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tobesolonely · 4 years ago

Text

never have i ever

summary: y/n and harry go on a camping trip, but things don’t go according to plan

a/n: thank u for reading! please reblog/leave feedback if you enjoy! its very encouraging to me :’)

warnings: smut <33 18+ please! mentions of alcohol/drinking as well

word count: ~4k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

Never in your life did you think you'd ever agree to do something as outdoorsy as camping, yet all it took was Harry asking you very sweetly one time, and you immediately agreed. You'd never been one to spend an excessive amount of time with nature. You loved a good sunrise and sunset, just like most people. Sometimes you'd even wake up early and go on a sunrise hike with Harry if he promised to make you breakfast once you were finished. Occasionally, you'd go on walks and runs with him, and spend some time down at the beach. That was the extent of the outdoor activities you'd partake in, though. However, Harry had the grand idea to go camping for the weekend as he had a bit of time off, and this was something he'd been talking about wanting to do for a while.

"Don't you wanna be one with nature? Help me pitch a tent? Get your hands a lil' dirty?" He asked you when you started having second thoughts about going with him, the idea of sleeping on the hard ground inside a small tent a major turn off.

"I mean, I can think of better ways to spend my weekend," you tell him, stirring the pot of soup you were making on the stove. It's the night before you were supposed to leave, and Harry already had the car packed, way too excited to wait any longer. "You know I always get the worst bug bites."

"That's what bug spray is for!" he tells you cheerily, snaking his arms around your waist and placing a wet kiss to your neck. "C'mon, Y/N. I promise it'll be worth it."

You sink into Harry's kisses, feeling wobbly in your knees as it was one of your most sensitive spots— and he knew that. "I suppose it'd be nice to get out of the city for a bit. Jus' me and you, yeah?" You didn't want anyone else to see how out of your element you were in the outdoors as you found it to be a little embarrassing. Harry hums, placing more open mouth kisses on your skin.

"Just me," he pauses to kiss you. "You," another kiss. "And the birds ‘n the bees." You blush, choosing to ignore his sexual innuendo.

"I guess it's too late to back out now, especially since you already took it upon yourself to pack a suitcase for me," you tell him, rolling your eyes and turning off the stove. "I'll give it a try, Harry. Besides, it's only a weekend, yeah? What could possibly go wrong?"

⋆⋆⋆

As it turns out, many, many things could go wrong during a weekend-long camping trip.

Harry told you that you didn't need to pull up directions because he knew where he was going, but you quickly realized that your stubborn boyfriend was hopelessly lost. "I don't think we're heading in the right direction, darling," you informed him from the passenger seat, opening up the Maps app on your phone. "You're positive you don't want me to give you directions? No shame in admitting you're lost."

Harry mutters under his breath, squinting his eyes to look at the freeway signs. He sighs, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. "Think I missed m'bloody exit," he tells you, clearly growing frustrated. "Can yeh tell me where 'm supposed to be, love? I think once I figure out the exit, we'll be good."

You and Harry were choosing to not venture too far out of Los Angeles, but far enough so you would be able to enjoy your time together without prying paparazzi. For this reason, he settled on a spot known to be a little more remote, about 50 miles north of downtown. Once you pull up the directions on your phone, your suspicions are confirmed. Harry was headed in the complete opposite direction, and he missed the exit nearly ten miles back. "Yeah, you're gonna need to take the next exit you see, and then we have to go back in the opposite direction. Just about ten miles too far."

"Ten miles? Lemme see tha'," he holds his hand out for your phone and pulls the car over on the freeway's side, turning on his hazards. "Huh, you're right. How'd we miss that, babe?"

"We missed it because you insisted you didn't need directions," you remind him, exasperated. "I'm from here, and I don't even know how we're supposed to get there!" Harry laughs, re-emerging onto the freeway.

"I guess I should've just let you read me the directions, huh? Don't worry, we'll be there soon. S'what? Ten miles? We'll be there in twenty minutes."

However, twenty minutes quickly turned into forty when you found yourselves stuck in the morning commute traffic. Harry fiddles with the radio as you go 5 miles per hour (on the freeway!), trying not to let the infamous Los Angeles traffic get him down. Although you were a bit behind the schedule he'd created, it was still only 7:30 am. You had the whole day ahead of you, and he couldn't wait to get you out in the wilderness and teach you how to pitch a tent and make the perfect s'more."

Eventually, you make it to the campgrounds. You had to admit that it was absolutely beautiful— tall, looming pine trees, snow-capped mountains, picnic tables, patches of even ground you figured would be perfect to set up the tent on, and even a couple outhouses. Harry gives you a smug look when he sees your awestruck face, glad that he was the first to show you something from your own city.

"It's beautiful up here, innit? So peaceful. Looks like we're here by ourselves too," he gestures towards the empty campgrounds. "Nice and private."

You nod, unbuckling your seatbelt as Harry puts the car in park. "I'm already feelin' more relaxed," you joke, opening the door and stepping out to stretch your stiff limbs. "Should we walk around and take a peek at everything before we get ourselves set up?"

"Yeah, s'good idea," he gets out of the car himself and walks around to you, grabbing your hand. "Maybe we can go hiking later? Hear there's a nice little waterfall somewhere around here. Would love to see that." You hum in agreement, walking along the dry ground, leaves crunching under your feet.

"That sounds nice. I can't believe I've never been here," you tell him incredulously, swinging your hands. "It's so gorgeous. And is it just me, or is the air here like, super crisp?" Harry chuckles, nodding in agreement.

"I don't think it's just you, poppet. We're finally away from all that L.A. smog, can take some nice, deep breaths. This will be great for m'asthma." You laugh, and a comfortable silence falls between you. Occasionally, Harry will say, "Look at tha' bird!" or "That's the biggest tree 've seen in my life!" but you walk in silence, for the most part, enjoying each other's company.

"Do you think we should turn back?" you ask your boyfriend, stopping to look back in the direction you came from. "We've been walkin' for a minute. I don't think we should venture too far from the car." You were starting to grow tired and weren't in the right shoes for walking much longer.

"Yeah, let's get back and get that tent set up. Also gettin' kind of hungry," Harry tells you, turning you back around in the direction you'd come from. "How's tea and eggs sound?"

⋆⋆⋆

"Harry, you've got to be fuckin' kidding me!"

"Y/N, I swear I packed it! It has to be somewhere in here!"

"We've emptied out the entire car, Harry!"

Upon returning to the campsite, your boyfriend was excited to get the tent out of the car, so you could "really get this camping trip started," as he said. Yet, when he went in the trunk of his car to retrieve the tent, it was nowhere to be found. Neither one of you panicked at first, figuring he might've squeezed it in the backseat instead, as the trunk was pretty full. It wasn't there, either. Now, your suitcases and cooler was laid out around the car, but the tent was nowhere to be found. He runs his fingers in frustration through his hair, tapping his foot while he contemplates calling one of his assistants and asking her to bring it to him.

"Harry, don't make her do that. You already told her she could have the weekend off. It's not her fault you forgot it," you scold, digging your shoe's toe into the dirt. "We can just sleep in the car."

"That's so uncomfortable," he mewls, placing your suitcases back into the car. "Maybe we should just go home. We're not off to a very good start, maybe it's a sign?"

"No way, H. I've already called off work to come here with you, we're staying," you insist, reaching back into the car to grab the electric tea kettle you've bought. "Let's get a little breakfast in our stomachs and then go see that waterfall, how's that sound?" Harry gives you a reluctant look but agrees, reaching in the cooler to grab the carton of eggs you've brought along. He grabs the small skillet, albeit your favorite one that you told him not to bring here, and grabs a small charcoal bag to light the grill.

"Have yeh got a lighter on ya?" Harry asks, walking over to the small grill beside the picnic table. You raise your eyebrows at him.

"Me? You didn't ask me to bring it! Are you telling me we can't even light the grill now?" You couldn't believe everything that could go wrong on your camping trip was going wrong, but now it seemed like you wouldn't even be able to prepare hot meals for the next two days.

"Yes, I did, Y/N," Harry argues back calmly, not wanting to raise his voice. "Remember? I bought that long one so it would be easier to use. Said, 'Babe, make sure yeh grab the lighter off the counter.'" You think for a moment and then shake your head, sure Harry did, in fact, not tell you to grab the lighter, and he was just trying to push the blame to you.

"Now what? We can't cook the meat or vegetables all because you couldn't remember to bring the lighter," you tell him sharply, feeling yourself growing more annoyed by the second. You were incredibly frustrated because you weren't keen on the idea of camping in the first place, but you came along anyway, not expecting so many things to go wrong.

Harry closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath, a thing he does every time things start getting heated between the two of you because he hates fighting. "Well, it's at home, and there's not much we can do about it, so 'm sorry for pointin' fingers at you. Did we bring anything we can snack on that doesn't require cooking?" You rummage around in the cooler and find a box of cheese, some cold cuts, a loaf of french bread, and a couple bottles of wine.

"Hows some cheese, bread, and meat sound? We can make little sandwiches," you tell him, pulling out the food. "Maybe some wine?"

Harry chuckles, walking over to you. "Y/N, it's not even 10 am."

"We're on vacation, aren't we?"

He shrugs, walking over to you to grab the bottle of wine. You grab plates, napkins, and a sheet you bought to double as a tablecloth, laying it out atop the picnic table. "'M actually starving," he calls to you from beside the car, reaching to grab two wine glasses. "Can't wait to eat this."

You cut into the loaf of french bread and cheese and add slices of salami and ham, quickly assembling mini sandwiches for you and Harry. "These look good, don't they?" you ask him, half teasing, half-serious. You hand him his sandwich, and he grins, grabbing it from you.

"Looks delicious, Y/N, thank you. Cheers," he gently taps his sandwich against yours, and you both take big bites, moaning at your first taste of food all day. "Want some wine now?" He asks, pouring you each full glasses. He slides the glass in front of you and you grab it, taking a long sip.

"S'good. Where'd you get this one from?" you question, taking another bite from your sandwich.

"Italy," he responds sheepishly, tasting it himself. "I know how to pick a bottle of wine, don't I?"

You giggle at your boyfriend's subtle bragging, continuing to eat your breakfast. You realized that there was no way you and Harry could comfortably spend the whole weekend here camping. You'd most likely have to call it quits before it got dark. However, you were still glad you'd get to spend time with your boyfriend outdoors, eating "emergency sandwiches" and sipping on a 500 dollar bottle of wine.

⋆⋆⋆

"Never have I ever had a one night stand," you say loudly, giggling in the process. You and Harry were both absolutely plastered, having already finished one bottle of wine and working on the second. You've decided to play a good old fashioned game of Never Have I Ever, and it was getting more raunchy the drunker the two of you became. Harry narrows his eyes at you and takes a swig out of the bottle of wine, shaking his head.

"You already know 've had one because I've told yeh about it before, yeh lil' cheater," he exclaims, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Here's one. Never have I ever shagged in the backseat of a car." You choke on your wine, widening your eyes at him.

"You actually think I've done that? How kinky do you think I am?" you smack him on his arm, laughing at his ridiculous statement. Harry doesn't say anything, running his finger along the rim of his wine glass.

"Here's a more specific one," he leans closer to you, and you can smell the wine on his warm breath. "Never have I ever shagged in the back of my car, in the middle of the woods, while on a camping trip with my girlfriend." His hand goes to rest on your thigh, and you swallow thickly.

"Thought you wanted to go see that waterfall?" you ask him, your words jumbling together slightly. Harry turns to face you, so his legs are on either side of the bench, and he pulls you closer to him by your waist.

"Don't care much for the waterfall when 've got a beautiful woman sat in front of me," he blurts, sucking on the underside of your jaw.

"What d'you want then?" you challenge, tilting your head slightly, so Harry is better positioned to place kisses to your jaw.

"Want you," he responds simply, grabbing your hand and placing it over his growing bulge. "Y'know how wine gets me goin', love." You hum in agreement, palming him through his trousers.

"I know," you respond breathlessly, pulling away from him to down the rest of your wine. "Why don't we go to the car then?" Harry gives you a surprised look, a dopey smile on his face.

"So we're really doin' this then?" He asks, standing up from the picnic table and holding his hand out for you to grab.

"No one's around, why not?" You knew that your sexual boldness came from all the wine you'd consumed, but at that moment, you didn't think there was anything you wanted more in the world than your boyfriend's cock down your throat. "Need to taste you." Harry groans, leading you hastily toward the car. You both stumble to get there in your intoxicated stupor but make it in one piece, giggling and clinging onto one another.

"After you, m' lady," he opens the backseat and curtsies, causing you to both erupt into a fit of giggles. You clamber into the backseat, scooting all the way to the other side so Harry could climb in after you. He shuts the door, and you sit in silence for a minute, catching your breaths. "Tight squeeze back here, yeah?"

"Yeah," you readjust your body, so your back is against the door, and your legs are over Harry's lap. "How are we gonna do this?"

Harry's quirks an eyebrow at you, undoing the button on his pants. "Yeh really wanna just straight into it, don't yeh, minx?" You nod, readjusting your position, so you're now on your knees, having to crane your neck slightly, so you're not hitting the car's roof.

"Let me taste you," you offer, seeing his hard cock straining to get out the confines of his tight clothing. He wordlessly nods and lifts his hips, tugging his pants down to his mid-thigh. He's not as hard as he can get, maybe due to the amount of wine he's consumed, but you know he's nearly there. You reach over to grab him, hands shaking slightly. "Can't believe we're doing this in the middle of the woods. Makes it even hotter, though."

Harry's head falls against the back seat's headrest as you flick your tongue out to capture the drop of pre-cum that was beginning to run down the side of his head. "Take me in y' mouth, Y/N. What are yeh waiting for?"

You place your hands on his thighs and lower your mouth onto his cock, taking him almost entirely in your warm mouth. Harry lets out a loud groan, not even bothering to quiet his sounds of pleasure since he knew no one was anywhere nearby. You come back up for air and lick your lips, giving him a sultry look. "You mean like that?" Harry grips the back of your head and roughly pushes you back down onto him, not in the mood for your teasing.

"Don't be cheeky now, lovie," he warns, bucking his hips up roughly to fuck your mouth. "Yeh want me to help you cum later, don't yeh?" You moan around his cock, not wanting to answer him, so you don't break the rhythm you were going at. As your sex life with Harry grew more adventurous throughout your relationship, you've only gotten better at deepthroating him, able to get him close to his orgasm in minutes. You always joked between the two of you that giving him head was one of your greatest talents, and of course, he never disagreed with that sentiment. You come up from his cock to take another breath, inhaling deeply through your nostrils. Harry immediately pushes you back down onto him without saying anything. He begins thrusting into you with even more vigor than before, and you know he's almost there. "Y/N, 'm gonna cum—"

You pull off Harry's mouth with a loud plop!, lifting up your dress and shoving your underwear to the side. "Can I ride you?" you ask sweetly, already situating yourself over him. Your boyfriend nods, completely flustered from being pushed so close to his orgasm, and then denied the opportunity to cum.

"S'course," he answers with a shaky breath. "C'mere." He grabs your waist and guides you onto his length, helping you sink down slowly. You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling him deep within you. Every ridge, every pulse, the warmth— it makes you feel completely feral. "That's a good girl, Y/N. Takin' my cock like it's nothing, aren't yeh? This is easy for you, hmm?"

You nod against his shoulder, starting to bounce around slowly on him. "So easy, H. Fit inside me so well," you moan, squeezing your eyes shut. "Feels fuckin' incredible, stretchin' me out like this." Harry squeezes onto your sides, leaving bruises in the shapes of his fingers. Harry places a kiss against his lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

"You like tha', Y/N? Such a dirty girl, lettin' me fuck ya in the back of my car like this. Kinky lil' thing, you are, pet," he mutters, thrusting his hips up as you slam yourself down to meet him. You nod, moving your hips in a gyrating motion.

"Love it, H. Fuckin' into me so well, fuck," you let out a particularly loud cry when Harry repositions you slightly, hitting your g-spot int he new position he has you in. "Don't stop please, keep going." You urge your boyfriend, throwing your head back. It's incredibly hot in the car, and you realize that maybe you should've cracked open a few windows before starting, but there was no way you're going to stop now to tell him that, not when you were this close.

"Y/N, I'm gonna cum," he cries out, his breathing becoming labored. "Let me have yeh in another position, please, 'm so fuckin' close."

"There's no room," you choke out, squeezing down on him. Harry moans loudly, muttering a quiet "shit" under his breath. He lifts you off of him and lays you down across the backseat, bending your knees up to your chest while he situates himself in between your legs. It's cramped and uncomfortable and hot, but you're so close, just a few thrusts away from reaching your high.

"Put your legs over my shoulders," he demands, resting on hand on the car's headrest while the other grips your breast. You nod and place your legs on either side of his shoulders, now being able to feel him in a completely different way. He re-enters you, so much deeper than before, and you swear you see stars. "Fuckin' hell, Y/N. Love your tight pussy, babe. All fo' me, yeah?"

"All for you, baby," you cry, gripping onto his broad shoulders. "'M gonna cum now, let me cum." You're a begging, writhing mess beneath him, squeezing down on his cock.

"Do tha' again," he asks, his rhythm becoming sloppy and hurried, just wanting to get the two of you off. "I'm almost there too, babe, squeeze 'round my cock again like you just did."

You clench around Harry and he lets his head hang, squeezing onto your breast even harder. "'M cummin', Y/N," he announces immediately before releasing inside you, his warm load coating your spongy walls. Your bite your lip and squeeze around him again, the coil in your abdomen becoming tighter as you quickly approach your peak shortly after he reaches his. You know Harry is exhausted, but he doesn't stop, never wanting to leave you hanging. He reaches in between your bodies and rubs quick circles on your clit with the hand that's gripping the headrest and flicks your nipples with the other hand. "Come on, love. Can feel how close you are, I know you're nearly there."

Harry spanks your clit while increasing his speed, and your eyes roll into the back of your head, your vision going hazy. You feel like you're underwater— his voice sounds muffled and a little far away, and that's how you know the orgasm was good. Your eyes are still shut, and you feel him slowly pull out, trying not to get his seed all over the backseat of his car. After coming down from your high, you open your eyes, a blissed-out smile on your face. "That was incredible." You let out a quiet chuckle, wiping the beads of sweat from your forehead. "Can you open the door? I can hardly breathe in here."

Harry laughs and slowly sits up, opening the door and inhaling the cold morning air. The car's windows were completely fogged up, and you're happy no one was walking by because if they did, they'd definitely know what the two of you had gotten into. "Guess you can't say you've never fucked in the backseat of a car before anymore."

#harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #never have i ever #thanks for reading!

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artzychic27 · 3 years ago

Note

The Artist Family? (new movie)

A month has passed since Marc and Nathaniel met and fell in love at age fourteen, now they’re dating

To celebrate their one month anniversary, they decide to visit one of the most romantic spots ever- The burned-down forest they met in- Only to run into some trouble

The mobs from their previous homes have still been looking for them since the incidents and were finally able to track them down

The couple manage to escape the angry mob with the help of Marc’s spiders and a friendly severed hand who cause a distraction

So they can get away quicker, That drives them in an old hearse he found in a graveyard

Marc: Mi querido, why must hoards of angry villagers follow us everywhere?

Nathaniel: *Kissing Marc’s hand* Meyn ziskeyt, I swear to you, we will find someplace so dark, so sinister, so dastardly that no one in their right mind would be caught dead in!

*They arrive in Paris*

Nathaniel: Huh. I see it’s changed over the last few centuries. And I’m noticing a lack of guillotines.

As they lament about how they can’t keep running for the rest of their lives, That, who was recklessly driving, runs over something in the middle of the road, right near an old funeral home shrouded by fog and cut off from the rest of the city

Marc/Nathaniel: *Excitedly* We hit something!

They rush to see who or what they’ve hit, and see that the figure is a blonde, pale young man who seems to have most of his organs missing

They realize that the person they ran over is Félix Culpa, a young man who died centuries ago, but was never given a funeral because the mortician prepping him got the plague. He regains consciousness and goes to attack the two, but Nathaniel just hands him their bags

Nathaniel: Thanks, man. Hey, you mind showing us around the place?

And that’s how Félix became their butler

When they arrive at the old funeral home, they’re given a very warm welcome.

Spirit of the House: GET OUT!

Marc: ... It’s hideous.

Nathaniel: It’s horrible...

Marc/Nathaniel: It’s home.

Weeks goes by, and more people begin to occupy the home, making amazing first impressions

Marinette and Alix actually snuck in and have been living in the walls for a short period of time until Félix found them

Marc found Rose resting in one of the open graves in the backyard

And Juleka Samara-crawled out of the swamp with her hair covering her face

The six of them share their backgrounds, sympathize with each other about how they were run out of their homes, and make the decision to change their last names to Artist

Now they’re sixteen while Alix is still fifteen

Meanwhile, down in Paris, Gabriel Agreste is taking the fashion world by storm, and his clothing (All basic and dull) is a big hit in Paris (For reasons no one understands but they won’t say anything for fear of not fitting in)

His son, Adrien Agreste goes for a bike ride through the woods with his two friends, Nino and Alya, where they come across the gate that separates outsiders from the Artists’ home

They’re immediately scared away when Marinette opens the creaking gate that sounds like the end of the world when opened

Also, Alix’s sinister sixteen is coming up in a few weeks, and part of the celebration is a swordfight, which she is nowhere near ready for

Nathaniel: Alix, you need to practice. It’s the day your family and friends judge you and pass judgement on your worth as a human being!... It reminds me of Hanukkah.

