#you think women in this part of the country are safe and living the best life free of any harm

[rewh0re]

honestly why do men

rant in tags

[imagines--galore]

||I Will Always Choose You||

Summary: As a soldier you had expected to find yourself in dangerous situations. But trapped in the claws of a Homunculous who went by Lust and watching the man you love try to save you was on a whole other level.

Pairing: Roy Mustang x Reader

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. Action. Angst. A bit of mention of injury so be prepared!

A/N: Sorry its late but I hope you like this! @smallartist08

Roy Mustang was not in love.

He had never been in love, and there was no possibility of him falling in love in the future.

Not when he had an entire country to think of. Not when he had to help make Amestris a country he would be proud to call home. Not when he had so many people to look after. His entire team. His best friend’s wife and daughter. The Elric brothers. Madam Christmas and the girls.

Most all of them were in constant danger, one way or the other. There was no time for him to be in love when he had to make sure he knew of their every step. Make sure they stayed safe.

Or as safe as the Elric brothers could be.

Those two boys got in so much trouble sometimes, he was sure they had targets painted on their backs.

But most of all?

Roy Mustang did not deserve love. Not after the bloodshed he had carried out as the Flame Alchemist. Not after all the innocent Ishvalans he had killed when he had been ordered to. 

He was ashamed of his actions, and deeply regretful that he had not stood up to those in authority back then. He may spend his whole life trying to atone for all his sins. Which is why something as pure as love could never be in his life. 

Not with how tainted his soul was. 

How broken.

But............the only problem about not falling in love?

Was that he was already in love.

With you.

Just like Riza and Maes, you had been beside Roy every step of the way.

You had been with him when he was stationed to the front lines. As a weapon’s specialist, and a liaison between the superiors and the alchemists, you had been in-charge of all the weapons that came your way. 

Mechanical and human.

And all the State Alchemists were seen as nothing more then weapons at that time.

You were to make sure that each piece of weapon stayed in shape, and you were aware of every alchemist and where they were stationed, what they were capable of, and how far they could go with the abilities.

As one of the best sharpshooters, Riza would often be found in your company. Not only because you were the only one she trusted with making sure her weapon was in working order, but also because there were so few women on the front lines.

It was nice having another woman around, someone the both of you could trust to watch each other’s back.

You had been walking around when you had first heard Roy. He was speaking to Maes, telling him of the guilt he felt for using his abilities to kill so many. All of this was spoken in confidant, and you were not meant to have heard it.

But you did.

And your heart went out to the poor man.

You had seen so many soldiers die. So many lives wasted.

And for what?

For a war that had started because the Ishavalan’s had revolted against the people who ruled them. Later you would come to know the true reason for the war, but even then, it didn’t sit right with you.

Riza had been with you, and when Roy and Maes had seen you standing there, she had reassured them, saying you would not breath a single word of it to anyone.

Although the next time Roy was given an assignment, it had no killing involved and only a few patrols. He had been confused at first, and after a little detective work on Maes’s part, he was told that you were responsible for it. While writing your weekly reports you had managed to surreptitiously add a few points that would make it seem that the areas Roy would be stationed at were in dire need of a cleansing. 

Of course, that was a lie.

Leaving Roy rather impressed with your clever wording, and quick thinking. He voiced it to you out loud, but what he didn’t say, at least not in so many words, was that he was sure that you had done so out of the kindness of your heart.

He had known of you long before you knew him. At least you were are of his existence, and that he was the Flame Alchemist. That was as far as your knowledge of him went until that fateful and unintentional run-in while he had been speaking to Maes. Roy Mustang knew exactly who you were and what you were there to do. 

He had seen you, a few days after your arrival. You were crouching down next to a dying Ishvalan, offering him some water. And you had stayed there, held his hand and spoke to him.

Most soldiers would’ve simply walked by the dying man. But not you. No, you stayed with him until he died. And when he did, you cried.

You sat there crying in the shadows for a good long while, until your tears had dried and you had composed yourself enough to walk back to your post. And Roy had watched you, a piece of his broken heart mending at the reassurance of your simple act of staying with a dying man.

That there was still kindness in this cruel world.

                                           ————————–

Your life had never been easy.

For one you were related to the esteemed Armstrong family. A cousin of the family. You had quite the legacy to live up to.

Your father had been a decorated army officer until his death in the Ishvalan War. You had been expected to walk in his footsteps. And as his only child, there was a lot of pressure on you. And given the fact that you were a girl, you had to work twice as hard. It didn’t help that your father made you aware of your gender every moment of everyday. And not in the most positive of ways.

