speakeasies; she was beautifully vintage with peaches and cream skin, large blue eyes, and perfectly arched eyebrows.

"Sam?" She said, hesitantly.

Sam was tying Jake's shoe, and he looked up.

"Marlene?"

Marlene smiled.

"Yes, it's been a long time, I haven't seen you since your-

Sam interrupted her.

"Quinn and I are divorced. This is my wife Mercedes and our children Abby, Jake, and Rosy."

"Hello, nice to meet you all. I'm Ryder's cousin, Marlene Denton."

"Nice to meet you," Mercedes said, grinning at her, though not sure how she felt about this woman.

Abby looked at Marlene with suspicious eyes and gave a polite smile.

"Nice to meet you," she said.

"Thank you. I didn't mean to interrupt. I only wanted to say hello," Marlene said.

"It's fine, so how have you been?" Sam said.

"I'm good. I'm modeling now."

"Great."

"How about you?"

"I'm still in the contractor business. No complaints."

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry about you and – "

Sam cut her off again, his voice tight.

"I'm not sorry, Sam said putting his arm around Mercedes, "I'm happy with my wife and family. Mercedes is the best thing that ever happened to me. Everything else is all in the past, and I'm keeping it that way, is that clear?"

Marlene turned red.

"Yes, of course, well it was nice meeting you all. Have a good evening."

"Good-bye, Marlene," Sam said with a tense smile, "Good luck with everything."

She nodded and walked away, her hips swinging like an old blues tune was playing in time to her movements.

When she was gone, Sam said.

"I'm sorry about that."

"Why are you sorry?"

"Marlene can be challenging."

"You knew how to handle her."

"Yeah."

"She never really looked at me."

Sam kissed her.

"She threw shade and missed."

"Is that so?"

Sam held her face in his hands.

"Mrs. Hummel, I'm looking at you, and nothing will make me stop, especially something as petty as that."

They kissed again, this time it was longer, it was one of those kisses where the world melted away. Mercedes had to catch her breath.

"Thank you, Mr. Hummel," she whispered, touching his cheek.

"My pleasure."

OOO

After the reception winded down, and the twins grew cranky, and Abby began yawning, and Mercedes' feet ached, and a dull pain settled in Sam's lower back, they made their way over to Ryder and Unique to bid them goodnight before going back to their hotel room for some much-needed rest. The newlyweds gave them all hugs and chaste kisses on the cheek, thanking them for coming.

"Isn't she a beautiful bride?" Ryder said, gazing at Unique, his voice full of love.

"She is," Mercedes said, "Congratulations to you both."

"Thank you," Unique said.

They lingered for a little while longer, said their final farewells and went to the hotel where they bathed the twins and put them to bed in the adjoining room while Abby showered in the second bathroom. It was a comfortable hotel room with king-sized beds covered with soft pale yellow down duvets and classic modern furniture with silver handles and sleek lines. After the kids were tucked in and asleep, Sam insisted on washing and rubbing Mercedes's sore feet and afterward they took a shower together and got ready for bed, but as he was about to put his pajamas on, Mercedes stopped him.

"Leave them off. I need to give you a massage."

"You're not tired?"

"A little, but I know you're in pain. You're walking funny."

"Do you feel up to it?"

"Trust me, I do, now lay on the bed face down."

"Bossy, aren't we?"

"Shut up, Sam and lay down," she said, laughing.

"Ok, but I have one request."

"What's that?"

"You can't be wearing anything either."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"It makes things more… I don't know sexy or something."

"You're kinky."

"But you love me anyway."

Mercedes laughed and took off her nightgown, standing there nude in the soft lamplight. Sam's pulled her into a hug, squeezing her generous ass.

"Now, that's more like it."

"Alright, on the bed, Loverboy."

Sam kissed her and lay face down on the luxurious bed. Mercedes didn't have the massage oil with her, but she made do with the cocoa butter lotion she brought with her. She started with his shoulder blades and worked her way down.