During one dinner, Marinette asks a question that shocks everyone

Marinette: Do you guys think things beyond the gate have changed?

Juleka: ... What?

Marinette: It’s been years, surely things must be different now. Earlier today, I swore I heard people.

Marc: Outside is forbidden.

Marinette: But-

Marc: Forbidden!

Back in the city, Gabriel is anticipating the arrival of tourists to buy his new line of clothing which he calls, Conformist

While filming a commercial, a red balloon floats astray and makes its way towards the Artists’ home, which Marinette finds as she’s “helping” Alix prepare for the Swordfight

Alix: Why are you helping me?

Marinette: Because. You are like my sister... And... I... Love... You...

Alix: ... You seem trustworthy.

Big mistake

Marinette: *Walks inside with the balloon* Good news, Alix is gone.

Marc: *Holding a sword to Nathaniel’s neck* Mari, go dig up Alix.

Marinette: You and Nathaniel are once again weakening this generation.

Nathaniel: *Points to balloon* Mari, where did you get that?

Marinette: I’m not sure.

Marc: Strange. There’s usually a murderous clown attached to the other end of these.

Juleka: *Gasp!* And what is this?! *Plucks a piece of pink confetti off of Marinette’s shoulder*

Nathaniel: Smells like cotton candy. *Off their confused looks* I was young and stupid, alright?

The Artists go outside where they find rainbow confetti raining down, and the fog that covers their home is lifting up, revealing to them the town

Much to Marc’s protests, Nathaniel suggests they go see the place for themselves

Marinette: This day is becoming most miraculously disruptive.

While filming another commercial, the Artist Family’s house is in the camera’s shot, and Gabriel passes out the second he sees it

*Somewhere else* Nino: ... I feel an overwhelming sense of... Joy.

The Artists arrive in their hearse, and immediately capture the attention of the other Parisians. They’re given strange looks wherever they go, and sometimes people run away screaming

No one has run them out with pitchforks yet. Yay!

Alix: Guys! *Pulls a tire off of a police car* They’re just giving these away!

Juleka: Alix, mind your manners, people might want tires, too.

After getting coffee grounds, the Artists come across Adrien, Alya, Nino, Chloé, and Lila in the park, prancing around in pink and blue outfits and singing about being conformists

Rose: Wow... That is absolutely horrible!

Marinette: ... *Dumps coffee grounds* I’ve suddenly lost my appetite. However, that blonde boy... Intrigues me

And it seems the feeling is mutual when Adrien steals glances at the gothic girl with braids

Rose: ... Yeah, I’m done with this song. *She hikes up the hem of her robe, releasing hundreds of bats that scare off the crowd* Done and done!

Done with these people, Marc wants to leave, Nathaniel insists that things have changed, but his boyfriend is still reluctant... Cue Gabriel

He insists on hiring interior decorators to fix up the Artists home (So tourists aren’t scared off) Marc, with some urging from Nathaniel allows him to do so.

Marinette: That man seems deranged. His face reminds me of a death mask.

*Somewhere else* Nino: In the future... I will have a new friend. Blue hair. Braids.

Back at the Artists Home, Nathaniel, Juleka, and Rose help Alix prepare for her Swordfight

Rose: Of all the Sinister Sixteens I’ve seen, Nathaniel’s was the stuff of legends.

Juleka: So no pressure!

Gabriel, Adrien, the design crew, and the news crew arrive, ready to remove the gloom and macabre form the Artists’ home

Félix: *Answers the door* Youuuuuu raaaaaanng?

Adrien: *Calling Alya and Nino* Hey, so I’m going into the creepy mansion. If I don’t come back, I’m dead... I love you too, Nino... Yes, Alya, I know he’s your boyfriend.

Much to his relief, Adrien is left outside and goes around back to explore

Gabriel: I do hope this isn’t a bad time.

Nathaniel: The worst!... Do come in.

Gabriel spends most of the time making light criticisms and jabs at the decor, the Artists themselves, their clothes, and Marc’s spiders (Which he considers the greatest insult)

Meanwhile in the backyard, Adrien is nearly killed by a crossbow. To his horror and awe, he finds the shooter: Marinette in all of her dark glory

Immediately, he develops a small crush on her. She’s not like the other girls at school who constantly cling to and flirt with him because of his father’s wealth

He tries his hand at impressing her by shooting an arrow, but accidentally shoots Rose, which actually does impress Marinette

Adrien: So, why haven’t I seen you and your siblings at school?

Marinette: We’re coven-schooled. But, blondie, do tell... *Leans in close so she can hear Adrien’s rapid heartbeat* Can anyone attend your school?

Gabriel and his crew leave, having made no renovations to the Artists’ home. And when Nathaniel explains that family and friends will be coming over for Alix’s Sinister Sixteen, that just motivates the designer even more

Down in Gabriel’s secret lair, he spies on the Parisians through a social media app where he fills the comments section with rumors about the Artists, saying they’re anarchists and breed spiders... Okay, so they’re not all rumors

*The Next Day* Nathaniel: Monochrome, I know the man is an eccentric, but- *Marinette appears behind him* Aah!

Marc: Mari, you know Nathaniel scares easily. Practice your lurking on someone else. *Marinette appears behind him* Better. Now what’s on your mind?

Marinette explains that she wants to atener school, much to Marc’s horror and Nathaniel’s excitement. She needs to torment more kids her own age.

Marc doesn’t want her to go, worried she might fall under the influence of the... Conformists, but Nathaniel somehow convinced him

Marinette walking into school: Ah, so these are the gates of hell.

Adrien, while being crowded by girls he doesn’t even like (Especially Lila and Chloé) becomes awestruck when he sees Marinette walking in. She looks like a beautiful demon queen

Lila and Chloé see this and try to intimidate her, but this is what Marinette says,

Marinette: Listen you future plastic surgery disasters, I’m not locked in here with either of you. You and your outdated, distasteful “outfits” are locked in here with me. And don’t you forget it.

Alya just might dump Nino so she can ask this girl out. Polyamory works too. / Adrien: Back of the line.

Mendelive’s biology class: They’re dissecting frogs.

Adrien: Aw, I feel bad for doing this.

Marinette: Relax. Rose showed me how to do this hundreds of times. *Cue Frankenstein equipment* FLIP THE SWITCH! *Adrien flips the switch and electrocutes all of the frogs* LIVE! LIVE MY CREATURE!

The frogs come to life and attack Lila and Chloé. Karma at its finest. Alya and Nino are impressed by her more than ever

Alya: It is an honor and a privilege to watch you work, spooky girl.

Back at the Artists’ Home, it’s game night! They’re playing the game of Death, but Marc isn’t focused. It’s late and he’s wondering where Marinette is

Finally, she arrives, but much to Marc’s horror, she has a Ladybug hair clip! He’s in so much shock that his face flushes red and a bat has to drink his blood

Marc: What. Is. That?

Marinette: Adrien calls it a “Pop of color” says it brings out my... Smile.

Marc: You don’t have a smile.

In order to see what’s going on with his sister/friend, Marc suggests they do ‘Tea & Seance’ like old times... Only she bails to hang out with Adrien, and they give each other makeovers as acts of rebellion

Meanwhile, Alix is upset because she still can’t get the hang of sword fighting and Nathaniel has been working so hard to help her

Marinette returns from her hangout with Adrien, almost making Marc faint when she shows up wearing pink and her hair in pigtails.

Marc: Okay, this is where I sever the line! You are not going back to that school!

Marinette: *Gives him the evil eye before leaving* You can’t tell me what to do.

Juleka: Dear Hades, that is some evil eye.

Horrified by Adrien’s new gothic look and attitude, Gabriel spreads more rumors about the Artists

Frustrated by the lack of support from her family/friends, Marinette runs away and goes to stay with Adrien

Alix: I always knew it would end up like this. Just didn’t know when.

Marinette: Farewell, Alix! I will never forget you, but I’ll try.

The next morning, Marinette, Alya, and Nino are helping Adrien look for his phone, which Gabriel his hidden punishment for his new look

While looking, they stumble across Gabriel’s lair and discover he’s been spying on everyone in Paris. Gabriel discovers them snooping and locks them in Adrien’s room while he goes to greet the tourists... And some unexpected guests

Nathalie: *Dials Gabriel* Gabriel, it’s an emergency. They’re here! The Artist Family!

The Artists more... Eccentric family members (Gina Dupain, Uncle Wang, Master Fu, Luka, Fei, Jagged, Penny, and the art teacher for example) have arrived to attend Alix’s sinister sixteen.

Things are going well so far. Juleka reunites with Luka, Fei battles Gina to the death, but Marinette still hasn’t arrived, so they do the sword fight without her... Which Alix fails.

As Nathaniel consoles her, a cannonball shoots through the wall. Gabriel somehow got a catapult for the mob to use

Marc: It’s Gabriel. He’s turned the town into a mob.

Juleka: I oddly admire his determination.

While the mob fires more cannonballs and destroy the house, Alix tosses her sword and grabs her explosives, successfully protecting her family... Until a cannonball blocks their only exit and she runs out of ammo

Just as the ceiling begins to fall and it seems like the end, Marinette, Adrien, Alya, and Nino come in just in time and save them all thanks to the possessed tree

She and Marc reconcile

Marc: I’m so glad you came back.

Marinette: Of course. There was no way you all could survive without me. You’re like weak kittens.

The Parisians begin having regrets about attacking the Artists (Mainly cuz they almost killed a bunch of kids), but this is interrupted by Gabriel

Gabriel: I will relish hounding you all until that nuclear waste dump you call is house is destroyed with you all in it!

Juleka: Oh, you are just begging to be dragged down to hell, aren’t you, Gabriel?

Marinette: And this family will never run from the likes of you again. *Her death glare stuns Gabriel*

Nino: Damn, I gotta learn how to do that.

Adrien finally stands up to his father and exposes how he’s been spying on everyone in the city while Alya live streams everything. Gabriel is now ruined

Months later, the Artists’ Home has been rebuilt by the guilty Parisians who learn to accept their new, weird neighbors. Also, the Spirit of the House has returned

Adrien and Marinette start dating while Alya and Nino share a mutual pining for the girl

#miraculous ladybug #marc x nathaniel #the addams family #the artist family #marinette dupain cheng #alix kudbel #nathaniel kurtzberg #marc anciel #rose lavillant #juleka couffaine #answered ask #ask me stuff #addams family au #mlb au #mlb crossover

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vanchlo · 4 years ago

Text

The Firsts / #1 “The First Time Meeting The Family”

ABOUT: A blurb series retelling the important firsts in the first year or so in Becks and Harry’s relationship, covering the gap between the end of The Assistant, and the beginning of its sequel, The Partner.

---> NEXT BLURB: I hope that I can put it out on October 4th, following the every other week rule, but I’m not sure with my busy schedule. Keep an eye out for updates on the series masterlist!

READ THE ASSISTANT, AKA WHAT CAME FIRST

SERIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

READ ON WATTPAD

LEGEND:

+ : a break in the story; a time jump.

italics : a flashback in the story.

++ : a point of view change in the story.

WARNINGS: Some mild language, and a small incidence of physical assault

WORD COUNT: 10.9k words (!!!)

SONG: A Love Like This by Ben Rector (CLICK TO LISTEN AND I KNOW I USE TOO MANY OF HIS SONGS BUT THEYRE SOOO ROMANTIC)

* SNEAK PEEK, DUH BC ALWAYS *

“Always, baby - protect you, save you- you name it and ‘ll be there,” Harry coos with the softest of smiles, tracing with his thumb the new red lines that litter my face in places. “Always,” he whispers, leaning forward to kiss the place under my eye where my birthmark sits, and beside it a new scar that he’s kissed more times than I could count.

I could never keep track of how many times I’ve looked at him and silently said those three words that once itched to jump off of my tongue and into his ears. The very three that sit in his eyes, just for me.

“No matter how much it hurts, no matter how hard it gets, you gotta keep grinding. And that’s how we’re gonna win. We’re gonna win and anyone that gets in our way? Well, God help them.” - Dean Winchester, Supernatural

The phone rang with a shrill bringggggg!, yanking a sigh from my lips.

Another one.

Another sigh.

Another call.

It’s just another normal day for me.

After sliding back on the mask that I so often wear within these walls, I at last leave my office and the phone that tends to keep ringing off the hook. Ignoring it and letting the answering machine take it this time, my heels click-clack on the dark tiled floor, a sound I had long ago become accustomed to.

Yet another sound is that of the hot coffee churning into my mug from the Keurig in the break room, and the splash of the creamer I pour in next.

A sound that I don’t think I could ever get used to, nor would I want to become mundane, is that of the breathy giggle trickling out from my open office when I return. He doesn’t see me yet, but I see him as I take a page from his book and lean in the doorway to watch him. Steam wafts across my smiling lips before the coffee meets them, my eyes fixed on the back of his tousled curls.

“It’s about time your meeting finished,” I announce, returning to my stride as I close the door. Setting down the hot mug on the corner of my desk, I tread over to my chair and let my arms wind around his neck from behind.

“Yer tellin’ me,” he nearly scoffs, switching apps on his phone quickly.

“What are you being secretive about, hmm, Harry?” I tease with a peck to his satiny smooth cheek.

“Oh, nuthin’, I jus’ wanted t’ check tha weather. Reckon we’re in fer some sun this weekend, yet anotha thing that’s overdue. We should go on a hike or sumthin’ Sunday, but we might need our Wellies.”

“You say that I’m a bad liar, but you should know that so are you,” I huff against his cheek, catching a whiff of his aftershave’s notes of cucumber and aloe vera.

“I dunno what yer talkin’ ‘bout, Becks,” he insists with a measly shrug of his shoulders, but he tries to act like I can’t hear the slight snicker in his voice, or see the red appearing in his cheeks.

“Fine, I give up . . We should get cracking on those testimonies already, seeing as now I’m done waiting on you.”

“Agreed. ‘m gonna go grab a cuppa, and ‘ll meet you in me office. ‘Kay?” Harry responds, standing to his feet, and turning around to face me. The smile falling into my cheeks is instantaneous at the mere sight of him, making me realize that I somehow missed him for the last three hours he was in his meeting. Well, I wouldn’t be wrong to say that I’m most definitely spoiled getting to work with my boyfriend for nearly every second for five days a week. My dream at last came true. “Wait, I thought you were gettin’ sick o’ me earlier? ‘sn’t that right, bug?” he poses with a perfect raise of his eyebrows, taking a step towards me.

“I uh, dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Yer a bloody terrible liar, still dunno why ya think I can’t sniff ‘em out on you,” he smirks, clicking his tongue in disappointment as he taps my nose. The tall white roses on his baby pink slacks billow with every step of his, only worsening my giggle. “Becks, Becks, Becks,” he tuts with a shake of his growing curls. My lips sparking with a happy nervousness bring out the dimples in his cheeks.

“What, Harold?”

“Dunno how many times ‘ve told ya not t’ call me that,” he exhales with a wag of his finger, only a few steps between myself and the door now.

“But Rory gets to call you that!”

“He doesn’t get t’ call me anythin’, bug. Rory doesn’t listen t’ a fookin’ word I say, so he’s not goin’ t’ start callin’ me by me real name fer tha first time in eight years, I don’t think,” he chuckles, and I let an eye roll slip, but not quick enough. “Ya betta watch it now, and my bloody God, Rebecca Holte, you best put that pout away befo’ I-.”

“Before you what, Harry?” I tease with a cock of my head.

“Y’know yer pushin’ me buttons, right? Oh wait, yer fully aware o’ that, arentcha, Becks? I can see tha look on yer face right now, y’know yer diggin’ yerself a hole here, babe,” Harry tuts, continuing to wag that finger at me until my back meets the door and he lays his hands above my head to steady himself. “And, t’ answer yer question - reckon ya won’t get any kisses fer tha rest o’ tha day if yer gonna be a brat,” he shrugs with full composure, sliding a hand to my back that he presses on to come closer to him. “Make this one last,” he whispers, leaving a kiss on my forehead before opening the door.

“Harry!” I exclaim, whirling around to find him already escaping down the hallway.

His hearty laugh wanders down to grace my ears, and then, he turns around with that smart grin on his face, “‘m jus’ grabbin’ a new cup o’ coffee, ‘ll meet you in me office, love,” he calls back ever so innocently, almost running into one of Asher’s blokes from IT. Groaning, I imitate his typical stance of leaning against the doorway with crossed arms, watching his figure become all the smaller as he stops to talk with Amelia and then to Jennings with an always cheerful smile.

At times, it still boggles me how different things are, although it’s difficult to remember how things were before. How they were when my view every day was this very hallway from my measly desk sat at the end of it. It makes it all the harder to remember how much I longed for, how it tore me apart, and not just that, but how different of a person he was. I wasn’t the same either - I started off cold and brash with him, as did he, and I could never entertain the thought of what things would be like if he hadn’t warmed up to me, as well.

Memories flash in front of me as the sofa molds to my body, like all of the other times, followed by the thud of my heels falling to the floor. With a blink, I’m propelled back to the days when I’d be scared to set foot in this office, his. Now, I can’t imagine feeling anything other than safe to be in here. Despite the traumas that took place inside of these four walls, my lips curl up at the thought of the lovely things that were born in here as well. The hidden kisses. The beginning of our friendship. Our first hug. My beginnings as a lawyer, and so much more that warms me from the inside.

My, all of the firsts that we have had.

Pulling my cardigan around me tighter, I round a corner and then another, hoping I’m at least going in the right direction. The images keep flashing before my eyes - the silence that fell over the room when he entered it, a completely different person than the one that I know. A pride that I want to deny and forget still clings to my body and every thought that I have. So often, I find myself hating him, and yet I couldn’t have been more proud sitting in that room and watching him do what he does best, argue.

Coming to a halt, I look around for a sign to tell me where I’m going, in the hopes that the front doors are somewhere near. Shaking my head, I take another left on a whim, and regret it within a matter of moments.

“Holte?” comes a voice from ahead of me. Glancing up, I freeze in my place before my feet try to scurry away. “What tha bloody hell are you doin’ here, and where are you goin’ so fast?” they say, almost making a sound. A laugh, perhaps?

“I was just uh, meeting a friend.”

“Since when do friends meet at a courthouse?” he asks with skewed eyebrows, his steps ending in front of me. His hand full of rings cards through his long curls, and my, they only look better up close.

“My friend . . works here.”

“Oh ‘s that so? What department do they work in?” he continues, the dimples slowly finding their place in his cheeks, especially as the words fleet me. “Yer lyin’ t’ me arentcha, Holte?”

“Fine, I wanted to come and watch you argue your case, since you were making a big deal out of how important it is,” I sigh, turning around and placing my back to him.

“Hey, you. Wait!” he calls, and I soon feel his rings against the flesh of my bicep. “What’s tha rush?” he titters, and when I turn around, this all only gets all the more weird.

“What, is it a crime to come and watch you in action?”

“No, so why’re you actin’ like yer doin’ sumthin’ yer not s’posed t’ do?” he smirks. “Huh, Holte?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Styles,” I sigh, wishing I could sneak a look at his fingers gentle around my arm to prove that it’s real, but . . that would give it away and perhaps make him stop. That’s the last thing I want, even though two seconds ago, I thought that running into him here was the last thing I wanted. Now, I’m not so sure. I should have known that this would happen, though. “You were great, you know,” I say slowly, a smile mirrored on his reddening face.

“Thank you,” he responds quietly, looking away and regrettably, letting his hand fall from my arm. “I didn’t know you were there . . watchin’ me.”

“I wasn’t planning on it . . but I’m glad that I came and spent my lunch break watching you.”

“Me too,” he replies softly, his bottom lip escaping to between his teeth.

“Well, good luck and I’ll see you at work, I guess.”

“Ya, you too, Holte. Thanks,” Harry says, and I find it painful to walk away from him now, and awkward. Sighing, I find a hallway in each direction when I reach the corner, and take one at random.

“Tha main entrance ‘s tha other direction, Holte,” Harry giggles, and I stop in my tracks, hearing his familiar Saint Laurent boots click-clack on the tiled floor. “Here, I was jus’ goin’ t’ lunch, I can show you tha way.”

“No, I’m okay.”

“No, please. Let me,” he insists, and when I steal a glance at him he’s pushing back the dark sleeve of his smooth black blazer to look at his watch. I’m left wondering which was more expensive, the suit or the watch. “I was jus’ poppin’ ova t’ a restaurant down tha street fer lunch, if ya’d like t’ join me, yer welcome t’.”

Gulping, I quickly look away and to the ground where he can’t see my eyes threaten to pop out of my skull. Did he really just ask me to get lunch with him? What should I say? Wouldn’t it be awkward? What would we even talk about? I should say no, he’s probably just being nice.