You could never be an Alchemist like your cousin Alex, you had no desire to become a weapon like him. And you could never be as ruthless and heartless as your cousin Olivier. Even she had once stated that if you were to ever loose the kindness that radiated from your very being, you would loose part of yourself.

So you had decided to forge a path that worked for you. And though you had to hide your real nature while in the army working at the front lines, you had been lucky enough to find people you could be yourself around.

People you trusted had your back no matter what would happen.

After the war, you were personally asked by Flame Alchemist Roy Mustang to work with him. He had said he needed a person who could talk their way out of a situation without having a single shot fired. Translation: He needed someone who could speak to those superior them him without pissing them off. And once you were made aware that Riza would be a part of that Unit as well, you had agreed.

And while that was your initial reason for joining Mustang’s Unit, it began to change over the years as you got to know the rest of your Team.

Riza Hawkeye, your first true friend in the military. You had both shared your worries with one another, your hopes for the future. Talks that had brought the both of you all that much closer to one another. Close enough that you considered one another sisters.

Kain Fuery, the little brother you had always wanted, and since your own mother had died giving birth to a sibling who had never had the chance to draw breath, you saw Kain as your second chance. And given how you were almost always working on the radio, taking orders, sending messages and keeping updates on the latest going-ons in the military, he was always by your side to help however he could.

Vato Falman was your go to person when you needed to get a fact checked about history. He knew everything, and sometimes you would share your information with him to see if he knew anything about it. Not to mention the fact that the both of you would carry out long historical debates and discussions that you both thoroughly enjoyed, and ones that put the rest of your Team to sleep.

Jean Havoc had tried to flirt with you when he had first met you. But had backed off when you had given him a glare Olivier had helped you to perfect years ago. He was still a little afraid of you, but you both got along now. Enough that he would tell you all about his dating life, which you would critique him for quite viciously, much to the amusement of the rest of the Team.

Heymans Breda and you were partners in stealth. The both of you knew everything about everyone’s business. At least everyone who were important. But sometimes the insignificant tidbits the both of you shared did help once in awhile.

And finally there was Roy Mustang.

Your superior. The one who had brought you to be a part of his Team. He must’ve seen something in you that had him bring you in. Then again, he had seen something in all of them. And while you knew you were a valuable asset considering your way to talk yourself out of trouble as efficiently as any conman, you couldn’t help but hope for something different.

Which was utterly ridiculous because nothing could ever happen between the both of you.

You were his subordinate. A soldier under his command. Nothing more, nothing less.

Still it didn’t stop you from growing closer to him. To share your most deepest thoughts with one another. And while Riza was also his confidant, one you were aware of, there was something different when it came to the talks you had with Roy. They were more personal, and felt more like a conversation between a man and a woman, rather then the exchange of information between two soldiers.

And though you tried to stop it, tried your best not to, you couldn’t help but fall in love with him. Fall in love with the man with who regretted every life he had taken, who wanted to see Amestris become a better country. He had a vision, one that was just as grand as him, and you hoped you would be a part of it.

That you would be by his side when it became a reality.

And while it was hard to keep your feelings a secret, considering how they were always just simmering beneath the surface whenever you interacted with him, especially outside of work, they remained unspoken.

And since they remained unspoken, your feelings only grew stronger with each passing day.

                                             ————————–

Unbeknownst to you, Roy was in the same predicament as you.

He hoped that you would be by his side when he achieved his dream. Perhaps then his heart would allow him to do what he wanted for so long. 

To declare his love for you in that signature rambunctious style of his.

He had kept his feelings a secret from you for so long. Maes was aware of it. As was Riza. He only knew the latter because she had, in thinly veiled words, threatened to dismember him should he ever hurt you.

But he would never hurt you. He would rather die then hurt you intentionally. You, the only source of light and kindness that provided some sort of comfort to his broken soul. So many times he had come close to just confessing, to let everything come out in the open and damn the consequences, but he never did.

He had very nearly confessed when he had broken down in your arms after Maes’s passing. The man who had been his biggest supporter when it came to his feelings for you, but he had stopped. He had no desire to associate such an important moment with the worst time in his life.

Though if he had known that a few short weeks later, you would be on the verge of dying yourself, he would’ve confessed to you right then and there.

                                             ————————–

The pain at his side was still near overwhelming. The back of his palm itched and stung where he had carved the symbol he needed for flame alchemy.