"Baby, you're so tense," she said, her voice concerned.

"I'm ok, really I am."

"Hmmm," Mercedes said and worked her way downward, her hands kneading deeper into his muscles, and Sam let out pleasurable moans.

"Feels, good, sweetie, oh, right there, yes…"

Mercedes smiled and concentrated on his lower back the most because that's where his muscles were the tightest, then she slid down to his chiseled, firm butt cheeks and squeezed them in her hands like she was molding clay for a sculpture; and Sam's breath came out in shallow gasps.

"Schatzchen."

"It's ok; you need this. Enjoy it. Especially since we'll be stuck on a plane tomorrow."

"Oh, I know it's just that it's so good, your hands are magical."

"Magical? No. Talented? Hell, yeah."

"That's what I'm talking about," Sam said.

When she finished, his entire body was like jelly, he pulled her into his arms, kissing her.

"Amazing."

"Thank you."

He pinched her nipples. She gasped at the sensation.

"You know I can't just go to sleep now," he said.

"Yeah, I can feel how happy you are to see me."

"You got all kinds of jokes, don't you? So are you up for some horizontal refreshment?"

"What?"

"Horizontal refreshment."

"What is that?"

"An old-fashioned term for sex."

"Like how old-fashioned?"

"I don't know - the 1800s maybe."

"I'm not even going to ask you how you know that. But the answer is yes. You're not the only one aroused."

"Ok, I read about a new position. It's called the cat. Lay back."

"You know the last time we tried a new position it was at a wedding."

"Yeah, it was."

"Is this like our thing now? Every wedding we go to we try a new position?"

"Maybe."

She chuckled, and lay back on the bed spreading her strong, pretty legs, soft and supple; her massive breasts swayed gently, and her nipples were hardened peaks. Sam got on top of her, positioning himself between her big warm thighs. He slipped his finger into her core, and it glided in like silk. She was ready for him; he was painfully hard hurt, and his erection glistened with pre-come.

He shifted his body upwards and slightly over to the side, and instead of doing the usual thrusting up and down, he rocked to and fro having better alignment with her clitoris; therefore giving her more intense pleasure. Mercedes noticed the difference immediately.

"Sam, oh… that's oh…"

He smiled down at her beautiful face, kissing her while rocking his hips.

"You like that, don't you?"

"Hell yeah," she moaned.

It wasn't long before they came, Mercedes clung to him, crying into his shoulder to muffle the sound and Sam's orgasm followed hers. He held her for a while until he left and got a warm, damp washcloth to wipe between her legs. Then he took the cloth back to the bathroom, and got back into bed, holding her once more.

"Thanks, baby," she said, her eyelids growing heavy.

"You're welcome, now let's get some sleep."

He turned off the lamp, kissed her again and soon they were both in dreamland.

OOO

The next morning the family had breakfast in the hotel restaurant downstairs at the all-you-can-eat buffet. Sam thought the food was adequate but not quite up to his standards. Mercedes' opinion was more generous compared to Sam's; she liked the thick, cracked pepper bacon and bourbon maple syrup. Their plane wasn't leaving until mid-afternoon, so they lingered over breakfast taking their time, drinking their coffee and chatting. Abby kept the twins amused with games on her phone. Then Rosy and Jake wanted more fruit salad, so she agreed to take them back to the buffet table to get more; before she left she said:

"Mommy, Papa, do you want anything?"

"No, Sugarplum, we're fine. Be careful. Don't talk to strangers," Sam said.

"Papa, I never talk to strangers," she said, laughing, "Besides I'm only going in the next room. And you can see me from here."

"Well, just the same," Sam said stirring his coffee.

"Ok, I won't talk to strangers. Come on Jake and Rosy," she said taking their hands and leading them to the buffet.

Mercedes finished her Belgian waffle and wiped her mouth.