“I um . . “

“‘ll take that as a yes then,” he pipes up eagerly, accompanied by the sound of his booming steps. “Hurry up, Holte, time’s a tickin.’ I reckon this ‘s tha only time you’ve been in these walls, so ‘ll be kind enough t’ show ya t’ tha front doors, even tho’ me car ‘s on tha otha side.”

Because of course he would say that, Mr. Hotshot Lawyer who is cocky, annoying, frustrating, full of himself, bossy, rude-

“Thank you,” I say, interrupting my thoughts and taking a plunge, right into those deep green eyes that land on me, and to my surprise, with a smile.

“Welcome, Holte.”

“Thank you,” he says with a rose colored smile to the server, plucking the black book from the middle of the table before I could even think to grab it first. With a quiet sigh, I watch him fish out his wallet and slide a sleek credit card out from a sleeve, stuffing it into the small pocket inside the book, without even a glance inside. “What’s yer problem?” he huffs, chewing on the mint-flavored toothpick and pointing his eyes at me. His eyebrows do all of the talking that stops me from refusing.

“You don’t have to pay for me, I can pay for my own meal,” I insist firmly, touching my wallet that I had pulled out and placed next to my dwindling glass of water.

“I know that,” he begins with strength in his voice, and I worry that I just offended him. I’m afraid it could erase the memorable first meal we just had together of brunch, talking about his case and actually finding out things that he likes and enjoys. “But I would like t’ treat you, and I did invite you after all,” he finishes, smiling briefly when the server returns the book. Sliding out his credit card, he replaces it in his wallet and instead grabs a few bills that he tucks into the black book. “Goin’ t’ argue with me some mo’, are we?”

“No.”

“Good choice,” Harry replies, and when he meets my eyes across the round wooden table, I think that I may see him smile at me.

“But-.”

“And what tha bloody hell d’ya want now?” he grins, propping his chin on his upheld fist, his cheeks round from his smile.

“Maybe I wanted to pay for your meal too.”

“You can tha next time, love. Alright?” he replies softly. When he tears his eyes away to glance at his dinging phone, something stirs inside of me and I wish I could make him look at me like that again. I wish I could create another moment where it feels like he actually likes me.

“On one condition.”

“What’s that, love?” he asks with that breathy laugh of his I’ve only heard a few times now, and never has it been because of me.

“You go back to calling me Becks . . no more ‘Holte,’” I announce slowly and carefully, because if I said them too fast or not just right, I’m afraid that they may break altogether and ruin it. One corner of his mouth reaches higher up his cheek, and I think that for the first time, I’ve made him smile all on my own. “I like it when you call me that.”

“I like it too, darlin’. Reckon ya could be a good lawyer, y’know, with that convincin’ face o’ yers, yer hard t’ say no t’,” he answers, standing to his feet and sliding on his coat, waiting for me to do the same. Does that mean my puppy dog eyes worked on him, fucking finally?

“Thank you, Mr. Styles.”

“Yer not allowed t’ call me that anymo’ then,” Harry says, looking back over his shoulder at me, a few steps ahead of me now.

“Okay,” I agree softly, and the breath hitches in my throat when his eyebrows raise at me with the smallest of smirks. “Harry.”

“Good, I like tha sound o’ that betta.”

“Me too,” I echo ever so quietly, stepping out into the fall air as he holds the door open for me, dreading the strange friendship of ours that will end in the next few moments. A friendship that I wish could live within the walls of the firm, and inside of my heart as something more.

“Ya, that all sounds great. I can’t wait fer this weekend . . Ya, ‘ll ask her soon and let y’know . . Alright, bye,” I hear from down the hall in a happy lilt. Within moments, the smile I hear in his voice appears before my eyes, and somehow only grows brighter.

“What are you smiling about? Oh, and what’s this you’re going to ask me?”

“I neva said I had sumthin’ t’ ask you,” he shrugs with a rosiness to his round cheeks, gliding into his office with his bottom lip held between his teeth.

“Don’t be rude.”

“‘m not,” he giggles softly, stopping at his desk to grab his dark gray Macbook.

“You don’t have me convinced, Mr. Styles,” I sigh, letting my chin fall into my hand as I open up my Google Docs.

“Ah, I rememba when ya used t’ call me that, ‘s been awhile.”

“You can say that again, and God, don’t get too big of a head about it,” I huff with an ironic laugh, feeling myself pulled down memory lane regrettably. “I was just thinking about that, and how much things have changed.”

“Too true,” Harry hums, getting comfy beside me on the sofa while his Macbook blankets his face in a soft glow. “You were Holte and I was Mr. Styles or sir sumtimes. Talk ‘bout a bloody blast from tha past,” he tsks and I find myself nodding along with him. Glancing over to him, my eyebrows fall as my cheeks deceive me with a balmy warmth filling them.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” I wheeze, my fingers drifting to my hair nervously. After all of this time, he can still make me blush like there’s no tomorrow.

“What, I can’t admire me pretty girlfriend?” he scoffs with a shake of his head, booping my nose with his finger. Sometimes, I really still can’t believe that I get to be called that by him.

“I guess you can.”

“Reckon ya should be nicer t’ yer boss, miss. ‘m tha person who signs yer checks,” he tuts while I admire the beauty of his side profile, still trying to get used to how he looks without a beard. Give him back his long hair and it would be like the beginning all over again, although I’m not sure why I keep thinking back to then. I’m not even positive if it’s a good or bad nostalgia.

“Hey!”

“Hey!” he returns in a high pitched voice, imitating me, I suppose. His bubbly laugh soon follows and so do those olive greens that return to me, quite possibly my favourite color in all of existence. “Look at us, bug, back where it all started, aren’t we?” he coos, pulling me into his side and pressing his lips to my head in a loud smooch.

“Mmmhmm, better than ever.”

“Yes, we are. A new beginnin’ o’ sorts, Becks. I dunno how I got so lucky with you,” he winks and thumbs at my chin, his lips only a breath away.

“I think I’m the lucky one.”

“No, that’s me,” he argues with his trademark breathy laugh, and before I get two words out, my comeback is smothered with a kiss. I really did get lucky, luckier than little old me ever thought I would, or could.

God, I’m so proud of her - the old Becks. Him, too. The new us, and especially the old us. We earned this.

“Woman, I swear t’ bloody God if ya send me one mo’ bleedin’ photo o’ a puppy ‘stead o’ writin’ yer brief, imma boot you outta me office and yer not allowed back.”

“Harry!” I scoff after a sound of disbelief, my eyes tearing away from the Google search and to him. His chin is held in his palm while he taps his temple with his pointer finger, eyebrows raised in a silent question at me. “You wouldn’t!”

“Oh, you wanna try me, Holte?” he returns with his eyes narrowed at me, giving me a nod.

Huffing, I look away and back to my laptop, to a screen filled with photos of golden retriever puppies. “Y’know, you’ll seal yer fate if ya roll those pretty eyes at me.”

“I won’t,” I grumble softly, closing out of the tab sadly.

“Good girl,” he hums, tapping the corner of my laptop from above. Looking up, his green eyes draw me over, but I don’t let them pull me in. “Good girl listenin’ t’ yer boss, bug,” he finishes with a wink.

“Don’t call me that, you know I don’t like it,” I retort curtly, switching tabs to my brief where the cursor stares back at me, daring me to try my hand at it.

“But ’s cute, brings back good memories. I like tha name, ’s yer last name. Rebecca Holte,” he teases, nosing at my cheek that grows warmer with every word he speaks.

“For you it does, not me, Harry,” I almost snap, closing the laptop with a sudden clap! He clears his throat and the sound is followed by that of his velvet black Chelsea boots backing up. Spiegel im Spiegel floats from his iMac across the room, a black folder sitting in front of it with now forgotten documents.

“‘m sorry, Becks, it wasn’t tha best o’ times fer me either . . ,” Harry says softly. I wouldn’t have to even look and I know that his lip is held between his teeth like a vice. At my eye level, he twirls a red gemstone ring around a finger, much like I do when something is itching at my insides annoyingly.

“It was the best of times and the worst of times, somewhat minus the best part,” I mumble, picking at the Coldplay sticker already peeling from the lilac case of my laptop.

“Hey, it wasn’t all that bad when ya think o’ tha good parts, babe. Tacos at Pedro’s, stayin’ late drinkin’ wine coolers togetha, tha Halloween party, all o’ our games o’ Scrabble, takin’ you t’ that charity ball with the masquerade theme, and meeting me best friend in tha whole entire world.”

“You know how to work the floor, you know that?” I say gently, smoothing down the sticker with the back of my fingernail.

“Looks like we need anotha night at mine, paintin’ our nails togetha,” he pipes up, but when I remain silent, he returns to my comment that he so easily ignored. “Well yes, yer datin’ a lawyer here, bug. That’s how I swept you off yer feet, dontcha rememba?”

“I dunno about that,” I giggle, ever so slightly, distracted by his hands that come into view and his rings that I bother with. At last, I find those green eyes waiting for me, just as they always do.

“Hey, why tha long face, my love?” he coos sadly, eyebrows bent beneath the weight of his words. “‘m sorry t’ upset you, ‘m not gonna kick you outta me office, y’know I couldn’t handle you bein’ gone eitha.”

“I know,” I titter softly, sliding off his silver ring dotted with little figures and placing it on my thumb where it still hangs loose.

“I like tha name, maybe even fer a boy one day . . Holte,” he muses happily, but I can’t find any words that I’d be willing to say. Instead, I pry the jewelry from my hand and swiftly glide it back onto his. “Altho’ I reckon I treated you like shit when I called you that.”

“Just a bit.”

“‘m sorry t’ drudge tha memory up like I did,” he whispers, only feeding the awkward tension waiting in the air. His lanky figure leaves its place in front of me, reminding me of the money tree sitting across me by the window, an ironic gift from Myles last month. “Can I help you with yer brief, li’l one?” Harry continues, the cushion underneath me dipping with his weight. I nod before I even feel his hand squeeze my adjacent shoulder and pull me into his side with a lasting kiss to my forehead. “Love you.”

“I love you too,” I echo, tipping my head to his shoulder as he lifts the closed laptop from my lap. Laying back, he props it on his spread lap as I snuggle into his side.

“I like what ya have so far, I think yer inna good spot. How ‘bout this, next we . . . . ,” Harry says after reading the document, but with his greens back in sight and that dimple threatening to pop loose, I find it hard to listen to a word he says while staring up at him. My boyfriend. Can you believe it, Becky? “You even listenin’ t’ me there?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just hard to when you’re so cute.”

“Bloody hell,” he chuckles with rosy cheeks, the dimples loud and proud at the helm of his smile. “Alright, let’s take a break from goo-goo-gaga land for a few, Ms. Holte, and work on yer brief fer yer case that’s bein’ heard next week. Alright?”

“Alright,” I sigh with a slight pout that he sees instantaneously with a shake of his head.

“Shall I entice you? Dunno why I should hafta, but I guess we all need a li’l bit o’ bribery e’ry now and then,” he smirks, finishing his words with a wink. “My Becks likes bribes.”

“Oh and what, you don’t, Ha-,” the giggle flows from my lips, and is yanked in by his that silence my words. Sometimes, I really do wish that I could tell The Old Me about how good it gets, and to hold on, because it may be a bumpy ride, Old Becky, but it’s going to all pay off in the end.

“Bloody hell, no wonder ya’ve had t’ pee ten times t’day. Chill on tha caffeine, would ya?” somebody gripes from behind me, but it falls away when their arms come around my middle, soon nosing at my neck.

“Hey, I gave into coffee long ago. It owns me by now,” I return, closing the top to the Keurig. After pressing a few buttons, the machine begins to whir and spit out the dark liquid. My neck tickles from his warm breaths behind me, and the feeling of his lips.

“Becks?”

“Yeah, Harry?” I respond, my hands finding their way to surround his that lay clasped over my belly. The tip of his middle finger ghosts over my several inch scar, making me wonder when he had memorized it in his mind.

“My mum ‘s comin’ t’ visit this weekend, t’ see Gemma and tha kids, and me. She’s comin’ over t’ mine Saturday mornin’ fer brekky . . and I was uh, wonderin’ if ya’d like t’ join us? If ya’d like t’ meet me mum at last? She hasn’t stopped askin’ t’ meet you fer tha last two months.” the words leave his lips in an announcement, taking away all else and no longer do I feel his hands on my stomach or hear the churning of the coffee. Turning around, his dimples live far away and so does his bottom lip that’s trapped between his teeth, telling me that I’m not the only one being consumed by my nervousness. “I reckon she’s mo’ excited t’ see you than she ‘s t’ see me,” Harry chuckles but the light on his lips sputters out when I tear my eyes away from his hopeful ones.

“Harry, I . . “

“What ‘s it, Becks?” he whispers. My eyes close when he noses against my cheek, his next words crawling along my neck. “Y’know she’ll love you, ‘ssa given, babe.”

“How can she love me when she hasn’t even met me?”

“‘Cuz yer so lovable, that’s why,” he insists from below my ear, mouthing at the hollow that lives there. “Why’re ya so nervous, babe? I reckon this ‘s a piece o’ cake compared t’ how I met yer bloody parents, in hospitals o’ all places.”

“Yeah, I shouldn’t complain,” I respond quietly, but that’s all that I can think of when we pull apart at the sound of a voice from behind the break room door. Clearing my throat, I turn back to my mug of coffee where the last few drops plop into the steaming liquid.

“Promise you it’ll be okay. There’s nuthin’ t’ be nervous ‘bout, she’s tha sweetest woman ‘ve ever met- well, besides you that ‘s,” Harry says quietly, eyes wandering between our guest and me. “‘s jus’ brekky and if ya like, dinner at me sista’s that night too.”

“Two in one?” I exclaim, setting down my coffee and turning to face him where he leans against the counter. The smirk painted across his face spreads to his shoulders that he shrugs ever so smugly. “God, Harry, bombard me much?” I sigh sarcastically with a shake of my head, turning away from him and watching how the coffee does somersaults when I pour creamer into it.

“Well? Ya aren’t jus’ gonna leave me hangin’ there, Becks, are you?” he plods on, pulling at the cuff of my blazer impatiently while one of the blokes from IT rummages through the refrigerator.

“I dunno, Harry, meeting two family members in one day is a lot to ask of me,” I tut jokingly with my lips pressed into an uncertain line. The disappointment on his face melts away when I find his greens with my own again. “Of course I’ll meet your mum, but I’m supposed to have dinner with Skye and her parents Saturday night, so I can’t make it to your sister’s, I’m sorry. It seems to be a popular weekend for parents to come into town.”

“Oh, I rememba you mentionin’ that now. ‘m sorry, I forgot. No worries on meetin’ me sista, she lives in town y’know, so we’ll jus’ find anotha day,” he agrees in a soft voice, brushing it off expertly. “Yer not gettin’ outta that one that easily, Becks,” he teases, pointing a finger at me that I push away.

“If you meet Skye’s mum, I’ll meet your sister. Sound like a deal?”

“Skye’s mum?” he questions, crossing his arms over his chest with knotted brows. I almost giggle at the confusion swept over his face until the bulging of his muscles beneath the arms of his button up pulls me in and far away. Once again, this man really does know what he’s doing to me, even when he’s not exactly aware of it.

“Yes,” I exhale, dragging my eyes back to my tan colored coffee. Finished with the creamer, it closes with an excited snap! “I was nervous for you to meet my mum, although I never thought it’d happen, but I’m more about you meeting Eliza, Skye’s mum. She’s more of a mum to me than mine ever was, always letting me sleep over when things got bad with mine, and Robbie too. I’d really like for you to meet her, maybe lunch or something while she’s in town the next few days.”

His eyes are soft and light dances within them, just for me. “‘Course, bug, ‘d love t’ meet her. She sounds lovely, and so would lunch with her and Skye. Altho’ ‘m not sure how somebody who birthed Skye could be lovely,” he jokes and quickly laughs when my jaw slackens. “‘m bloody jokin’ and whateva ya do, don’t tell her I said that,” he chuckles, enjoying this far too much than he should be.

“You’re really going to be in for it with Skye now,” I giggle with a dismissive shake of my head as I lift the mug to my lips.

“What’s new?” he asks with his hands held out in front of him, leaving my side to grab a Styles and Lawson mug from the cabinet, identical to my own. “I thought you and Rose didn’t like our mugs, so why d’ya keep usin’ ‘em, hmm?”

“I dunno, they have . . good handles.”

“Sureeeee, Becks,” he tuts as the K-Cup falls into the holder with a signifying pop! “So, Saturday then?” he says nonchalantly while placing the mug under the impending stream of caffeine. He continues his trained practice of his voice dipping when the bloke gets too close to us- Brian, I think it is, I can’t remember. He really does know what he’s doing, this man of mine.

My name on his lips rouses me from my overactive thoughts and pulls my eyes over to his and his already five o’clock shadow, distracting me from the clang! of the door closing. “What should I wear?” I wonder aloud with placid lips that only move to imitate the emotion yanking his towards the heavens.

“You’ll look gorgeous in absolutely anythin’, bug, and ‘s jus’ brekky. Please, ya don’t hafta worry ‘bout meetin’ her, she’s so easy t’ get on with. ‘s like she already knows you from everythin’ ‘ve told her ‘bout you over tha years.”

“Wow, no pressure or anything,” I exhale loudly, glad to have the room back to ourselves, and for the way his arms lull the monsters away. “Do I even want to know what you’ve told her?”

“I dunno, sumthin’ along tha lines o’ how ‘m in love with this girl, and have been fer awhile now,” he coos into my ear, zings sent down my spine when his lips brush my earlobe. The next words stop in their tracks on my tongue and my arms stop halfway to wrapping around him.

“Wait,” I begin lightly, taking a step back and wishing I could in this conversation. “You’re in love with me?” I say tentatively, the front of his blazer grounding me to this moment when my fingers grab onto it.

“I thought that you knew . . that it went without sayin’,” he giggles with cheeks resembling apples, both by shape and color. “I couldn’t be anythin’ other than that, Becks.”

“Huh,” I hum absently, admiring the threads of each white flower that climb from the sides of his slacks and all the way up to his lapels between my fingers.

I think I lose my grasp on them when his lips attach themselves to my forehead, and I just hope that he can’t feel the racing of my pulse all the way up there. That may not be possible, but to feel the way his lips curl against my skin is, and a whisper of a laugh.

“Reckon ‘s time we have a li’l argument over who’s been in love with tha other fer longer, innit?” Harry begins before a kiss brings an end to his words, their sound whisked away by a long silence that I fear. “Ya don’t hafta say it back y’know, I won’t-.”

“It’s not you,” I interrupt, my fear quickly being allotted to the same emotion that wipes his face clean. “The winner, I mean. I’ve been in love with you far longer, that’s for sure.”

“Can ya maybe not gi’mme a bloody heart attack there?” he giggles, clutching at his chest.

“What, I rarely get the chance to one up you, so I have to take it!” I exclaim and my eyes grow wide when I see the look on his face. One of his signature looks. A squeal tickles the air when he lifts me off of my feet and into the air. “Harry Styles!”

“What, Rebecca Ann?” he titters after a few spins, soon setting me down on my feet. My lips have only parted when he silences them with his, and I wonder how I went from dreaming a dream that I knew could never exist and now, getting to live it every second of every day.

“I think I fell in love with you when I saw you get off that lift,” I begin, looking away shyly, but he doesn’t let me get away with it, lifting my chin with his finger. He may let me get away with loads of shit, but no, not this time. “That night in Madley, at the hospital . . . but I think I had fallen in love with you a little bit loads of other times before, and not known it.”

“I swear, woman, tha amount o’ times ya make me fall fer you all over ‘gain,” Harry wheezes with damp eyes, shaking his head with the largest contradicting smile. “C’mere, my love . . Bloody hell, I think ya win this one, ‘cuz I can’t even rememba tha moment I fell fer you, ‘s been so many times fer me as well. Reckon I prolly told me mum each time they happened too.”

“Saturday should be fun then,” I joke from the corner of his neck, relaxing with my exhale against him.

“Yes, it shall. Until then, let’s get goin.’”

“What, where?” I giggle, finding the glitter in his eye that I have a hard time remembering them being without.

“‘s Tuesday, silly,” he titters with dimples shining, and face skewed into a confused question. “Let’s go get our tacos. ‘ll even buy ya extra churros.”

“That’s the only reason I’m going,” I joke, feeling him squeeze my hand. When I look over to him, I find those warm greens painting their happiness all over me.

“Don’t be bloody rude,” he chuckles with a shake of his head, holding the door open for me.

Although this impromptu ‘meeting the parents’ gig is eating away at my nerves, I can’t help but grow in excitement at the idea of meeting the very person I have to thank for him.

My God, I have my whole world to thank her for.