But all that pain was nothing.

Nothing compared to the horrifying sight of you in the clutches of the Homunculi Lust.

You looked like you had taken quite the beating, with multiple bruises and cuts littering your body, a majority of them visible through your torn clothes. And you had.

You had lost all control when you had heard Lust speak so proudly and boastfully.

About the Flame Alchemist.

About killing the Flame Alchemist.

But you were no match for an all-powerful creature. Despite your years of training and weapons mastery, she had you pinned against the floor, one of her deadly claws aimed straight at your heart.

Though she changed positions when Roy stumbled in, followed by Riza.

Now she held you in front of herself like a shield, her sharp claw ascending from above your heart to press the tip of it against your delicate throat.

You let out a sob of relief at the sight of him.

“Roy!”

You hardly ever called him by his first name. And just with that word, he knew how worried and scared you had been that he was gone.

“Put her down.” He growled, his thumb itching to throw a fire blast in the direction of the Homunculi. Lust let out a soft laugh.

“Do you really believe you are in position to make demands of me Colonel Mustang?” She purred, the claw wrapped around your waist tightening, causing you to whimper as one of your fractured ribs throbbed with pain. “I shall enjoy tearing your little plaything apart.” Roy gritted his teeth as you let out a painful cry, unable to help yourself as her hold tightened. Beside him, Riza was no better. Her grip on her gun only increased, finger twitching to pull the trigger.

“D-d-o-on’t lis-te-n to h-er.” You managed to call out hoarsely, loud enough for your words to echo in the blindingly white room. Another laugh for Lust, one that had Roy growling under his breath, the fire in his eyes burning just as bright as any flame he normally created.

“Oh my, even on the brink of death you wish to bring your Colonel comfort.” She turned you around so she could look at you in the eye. “Tell me, are you willing to give up your life to save his?” She cooed, smiling sadistically. Your head turned slightly, so you could look at him over your shoulder. The true intensity of your love for Roy Mustang finally sunk in, burning so bright that it prompted you to look at Lust straight in the eye and say one word.

“Yes.”

Behind Lust you caught sight of Alphonse rising to his feet where Lust had thrown him aside during their fight. His armor was hidden behind a wall of stone he had built, so Roy and Riza hadn’t seen him yet. His red glowing eyes found yours, and you knew what was coming next.

A smile pulled at your lips. “But today is not that day.”

Lust barely had time to react to your words when Alphonse suddenly burst into action, sending a wall of stone in her direction. She had to drop you to save herself from being knocked off her feet.

“Now Roy!” The scream had barely left your lips when you felt the searing flames of his alchemy rush past you and engulf the Homunculi.

Lust’s screams of utter pain echoed all around you. Alphonse quickly surrounded you with a stone wall before rushing to your side and shielding you with his body. 

Roy’s flames were intense. He was not holding back. Not when the image of you looking so broken, defeated and hurt was fresh in his mind. Not when the sight of you willing to die for him had his insides twisting in a painful way.

Despite the physical pain that had his body throbbing, it seemed nothing compared to the pain he was certain would ravage his very sense of being should he loose you.

And so he unleashed all that fear, anger and anguish in his flames, unblinking and unrelenting as the creature Lust screamed and screamed. Even Riza did not stop him, did not tell him to hold off. Lust was too dangerous to be left alive.

In Alphonse’s protective grasp, you felt your entire body trembling from the pain, but that didn’t stop you from lifting your head once Lust finally fell silent. Somehow, you broke free of his grip around you and managed to peer around the protective wall.

Only to be met with the sight of Roy falling to his knees, looking just as bad as you did. “Roy!” You whimpered, worry lacing your tone, as you tried to stand. But the twisted ankle did not allow you to get any further then a crouch.

“Alphonse, keep an eye on both of them! I’m getting help!” Called Riza as she all but sprinted away knowing neither you, Roy nor Havoc were in any position to be moved without medical assistance.

Roy was lying on his back now his eyes were on you, his arm outstretched,  hand reaching out towards you. “Y/n.”

You quickly began to try and crawl towards him, though seeing you struggle, Aphonse quickly took over, lifting you up and bringing you to lie down next to your superior.