"I'm stuffed," she said, "The waffle wasn't bad."

"I probably should've gotten that instead of the pancakes," Sam said. "We should probably leave an hour early to get to the airport on time."

"Ok," she said, pouring a cup of tea, "I had a nice time. I just wish Tina and Mike could've made it."

"Me too," Sam said, "And I think - but as he was about to say something else, he saw the last person he ever wanted to see walking toward their table: it was Quinn. Mercedes didn't see her because her back was facing the entrance.

"Sam, what's wrong?"

He nodded in Quinn's direction.

"Look."

Mercedes looked over her shoulder.

"What's she doing here?"

"Search me."

"Ryder wouldn't have invited her would he?"

"Maybe they made amends."

"But why didn't we see her?"

Before they could discuss it further, Quinn stood at their table smiling shyly at them. She wore an ivory applique midi dress. Her close-cropped blonde hair almost looked non-existent. Her cheeks had a pinkish hue, and her lips shimmered with rosy gold gloss. Diamond stud earrings sparkled in her doll-like ears. Sam smelled her loud, expensive perfume he could never recall the name of, but it reminded him of New York boutiques with exclusive clientele; the kind of places only wealthy people were made privy to. It was a sharp sweet scent, almost like lemon and something else he couldn't pinpoint, whatever it was, he used to wrap himself in it, now it only repulsed him.

"Hello Sam and Mercedes," she said.

"Quinn, what are you doing here?" Sam asked, dropping all pretense of formality.

"I went to the wedding."

"We didn't see you," Mercedes said.

"I sat in the very back, and I didn't go to the reception."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I would've had to sit with people I didn't know and … it's just awkward."

"Did you and Ryder make up?" Sam said.

"Somewhat. It's not the same as before."

"It may never be the same," he said, "So, what do you want?

Quinn looked at Mercedes, her voice quivered.

"I owe you an apology. I'm sorry for the way I behaved and for calling you horrible names, yelling at you in public and being an all-around Class-A bitch. You didn't deserve any of it, and I'm truly sorry for everything I said and did. There is no excuse for my behavior."

Mercedes was shocked by the apology; she wasn't expecting that at all. She stared into Quinn's blue eyes searching for insincerity and found none. Perhaps she did seek atonement for her ugly behavior.

"Thank you, Quinn, I accept your apology."

Quinn sighed as if she had been holding her breath for a long time.

"Thank you for accepting it," she said.

"Why are you doing this now?" Sam said.

"A lot has happened, and I won't go into it. But I'm changing who I am."

Sam wanted Quinn to leave. He'd had enough of the conversation; and though it was wrong, he hated how she treated Mercedes, and he couldn't trust her. He saw Abby and the twins walking toward the table.

"We have to be going," he said taking Mercedes' hand and rising from the table.

The twins ran over to their parents.

"Mommy, Papa, we got strawberries," they said.

Sam picked up Jake and Mercedes got Rosy. Abby put the small bowl of fruit salad on the table.

"Can we take this with us."

"I don't see why not," Mercedes said, "Let's go."

"Sam I – Quinn began to say, however, Sam had reached his limit.

"We're done here, Quinn. Good-bye."

Quinn nodded, and blinked back a few tears, with slumped shoulders she walked out of the restaurant.

"Come on, kids," he said, putting his free arm around Abby and giving her a side hug, "We have to go upstairs and pack."

"I had fun, but I'm ready to go home," Abby said.

Sam kissed her forehead.

"Me too, Sugarplum."

END NOTES: Thank you for reading and reviewing!

[trenthix]

Salutatory Speech.

Salutatory Speech.

So as Salutatorian, I was told I would have to write a speech focused on the history… I find that a bit challenging, but here it goes.