We had fallen into our own routine at work and quickly, but that was due to ‘push came to shove’ and there was no real way around it. Much to my mortification, Harry had told me that while in the hospital Myles had informed the rest of the legal team at the firm that we were dating, and so they knew. There wasn’t any way around it really, trying to explain why Harry was also gone for the same length I was from work, and suddenly. Regardless, Harry and I still avoided acting like we were dating, and at times I let it get to me, dwelling over the fact that everybody knew our secret. It was fun at first to keep, but it grew out of hand swiftly. It frustrated me often and I think it did the same for Harry, refraining from hugging when a team meeting went well or we won a case. The rules of the courtroom were far stricter, but it still upset me at times.

Like now, seeing how Amelia’s substitute was flirting it up with Harry, unbeknownst to him. It’s not like I could exactly walk up to them and tell her to stop, although it bothers me how her flirting goes through one of his ears and out the other while he shows her how to do something at the front desk.

“Fuck me,” I groan, giving up on waiting for him and going ahead with what I was doing. Blinking hard and filling my lungs with air, my opal necklace dances below my collarbones with every step.

I find that I have the room to myself, and as the copier beeps with each button that I press, I hum a song to myself. The documents sitting in my hands are whisked away by the large machine, a newer and larger one since my first time here. Thank God, because that thing was always having problems.

“I think somebody’s got a little crush on our boss out there,” somebody snickers from the doorway. My eyes flit over to find Jennings waltzing into the copier room, his horn rims perched on his long nose. Awkwardly, I look away and answer with a soft ‘mmhmm.’ I occupy myself with watching the machine spit out new sheets onto its bottom tray. “I hope you’re not too jealous,” he jokes with a loud laugh, but I don’t echo it. Why would I? Could you bring up anything more awkward or inappropriate to say to me, Jennings?

“I’m fine,” I answer gently, picking up the stack after the whirring sound finishes. Stepping to the side, I tap the stack against the black counter and slide open a drawer.

“Figure I owe you a congrats on your Employee of the Month recognition, that’s a rather big deal,” he continues, meandering through the wire shelves of supplies across the room from me.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” I return with emphasis in my voice, feeling out the lack of compassion in his. Clearing my throat, I dig around in the plastic tray set in the drawer until I grab a few large binder clips.

“I’ve worked here for years, and haven’t had the luck of getting it since they started it this year,” he remarks, shaking a box of pens that he plucked from the shelf.

“It’s only April, I’m sure you’ll have your chance,” I say slowly, separating my piles and tapping them against the counter until they’re neat and tidy.

“I dunno about that, I haven’t even made bloody partner yet here. You’ll probably make it before me, seeing as how you have an in with the boss,” Jennings nearly retorts, and I gulp hard, suddenly reminded of the iffy feeling I’ve always had about him. I can’t place the blame on myself though, because he’s given me good reason for it, and I hope that he isn’t about to give me more. “It’s a shame you lost your case last week though, I hope Harry wasn’t too upset with you, but I’m sure he couldn’t be mad at his little girlfriend. He would’ve been mad at Rose, or even me, but no, not you. Isn’t that right?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” I begin, the papers threatened between my suddenly clammy fingers.

“Excuse me? I’d say it is, I don’t want you giving the firm a bad name now, but it looks like your boyfriend can’t save you from everything.”

“What are you implying?” I demand curtly, turning around swiftly just in time to watch him slip a Macbook charger into his pocket.

“I thought you were supposed to be a brilliant lawyer from what I hear, Becky, so I’ll leave that one up to you, wouldn’t you say?” Jennings poses with a dark glint in his eye, raising one thick eyebrow at me. “Oh wait, maybe I’ll give you a little help, seeing as how you couldn’t even win the case of that ex-wife racking up debt in her ex-husband’s name . . How do I say it? Well, I find it rather unfair the special treatment you receive, wouldn’t you agree? No, I guess you wouldn’t, would you?” he snickers, the swing and fall of his shoulders and eyebrows being more than enough for me to see.

Turning back around, I hastily fasten the clips onto the stacks of documents for Harry’s new case, and well, mine too, much to somebody’s dissatisfaction. Excerpts from legal books, testimonies, and rough drafts of the argument. The tapping of a pen against the wire shelf gnaws at my ears, and accelerates the time bomb inside of me.

“I don’t receive any special treatment, because of Harry or from him,” I mutter through gritted teeth, gathering the stacks all into one final pile. “I’d say that you’re being out of line and that you need to stop while you’re ahead.”

“Or what, you’ll tell your big, bad, boss boyfriend? Nobody likes snitches, you should know that. Plus, I’m his friend and I’ve known him longer than you, so who would he believe?” he chuckles darkly, igniting the hairs on the back of my neck with his impending footsteps. “Don’t deny it, you do receive special treatment. You get out of meetings and trainings even, the firm pays for your lunch several times a week I’m sure, you get overtime when you want it, you got a free thousand-dollar laptop again, and I’m sure your reviews will come out just sparkling. Not to mention, still having a job after being gone all that time after your accident. Did I miss anything there, Becky?” he finishes, his snarky words slithering along my back and into my ears where his breath wafts over me.

“‘s everythin’ alright in here?” comes a voice from out of the blue. The three-level paper organizer sat in front of me blurs as my eyes widen. The ball in my throat is met with an unsuccessful gulp when I feel a hand on my arm. I shrink away from the touch before he can squeeze it.

“Oh yes, I was just congratulating Becky on her Employee of the Month recognition. She deserves it,” Jennings answers for us, voice boisterous with faux cheer.

“Becks?” Harry murmurs, cautiously touching my arm again and this time, I don’t run away from his touch. “Alright?” he whispers questioningly, the gentleness of his voice wills my eyes over to him. There’s a pang in my gut when I watch the emotion mirrored on his face - alarmed with fear and confusion. “Hey, what’s tha matter?” he probes, the warmth of his rings seeping through the thin fabric of my long sleeved blouse.

“H-He . . was saying this stuff to me- awful stuff, and . . ,” I trail off quietly, my eyes flitting to the sandy brown hair I see from behind Harry, watching and listening as well.

“What tha hell did ya say t’ her, Pete?” Harry questions, turning to face his colleague as he holds my elbow firmly.

“Nothing,” he almost laughs, and then he makes a sound as if something came to mind. “Okay, okay. I guess I upset her when I told her that I saw her nick one of the Macbook chargers the other day. I approached the subject gently, just letting her know that they’re eighty bucks a pop, and she can only have one here at-.”

“What, I did not! You’re the one who just stuffed one down your pants, you liar!” I scoff, spinning to face them both. “You did it when you were accusing me of getting special treatment from Harry!” I exclaim with my voice breaking in mid-sentence, the explanation soon growing wet.

“What?!” Harry breathes, shock coating his every syllable. “Pete, what in tha bloody fuck ‘s tha matter with you? Becks would never steal and- wait, yer accusin’ her o’ gettin’ treated special jus’ ‘cuz she’s datin’ me? Have ya fell off yer fookin’ rocker, mate? I don’t treat Myles any bleedin’ different fer bein’ me best friend all me life, I treat e’rybody here tha fookin’ same, if ya hadn’t noticed. I reckon ‘s none o’ yer damn business how I mentor her, and don’t forget who fookin’ hired you as well, mate, and who can fire you.”

“I just dunno why I’ve been here for how many bloody years as only a senior associate, mind you, and in walks her and-.”

“I don’t care what yer fookin’ problem ‘s, Pete, but maybe I would’ve if ya’d bloody brought it t’ me instead o’ takin’ it out on her. ‘m yer boss, mate, I coulda helped you, so what good was it t’ cuss her out ‘cuz ya feel like shit?” Harry interrupts defensively, and with a blink, I see the redness rising in their faces.

“Harry, please, let’s just go. I’m fine,” I beg, taking his hand and pulling on it. He doesn’t move an inch, and neither do his eyes from Jennings.

“I tried, if you hadn’t noticed, but you were always too fucking busy for me, weren’t you? ‘Cause apparently, the only people who can get your bleeding attention as of late are those who are sucking your prick,” Jennings shrugs matter of factly. The surprise morphing my features and shaking my body is nothing compared to the shift in Harry’s demeanor.

“Harry,” I begin when his fingers slip from mine. “No, don’t!” I exclaim, stepping forward and grabbing onto his arm, but my fingers only grasp at air.

“A li’l fookin’ jealous, are we? Would ya rather it be you suckin’ me dick?” he jests at Jennings who steps closer to him.

“Jealous of that? Fucking, hell no. I can’t believe you even call her a lawyer,” Jennings retorts, pushing his glasses off his nose and into his hair. “I see now why you hired her, she must be pretty fucking good at giving head and-.”

“Harry!” I almost shout, wanting to step forward and instead backing up when I watch his fist fly. A wrenched sound escapes my lips when I see it connect with Jennings’ face, but it shrinks in comparison to the tear that splits my heart when Harry’s knocked back by Jennings’ swing. “Stop it! Now!” I nearly scream through a curtain of tears, my throat burning. Only then, does Harry lift his head of messy curls to look at me, wiping his fist against his nose that comes back red.

Muttered curses fall from Jennings as he leaves hastily clutching his cheek, and I remain frozen until I see the blood gush from his nose.

“You idiot! What were you thinking?” I cry, rushing forward and surrounding his face with my hands.

“What was I thinkin’? I was thinkin’ I was standin’ up fer you, I wasn’t gonna let him say one mo’ nasty word ‘bout you, Becks. I could do with a thank you, y’know,” he sighs, eyeing the scarlet plummeting to the marbled floor with silent plops.

“Harry,” I sob with a dismissive shake of my head, brushing back his hair to find the shock of red skin surrounding his nose below his eye.

“Oh, baby, ‘m so sorry,” he huffs, grabbing a handful of tissues from a shelf and shoving them against his nose. At last, he yanks me into his arms and there I shed my tears into his cream button down that’s already marred by his sudden bloody nose. “I didn’t mean t’ frighten you, it jus’ happened so fast . . But I don’t regret it, standin’ up fer you . . I can’t believe tha mouth on him . . ‘m so sorry he said those things t’ you, none o’ them are true, I hope y’know.”

Sniffling, I move away and find his eyes that beg for me, “Don’t let what he said get t’ you fer one second, e’rythin’ he said was lies, Becks. Every li’l thing, I promise you that,” he says firmly, pulling away a strand of hair that sticks to my cheek slick with tears. “‘d never let sumbody hurt you like that . . never ever.”

“I haven’t even sucked your dick yet,” I giggle from beneath him, and then, can I start to relax when his giggle graces the air.

“Ya, ‘d rather we keep that info’ t’ ourselves, wouldn’t you?” he snickers with that breathy laugh I love so dearly. “Don’t need tha whole bloody firm knowin’ I haven’t even gotten me dicked properly sucked yet.”

“Hey!” I shoot back, slapping at his chest ever so faintly.

“‘m kiddin’, bug. Y’know I don’t care it hasn’t happened yet, e’rythin’ in good time,” he insists, pulling me back against his front. I relent, but remain with my eyes pointed skywards. “I mean it, don’t worry yer pretty li’l head ‘bout inconsequential shit like that, or what he said.”

“You’re still an idiot,” I sigh, caressing his cheek that tickles my hand with its stubble.

“Why, ‘cuz ‘ll have a bruised up face fer our lunch with Skye and her mum t’day, or fer brekky with mine?” he jokes with a grin half hidden by his handful of Kleenex.

“Yes, and no. Wait- you will. Harry!” I whine, only making him laugh against my hair when he kisses the top of my head. “No, you idiot, you’re not going to get it to stop bleeding like that. Sit down.”

“Yes, m’am. I always knew I had a thing fer in charge women,” he snickers with a click of his tongue, stealing a kiss from my cheek before dragging over a chair against the wall.

“Okay, give me the tissues. Thanks, now- No, you’ll only swallow blood that way. What, are you stupid?” I instruct, leaving him one to manage the nosebleed by himself as I fold up the rest. “Here, you need to hold them against your nose and with your other hand, pinch the bridge of your nose as you look down. Do that for, I dunno, five or ten minutes until it stops bleeding. Let me go and get you some ice for that shiner of yours.”

“‘m fine, Becks. Really. All I want ‘s fer you t’ stay,” he says, grabbing hold of my hand when I turn away to leave. His expressive eyebrows near his hairline when he raises them at me in a near dare, but all I can see is the man I love and those eyelashes I’m so jealous of. “And t’ apologize, even tho’ ‘m not even really sorry for what I did.”

“Apology accepted,” I concur sarcastically, stepping back to lean against the counter. “I’ll let you be an idiot this one time.”

“Hey, don’t get yer hopes up too high now,” the sound of his giggle floats away and then my eyes are lulled to our hands that he laces together with a squeeze.

“Thank you, Harry,” I tell him sincerely, finding those greens hidden amongst his obnoxious curls.

“You’re sure?” she asks in between the noises that sound like bubbles trickling from her lips.

“Yes, ‘m sure. Dunno how many times I hafta tell ya.”

“You know it’ll never be enough,” she giggles below me, her face screwed up in absolute happiness. “Harry!” she yelps, shoving at my chest weakly.

“I know it won’t, yer stubborn as a bloody bull, you are,” I tsk with a click of my tongue, her body jolting with every stroke of my fingers across her ribs. Chuckling, I back up and watch how the laughs still peel off of her lips. “What’re you laughin’ at now, hmm? ‘m not even ticklin’ you anymo’ and yer still laughin’, li’l one.”

The crinkles around her eyes remain and so does the divot in her left cheek that I love almost as much as her eyes, but not quite. Speaking of, those very blues open up and land on me with a glitter to them, only to flee when the chime of the doorbell rings throughout the house. I watch how the skin of her throat is disrupted by a nervous swallow, followed by the automatic twirling of her ring around her pointer finger.

“Coming!” I call behind me, glancing to the door and then her. The way her dark waves are splayed across the sofa cushions. The glittery opal that sits perfectly above the scoop of her maroon blouse. The pink seeping through in her cheeks that I could kiss until I taste their sweetness.

“You’re really sure, Harry?” Becks asks softly, her eyes wandering nervously to the front door and then me.

“Yes, ‘m absolutely positive she’ll love you. Now, take a deep breath and let’s go answer tha door.”

A small ‘okay’ greets the air as her fingers fall between mine that I reassuringly squeeze. My steps come to a halt in front of the cherry oak, but I’m not quite there. Looking up, my thoughts are confirmed when I see my arm outstretched holding onto her where she stands, much too far away.

“C’mere,” I laugh in a whisper, tugging on her arm until she arrives at my side. The smell of orange blossoms and vanilla flood my senses as I pull away from the forehead kiss.

“You know, she’s going to be mad, don’t you?” I pose, ghosting my thumb over the concoction of purple and blue painted below his eye.

“Hush, li’l one, I already have one mum. I don’t need anotha,” he chirps with a teasing wink, twisting open the door.

“What is this I’m going to be mad about?” a voice pipes up with a curious accusatory sound to their voice. “Harry Edward!” she exclaims, not even one foot in the door. “What’d you do to your beautiful face?”

“I uh, ran into a door. Y’know, my sunglasses were really dark and-,” he begins, but much to my surprise and happiness, his mother doesn’t let him get away with the terrible lie. I’m liking her already.

“Don’t lie to your mother, son,” she tuts with a shake of her head, lightly smacking the back of his head that he mutters an ‘ow!’ at. The oddly cold Spring day rushes in with her first steps, but my insides warm at the sigh she shares with me when our eyes meet. “I thought you were old enough to know better to avoid fist fights.”

“Pete started it, not me!”

“I don’t care who started it, you’re a grown man, Harry.”

“That’s what I tried to tell him,” I groan, watching him take her coat to hang in the closet beside the stairs.

“Bloody hell, I see you two are gettin’ on already. Who’s side are you on, anyways?” Harry scoffs, closing the dark cherry wood door.

“Yes, I see we are. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you, Becky. I’ll just blame it on me son keeping you away from me,” Harry’s mum croons, her lips painted with lipstick spreading into a cheery smile. Chuckling, I ignore Harry’s arguing ‘hey!’ as I step forward into her outreached arms. “I think I have a bone to pick with him, you’re prettier than he ever said you were.”

“So are you,” I chortle, picking up on the geranium and amber notes of her perfume before I step away to find her cobalt blue eyes smiling at me.

“I do like her!” she chuckles to Harry, squeezing my opposite arm that she still holds onto.

“What’d I tell ya?” Harry pipes up, nodding at me. “Two peas inna pod already, you lot are. Talkin’ shit ‘bout me and motherin’ me togetha in tha first bleedin’ minute ya’ve met,” he sighs, taking down three white plates from the cabinets that he reaches easily with his height.

“That’s good, I need somebody else here to mother you while ‘m away. I reckon it doesn’t help much when you’re too stubborn to avoid boyish fist fights,” she returns, turning to me with a joking look in her eyes. Our laughs echo the others as she leads me over to the oval wooden table on the other side of the kitchen island, against the sliding patio door. “Who better than your girlfriend and colleague?”

“I guess so,” Harry groans, pulling back a chair for her to sit, soon falling into the chair across from me. “Neither o’ you even let me get t’ tha introductions, you women and yer talkin,’” he grunts, pulling himself closer to the table. With a calming breath, he runs a hand through his hair and pushes up the sleeves of his olive green knitted jumper. “Mum, this ‘s me girlfriend, Becky, but I like t’ call her Becks. And bug, this ‘s me mum, Anne. Shall we finally have that brekky togetha we’ve been talkin’ ‘bout fer months?”

“Yes, let’s dig in,” Anne chuckles, a sliver of Harry’s song heard in her voice. “Oooo, ‘s this apple bread by the famous chef I’ve heard so much about?”

“Yes, she doesn’t disappoint, never ever,” Harry winks, licking a crumb off of his thumb after grabbing a slice of the bread. A pink sits in his cheeks that I’m sure is mirrored in my own, and perhaps greater. I look away with a small smile, shoveling the egg bake onto my plate. “Not in tha court room, with baking, or with how good o’ job she does takin’ care o’ me,” he muses with a glint in his eye and cheeks rounder than I’ve ever seen.

I go on and listen to the stories, I even help tell some of them. Some of them make me tear up, whether it be from laughing, the wetness in Harry’s, or the love shining through in his and in hers.

“I told ya so.”

“Yeah, when don’t you?” I bite back, and immediately regret it when I feel his fingers along my ribs, eliciting laughs from my lips.

“Hey, watch it, li’l one. I have you inna compromisin’ situation here, so ya betta watch yerself,” Harry giggles, the words tickling my ear. The sounds continue from my lips and I hear them shadowed in his, and how they play off of each other while his hands keep my stomach warm. “I told ya she’d love you, and she did. Couldn’t shutup ‘bout you at Gemma’s last night, ‘specially tha fact you gave her a whole loaf o’ yer apple bread. You made her bloody day, ‘m sure. Speakin’ of, ya ready t’ meet me sista properly fer lunch t’morrow?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I groan, the words whisked away with a sound that my lips, I sometimes think, hold just for him. His stubbly face is itchy against my temple, but he remedies it with soft pecks to the skin.

“You guess?!” he exclaims, squeezing me around the middle. My head knocks against his, and he keeps my fingers secure between his while the smells of greasy pizza and floor cleaner lull me with their familiarity. His argument dissolves into a soft chuckle muffled against my hair where he mouths kisses.

“You know who I wish you could meet?”

“Hmmm, who’s that, bug?” Harry replies. Gulping, my eyes fall away from the crowds of people mingling around at the their tables, sucking the last few drops from their soda or guzzling pints. The answer flees from my lips, but after I twirl it around my finger a few times, I think he knows after he nuzzles his head against mine. “I wish I coulda meet yer gran,’ too, y’know. I wish you coulda met my granddad as well. ‘m sad I didn’t get t’ meet yers eitha . . . You’ll have t’ come home t’ Cheshire one o’ these weekends and meet me Gran’ Clara- Claire, she likes t’ go by. She’s a real hoot and already knows ‘bout you, naturally. She reminds me loads o’ Skye’s mum- bloody hell, I see where Skye gets tha crazies from now.”

“I agree with you on that one,” I titter and he nods into my neck, but the sounds fall when he spins the ring around my finger before folding my hands inside of his own.

In a whisper against my cheek, he whispers words that take away the breath I didn’t know that I had left. “‘m so bloody glad that I met you, Becks, and that we’re here . . finally. Met me mum, met Skye’s tha other day, and meetin’ me sista t’morrow. Harper will be delighted t’ see you, I know, and tha baby ‘s gettin’ bigger e’ryday.”

I nod and any words I had wanted to say escape me with the squeal garnered by his fingers digging into my tummy, remedied by a kiss below my ear.

“You lot are fucking disgusting, y’know that, don’t you?” comes a voice with a disdainful scoff. “It’s been your turn for a good thirty seconds now, Ree. Get going, would you?!”

“I know, ‘s great, innit? Go on, babe. Show me how t’ get a strike,” Harry teases with a loud kiss to my cheek to annoy Robbie, pushing me off of his lap where his arms wrapped around me kept us arm. It’s drowned out by the sound of surprise I utter when he slaps my ass with his hand.

“My fricken God, you two are embarrassing me,” Robbie groans, walking past me to pick up his pint from the table, and taking a seat beside his muddy Wellies. Turning around in shock, I find Harry’s greens lit with a smirk that shines on his face. “C’mon, Ree, bowl already! You’re shit half of the time anyways, what’s the difference now?” he jokes and a loud scoff graces the air, much to Harry’s amusement.

Sighing, I step up to the little contraption that wheels forward Robbie’s glittery navy blue bowling ball. I lean over to grab my electric yellow one etched with a white ‘7’ and widen my eyes at Harry’s green ‘10.’ Threading my fingers into the three holes, my clown like shoes step onto the polished wood, and I try to remain cool and calm. Closing my eyes, I grimace at their teasing of me from behind, but Harry’s contagious breathy laugh propels me forward.

“Ya, that’s me girl! Three pins down, woohoo!” he shouts loudly in a squeaky and sarcastic voice, holding up his beer in a fake cheer. Shaking my head with red cheeks, I wait for my ball to return and to try again.

Slowly, I realize with the ball heavy in my hands and my score falling far behind theirs on the tv above, that just like any other time, I don’t care if I win or lose. This time is different, listening to how my boyfriend and my twin brother joke from behind me and laugh, their conversation quickly turning to football and then music.

Sometimes, I have a hard time believing this is a day in my life after everything, and it’s only one of the firsts.

A/N: Hello, friends! Thank you SO MUCH to those still reading, and also to new readers! Welcome, and I’m so glad you’re here! I’m so sorry that this blurb took awhile than I originally planned . . it boggles me how I spend basically every minute I’m not working and shadowing doing homework :/ I hope to have the next blurb out in two weeks, so I’ll keep you all posted! Enjoy and let me know what you think, please! I love you all and good luck with everything!

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drjackandmissjo · 4 years ago

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it’s nice to have a friend

previous chapter --- chapter 4 --- next chapter

Feysand Masterlist

“Video games, pass me a note,

sleeping in tents”

As Rhys had predicted, Azriel actually had a graphic design that he wanted to her to help with. The colour palette was slightly off and the overall image was too crowded, but it took them no time to correct it as Rhys and Mor tried to kill each other at Mario Kart.

"Children. Stop yelling! We're trying to work here!" called loudly Amren at the pair sitted on the floor as she sat at the table next to Feyre, staring intensely at Az's computer screen as if she could break it with her gaze. In a few moments they finished the last modifications and the result turned out spectacular, vibrant and almost alive. Azriel would still need to put the refined touches on the coding to make sure the picture moved properly, but for now the work was done and more than satisfactory for both parties and for Amren, who simply overlooked everything, not really fond of tech.

The present Inner Circle had welcomed her back warmly. Mor still saw her everyday and simply smiled at her, knowing already everything that had happened directly from the source in a 20 minutes call from the girls' bathroom, but Azriel had smiled warmly at her as she entered the room. She had seen all of them a little over a month prior around campus, yet it still felt as if it had happened a decade ago. The short weeks were an abyss of time she had lost and wasn't sure would be allowed to regain, until Amren saw her.

The tiny scary woman surprised her by wrapping her in a bone crushing hug, knocking the breath out of her before removing herself quickly. "Heard you handed him his ass" she said looking at her blood red nails, looking for insistent imperfections.

"Not quite" Feyre replied quietly.

"Pity."

They were now all hauled on the small couch in front of the TV, controller in hand as they each tried to win the race while waiting for Cassian to arrive. Before he ever opened the door, the peaceful aroma of food reached them. The apartment the three brothers shared became immediately livelier as they each took a container from Cass as he removed the fresh snow off of his coat.

Before she knew what hit her, Feyre was being crushed between the worn out couch and a strong warm body. She hugged Cassian back with equal strength, letting her head rest on his shoulder for a moment.

"Are you okay?" he asked, truly concerned.

"I'm fine." she replied swiftly and he saw it for the lie it was.

"Good. Fine is great!" he claimed as he released her from her pillowy trap. They both laughed deeply, Feyre bending on herself to maintain some sort of control and Cassian hollering back fully, almost falling on the ground.

Everyone else looked curiously at them, amusement on their faces.

"Let's get on with this" Amren huffed "I'm famished."

"I didn't know you ate, Tiny One. I would've brought innocent tears if I'd known." claimed a smiling Cassian as he moved to seat next to her, leaving the place between Mor and Rhys for Feyre.

Dinner passed without a blur, filling both Feyre's stomach and soul. As Az and Cass started a discussion about who could eat more cupcakes, she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She tensed immediately, hoping it wasn't Tamlin, but reached for it anyway with surprisingly steady hands.

To her surprise it wasn't her recent ex, but the idiot seated next to her. She gave him a puzzled glance, but he was ignoring her, focusing on his brothers. She opened her message app and stared at the screen. There were only two words there, " You better? "

She stared at it for a few heartbeats, before typing "I don't know " and hitting the reply button.

A few moments later she felt the buzzing again as she was talking to Amren about her next turn at the library. The text was once again simple. "Need anything?" . She replied quickly back with " A friend would be nice.".

Out of the corner of her eye she could see him relax slightly on his chair. And that eased something off of herself as well.

***

Time flew by. Before any one of them knew, it was midnight. Laughter and clatter began to falter slowly. Mor had began to doze off on the couch, sprayed like a cat. Feyre wasn't too far behind herself, her head on Rhys' shoulder as she talked with Cass about 'When the hell he was going to teach her how to make bloody rice?' . The sneaky bastard just laughed at her, reminding everyone how the young artist couldn't even boil water without destroying an entire kitchen.

Az's phone rang up once, signaling a single text, and he bolted immediately out of his chair to the nearest window after reading it. It had been snowing for the previous hours now and it gave no indication of faltering nor stopping anytime soon.

He turned around slowly and purposefully, and looked at everyone still awake in the eye, his own brown ones shining with mischief. "I have one awesome news, a terrible one and a great yet unexpected turn of events" he claimed to the silent room.

"Get on with it, you overgrown child" spat Amren, taking a sip of her wine, "It's not like we have all night!"

"As a matter of fact, we do!"

Mor perked up at that, simply muttering in a sleepy voice "Sleepover?" and promptly falling back onto the couch, slightly more awake than before. Azriel smiled widely and nodded his head in confirmation, "That is the great yet unexpected turn of events" he said while once again seated. "Terrible news is that we're snowed in till morning comes and someone cleans the streets a little."

"And the awesome one?" asked Feyre, extremely excited at the prospect. She would've never been able to enjoy a night like that if she hadn't put a stop to trainwreck that was her relationship and the more time passed the more she grew comfortable and happy in her decision.

"Classes are cancelled for the whole day tomorrow and therefore will start back as regularly scheduled on Monday, if my sources are correct". Before anyone could begin to reply Az added in a defensive tone :"Which they are!" and crossed his arms at his chest.

Cassian threw his head back in laughter at his brother's stance, "Nobody doubts them, it's just that we wanna meet them!". Azriel's dark skin assumed a red tint on his face but didn't bulge. He was always so secretive when it came to whatever kind soul gave him those kind of informations firsthand, and they all loved to tease him with that.

"Feel free to not believe me, brother. May I remind you who warned you of a certain pop quiz you hadn't studied for?" Everyone began laughing, the air livelier once more.

In the end, the boys decided to get some camping gear they used during spring hikes on the mountains around Velaris and move the furniture of the open space kitchen and living room to make space for the tents.

"Like hell I'm letting any of you creatures in my room!" yelled an outraged Cassian as soon as the topic was brought up.

There were enough tents for the five of them, since Amren outright refused to sleep on the ground and took up Azriel's bedroom, complaining the whole time. With enough alcohol in their system, they all managed to mount up the tents somewhat properly, Feyre alone needing a little help from Cassian.

After one more round of shots and a very poor game of cards, Mor bid her goodnights and disappeared to change into one of the spare pajamas she always kept into the boys' apartment, lending one each to Feyre and Amren and refusing soundly to borrow a nightgown to Cassian. Az and Cass followed a little later, going to their respective bathrooms, leaving Feyre alone with Rhys as they each waited their turn.

"Thank you for the lovely evening" she said awkwardly, but he cut her off almost immediately. "You're one of us, Fey. No need to ever apologise."

"Even if I steal from your secret stash of cookies?"

"I wouldn't accept them and I would probably put a bounty on your head." he replied in earnestness. They both cracked a smile at that, at ease with each other.

"Still I wanna thank you. For everything."

"I only want to help, Darling."

She was at loss for words. She was so completely wrong to think that she would be lonely again without Tamlin. While it was true that before him she had no one, now she had found a new family, that cared for her and that she cared for. She was overcome with emotion and simply smiled back at Rhys, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill out of her, his violet eyes always on her kindly. "This is helping."

"What is?" he breathed, almost a secret that he was afraid to share.

"This between us. Being your friend" she replied equally cautious and mindful of the others.

"Well, what can I say, Darling? It's nice to have a friend."

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thehikingnerd · 4 years ago

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Day 139 (10/3).

Today I woke up and was on a mission for 30 miles. These short days kept pushing back our finish date, and it was getting dangerously close to interfering with me getting home before Halloween. After getting packed up and ready a little earlier than Butt'rs, I popped two ibuprofen and made a big pot of very very strong instant coffee... and we were off! It was a beautiful day and we were making good time right from the start. We saw bear prints everywhere in the snow as we made our first climb of the day, along with coyote and deer prints as well. The bright red huckleberries in the valleys were beautiful and we stopped for lunch at the peak of the first big climb in the snow. I cooked two ramen with some textured vegetable protein, olive oil, a few other things and then made more extra strong coffee. I needed entertainment and fuel, like I said I was on a mission and was feeling good, like 30 was possible that day if we pushed and could make up for the last 4 days being sub 20-mile days. Man... that second round of coffee must have done it... I was a hiking machine after that. I was rolling down the backside of the mountain! Butt'rs and I saw another bear and I tried to get around the bend quickly to see if I could find him and watch him run away down the mountain but I lost him. I stopped at a lake for just a minute because it was so pretty and because the water looked so nice and clear blue I wanted to try out filming under water with my phone being waterproof and hadn't tried that out yet. But then the race was back on. We made our way down into a beautiful valley and then a couple of fighter jets spaced out rolled through the valley... one came though just before our next big climb started and was low enough to hurt my hears and was pretty intense. This downhill seemed to go on forever and we could see the switchbacks up the other mountain and it was obvious that this was going to be one of the worst cases of PUDs (pointless ups and downs) on the whole trail and it certainly was! Mile and miles of steep downhill and we were just rolling at near-jogging pace. Finally, after crossing a bridge over a stream at the bottom, the trail went down another half mile or so before turning around and heading straight back up. They really should take you around the mountainside and cut off some of this pointless up and down. Normally I wouldn't complain, but this one is 3000ft down to a random point and then right back up 3000ft. It was just killer and uncalled for. But also, I was so jacked on caffeine and had the 30 mile goal in my head, so I just kept on rolling. I was a fair bit out in front of Butt'rs and I was only just starting the big uphill when I saw a hiker going SOBO. I said hey and stopped to chat for a bit. He said he had run into several NOBO hikers today... Will (the 19yr old from TX we had met at the trail angel's place a couple of days ago) I knew he was way ahead of us... he said he had seen him that morning so I guessed that put Will at least 15 maybe 20 miles out ahead of us and that he had just walked to Butt'rs! I was like Butt'rs?! Butt'rs is behind me I'm about 99% sure, but he insisted he had just talked to Butt'rs and then complained about how cold the last two nights have been. It was possible to have crossed the stream earlier on and taken a short cut that would have saved him more than a mile of down and up. Hmm... so it looked at this point as though one of two things was going on... either there was a second guy with the trailname "Butters" ahead (which was possible) or that Butt'rs had cut a corner and was now out ahead of me. With Butt'rs and I both being purists, however, I didn't think he would cut a big corner like that, and as weird as it sounded the notion of a second Butters seemed like the more likely of these two scenerios. This SOBO guy's name was Savage, and after just a brief chat I was on my way. Now I was really driven to go faster up this climb, which I usually go slower than Butt'rs on the climbs, but I wanted to either catch up to him or catch up to the other Butters. I was in a Butter sandwich, A Tale of Two Butt'rs, I can't believe it's not Butt'rs, lol, we're all silly things that came to mind when thinking of this situation. Unfortunately this side of the hill was facing south and had dried out enough that I couldn't make out any clear shoe prints the whole way up. I would have been able to recognize Butt'rs' New Balances and could have known whether he was really ahead of me or not. I did think it was odd that we had been following a set of tracks for two days or so now from a hiker who had passed us the morning we let the sun dry our tents out and I had been following these Altra prints for a while now and I figured this must be the person savage had just talked to, but I still hoped to catch him and see if his name really was Butters/Butt'rs. Finally, after a grueling 3000 ft climb I made it to the snow line and could see clearly that Butt'rs was indeed still behind me and had not taken the shortcut and gotten out ahead of me. I had told him that I wasn't going to take a break until I reached the top, but since it was snowy I thought I would just go a little further or maybe stop of the opposite side of the flat top area before the final descent of the day. About half way across the top flat part I saw another much smaller bear who was sitting and eating huckleberries on a hillside near a small tree (for some reason I knew I was about to see one before I saw him, had this weird feeling he was there before actually seeing him). He sat there and hesitated for a second but then ran away too; it's wild how these bears just get out of dodge when a human is near. But in looking down I saw tons of nice huckleberries and decided to wait for Butt'rs while eating as many of these berries as I could. I had eaten a good number of these when Butt'rs finally rolled up and we discussed the whole situation with Savage. It was weird, but Butt'rs thinks he was tripping on acid and must have gotten confused hearing me say Butt'rs and just kept saying the wrong name of the guy ahead of us. I wasn't paying that close attention to him personally to notice if he was tripping or not, but anyway it was all figured out that at least Butt'rs was indeed behind me and we took off down the mountain. We had gotten cold sitting up at the high elevation while eating the berries. I was once again feeling driven and got out ahead of Butt'rs and I was hoping to keep pushing even after we reached the bottom and try to make it to a campsite a few miles further away. But while going downhill, I was reading through the Guthooks app and saw that the town of Stehekin had already reduced their shuttle service down to twice a day rather than the normal four times during peak season... thus meaning that even if we pushed on we would really have to haul ass to get there by 3pm on October 4th if I wanted to get into the resort/town in order to call Angie on Mid-Autumn Festival... but we would also have agree to hike into the night tonight and probably wake up at 4am or so to make it, and even still would run the chance of just not making it in time (and to be honest, I knew he had little incentive to push like that personally). I sat down on the trail disappointed knowing we wouldn't be able to make it and that I wouldn't be able to call Angie on this holiday, it would be the first I hadn't been able to swing something from the trail on a special day and the first time to not talk with her on this particular holiday. So I just sat there and waited on Butt'rs while resting and looking at all the comments on the app so I'd know what to expect whenever we would eventually make it into Stehekin. Finally, Butt'rs came and said he was beat. I told him I would have wanted to push on, but since it was impossible to make it by tomorrow night's last shuttle that there was no point in killing ourselves, and we camped at a site beside a silty river after a 24-mile day with an estimated 9,000 ft of elevation gain throughout the day! It had been a rough-@ss day, and we were both beat and hurting all over. So at Mile 2532.6 we set up camp, ate, threw out decoy thrash for mice, and went to sleep.

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cspupstravaganza · 5 years ago

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PUPSTRAVAGANZA ROUND-UP

AND THAT’S IT for the Pupstravaganza! It’s been a truly fantastic event, with so many amazing stories! And we’re already talking about the next one! Thank you so much to all the writers and to everyone who read and commented and kudos-ed and reblogged. You are all BRILLIANT. SO TO ROUND IT ALL UP:

Nana by @thejollyroger-writer

Emma and Killian Jones are just out for a walk with three-year-old Hope and newborn Alice. But what they end up finding is completely unexpected -- and makes Emma question her sanity. Arm’d with Hell flames and fury all at once by @darkcolinodonorgasm

It should’ve been easy: hike up the hill, vanish the ghost, go back home, possibly without being killed or possessed in the meantime. But fighting monsters had never been easy, not even when hunters made it appear so. When hunting, things never go as planned, and sure as hell the girl you like doesn’t bring a puppy along, and you surely aren’t keeping very important secrets from your friends. Too bad said secrets won’t remain such for long, and that the dog hiding in the girl’s backpack isn’t exactly a regular dog.

...between a rock and a bark place by @thisonesatellite

A dog enters Emma’s life and afterwards it gets a lot better.

Because this dog is brilliant.

And has opinions about Emma and Killian and life and love - and is not ashamed to work a little canine magic to bring those two idiots together.

I’d Pick You (and your little dog too) by @awkwardnessandbaseball

According to everyone in the known universe, Emma Swan’s dog is supposed to lead her to her soulmate. But she’s not even sure if she wants that. Soulmates are pretty idealistic, don’t you think?

I Get Knocked Down (but I get up again) by @stahlop

Emma thinks her new neighbor is hot. Like really hot. Now if she could just get her Great Dane to stop knocking him down every time she sees him.

Rent-A-Wag by @gingerchangeling

An app that lets people rent time with other people’s dogs and David books a session for Emma in secret. But she might get a bit more than the half hour that David booked for her.

A Twelve-Legged Matchmaker by @shireness-says

Killian Jones has an undeniable crush on Emma Swan. He just needs a little nudge from man’s best friend to act on it.

The Sleep of the Sun by @profdanglaisstuff

It’s eighteen years after Emma and Killian defeated Cora and her plan to flood their world with dark magic, and the story moves on to their son Liam. A sweet and loving boy with the ability to shift into a dog at will, he is also more observant than his parents give him credit for.

And now, as Samhain approaches, something dark is brewing in the forest yet again…

Full (Dog) House by @xhookswenchx

Killian overdoes it at doggy adoption day.

Captain Morgan by @pirateherokillian

Of all the rumors that spread through her small hometown of Storybrooke, hearing that resident bad boy Killian Jones has gotten himself a dog is one she finds hard to believe.

A Litter More Than They Bargained For by @snowbellewells

Killian and Emma take in a pet at their little girl's insistence (and end up with so much more!)

Our Love’s Melody by @teamhook

Can a has-been find inspiration and love at the same time?

A Dog by Any Other Name by @snidgetsafan

After her boyfriend finds himself arrested, Emma Swan is left with a broken heart, a trashed apartment… and her ex’s dog. While she agrees to keep the dog, she draws the line at calling him such a ridiculous name.

Killian Jones, her hot British neighbor, wholeheartedly agrees.

Be sure to keep your eye out for further chapters from @darkcolinodonorgasm @awkwardnessandbaseball and @teamhook still to come!!

#cspupstravaganza #final round up #event round up #thank you !

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pcttrailsidereader · 5 years ago

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How an App Made Hiking Easier (perhaps too easy)

An excerpt from Taylor Gee’s article in The Guardian examining the unintended consequences of Guthook Guides’ maps that have made outdoor adventures far less wild. I must admit being old school myself and even feel sometimes that all of the information on Halfmile’s maps makes me feel a bit lazy. Guthook Guides’ seems, at times, to remove the mystery from the trail. What’s your reaction to Gee’s critique?

In March 2012, the Pacific Crest Trail changed for good when Cheryl Strayed’s memoir Wild, about her 1995 thru-hike of the trail, hit shelves and quickly became a New York Times bestseller. [Between the book and the movie] from 2013 to 2018, PCT applications nearly quadrupled.

But Wild wasn’t the only thing that transformed the trail that March. The same month, a thru-hiker named Ryan Linn quietly released an iPhone application called Guthook Guides. It took the entire set of tools needed for thru-hiking – a map, compass, guidebook and water reports – and consolidated them into a single virtual location. It functioned offline and crowdsourced updated information about trail conditions and campsites when online. Such an app might have been inevitable, but for ultralight-obsessed thru-hikers, it was a revolution.

Linn’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect. In the last three years, the app has been downloaded 337,000 times, and in 2018, a survey of 500 PCT hikers found that 85% used the app. What started in 2010 as a passion project is now a company that employs five people full-time and has mapped more than two dozen long trails around the world.

But as the the app’s empire continues to grow, many thru-hikers worry about its unintended consequences. They see themselves and fellow hikers depending on their phones to decide where to sleep and eat and to discover exactly how far, down to the tenth of a mile, they are from those places. They fear that American thru-hiking, once the ultimate test of self-reliance, is no longer as wild as it once was.

While attending Vassar College in 2002, Linn joined an outdoors club. The upperclassmen decided that the new recruits needed intimidating nicknames. One day, Linn and two other club members were driving past a hunting and fishing store and pulled over to wander the aisles for inspiration. Linn became “Guthook”, and it stuck through college and afterward, when he hiked the AT in 2007 and the PCT in 2010.

It was while hiking the PCT that Linn met Paul Bodnar, a guidebook author who was collecting GPS data on trail with the intent of updating a PCT guide he had published in 2009. In the era of “there should be an app for that”, it didn’t take long for the two to start talking about what a smartphone-based guide would look like. “We figured it would be something for us to do on the side, in between seasonal work,” says Linn, who since college had been doing various trail-crew and outdoor-education jobs.