A very long time ago, the universe did not exist. There was infinite mass and density, and said universe couldn’t take it, so there was a boom. A big bang of sorts…

Then in the late 90’s and early 2000’s we were born. One of us, in fact, was born on this very day. I want to wish Alicia Hernandez a happy birthday. (sing alicia happy birthday)

So we were born. Our worries were few, but substantial. Two of my personal struggles included catching the next spongebob episode and drinking chocolate milk too fast.

We started pre-school. My only memory from there is getting sick on one too many pigs in a blanket. We met some of our first friends here. Simple times.

2004 - Facebook was created.

2005 - Youtube was created.

Then we started Elementary school. I was at east ridge. Our worries here included getting the last breakfast pizza that was left over because “adam wasn’t here and he would want me to have it.” They included  obsessively cramming for spelling tests, memorizing multiplication facts,  and taking our first TAKS test. TAKS test. Feel old yet?

2006 - Twitter was created

We moved onto 4th grade at SIS… The turf wars began. And for the folks that don’t know, there were two different elementary schools that brought up Kindergarten through 3rd grade. And then these two schools would feed into SIS, Sweetwater Intermediate School. This was our world now. Where we came from defined a person… were you from east ridge, or were you from south east? And I’m ending the beef now, East Ridge was the better of the two. Only kidding! It didn’t matter. There were good things from both schools. I’m just glad that hating and judging people from where they’re from is only something 4th and 5th graders do.

I digress. We’d rack up AR Points ca ching! We’d party like the year we were born… Flamingo fling. Not many worries, but we were still in a hurry, learning about history and Martin Luther King. And those days remained romanticized because again, our biggest concerns only included passing a TAKS test and… our first puberty class.

2010 - Instagram was created

Speaking of puberty, here came middle school. Oh my God. Puberty was like Everyone telling you to look both ways before crossing the street to watch for cars and then a falcon swoops down from the sky and attacks you. Folks I thought that was it for us. As soon as coach Huskey said “Let’s go hit that creek” I recall thinking to myself “yeah I’m going to die in the next few hours.” I found my passion: Band. I also found what I thought was my passion: Football. I remember one day Kiante hit me and I was like “I don’t think I like this very much.” Life got real. Technology took off. We all got phones, social media, iPads. Remember how cool we thought we looked with all of our decent selfies  camwow retro logo in the bottom left? Instagram, Snapchat, facebook, tumblr (lowkey though), Jokebox, iFunny, Youtube, and for the first time, We stopped going to older people for help and we got online and googled it. We were the pioneer generation that was raised by technology. Surrounded by information in the times of our lives when we needed it the most. We began to comprehend the different weights of life. As a middle schooler I pulled a few all-nighters to finish projects and homework… I may or may not have procrastinated on. Our priority list was fine tuned. School and extracurricular were up there now. But memes, relationships, and social media were among them as well.

2012 - Vine was created

Then came High School. lots of smells in high school have you noticed that? The big room smells like shredded tires and hard work and dedication with a hint of Trent tears scattered here and there. You could always tell when bunsen burners were on because the science hall always smelled unpleasant. And Mrs. Melendez’s room when she would burn those Orange Buttercream Scenses that smell like fruity pebbles oh my god.

Smells like the big room, bunsen burners, teen spirit, and those scense’s are the things I think I’ll remember the most.

I learned a few important things in my time in High school that I’d like to share with you.

Freshman year I learned that if you’re unhappy in your situation, you have the ability to change it. Whether it be relationships, extracurricular, or any aspect of life, you can change it. I also learned that social media can be a cruel blackhole, that can distort views, reputations, and relationships. Even more so today. Tread carefully.

Sophomore year, I learned the true value of hard work thanks to Mrs. Judith Brentz. She taught us many valuable lessons, the most important being “how to use our heads for something more than keeping your ears apart.” I also got my first B… Thanks Mrs. Mac. I also got my second B… Thanks Mrs. Brentz. I also learned how to rid my life of toxic people, and for the first time I began to see the world for what it really was. All the variables, and the factors that can play into what, when, why, and how we think the things we think.