After they finished their hike, Linn spent the next year and a half using the GPS data Bodnar had collected to create the first version of Guthook Guides, learning to code as he went. Visually, the app looks similar to the paper topographical maps hikers have used for decades. Virtual icons along the trail designate campsites, water sources, intersecting roads, and trail-town information. But unlike paper maps, Guthook Guides is GPS-enabled, and users can click on an icon to learn more or add a comment. The ability to leave comments, in particular, made Guthook Guides more than a guidebook. Hikers could tell other users whether a water source had gone dry, the quality of a campsite, and the friendliness of local businesses.

After the 2012 release, the app made just enough money for Linn to pay a friend to collect data while hiking the AT in 2013. (The app is free to download, but users must purchase guides for each trail.) The AT guide was released the next year. In 2015, Guthook Guides became available on Android phones. By then, Linn and Bodnar, the app’s co-creators, understood that Guthook Guides was no longer a side project. They went all in.

A sense of surviving in the wilderness is a major reason why a 2,000-mile hike is more than just a feat of athleticism. Taking a wrong turn, getting lost, navigating back – all that misadventure and the intellectual challenge of sorting it out makes for better stories than does walking in a straight line dictated by an app. Yet thru-hiking the PCT last year, I had to stop myself from checking the Guthook app as often as every hour. At one point, my hiking partner even instituted a no-Guthook rule, with the hope that we’d reclaim some sense of agency over our endeavor. Our self-imposed app ban didn’t last, because pretending we didn’t have this all-knowing resource in our pockets felt somehow inauthentic. Especially when most everyone else on trail was embracing it as reality.

It’s hard to overstate the impact that Guthook has had on the experience of thru-hiking. I talked to nearly a dozen hikers and trail managers who all seemed simultaneously concerned that the app enables hikers to lose self-reliance and awareness of their surroundings but couldn’t deny its supreme usefulness.

[PCT hiker Eric] Lee compares the impact of Guthook Guides to what Google Maps has done for driving. “We no longer have to think about landmarks and turns and street names. We just type our address into the phone and press go,” he says, noting that it undoubtedly makes thru-hiking an easier, more stress-free experience. But because of the app, he sees more hikers today who are not as viscerally connected to the trail. “They’re walking from waypoint to waypoint. It’s just a set of numbers.”

This effect has led to some pushback against the app. “I’ve encouraged people to not use it,” says Lucas Weaver, a 29-year-old fiber-optic technician who used Guthook Guides while hiking the Continental Divide Trail last year. “I’m not saying don’t get it, I’m saying don’t let it dictate, don’t rely on it.” Weaver is glad he hadn’t yet downloaded the app when he hiked the AT in 2015. “Being out there without any guide or technology makes it more adventurous,” he says.

The app’s popularity has coincided with the use of phones creeping into trails more generally. Now hikers have Instagram accounts to update with selfies, blogs to write, and loved ones to keep in touch with.

Sometimes use of the app enters into the absurd. “We came across many hikers who would use the app to the point they would lose common sense,” says Jen Nicholson, a 29-year-old physical therapist who also thru-hiked the Continental Divide Trail last year. She recalls hikers who insisted on walking five feet off to the side of the trail because their GPS told them that’s where the path was.

Then there are the stories of hikers relying on trail apps who lose or break their phones or even just run out of battery. For those who forgo paper backup maps to save weight (I was guilty of this myself), a dead phone makes getting lost more frightening than thrilling. Rachel Brown, membership-services manager for the Continental Divide Trail Coalition, recalls encountering this multiple times when hiking the trail in 2015. A friend of hers lost her phone, spent hours searching for it, didn’t find it, and had no backup maps. “She ended up camping out at a really confusing trail junction for three days until somebody else came,” Brown says. Another time, Brown hiked with a man who dropped his phone into a creek. “He ended up sticking like glue to my partner and me,” she recalls. “It was a little frustrating for us, because it kind of felt like we were babysitting. He was always there.”

Perhaps most telling is Guthook’s own experience. Last summer on a backpacking trip, Linn found he had drifted off of a poorly marked trail. “I stopped, and I was about to grab my phone,” says Linn. “Now I have to really consciously tell myself, ‘No, no, no. You just noticed you’re off the trail, go and find it.’” Linn is thoughtful about how his app has affected life on trails. “There are downsides to every new technology in the wilderness,” he admits. “Probably people are using Guthook a little more than I would have wanted.”

For all the good and the bad attributable to Guthook Guides, the consensus is things are just different now. In 2003, Eric Lee accidentally turned off the PCT and hours later ran into another hiker who told him he was going the wrong way. Lee didn’t believe him. “We brought out paper maps and discussed it for 15 minutes” before the other hiker convinced Lee of the truth. Back then that was part of the experience, and maybe even charm, of the trail. “Today that would never happen,” says Lee. “But I’m OK with that.”

#smart phones #Guthook Guides #Wild

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shaizstern · 4 years ago

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Article from WSJ: Companies Offer Creative Solutions to Worker Burnout During the Pandemic

From surprise days off to 30-hour workweeks, managers are devising ways to help employees; ‘How are you really, really doing?’

PHOTO: MARK MATCHO

By Chip Cutter

A few months into the pandemic, Nick Popoff let his guard down in an all-hands video call and said aloud what many had been experiencing: He felt burned out.

Some weeks, the engineering director at ticketing company Eventbrite Inc. didn’t leave his house for days, he said. Slack notifications buzzed constantly. He missed seeing friends and colleagues in person. Even a hike with his wife through northern California’s redwoods, didn’t leave him sufficiently recharged.

“Work burnout is insidious. It’s not just like a red light that comes on,” Mr. Popoff says. “It’s something that very slowly starts to happen, and that’s how it can catch people by surprise.”

After Mr. Popoff shared his experience in the meeting, colleagues came forward, saying that they, too, felt exhausted by work, and life, in a pandemic. Mr. Popoff began leading “recognizing burnout” sessions for other employees, giving staffers a forum to voice their feelings, and to hear advice from mental health professionals about how to cope.

The effort is one of many experiments afoot in corporate America as bosses stare at a sea of faces on Zoom and worry. With no end to the pandemic in sight, managers say many remote employees report feeling depressed, fed up and wary of what’s next. Companies are adapting policies and rushing to roll out benefits to head off a surge of employee distress.

“There’s this second wave upon us, where people are feeling super-anxious that this is the new normal, and how much longer can we sustain this?” says Matthew Schuyler, chief administrative officer at Hilton hotels. “I don’t think we’ve yet come to grips with the mental impact this is having on all of us.”

In addition to expanding access to counseling and mental health services, many employers are trying other approaches, such as insisting employees disconnect or offering more training for managers. In recent months, Antonio Neri, chief executive of Hewlett Packard Enterprise Co., has been encouraging bosses at the technology company to call employees to check in on their well-being. “You’ve got to make the effort,” he says. “Don’t assume email is enough, because email is not personable.”

Jimmy Etheredge, CEO of North America for Accenture PLC, said employees email him about their pandemic-related challenges. PHOTO: ACCENTURE

Jimmy Etheredge, CEO of North America at consulting firm Accenture PLC, recently asked his 27 direct reports to attend 2½ hours of virtual training on how to better support colleagues facing mental-health issues. All participated. Mr. Etheredge says he regularly receives emails from employees, explaining their pandemic-related challenges. But consultants have a tendency to jump into a situation and become problem-solvers, an “occupational hazard,” Mr. Etheredge says. The training stressed that, in conversations with employees, sometimes attentive listening without judgment can be most helpful.

“Just validate that the person is being heard,” Mr. Etheredge says, while directing them to additional resources, if needed.

Solutions needn’t be complicated or costly, executives say. Eventbrite recently changed leadership training during the pandemic to focus on how supervisors can manage with empathy while people are working remotely. Now, bosses are taught to begin one-on-one sessions with employees with a simple phrase meant to elicit genuine emotions, says David Hanrahan, the company’s chief human resources officer. Instead of a stock “How are you?” before quickly moving on to business, managers might ask, “How are you really, really doing?” After Mr. Hanrahan poses the question, he is silent, even if the pause feels uncomfortable. With some prodding, employees may then open up about their true feelings regarding work or personal challenges. “It’s a simple tactic any manager can employ,” he says. “But it’s about true empathy and true care.”

Other companies have taken steps to bolster morale in the Covid era. Seattle construction and engineering company McKinstry Co. LLC began issuing companywide “good news Friday” memos, pointing out, “Hey, here’s eight things that happened this week that are pretty good,” says Dean Allen, the company’s CEO. That could be feedback from a happy customer or details about new business the company landed. Hilton’s Mr. Schuyler encourages managers and teams to allow Zoom calls from parks or other outdoor venues.

Fidelity Investments recently began a pilot program for a small portion of its workforce in which employees can opt to work 30 hours a week, with a small pay cut, while retaining their full benefits. Fidelity plans to hire more staff to pick up the work so that other colleagues aren’t overwhelmed, says Bill Ackerman, head of human resources at the financial-services firm.

As the pandemic drags, employers need to adjust their approach, Mr. Ackerman says. Benefits that may have been appreciated early on—such as matching gifts to charities and stipends for home offices—have shifted this fall to include access to child-care coordinators and subsidies, as parents grapple with schooling issues.

Many bosses say even finding ways to get employees to step away from their laptops takes more thought now. Geben Communication, a public relations firm in Columbus, Ohio, began offering employees bonus “self-care days” off in recent months, to encourage them to disconnect, says Heather Whaling, the company’s president. In Austin, Texas, Ryan Wuerch, chief executive of Dosh, an app that gives consumers cash back when they shop, takes another approach: impromptu three-day weekends. On some Thursdays, during all-staff meetings, Mr. Wuerch now surprises the company with the news that the following day is a “Dosh Day,” when no work is allowed.

Extra vigilance is key, managers say. To head off burnout, Eventbrite’s Mr. Popoff watches for employees who seem to be plugging away after hours and follows up with them the next day, saying that such work is unnecessary.

Jennifer 'JJ' Davis, senior vice president of corporate affairs at Dell Technologies, said she helps colleagues cope during the pandemic by being honest about her own challenges. PHOTO: JEROD HARRIS/GETTY IMAGES

Some workers have adopted cues to signal they need help. At Dell Technologies Inc., Jennifer “JJ” Davis, senior vice president of corporate affairs at the technology company, says during the pandemic her team has developed a way to alert colleagues when they are “above the line”—feeling OK, and able to lend a hand—or “below the line” and needing assistance. The phrases allow people to convey their state of mind without necessarily divulging personal details. “Nobody asks questions. They just say: ‘OK, what can I do?’ ” Ms. Davis says.

Pandemic-specific peer groups also are effective. More than 1,500 Dell employees joined colleagues in virtual support groups focused on child care or pandemic isolation, for staffers living alone. “It gives you a safe place to let your guard down,” Ms. Davis says.

Ms. Davis says she helps her colleagues cope by being honest about her own challenges, such as deciding whether her three teenage sons should attend classes in-person or virtually. Sometimes, when meetings run long, Ms. Davis begins preparing dinner—and tells her team she’s multitasking. “I’m like, ‘Hey guys, great meeting, I just finished a batch of brownies,’ ” Ms. Davis says. “If I don’t tell my staff and lead by example that I’m cooking brownies while doing a meeting at the same time, then they don’t know that they have permission to do the same thing.”

Taking Action

What companies can do to curb staff burnout:

Encourage employees to take time off. Some companies offer bonus “self care” days or end work a few hours early.

Expand access to counseling and mental-health services. Employers have rolled out digital counseling apps or brought on coordinators to help employees access care.

Ask managers to check in on individuals’ well-being. Even simple gestures, like a phone call instead of an email, can go a long way.

Offer training for managers on supervising with empathy. Overseeing employees in a pandemic is a new skill, so guidance on supporting colleagues’ mental well-being can help.

Foster dialogues where workers share genuine emotions. Asking “How are you?” isn’t enough; probe to get a sense for people’s real situation.

Original Article found here: https://www.wsj.com/articles/companies-offer-creative-solutions-to-worker-burnout-during-the-pandemic-11604836834

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easyfoodnetwork · 4 years ago

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White Open Spaces

For my immigrant family, outdoor recreation was not part of our usual vacation plans. Could learning to camp be the pandemic escape I needed?

Wei Tchou is a Brooklyn-based writer and former non-camper working on a book about her family and the cultural history of ferns.

“I know you can do it,” said Salem, smiling at me with encouraging eyes, even though I didn’t know the first thing about building a campfire. It was meant to be a gesture of sweetness that he wanted me to build a hearth for his younger siblings on our first campout together. But I couldn’t read it as anything but an act of inscrutable emotional terrorism, doled out to a devoted girlfriend whose only crime was being accomodating enough to come on this stupid camping trip in the first place. I covered my face with my hands to hide my tears.

A part of me had hoped I would take to camping as if the woods were my true home all along. Like a captive platypus released back into her highland waterways, my real self would shake off such earthly superficialities as shelter, safety, and lumbar support as I became just another creature of nature, flowers weaving through my hair as sparrows sang overhead. Instead, my first experience of camping found me crying next to a gaping pit of ashes in front of my boyfriend’s family.

My first experience of camping found me crying next to a gaping pit of ashes in front of my boyfriend’s family.

I thought of my Chinese immigrant parents, who would likely shudder at the thought of me sleeping on a dirt floor and getting my vagina so close to the ground while peeing that something might plausibly climb in. My parents did not immigrate to this country for me to have something crawl into my vagina! I thought.

How could I have ever been so delusional as to think that I would tolerate, much less enjoy, a life in the woods, when very little in my 32 years of life has indicated an ease with anything less than the cool breeze of an air-conditioning unit, four bars of LTE, and good Chinese takeout just around the corner?

Minimalist camping, as it turns out, requires a surprising amount of stuff.

The answer to this question is most likely the same as yours “in these unprecedented times,” or ITUT, as a friend of mine likes to refer to the narrowing of life since COVID-19 spread to our coast. I was sick of being cooped up in the city but anxious about making the pandemic worse by contracting it, spreading it, or putting service workers at greater risk with my selfish longing for a cappuccino.

And also, I recently finished a partial manuscript of my book, which is in part a personal history of my interest in ferns. It’s hard not to spend, say, four years of one’s adult life writing about the wonders of ferns and nature without feeling like an abject phony for being suspicious about any immersion in wilderness beyond just, like, looking at it from the car.

So, when Salem’s younger sister, Pearl, and younger brother, Hazel, who are both outdoors enthusiasts, proposed that we all go camping together up in Maine last month, I felt uncharacteristically enthusiastic. Camping! A way to safely spend time with loved ones somewhere other than Zoom. Camping! A way to prove t,hat I could be as much of an expert on ferns as some unkempt white dude in Chacos. If I could learn to camp, it seemed to me, then maybe I could also be free.

Julia Cameron, the author of the cult ’70s-era workbook for creatives The Artist’s Way, would call this confluence of desires with opportunity a synchronicity, which is just a woo-woo term for coincidences that fall in your favor, she asserts, when you thoroughly believe in your art. Back in March, I roped Salem, who was quarantining with me in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, and his sister, Pearl, who lives in Maine, into tackling the self-help classic, whose “spiritual path to higher creativity” winds through a tidy 12 weeks — enough time, I reasoned, that the lockdown would be over well before we finished. It was a welcome distraction from the aching distress of watching the daily death toll tick up and washing our hands until they were raw. Our group expanded to include Salem and Pearl’s mother, Betsy (who actually is an artist), Pearl’s partner, Alec (who is an artist, but for ice cream), Pearl’s best friend, Peyton (who works on behalf of environmental justice), and finally Hazel, after he graduated from college over Zoom.

Talk to my family about spending a stretch of time in the woods and they’ll assume you were exiled for doing something very bad, like owning land or refusing to become a doctor.

It alarmed me at first that I was an outsider in my own self-help group — the new girlfriend in a weekly video chat of Salem’s family and friends, and, just as acutely, the only nonwhite person. But I grew close to them as we completed tasks that encouraged our childlike sense of wonder: wandering outside to gather leaves and flowers, collaging our dream lives. One writing exercise asked us to name activities that we wished, as children, we’d had the freedom to try. I found myself absentmindedly listing mountain biking, rock climbing, hiking, and, surprisingly, camping.

What the fuck, I thought, immediately troubled by what appeared to be a repressed desire to become woodsy. In my mind, woodsiness conjured images of beautiful, sunned white people looking inexplicably chic in technical gear and tangled hair, unbothered by the elements — the kind of person whose insouciant athleticism and confidence in using the terms “suffering” and “challenging” interchangeably did not belie a childhood of Suzuki method and Saturday school and the lifelong condition that every decision you make must justify the sacrifices your family made for you to simply be alive.

In my predominantly white Appalachian hometown, I had felt alienated by how casual and insistent people were about outdoor recreation. (Talk to my family about spending a stretch of time in the woods and they’ll assume you were exiled for doing something very bad, like owning land or refusing to become a doctor.) Unlike turning the radio on to learn pop songs or begging your mother to buy you a pair of sweatpants with “JUICY” written on the butt, learning to camp was impossible without someone to show you how. And the only people who might show me how were the same assholes who rejected me, even if I could sing along to every ’N Sync song, unconvincingly shaking my hips in baby-pink terry cloth. Along with how I looked, it was just another obvious way of understanding that no matter what I tried to become, I would never really belong.

Setting up the tent was less puzzle-like than I’d thought.

From left to right: Pearl, PJ the dog, Hazel, and Salem

After I moved to New York City, I was proud to be able to finally reject woodsiness entirely. Here, I found belonging with people who, like me, found “camping people” to be perplexing and objectionable. I left behind the fear of being patronized for simply wanting to sleep in a bed with central air blowing on my face for the rest of my life. It was devastating to have to admit to myself, and then to my Artist’s Way group, that I had always secretly dreamed of seeing myself out there in the wilderness — tending a fire and drinking a tin cup of coffee in the foggy, crisp morning — strong enough to shoulder a pack over rough, pastoral terrain.

Call it another synchronicity that after Salem and I met on Tinder (an app that literally runs on synchronicities), we discovered that we were from two towns hugging opposite sides of the same Appalachian mountain range. Yet Salem had grown up camping, even if he had later diverged from his woodsy siblings, fleeing the mountains for the city. As we drove north for our camping adventure, I contemplated the cruel joke that now, as an adult, I was off to assimilate to the white hobby I’d rejected with fierce vehemence all of my life, with my white boyfriend and his white family who were from the same white part of the country I’d spent my entire life attempting to escape.

Our lakeside campsite was beautiful, if car-accessible.

Any self-worth I’d managed to cling to evaporated as soon as Salem, Pearl, Hazel, and I — in preparation for our trip — walked into a camping store, whose floor was marked all over in blue tape to indicate where customers might stand to stay six feet apart. In part, my insecurity had to do with the fact that I’d poisoned myself the day before eating dried apricots, forgetting that apricots are a stone fruit, which I am allergic to. (Another synchronicity?) But really it was my intimidation about entering a store that said it was for camping, yet seemed only to sell racks and racks of long metal thingies and neon fabric bags attached to larger neon fabric bags. All the products were puzzles to solve, rather than recognizable pieces of equipment — a tent, for instance, that I might look at and think, Wow, that’s a great tent! My reluctance to touch things in stores since the pandemic began only made the process worse. Like, I knew I needed to buy a sleeping bag but felt stupid trying to choose one by staring as hard as I could at various lumpy sacks of nylon.

If the allure of camping evokes a certain rugged minimalism, the reality is strikingly fussy.

Sensing my panic, Pearl asked if I’d like to go take a look at tin cups in the cooking section, and I was relieved. I know food, I know cooking, I thought, puffing out my chest as we walked. But to my bewilderment, anything I might recognize in a kitchen was again abstracted to pieces of plastic, or sinister-looking canisters of gas and gadgets that promised to boil water in under 30 seconds (but, why!).

“Wei, look,” Pearl said, as I stared into the abyss of a collapsible plastic bowl. Grinning, she presented me with an enamel tin cup printed with a graphic of a lantern, and I sighed in recognition as she placed it in my hands. For drinking coffee out of! So sturdy! So cute! I thought. It was $20 and I threw it greedily into my basket — had it been $200, I still would have wanted it, for its familiarity, for its having the decency of looking like exactly what it was.

Shopping for camping supplies was triggering — and expensive.

If the allure of camping evokes a certain rugged minimalism, the reality is strikingly fussy. You need a lot of stuff; the stuff is very expensive, and without experience, it’s hard to figure out what kind of stuff you’re even going to need. And none of it is going to make you feel woodsy, really — mostly it will just make you feel broke, staring at a two-foot-long receipt, registering that you’ve blown $650 in less than half an hour on the bare minimum of supplies.

It can make you furious to think about, especially during a pandemic when there are few options to escape the city, and the one that seems easy and cheap and safe turns out to be so psychologically and financially demanding that I, for one, would have given up upon entry at the store if I wouldn’t have felt even worse to let Salem and his siblings down.

I was still fuming about all of this when Salem suggested we camp out in Pearl’s backyard to test out our new equipment. Though I was feeling defeated, I followed along as he pulled out tent rods and began assembling them over a plastic tarp. I found that assembly was surprisingly intuitive — not puzzle-like at all — and before long, we were straightening out another piece of tarp over a modular mesh structure. We took turns staking its corners into the dirt, and in spite of myself, I couldn’t help but feel proud, admiring the neat little orange tent before us.

That night, I fell asleep in my new sleeping bag listening to rain drum the fabric over my head. All of my frustrations unexpectedly melted into a sweet, peaceful feeling that this small space, with its sounds and its funny mesh pockets and zippers, was mine. I was suddenly a child overcome by wonder, the anxieties and paranoia of the past few months dissipating as I observed little spiders scurrying in from the rain under the fly. They parachuted around on their silks as Salem snored softly, far away already in a distant dream.

Dinner was a delicious hodgepodge.

Our campsite was situated on a farm nestling an ocean bay — salt breezes rolled through the open windows of our car as we puttered along a long path of RVs, campers, and tents. The first thing I noticed was that very few people were wearing masks — we’d all been required to prove we’d been tested for COVID-19 before we booked. I marveled at the fact that it was the first time in almost half a year that it seemed okay to observe the noses and mouths of so many strangers, going about their days uninterrupted by obsessive ritual sanitization of their bodies and possessions.

The next thing I noticed was that I didn’t have to carry anything more than a few feet from car to campsite, which, by the way, presided over a spectacular waterfront view, no walking necessary. It turns out there are degrees of camping, folks — a fact I was a little mad to find out. There was even an organic ice cream stand on the premises (which did, for the record, observe social-distancing protocols) where Pearl, Hazel, and I would circle back later to share a cup of s’mores-flavored ice cream, studded generously with marshmallow fluff and graham cracker crumbles.

Have camping people selfishly stoked the conspiracy that you have to strap on 50 pounds of gear and scale K2 every time you go camping to keep non-campers from their delicious ice cream stands? I contemplated this as we drew closer to our site, but my attention was drawn toward several figures playing on a swing set.

“Asians,” I whispered urgently, pointing them out through my window.

One privilege of being a journalist is the shamelessness with which I feel I can approach strangers, and Asian strangers in particular, to ask about their experiences, because, well, it’s my job. After we set up our tents, Hazel humored me by coming along as I stalked across the field toward several preteens at the campsite’s playground.

“I’m going to wait over here,” Hazel told me, stopping tentatively by the swing set, as I approached two of the older kids, introduced myself as a writer, and asked if I could chat with them.

I couldn’t help but feel a little bit of pride and relief in registering that the most beautiful campsite of all was made by the only nonwhite people I’d seen.

“So, like, I’ve only seen white people out here,” I told them, trying to make my eyes smiley rather than threatening above my mask. They giggled and looked at each other. “Are you guys from around here?” I asked.

“We’re from Brooklyn,” they said, and I laughed, because of course they were. They told me that they normally vacationed in Japan this time of year, to visit family, but given the pandemic they had to stay in the States. Camping was popular in Japan, too, they said, pointing in the direction of their campsite, which featured an impossibly chic yurt flanked by a large shade sail. I knew just by glancing at their complicated-looking pour-over device that they were drinking excellent coffee.

I couldn’t help but feel a little bit of pride and relief in registering that the most beautiful campsite of all was made by the only nonwhite people I’d seen, and Asian Americans to boot. By then, Hazel was making his way up to me, and I waved at him gleefully as I introduced him to the kids.

“Our parents are Asian, too!” one of them told us cheerfully.

“We’re Asian, dummy,” the other responded, rolling his eyes. “So obviously that means our parents are Asian, too.”

“I mean, not necessarily,” I said, trying to be helpful. “You could be adopted!”

“Yeah, we could be adopted,” the other said, blowing a raspberry at his friend. Hazel and I grinned conspiratorially as we hurried back to fill Pearl in on what we learned about the Asians, taking turns recounting the details.

I’ve never built a campfire in my life.

Later, we all drank sake out of our tin cups as we watched the sun set pink over the bay at low tide — clam diggers worked their way through the glistening mud as the siblings told me stories about growing up together, their disastrous road trips, the pets they had loved. As dusk settled, we hurried back to make dinner, at which point my pleasant, dreamy mood was shattered as Salem heartlessly attempted to press me into building that fire — the one on which our comfort and dinner depended.

“Oh no, oh my god! Wei! You’re getting so upset!” he said, as soon as I hid my face with my hands. He pulled me into a hug.

“Wei,” Pearl said gently from the fire pit, using the same tone she had at the camping store to coax me out of my manic state, and I wiped my face on my sleeves and crept down next to her as she explained how to start with pine needles, leaning larger and larger sticks over the fire as it grew. “People like to say there’s a right way to do it, but there isn’t,” she said, swatting Hazel away as he tried to offer commentary. She leaned in to blow on the fire, and the embers lit up with her breath.

Soon the fire was crackling and the siblings jumped into cooking, enthusiastically clashing about what they wanted to eat and how best to make it. Hazel established himself as the gourmand, dressing a steak with rosemary and butter and showing me how to gauge its doneness by pressing on different parts of my fist. Pearl roasted a hot dog on a stick while Salem fussed over an aluminum packet of potatoes and mushrooms. As they cooked, they debated new ways to construct a s’more — wrapping the entire thing in foil to place on the grate, dumping the chocolate and marshmallow in a pan to approximate something like s’more fondue.

At that moment, there was no better hot dog in the entire world than the one dripping with butter and ashes in my hands.

Listening to the siblings bicker and tease each other about their different ways of cooking, eating, and being, I was encouraged to find my own way, too, to see my camping ignorance as an opportunity to do exactly as I felt. (I’d even discovered, by then, that, just a little hike away, there was a cabin of gloriously pristine bathroom stalls, for those of us with overactive vaginal imaginations.)

I ventured to throw a hot dog and a bun on the grate. When they were both black with char, Hazel doused them in butter for me. I hate it when people say that food tastes better when you’re camping, as if there is glory in deprivation, but at that moment, there was no better hot dog in the entire world than the one dripping with butter and ashes in my hands.

Without a doubt, the best hot dog I’ve ever eaten

Maybe I’m a camping person after all.

The next day, Salem and I decided that we would camp one more night on our way home to Brooklyn. We stopped midway to have lunch with some friends, who graciously took our elaborate order, in advance, for what I like to call salad sandwiches — tomato, cucumber, sprouts, onion, avocado, cheddar, dill pickle, and mayonnaise on seven-grain bread. After picnicking and horsing around in a river all afternoon, the thought of setting up a tent again started to feel arduous.

“We could just drive straight home to Brooklyn,” Salem suggested, as I merged onto the freeway. I told him no — I was a camping person now, and that meant I needed to camp. Who even was I anymore, without the sun on my face and a patch of grass to curl up on?

We often talk about assimilation as if it were a one-way street, but it isn’t. It shouldn’t be.

We grew quiet, and I reflected on our past few days, on his family, on him. I thought back to earlier in the year, during some big fight, when I’d shouted at him to stop treating me like I was white, fed up with what I felt was his disinterest in my individual experience, while simultaneously seeing that I hadn’t exactly shared the reality of that experience freely, for fear that he would reject me like the camping people of my youth.

Until that fight, I had too often conflated belonging with acceptance. I thought that in order to be accepted, I needed to keep my nonwhite perspective from my white boyfriend and his white family. That I needed to face the wilderness unafraid to be taken seriously as a nature writer. That I needed to camp like “camping people” — like white people — in order to camp at all. But I grow more certain each day that my fixation with belonging only ever backfires. If I’m not honest about who I am, how can anyone figure out how to accept me in the first place?

Salem listened when I fussed at him about not being white, and I got a little braver every day about expressing the ways that I am different from him rather than the same. And now, a year into dating, his brother tags along when I feel moved to approach strangers at swing sets just because they are Asian, even if it makes him nervous. And his sister has identified how to tell when I’m so embarrassed I want to die, as well as the exact tone of voice that will calm me down. We often talk about assimilation as if it were a one-way street, but it isn’t. It shouldn’t be.

I glanced at Salem as he stared into his phone and struggled to remember what I thought of him when we first met. Now, when I look at his face I feel the collapse of distance, the familiarity of a kind of home that you can’t buy, or drive to, or set up with tent poles.

“Hey,” I said. He looked at me. “You were right. Let’s go back to Brooklyn.”

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/3g9eaKo https://ift.tt/3g9Uypl

For my immigrant family, outdoor recreation was not part of our usual vacation plans. Could learning to camp be the pandemic escape I needed?

Wei Tchou is a Brooklyn-based writer and former non-camper working on a book about her family and the cultural history of ferns.

My first experience of camping found me crying next to a gaping pit of ashes in front of my boyfriend’s family.

Minimalist camping, as it turns out, requires a surprising amount of stuff.

Talk to my family about spending a stretch of time in the woods and they’ll assume you were exiled for doing something very bad, like owning land or refusing to become a doctor.

Setting up the tent was less puzzle-like than I’d thought.

From left to right: Pearl, PJ the dog, Hazel, and Salem

Our lakeside campsite was beautiful, if car-accessible.

If the allure of camping evokes a certain rugged minimalism, the reality is strikingly fussy.

Shopping for camping supplies was triggering — and expensive.

Dinner was a delicious hodgepodge.

“Asians,” I whispered urgently, pointing them out through my window.

“I’m going to wait over here,” Hazel told me, stopping tentatively by the swing set, as I approached two of the older kids, introduced myself as a writer, and asked if I could chat with them.

I couldn’t help but feel a little bit of pride and relief in registering that the most beautiful campsite of all was made by the only nonwhite people I’d seen.

“Our parents are Asian, too!” one of them told us cheerfully.

“We’re Asian, dummy,” the other responded, rolling his eyes. “So obviously that means our parents are Asian, too.”

“I mean, not necessarily,” I said, trying to be helpful. “You could be adopted!”

I’ve never built a campfire in my life.

“Oh no, oh my god! Wei! You’re getting so upset!” he said, as soon as I hid my face with my hands. He pulled me into a hug.

At that moment, there was no better hot dog in the entire world than the one dripping with butter and ashes in my hands.

Without a doubt, the best hot dog I’ve ever eaten

Maybe I’m a camping person after all.

We often talk about assimilation as if it were a one-way street, but it isn’t. It shouldn’t be.

“Hey,” I said. He looked at me. “You were right. Let’s go back to Brooklyn.”

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/3g9eaKo via Blogger https://ift.tt/3iZAVC3

#Blogger #cooking #Eater #food #recipes

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celticheartedfangirl · 7 years ago

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Star-Crossed, Chapter 20 -- a Rumbelle/Swanfire AU fic

What? An update??? Yup.

This fic is a sequel to my fanfic Catch a Falling Star, a Rumbelling of the movie Notting Hill. That fic won ‘Best Movie AU’ in the TEAs last year.

I also have several one shots -- you can find everthing here: Notting Hill AU series

And you can find past chapters of THIS fic here: Star-Crossed

Summary: This story takes place in the “Catch a Falling Star” verse. Nick and Belle Gold are nearing their 13th anniversary. Their idyllic, blissfully happy life is about to take a sharp turn into difficult times, between dealing with a pre-teen daughter’s sudden shift in attitude, a film role that brings out Nick’s insecurities, the fallout from the strained marriage of Bae and Emma, and a dangerous threat in the form of one of Nick’s new students that neither of them sees coming.

Chapter 20

Belle looked at Nick nervously, then at the box he was holding in his hand. "Well – are you going to answer my question or not?"

"I – I don't know," Belle said, fighting back tears. "I'm late," she whispered quietly.

"What! You – you're – Belle! How could you not tell me this?!"

"I'm sorry, alright! I didn't even think about it till the other night when I accidently tapped my calendar app – excuse me but the past couple of weeks have been a bit hectic, I wasn't thinking about which dates I needed to have extra tampons in my purse!" Belle grabbed the pregnancy test out of his hand.

"When were you intending to tell me this?"

"I don't know. Later."

"Later, when? Tonight? Tomorrow? When your fucking water breaks in nine months and you go into labor?" Nick shouted, becoming angrier with each comment.

"I didn't want to worry you - I don't even know that I'm pregnant!" Belle shouted at him in return. Nick buried his face in his hands and sighed, then looked up at Belle.

"Belle, I don't think I can do it again. Not now."

"You think I can? I can barely handle Olivia; you think I want another one?"

"You're on the pill, how did this happen?!"

"It's not one hundred percent fool proof. You know, we talked about this a decade ago when we had that other pregnancy scare – about you – you know. But you said no, I don't want to do that."

"Oh, so this is MY fault then! I see."

"No, it's no one's fault, it just – I don't know. I don't even want to think about it."

"I don't think that's an option." Nick pulled himself together, calming down a bit. "You should probably go take that test." Belle was quiet for a moment.

"Let me put the groceries away first," Belle whispered. The two of them emptied the grocery bags in silence, the tension in the room thickening with every passing second.

"Well?" Nick asked as Belle entered the room; he was waiting in bed for her, his face covered in obvious anxiety.

"I haven't looked at it yet," Belle said, holding the test in her hand and covering the result window with her palm. "I thought we should do that together."

"Well – let's do that then."

"I don't really want to," she quietly admitted.

"Sweetheart – you're either pregnant or you're not. If you are, then – well, then we'll have to make a choice. And if you aren't – well, then there's nothing to worry about."

"Not necessarily," Belle said.

"What do you mean?" Belle took a deep breath.

"Nick – my mother was only a few years younger than me when she -"

"Belle, don't – don't even think that," Nick said, his voice trembling.

"It's kind of hard not to."

"Come on – let's have a look," Nick said. Belle moved in closer to Nick and pulled her hand away. They looked at the result together; it was negative.

"Well – that rules that out then, doesn't it?" Belle said. She put the test on the table next to the bed and began to sob.

"Hey – the past couple of weeks have been maddening, right? With the gala, and Olivia being Olivia, everything with Bae and Emma, and my surgery – stress can, um – it can cause that to be – late, right?"

"I suppose," Belle sniffled.

"That's probably all it is. We're probably sitting here worrying for nothing. Come here, love." Belle snuggled up tightly into Nick's arms. "Let's call the doctor, get you an appointment as soon as possible to find out what's going on. It'll be alright. Whatever happens – it'll be alright."

"Nick – I'm afraid," Belle whimpered.

"Oh, I know, love. It's okay." Nick kissed the top of her head. "We'll get through this. Everything will be alright, sweetheart. I promise," Nick whispered as he held her securely in his arms. "I still want you and Olivia to go on that spa afternoon this weekend. I think you deserve it."

"Okay," Belle whined. "Nick, what if I – what if I'm sick? What will happen with you? With Olivia?"

"Belle – let's not assume the worst until you speak with someone with an actual medical degree, alright? And stay the hell off the Internet, you'll imagine you have all kinds of horrible things."

"Well, we – I mean we should probably figure out a plan, in case -"

"Belle – you're two weeks late for your period, and you're already planning your funeral?"

"Well, I mean – there are all of my business holdings, and my charity, and -" Nick placed his fingers against her lips to quiet her.

"Stop. Please, Belle – this is not a conversation I want to have with you until it becomes necessary. Frankly, I hope it never will. Now – how about you call the doctor, see if you can get in to see her tomorrow, and let's do something nice for ourselves this afternoon."

"Nick – until I see the doctor we probably shouldn't -"

"I never said anything about sex, why does your mind always go there?"

"Because yours does," Belle teased.

"I thought maybe – watch a movie – maybe make out like a couple of teenagers. Wish I could get into the hot tub, that'd be nice, but I doubt it'll be an option for a while."

"What do you want to watch?"

"Anything where there is no singing and that little English twat you're doing that movie with isn't on my screen." Belle chuckled a bit.

"It wasn't that bad."

"It was horrendous. I don't know where our daughter got such shitty taste but it certainly wasn't from me."

"Are you saying I have bad taste?" Belle asked, offended.

"I wonder what the gossip rags would say if they knew that Oscar winning actress and award winning author Belle French's guilty pleasure is watching every Lifetime and Hallmark movie ever made."

"They're – some of them are pretty good!"

"I dare you to make one then. Call Mulan, tell her that's what you want your next project to be."

"Well – maybe I will!" Belle sat up and made a face at him, then smiled a bit.

"Now that's what I want to see. That beautiful smile of yours. Everything will be fine, sweetheart. I promise it will," Nick told her as he cupped her chin in this palm of his hand. Belle took his hand and rubbed it against her cheek.

"Can we – not fight anymore?"

"That is always my preference. I am deeply sorry about what I said to you the other day, Belle. I know you would never do that. You are the most amazing woman and a far better wife and lover than I will ever deserve."

"Thank you. But you – you're pretty amazing yourself. I love you so much."

"I love you, too." Gold and Belle kissed for several minutes. "Hey – how about after all of this bullshit with my recovery and your film is over, we do a weekend getaway. Just the two of us."

"Oh, that would be wonderful, Nick! I'll have Mulan start looking into some places for ideas. You know where I've always wanted to go?"

"Where?"

"Alaska!"

"Alaska? What are we going to do, spend the weekend in an igloo?"

"Of course not – I hear they have some lovely resorts there. Ashley and Sean went two years ago and they raved about it, I'll have to call her and find out the details. They went hiking and kayaking and they got to observe bears -"

"Hiking and kayaking? Belle – come on," Nick said, looking down at his leg. "And bears? I want a quiet weekend, not a bear hunting expedition where I'd be the one hunted given my luck."

"Well – we don't have to do that, we can – stay in and – just snuggle."

"Belle, I'd prefer going somewhere that we can BOTH enjoy that doesn't involve the possibility of being eaten by a grizzly bear. How about you let me do the planning this time?"

"You – you want to plan our romantic getaway weekend?"

"What, you think I'm not capable of such a thing? I traveled before I met you, you know."

"On business," Belle reminded him.

"And very often with a woman."

"I don't want to hear about that."

"Now look who's jealous." Nick reached his arms out to her. "Come here." Belle snuggled into him once again. "Am I distracting you?"

"Yeah," Belle whispered.

"Good." Nick kissed the top of her head.

"I like this. The quiet. Us. Like when we were first together. There was nobody else in the world but you and me."

"Unfortunately, that's not a practical way to live. But it is nice on occasion."

"It's very nice." Belle sighed as Nick gently played with her hair. It didn't get much better than this.

Nick and Belle were still snuggled in bed several hours later; they had watched a movie and engaged in a few sessions of making out and heavy petting while it was playing, as Nick suggested. Nick began to have some twinges of pain as the film ended. He didn't want to take any medicine for it, but Belle insisted he take at least half a dose. It made him a bit relaxed, but he didn't want to fall asleep so he fought the effects of the medication by talking with Belle about their future getaway weekend.

"How about Vancouver? It's beautiful there. We could go whale watching," he suggested.

"That would be fun. Nick – take a nap, love. You can barely keep your eyes open."

"I don't want to sleep while you're upset," he complained.

"I'm not upset. I'm fine. Sweetheart, you're still recovering from surgery and you need to rest. I'll go get dinner started and I'll wake you when it's ready, alright?" Belle began to adjust the pillows behind him, forcing him into a prone position, as he had been sitting up a bit to further fight the effects of the pain medication.

"I'm not tired. Let's watch another movie," Nick mumbled, his eyes barely open.

"Shhh. Just close your eyes." Belle ran her hands across his face, forcing his eyes closed. Belle gently played with his hair for several minutes as Nick drifted off to sleep. After watching him sleep for a bit, Belle got out of bed and mad her way to the kitchen, where she began preparing their dinner. After nearly thirty minutes, she heard the front door open, and within seconds Olivia appeared in the kitchen, tossing her book bag onto the table.

"Hey, sweetheart! Oh, I've missed you, come here." Belle stopped what she was doing and pulled Olivia into a hug.

"Daddy said you weren't feeling good," Olivia said as she pulled out of the hug.

"Oh, I'm much better now, I just needed to get some rest."

"What are you cooking?"

"Steaks. Where's your brother?"

"He just dropped me off, he had stuff to do." Olivia reached into the cupboard and pulled out a glass, then opened the refrigerator, took out some juice, and poured it into the glass. "Is Daddy in the library? I need some help with my math homework." Olivia sat down at the table and opened her bag.

"Your father is taking a nap right now – maybe I can help you."

"It's MATH, mom." Olivia rolled her eyes.

"Well, I – I studied math at one time. Let me see."

"Okay, whatever." Olivia opened her book and showed Belle the page that contained her homework assignment. Belle looked it over for several minutes, until it became clear that the only thing she understood about what was on the page was the fact that these were numbers mixed in with a few letters. Math was never one of her best subjects, and she recalled how much she struggled even as an adult with the general math course she had to take for her undergraduate degree. She remembered Nick helping her and feeling like the biggest idiot in the world the entire time.