Junior year was the toughest for me. Between band, Round 2 of Brentz for chem 2, Coach Mayes, Work, and family…. It taught me that you can’t do everything you want to, and at the same time get enough sleep. I also learned that it’s healthy to rock the boat every now and then. You’ll either get humbled, humble someone else, or if conditions are just right, a healthy mix of the two.

I also learned probably the most important lesson I’ve learned thus far. This applies to everyone listening, Teachers, families, current students, etc. If you don’t get anything about my longwinded speech, please hear this.

My junior year, I stopped worrying about grades, and I started doing the best I could to learn and retain everything that was being taught to me. Numbers are just Numbers. But what we should understand is that we have the world’s most powerful computer between our ears, and once we start using it, we become unstoppable. There are people that will disagree with what I’m about to say, but stop trying ace tests. Stop trying to do the bare minimum to get by. Learn and retain the information, and those good grades will come. I guarantee it. And class of 2018, it’s not too late to apply to your lives. Whether you’re going to college or not, this is a fundamental principle that can be applied across the board, and I encourage you to do so.

Alright back to jokes.

My senior year I learned lots. Like how you can overcook a TV Dinner and still get food poisoning, ruining your chance for perfect attendance that year. Once I started seeing colleges I started learning how a world that I thought was so big is about a whole lot bigger. I learned that if you fall asleep exactly 47 minutes before the first bell, you’ll wake up and be in a sour mood the entire day. I learned that once people figure out that you’re doing a speech at graduation, everyone wants a shout out. I also learned that you can market shoutouts and get a headstart on paying tuition by selling them for a dollar a piece. I also learned that I should’ve thought of that sooner and not just the night before I gave the speech. Nobody bought shoutouts. (this was what was originally written, but nick gomez bought a shoutout lol)

But our priority list is strict now. When we have to be where and with who? Some of us are paying bills, we have to worry about finances, college tuition, student loans, our next meal, car payments, gas money, textbooks, toothpaste, medical, dental, water, electrical, internet, phone bills. Oh my God I thought I wanted to be an adult but this isn’t what I meant. Of course, those are all things we should be concerned about.

I for one have my priorities just a little bit different

My biggest worries are still catching the latest episode of spongebob and drinking chocolate milk at the right speed.

So welcome. I hope you enjoy tonight’s ceremonies. I’m going to wrap this up with a few thank yous, and we’ll get on with it.

Thank you God, for the many blessings you’ve laid upon my life as well as the blessings you’ve given my friends and family. I know I tick you off sometimes, so, I just ask that you’ll bear with me. I’m still learning

Thank you to my dad. You’ve taught me a lot. The most memorable being the wisdom you passed on from my grandmother in heaven… To never take life too seriously.

Thanks momma. You make me laugh like no one else can. And you get me the way no one else can. You can bet everything you say I’m gonna steal and make it my own. I love you.

Marlee, you’re the only one that gets me emotional anymore. I’m so proud of you. I once described you to a friend as a little packet of sunshine that grew arms, legs, and a face, and now you just walk around spreading happiness and joy. I’m glad you made your own path and didn’t follow in my footsteps. I know you’ll continue to make me proud with everything that you do.

Band - Thank you for giving me a place I belong. I’m odd, and yall were okay with it. Without you, I wouldn’t be standing up here.

Directors - Thanks for making me feel at home. I still cant wait to call yall by yall’s first names here in about an hour.

Teachers and Administrators - Thank you for bearing with me. I know I was a thorn in yall’s side from time to time with scandalous assignments and requests. And Mrs. Reyes and Mrs. Little… I made it.

(With the exception of what’s bolded, the other shoutouts made were ad-libbed and did not have a concrete order. I recall thanking other teachers, friends, and family, and shouting out nick gomez, lauren rodriguez, and trini and bell.)

And last but not least, I’d like to thank Jeff Stein and Richard Ferguson for keeping me on their staff after numerous hiccups on 96.7 FM, 1240 AM, KXOX. Good times, great country. For the job opportunity you’ve given me, you helped ease the financial stress that comes from being a poor high schooler, and a soon to be college student. I cant thank you enough.

And in closing. Heed this warning, everyone listening.

We are strong.

We are persistent.

We are mustangs.

We will go on.

We will succeed.

We will prosper.

We are coming.

We are graduating

We are the Class of 2018.

Thank you, and God Bless.

“Salutations” //Trent(on) Hicks. May 25, 2018

[drowsy-quill]

Just Friends

@justsomewritingprompts   (Study date/ pillow fort/ “Its fucking freezing”)

            Sage McNeal did not know that later that night, her city would have the largest blizzard in its history, shutting down all of the roads and leading to a citywide blackout. All she knew is that her parents were planning to stay at a hotel for their anniversary and she was going over to her best friend, Jung-Hee Escamilla’s, house on a “study-date” for the upcoming exams. “Study-date” is in quotations because it was not a formal date; however, that is what Sage’s mom and entire family had called it, each earning rolled-eyes and a look of disgust. Jung-Hee was like an annoying older brother that Sage neither wanted nor asked for. What she did not know is that friends do not typically have the same kind of relationship that those two had. Moreover, most friends do not love each other like Jung-Hee Escamilla and Sage McNeal loved the other.

               Jung-Hee was making his signature Korean BBQ tacos, a study tradition between him and Sage, started by Jung-Hee’s mom who wanted to combine his two heritages. One day, when both of them were much younger, his mom made that for dinner, and Sage fell in love at first bite, requesting it every time she came over. When Jung-Hee was old enough to cook by himself, he took on Taco Duty to save his mom some time, though she never minded when Sage wanted them, he’s pretty sure his mom views Sage as the daughter she’s always wanted. Both of his parents were out of town, visiting his maternal aunt who was visiting New York from Busan for a week. However, they gave it no thought when Jung-Hee wanted to hang out with Sage while they were gone, and gave him permission to have a girl over when they were not home.

               Sage McNeal had to take a taxi to Jung-Hee’s house, and the entire ride she stared out at the clear blue sky, free from the dark grey blizzard clouds that would be rolling in within the hour. She paid for the cab ride with a twenty and the door attendant of Jung-Hee’s apartment building let her in with a smile, his name is Esteban, and Sage has many a good memory of playing D&D with him and Jung-Hee in middle school while their parents were out at dinner together.

               She heads up to the 10th floor, where the Escamilla apartment was located. She unlocks the door with the key Jung-Hee gave her on her 15th birthday, with a picture of the two of them with gapped-toothed smiles from their joint 6th birthday party, even though they were born 6 months apart, it was one of Sage’s favorite pictures. “Jung-Hee, I hope you’re wearing pants!” She says as she takes off her shoes at the door. She laughs at the one time she walked in and he was just in a pair of blue briefs, she was unfazed, but he turned redder than her scarlet hair. She somehow resisted taking a picture of him, but now joking about that incident is as much of a tradition as Park-Escamilla Korean tacos.

               “Sage, if you don’t hurry up I’m going to eat all of your tacos!” Jung-Hee called from the kitchen,

               “You do that, Escamilla, and I will rip your balls off.” She retorted as she sat down at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, next to Jung-Hee. He laughed and slid her a plate piled with the tacos.

               “Trust me, McNeal, I may be crazy, but I’m not insane enough to come between you and your tacos.” She playfully nudges him with her elbow, before both of them dig in. They sit in the silence only the closest of pairs can maintain comfortably. After a time, Sage collected their plates and putting them in the dishwasher, shutting it with her hip.­­­­­­

               “Do we want to finish the essay outline for world history or the final outline draft for writing?” She said, leaning on the counter.