"I um – well, your father will be up for dinner, he can help afterward." Olivia rolled her eyes once again, and took a sip of her juice. "You know – I was thinking – the past week has been really stressful and – well I thought you and I could do something together on Sunday. You're getting older and I thought maybe it was about time for you to go along with me to the spa. We can get facials – and I'll even let you try on a little bit of makeup. You can get a manicure too, any color nail polish you like. Doesn't that sound fun?"

"Heather wants me to come over on Sunday."

"Well – you can do that next Sunday."

"I don't think so." Olivia finished her juice and got up to put her glass in the dishwasher.

"Olivia, I – I was really looking forward to doing this with you. I think you'll really enjoy it once you get there."

"Mom, I don't want to go to the stupid spa with you, okay? God!" Olivia stomped out of the room, and Belle sat down at the table and began to cry.

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #rumbelle fanfic #rumbelle au

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c-e-d-dreamer · 8 years ago

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Hey idk if you are still looking for prompts because I scrolled pretty far back, but if so, how about "that's the dumbest shit I've ever heard let's do it" or ”it’s a long story that involves a lot of blood, a couple squirrels, and one hell of a headache” for any of the foxes? Thanks, I love love love your writing and I've really enjoyed looking through your blog!

I’m always accepting prompts! And thank you so much for the lovely compliments! I hope you enjoy! This is basically a shitpost in fic form. It’s a crack fic. I’m not even sorry. Also you probably need to suspend a lot of disbelief for this; just roll with it

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard; let’s do it”

—

Neil is still trying to get the hang of his new phone. Nickyhad insisted that he upgrade to this century and had practically dragged Neilto the mall to purchase an iPhone. The rest of the Foxes were more than happyabout the change, some money even exchanging hands, but there’s so much goingon with his phone now. Before, all Neil had to worry about were text messagesand phone calls, but now there’s a bunch of apps that Nicky keeps trying toteach him. He thinks he’s starting to get a handle on Snapchat thanks to thedaily snaps from Allison. At the very least, he’s no longer confused by the waythey disappear after opening them. And Instagram seems easy enough, so Neiltries to keep track of that so he can see Renee’s posts from around the world.

Neil can admit that the ESPN app is great. It’s set up tosend him notifications for Exy news and score updates. It’s that app that iscurrently dinging at Neil as he makes his way across campus. The trade deadlineis coming up for the National Exy League, and Neil’s been trying to keep up andfollow the changes. After Neil reads the latest update, the striker tries tosee the current NCAA standings, but his new phone isn’t cooperating. He bats atthe screen a few times, but when it finally switches over to NCAA Exy, it’s thenews page. Neil lets out a frustrated noise and is about to just give up when aheadline catches his eye.

Neil scrolls through and reads the article the whole wayback to Fox Tower. He still has his phone out and the page open as he unlocksthe door to his dorm. The room is full of people, but Neil has learnt to beunsurprised by that. Nicky and Aaron are in the beanbags, a video game of somesort blaring on the television. Kevin is sprawled out on the couch with hislaptop in his lap while Andrew is perched on his desk by the window.

“Hey, Neil,” Nicky greets, not taking his eyes off the gamehe’s playing. “How was class?”

“Did you guys know someone tried to steal the University ofTexas’ mascot last night? Not the costume; the actual longhorn.”

“How unoriginal,” Nicky says. “That’s like the oldest prankin the book. I mean everyone’s—”

Nicky cuts off as he finally draws his eyes away and meetsNeil’s, his face contorting into a mix of guilt and regret. The backliner openshis mouth again, but whatever rambling remedy was on the tip of his tongue, he swallowsit down and snaps his lips shut. When no one else in the room has anything toadd, Neil resigns himself to his desk. He can feel Andrew’s eyes boring intohis cheek, but the striker focuses on outlining his upcoming essay until practice.

The news story gets forgotten, blurred away by drills andbickering freshmen and a scrimmage. But it’s still nestled a place in the backof Neil’s mind, niggling in the periphery of his thoughts persistently. By thetime he’s changing out after practice, it’s made its way back to the forefront.

He thinks about the article, about Nicky’s cut off words, ashe and Andrew sit up on the roof, the nighttime humid and inky around them. Hismind is a whirlwind of thoughts tangled up with the billows of smoke wisping inthe evening breeze. He almost doesn’t notice the distinctive smell of nicotineor the way his cigarette has burned down to the filter. He doesn’t realize he’szoned out on the twinkling lights of the campus until the cool, feather lighttouch across the back of his hand pulls him back.

When Neil looks to his right, Andrew is already watchingback. He raises an eyebrow in question at the striker’s silence, and Neil stubsout his cigarette.

“Do you think I’m missing out?” Neil asks. “Having not donea prank before?”

Andrew doesn’t say anything in response. He watches Neil fora few more moments before he stubs out his own cigarette. He beckons his headtowards the roof door, and Neil tries not to read too much into it as the tworetreat down to their dorm.

The next morning before heading to the gym for workouts,Andrew drags Neil and Kevin next door. The goalkeeper picks the lock with anease Neil feels he shouldn’t be surprised by at this point. The three burstinto the room where Aaron and Nicky are tucked into the kitchenette withsteaming mugs cradled in their hands. Neither bats an eye at the intrusion.

“We’re stealing a mascot tonight,” Andrew says to the room.

“What?!” Kevin squeaks out from just inside the doorway.

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard,” Nicky says,setting down his mug. “Let’s do it.”

“What.”

“Oh, come on, Kevin, it’ll be fun!” Nicky reasons. “I betyou’ve never pulled a prank either. And it’ll be like a senior prank for you.It works out perfectly!”

“While that’s all well and good,” Aaron pipes up. “Where areyou going to steal this mascot from? Most schools don’t have real animalmascots these days. We certainly don’t have a fox running around.”

“University of Texas has a real animal mascot,” Neil says.

“You want us to travel all the way to the University ofTexas?” Aaron asks, tone deadpan.

“There has to be somewhere closer,” Nicky offers, fiddlingwith his phone for a moment. “University of North Carolina! That’s not too farto drive.”

“There’s no way we’re fitting a ram in my car,” Andrew says.

“Matt has a truck,” Neil suggests.

It’s at that moment that Matt walks out of the bathroom,toothbrush hanging between his teeth and phone pressed to his ear. Hisexpression startles when he notices all pairs of eyes on him.

“Hey, Matt,” Neil says. “Can we borrow your truck tonight?”

“We’re driving up to UNC tonight to steal their mascot,”Nicky jumps in to explain. “You in?”

Neil thinks it must be a sign that Matt’s been living withNicky and Aaron too long because the backliner just shrugs in acceptance.

“I’m going to have to call you back, Dan,” Matt says intohis phone. “We’re kidnapping Rameses.”

- - -

Researching during lunch reveals that UNC has a small farmon their campus. It acts as a training center for students studying veterinarysciences, but it also doubles as Rameses’ home. It seems easy enough to get to,and the farm being tucked away from the dorms means students shouldn’t bemilling about.

It should be easy.

Their first complication arrives before they even get oncampus. After dinner, everyone changes into black clothes and piles into Matt’struck, and then they’re heading up north along the interstate. It’s a bit of ahike through North Carolina, but luckily, the sun has long since set by thetime they’re nearing the campus. Matt directs the truck towards the entrance thatwill bring them closest to the farm, but security stops them to check forschool ID’s.

Despite Matt’s sweet talking and Nicky’s attemptedexplanation that they’re attending an on-campus party, the security guardremains unimpressed and stubborn, turning them away. Matt ends up parking thetruck outside a row of off-campus houses, and the group sneaks onto the campus.

UNC is bigger than PSU, and as Neil looks around at thedifferent buildings looming over him, it’s a bit disorientating, and yet there’sno mistaking that thrum of excitement. They keep mostly to the shadows and keeptheir heads down, trying not to draw attention to themselves. As collegestudents themselves, they at least blend in a little.

After a few wrong turns down campus roads, they find thefarm. They hop over the fence and make their way up the dirt path to the barn. Neilmakes quick work of picking the lock and they all slip inside. The poignantsmell of manure and livestock hits them like a tsunami wave, and Neil puts ahand over his mouth to try and stifle it. Similar reactions ripple through thegroup. Nicky, Matt, and Aaron pull out their phones to provide light as theymove further into the barn. Neil peers into the first cubby on his left only tocome face to face with a horse.

“Aw this one has a cute little pig in it,” Nicky says fromfurther down. “We should take this too.”

“Focus, Nicky,” Kevin snaps.

Neil has to stifle a laugh at Nicky’s muttered response ashe continues to look for the ram. The next cubby he checks has a donkeysleeping inside, though.

“Hey!” Matt exclaims. “I found him!”

Everyone joins Matt and crowds around the cubby. Rameses hasbacked into the far corner. He stares at them all for a few moments beforeletting out a bleat. Matt, Nicky, and Kevin begin a murmured argument aboutwhat to do next when Andrew opens the door to the cubby and steps inside, arope in his hand that he ties around Rameses to lead the ram out. Once they getRameses out of the barn, they move as a slow huddle down the road in an attemptto hide their deed. Andrew ends up handing the rope over to Aaron so he canlead the group when it becomes apparent no one else can remember the way backto Matt’s truck.

A security guard is making rounds around the campus, so theyhave to duck between the shadows of two buildings while they wait for him topass. It’s at this moment that Rameses becomes fed up with his captors. A swiftkick to Aaron’s shins leaves the backliner recoiling in pain and dropping therope. Rameses takes the opportunity to escape, darting out from their hidingspot. Matt and Neil are quick to chase after the ram, but running into thelight of the streetlamps reveals that the security guard isn’t as far away asthey anticipated and the bleating has drawn his attention.

“Hey!” the security guard shouts, already running in theirdirection. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Oh shit,” Neil says under his breath.

“Time to go,” Andrew says, grabbing a fistful of the back ofNeil’s shirt and tugging.

“Wait! What about Rameses?” Matt asks, gesturing towards theparking lot the ram is tearing through.

“Leave him!” Nicky shouts, taking hold of Matt’s wrist andyanking him away.

They can hear the security guard getting closer, his poundingfootsteps and his shouts of needing backup. No one needs to be told twice. Theysqueeze out the other side of the buildings and break into sprints, scatteringin different directions.

Neil can feel the adrenaline thrumming in his veins. Itleaves his ears ringing and his heart pounding in his chest as his feet smackagainst the ground. Andrew veers off to the right in front of him, and Neilfollows. The shortcut takes them through the brush, and branches cut at Neil’sarms and ankles. It does nothing to quiet the thrill bubbling in his chest.

Matt’s truck comes into view, Aaron and Kevin alreadywaiting in the bed. Nicky and Matt come tearing in from the other side, yankingthe doors of the cab open to clamber inside.

“Do you think the ram is alright?” Matt asks, out of breath.

“That’s not important right now, Matthew! Drive!” Nickyshouts.

Andrew practically bodily throws Neil into the truck bedbefore jumping in himself. Matt kicks the truck into gear and peels away fromthe curb, tires screeching in his wake. As Matt speeds off, Neil can’t help thegiddy laughter that bubbles out of him, taking him over until there are tearsin his eyes.

“Well that was fun.”

“Junkie.”

// Send me prompts!!! //

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domhovasse · 7 years ago

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South East Asia.

When I accepted my job in China, I was hoping I’d be able to travel, but to be frank, I wasn’t expecting to have the schedule that I got. Two entire months of paid vacation? I don’t know how I got so fortunate. I knew Alyssa was heading to Australia around the same time as my holidays and that we travel quite well together, so I threw at her the idea of travelling some of South East Asia with me on her way there, and she agreed without hesitation.

After a wonderful week spent in Cuba with my family, I met Alyssa at YVR airport to catch our flight to Bangkok, Thailand. My friends who had heard that I would be having an hour and a half layover in Vancouver, insisted on coming to the airport to see me, even though they knew it would be super rushed. (Talk about some good friends!) After getting my luggage, exiting arrivals and finding my check-in area, I was able to see them for all of about 5 minutes before needing to head to my gate, but it was so sweet nonetheless!

The flight went pretty smoothly, although we weren’t able to get seats together. I wasn’t able to get much sleep - I think all the travelling and switching of time zones was confusing my body a bit. We arrived in Bangkok in the afternoon, and were very generously picked up by Alyssa’s stepdad’s friend’s son, who lives in Bangkok. He drove us to a place close to our hostel to grab a bite to eat, and from there, walked us to our hostel. When we arrived, there was a huge mixup with our booking and the lady wanted to charge us for 8 people because when we selected 2 people on the website it reserved two 4-bed dorms. We argued back and forth for a while and even called the booking website to try and sort it out. We ended up finding another hostel just down the street, for even cheaper, so we checked-in, dropped our bags off and left to explore a little. We ended up walking around for a while and going for a little boat ride along the river after sunset, before ending our [long] day off at Khao San Road to wander around and get beers & Pad Thai for dinner!

The next day, we woke up at a decent hour to grab breakfast near our hostel before a full day of touring. We began at the Grand Palace, where we spent a few hours walking around, taking in all of its beauty, while trying to dodge the hoards of tourists. We then made our way towards the river, stopping to take a look at the newly completed Royal Crematorium on our way. The king had recently passed away, and we learned that in Thailand, when the king dies, the whole country spends an entire year mourning his death (and wearing only black clothing). After taking a boat bus across the river to Wat Arun, we spent some time walking around this much smaller temple, designed in a very different style than the Grand Palace. It was quiet, had way less tourists, and in my opinion, just a better temple overall. At this point, we were starving and pretty templed-out, so we took the boat back across the river and then stopped in a little restaurant for some life-changing tom yum soup & papaya salad, before taking a tuk-tuk back to our hostel so we could rest and freshen up. After a couple hours of hanging out, we walked to the train station to meet up with my friend Devan, who I had met in Europe years back, and was working as an English teacher in Bangkok. She was running behind schedule, so we found a restaurant with wifi and got a beer to kill some time. After meeting up with Devan, we got dinner at the street market in China Town, and then treated ourselves to some overpriced beverages and a beautiful view at a Skybar.

Our last day in Bangkok consisted of mostly walking around, and visiting the Siam Museum, which we had heard really good things about. It was a really interesting and interactive museum about ‘Thai-ness’ and how Thai culture has changed over the years because of tourism. We got back to our hostel with enough time to eat a little bit before catching an Uber to the bus station. We had heard that Bangkok highways were brutal (one way, elevated highways with infrequent exits), and that was the furthest thing from a lie. Turns out, we had typed the wrong bus station into our Uber app, and by the time we figured it out, we were stuck in a traffic jam, unable to exit or turn around for kilometres. We ended up arriving at the bus station 5 minutes after our bus was scheduled to depart. Even though we were convinced the bus had already left, we booked it up a flight of stairs, through the station, found our ticket desk, got our tickets, ran back through the station, down the stairs, found our platform and our bus, which had yet to leave. It was one of the most stressful hours of my life, but we had a good laugh about it once we actually sat down in our seats. We arrived in Krabi in the morning, made some last minute changes to our itinerary, and caught a shuttle to the pier, where from there, we took a boat to Koh Phi Phi.

Koh Phi Phi was wild. We were able to meet up with Alyssa’s friend who I also know from yeaaaaars ago (and is now the lead actor on a new NBC TV show, might I add). It was pretty cool to reconnect with her and get to hangout together in Thailand. We spent our time together mostly hanging out on the beach, sipping’ on cocktails or eating pad thai. Our hostel was right on the main beach, so we could lay and tan, while using our hostel’s free wifi - we were legit living the LIFE. On our first night, we met a group of guys at a bar, so naturally we ended up spending most of our time with them the following day, going kayaking through some caves, to a beach full of wild and ferocious monkeys. On our second day, after our kayaking adventure, we spent most of the evening at a pool party, and hanging out on the beach with some of our new friends. Things got pretty rowdy both nights, and I didn’t get much sleep at all.

From Koh Phi Phi, we made the long, long trip to Koh Tao. First by boat to Krabi, then by bus to Surat Thani, and finally a brutal 6-hour boat ride to Koh Tao. Neither Alyssa or I get motion sickness, but after an entire 4 hours of very bumpy waters, we were both feeling quite nauseous. We finally arrived at night, got dinner after checking into our hostel, and then went for a walk down to the beach. We went to bed quite early, and our good night’s sleep was very much needed. Our hostel was running a little excursion the following day, so we decided to partake in that. We spent the majority of the day snorkelling, tanning, and Alyssa learned that the worst sunburns can happen on the cloudiest of days. That afternoon, after the best meal of our entire trip in a little family-run restaurant, we went for a walk around town, and along the beach, before eventually getting dinner with a few of our roommates. Every night, there were fire shows on the beach, so we ended our day off by doing a bit of bar hopping and dancing along the beach. We made friends with a few guys from our hostel room, so we spent the following day with them, on scooters, exploring the island, snorkelling, and getting drinks on the beach at night. Late that night, we boarded a night ferry that would bring us back to the mainland, where we would then take a shuttle bus to Krabi. When we bought tickets, the man advised us that there were 2 different types of ferries, which alternated nights, and we had lucked-out, because we’d be travelling on the nice ship. Turns out he lied to us, because our ferry was very old, loud, and extremely crammed (matresses side by side on the floor), with no a/c. Hindsight 20/20, regardless of how awkward and uncomfortable that ferry was, we definitely should have taken one on the way there as well, just to save ourselves from wasting an entire day travelling.

We arrived in Krabi around breakfast time, and after a nice little meal at McDonald’s, we checked in to our hostel, quickly changed, got some wifi time in, and walked over to the beach. After a boat ride and a couple of hours spent at Railay beach, we decided to attempt a hike which we had read about in a few blogs. Honestly, it was one of, if not THE sketchiest hike of our lives, but it was one of the absolute highlights of our entire trip. Essentially, it led us up the side of a mountain, which we scaled, and then lowered ourselves down using ropes, ladders and roots of trees, eventually leading us to a secret lagoon in the middle of the mountain. Most people who attempted it, gave up around halfway, so when we actually made it to the end, we were almost alone, which made the whole thing that much better. When we finally got back to the hostel, we showered, dropped off a few bags of laundry at a laundromat, and got some convenience store ham & cheese taosties. That night, we hungout with our new friends we had made (an Aussie girl and 2 british boys), who were on both the same ferry and shuttle bus as us from Krabi. We spent some time at our hostel’s rooftop bar, then went to checkout a few other bars, and finished the night off with a nice little 3am swim. The following day we mostly took it easy, first sleeping in, then hanging out with the british boys, and walking around town before getting on our shuttle bus to the airport in the afternoon. When we got to our Air Asia check-in desk and gave the agent our passports, he couldn’t find our reservation in the system. After a few minutes of looking further into it, he figured out it was because our flight was for the exact same time, but the day before. GREAT.

As expected, we were pretty irritated when we got to Chiang Mai. After missing our flight and having to pay for a whole new one, to top it off, when we finally arrived at our hostel, it was so ghetto and had NO working wifi. As if things couldn’t get any worse. We both went out to find some much needed food and wifi, and spent some time booking a few busses and hostels before heading to bed. The next morning I woke up early to grab breakfast and find us a new hostel. After checking out of our horrible hostel and moving to a new one down the street, we went to visit an elephant sanctuary and spent the afternoon hanging out with some gentle giants. We met some of the local native people who introduced us to the sanctuary and the elephants, before spending a few hours feeding them, taking them for a walk and then helping clean them. It was one of the coolest things I’ve ever done and something I’ll remember for a long long time. When we got back to our hostel in the afternoon, we washed up and headed out to the biggest street market I’ve ever seen, to grab some food and do a bit of souvenir “window” shopping. We wanted to checkout a bit of the nightlife, so before heading to bed, we walked from our hostel to an area with a ton of bars, and did some people watching. The next morning we woke up before daylight to catch our bus to Pai. We were warned by friends that the road to Pai was extremely winding, and to prepare to feel sick, even if neither of us were prone to car sickness. Alyssa woke up feeling very sick as it is, so she had a bit of a rough ride to say the least, but we made it in one-piece.

Pai was so so wonderful. There is so much hype aroud this “hippie” town in the mountains, and to be quite honest, I can see why people love it, but it’s not somewhere I would have wanted to stay for weeks. Our days consisted entirely of scootering in the mountains, exploring waterfalls, visiting temples and taking in all of the beauty that is northern Thailand. At night we spent some time walking around town, going to the market and getting Thai massages, which was quite the experience. Alyssa was trying to get over her sickness, so she stayed pretty low key, only joining me on the second day of scootering.

The following morning, we woke up really early to catch the first bus back to Chiang Mai. Our bus to Laos wasn’t until night, so we decided to spend the day exploring as much of the city as we could, considering we didn’t see much of it at all before heading up to Pai. We locked up our belongings at the bus station, grabbed coffee and lunch, and then headed to Doi Suteph, a beautiful temple at the top of a mountain, overlooking the city. After spending some time there wandering around and taking pictures, we had the worst Uber experience of our lives and got into a full yelling match with the driver, who reluctantly agreed to drop us off at Nimmanhaemin, a sort of modern, hip area with tons of cute boutiques and cute restaurants, where we spent the rest of the evening before heading back to the bus station and catching our overnight bus to Nong Khai, a little town on the border with Laos.

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