               “The-” Jung-Hee began, before the lights cut out, cutting him off. “Shit, I think the powers out,” He says, flicking on and off the light switch, but the room stayed unlit.

“Fan-fucking-tastic. Wait... Do you know what this means?” Sage says, holding her phone’s flashlight under her face to illuminate as if she was telling a ghost story.

“That the heater won’t work and we’ll freeze to death?” Jung-Hee says plainly.

“No, you ass! Two words: A giant-ass pillow fort.” She says, making her way to Jung-Hee’s room

“That's four words.” He sighs, begrudgingly following her.

“Shut up and start building.” She says as she throws a pillow at his head.

“Yes Ma’am”

They created their oasis in about ten minutes and climbed inside. Jung-Hee had brought out Clue for them to play by candlelight. Sage won, as she always did, but not without Jung-Hee protesting and claiming that she had cheated. However, Sage has never disclosed her secret to winning Clue, but it was not through unscrupulous actions, she won no matter whose board, what version, or against whom she played. It was just her savvy.  

Next, they decided to actually work on their outline for Creative Writing, which made Jung-Hee much happier. Writing was one of the few skills of Jung-Hee’s that he excelled at, Sage promised him that when she becomes an editor that his manuscripts would always take top priority. He, in turn, promised that she would always be his editor, no matter what. Thankfully, this assignment (which doubled as their midterm exam) was catered to their strengths. One of them would write it, and the other would edit. They would be graded differently, obviously, and their teacher had it set up so that she could view what each of them did so that it was graded fairly. They decided to write theirs about a tree that turned into a girl, and while Jung-Hee was furiously typing away at his laptop, Sage was on hers, sketching all of the characters. They bounced back ideas for about an hour before their laptops died simultaneously. Sage cussed but thankfully had just saved her progress; Jung-Hee just shut his computer and slid it into its case.

“So what’s next?” She yawned, snuggling into the pile of throw pillows they had placed inside. “What do you mean?” Jung-Hee asked nervously. “Well, the power is out, and it’s snowing really hard outside so I can’t catch a cab home,” She said, pointing out of the fort and towards the window, though neither of them could see anything but the white of falling snow.

“Right… Well, we could read some.” Jung-Hee suggests, Sage just shrugs and he crawls out of their little fortress and fumbles around the apartment with only the dim light of his phone to guide him. He makes it to the bookshelf in his room without injury and plucks two books off it, though on his way back to Sage, he banged his shin onto the coffee table with a curse, much to Sage’s delight. They lit a few more candles, and Sage settled her head onto Jung-Hee’s lap, holding the book above her face. He did not mind at all, this had been their position for years.

Both of them were completely absorbed in their respective books until the candles burned down to stubs, they went out with a puff. Sage closes her book, They Both Die at the End with a sigh.

“It was just getting to the best part!” She complained. Jung-Hee just chuckled and placed his book back on the floor. He ruffles Sage’s bright red curls as she sits up. “Come on, I think this is the universe telling us to get some shut-eye.” He says, making the extra pillows and blankets into a nest-like bed for the two of them. He smiles as Sage snuggles down into one side of it, and he makes himself comfortable on the other. They both try and drift off until Sage speaks up.

“It’s fucking freezing. Gimme some of that Puerto Rican/Korean/American warmth.” She snuggles up to him, her head resting on his chest. He wraps his arms around Sage and buries his face in her ruby curls. She smiles, “Much better.”

It did not take the two of them long to succumb to sleep in that position. Soon enough, it was morning. Sage woke up before Jung-Hee did, and she did so with a content smile on her face. She just listened to the steady thrum of his heartbeat before waking him up.

“Oi, sleeping beauty! Get your fat ass up and make me breakfast.” She says, sitting atop of his chest, shaking his shoulders.

“What the fuck, McNeal?!” He laughs, pushing Sage off his chest and sitting up. She sticks her tongue out at Jung-Hee, “Come on Jungle-Hoe, I’ll starve if you don’t make me food!” He rolls his eyes and crawls out of their blanket castle and trudged towards the kitchen. Now, I am betting that you are wondering where Jungle-Hoe came from. That is just what Sage’s phone autocorrect his name to and Sage found it hilarious, therefore, it is his contact name in everything Sage owns, and her go-to irksome nickname for him. They sat together on the kitchen floor eating lucky charms without milk, quietly contemplating the meaning of life like one is to do at seven thirty in the morning when the lights flickered back on.

Just then, Sage’s and Jung-Hee’s phones rang and they scrambled to answer them. Sage’s mom was on her way to pick her up, and Jung-Hee’s wanted to make sure he was all right. They both calmed their parents down and even switched phones to calm the other’s folks down and reassure them that they were, in fact, all right. Reminding their parents that they love them, both of them hung up and set to straitening up the Escamilla residence.

An hour later when Sage’s mom knocked on the door, the apartment was almost sparkling. Sage put back on her shoes and hugged Jung-Her goodbye. As she closed the door behind her she called out to him, “Oi, see you tonight!” Jung-Hee smiled and shook his head at the now-empty apartment.

“Guess I don’t have to cook tonight.” He laughs. That night, he used the streetcar to get to the McNeals’ house, which was on the other side of town. He did not even knock when he arrived, just walked in, placed his shoes on the door, and sat on the couch next to the only male McNeal, Lucas. “Hey Jay, you staying for game night after dinner?” The fifteen-year-old asks, flipping through the TV channels before settling on a show called Bones.

Shit…Sage planned this, didn’t she? Jung-Hee thought to himself. The McNeal family night was bloodier than the civil war, especially when Settlers of Catan or Monopoly was being played. Just as he was about to answer the boy, the youngest of the McNeals, Hattie, flew onto his lap and wrapped her small seven-year-old arms around his neck. “Pwease stay, Oppa! I may eben wet you win this time!” She pleaded with her bright green puppy-dog eyes. Jung-Hee, being an only child, was especially susceptible to the charms of smaller children, and even more so when they use the Korean honorific for an older brother to address him.

“Fine, fine, I’ll stay. You know I can’t say no to you.” He ruffles her auburn hair and sends her off skipping towards the kitchen, where the rest of the McNeal girls were gathered. Jung-Hee said hello first to the 12-year-old triplets, Kirsten, Alice, and Bridget, who greeted him with a warm smile and then to Ms. McNeal and Sage who were cooking in the kitchen. He offered to help them, but Ms. McNeal waved him off with a smile. “You and I both know that the McNeal family’s grilled cheese recipe is top secret,” Sage said, sticking her tongue out at him.

“Though,” Ms. McNeal continued, “If you were to join the family through…. Let’s just use marriage as an example, then you would have the clearance to learn the recipe.” She quipped. Sage burst out into laughter, “So, that’s a no. Sorry bud, never gonna happen… Wait, you know I’m ace, right?”

“Shit did I forget to tell you? Wow, this makes things awkward… I may or may not have told Queeney before you… Oops?” She rushed. Jung-Hee just laughed, “I knew before you did, McNeal. And, you did tell me, though you had a really bad fever at the time and most likely forgot.” They laughed like old friends do, and Jung-Hee retreated from the kitchen.

The grilled cheeses that night were especially amazing, and the board games were especially cutthroat, however, Jung-Hee did win a round of Monopoly, but he was betting that the McNeals let him win. These two nights were no turning point in Sage McNeal’s and Jung-Hee Escamilla’s relationship, and they had many more nights like that as the years past. However, Jung-Hee did learn the secret recipe for those McNeal grilled cheeses, though not through marriage or anything of that sort. One day, after the two moved in together after college and the night when Jung-Hee’s first book was to be released, Sage finally sat down and told him the answer.

Mayonnaise.

Fin.