As soon as you were there, your hands found one another’s. Your fingers laced together and you held on tight as tears filled your eyes, while his shone with relief. “Are you okay?” He asked, his voice hoarse as he gripped your hand tighter, if that were even possible. You shook your head. “Forget about me. Lust said she killed you. I thought you were dead.” The tears began anew as you looked at his smiling face, very much alive and just as handsome as ever, despite his injured state. He reached out with his other hand to wipe away one of the falling tears. “Its gonna take more then a Homunculus to take me out.” He said in that confident voice of his, prompting a tearful laugh from your lips. Now that the danger has passed, the adrenaline was beginning to leave your body and you could feel your head begin to grow heavy and fuzzy, your eyes burning as you forced yourself to keep them open.

But it was no use. Already your eyelids were drooping, and everything around you was beginning to loose coherency.

Seeing you struggle with staying conscious, Roy turned his gaze to Alphonse who was hovering over them, Roy smiled. “Thanks Alphonse. Thank you for looking after the woman I love.”

Those were the last words you heard before you slowly slipped into the sweet embrace of darkness.

                                            ————————–

The next time you became aware of your surroundings you were lying on something soft.

Mumbling incoherently, you lifted a hand to your forehead, only to be met with resistance given that your arm was in a sling. Your entire body ached and felt so heavy that you were sure it had been run over by a tank.

But the real reason behind your current predicament slowly returned as your brain began to wake up. 

Lust. 

Lust hurting Alphonse.

Lust fighting you.

Taunting you.

Telling you Roy was dead.

Roy?

Roy!

“Roy!” His name fell from your lips as you suddenly sat up straight, followed by a cry of pain as your still healing ribs protested at the sudden movement. You wrapped an arm around your abdomen, grunting in pain.

“Yes?”

Startled you looked up, your head whipping to the side, only to be greeted with the sight of a very much alive Roy Mustang lying in a bed adjacent to yours. You could make out another bed next to his, with Havoc snoring away. It was the middle of the night, the only source of light in the room from the small lamp Roy had turned on as he read a book.

And seeing him sitting there, bandaged and looking so much better from when you had last seen it, doing something as mundane as reading a book, you couldn’t help but let out a sound of utter relief as you buried your face in your hands. You didn’t cry, but you were rather close.

“Oh you bastard.” Your words were muffled, but he heard you, considering he let out a chuckle. “Not exactly the words a man who confessed to you wants to hear, but I’ll take it to mean you’re feeling better now.”

You sighed, before removing your hands and turning to look at him. “It took you nearly dying to finally confess to me. You really know how to make a girl feel special you know.” You said, your smile soft yet teasing as you turned your head to look at him. Roy shrugged. “What can I say? I have a dramatic flare. Its a big part of my personality.” He admitted, smirking at you as he carefully slid from his bed, wincing from the pain at his side.

Your eyes dropped to his abdomen as he sat on the bed beside you. “How’re you feeling?” You asked, worry lacing your tone as your gaze moved to his hand where the symbol for flame alchemy was now scabbed over. You couldn’t help yourself as you reached out and gently took his hand in between your own. “Well my side still hurts, and I’m sharing a room with two other people despite my rank and not being looked after by a hot nurse, but other then that I have no complaints.” His words prompted a gentle laugh out of you as you finally lifted your gaze from his hand to meet his.

To say you were taken aback by the intensity of his eyes would be an understatement. You held his gaze, even as he reached up to brush your hair behind your ear. He didn’t lower his hand. Instead it stayed there, moving only to gently cup your cheek, brushing his thumb against the half-healed cut where Lust had caught you with one of her claws.

“I know you’ll probably tell me off later, but when Lust told me that she had killed you.” Your voice trembled slightly at the memory. “Something inside me broke and I started to attack her, with no regard for my own life.” The admittance had you a cold feeling creeping down your back but you continued, your eyes dropping to his chest. “In that moment I realized that I didn’t want to live. Not in a world where you weren’t alive.”

You sighed. “What I’m trying to say Roy, is that you mean so much to me. And I know this goes against every military rule there is about fraternizing with your superior but I-I love you too.” The words were barely out of your mouth before he closed whatever distance there was and pressed his lips against yours in a gentle kiss. The gesture was so unlike him, that it had you staring at him in surprise once he pulled back.

He smirked. “I know, I’m that good.” He said, and though his smile was smug, his eyes were sincere and adoring as he looked at you. Shaking your head you leaned forward to press your foreheads together, noses just barely touching, a wide smile on your lips. “I’ll need a repeat of that to judge for myself.” You stated, prompting him to let out a laugh, before he moved to comply to your request.

However the moment was broken by the grumbling of a certain fellow team member.

“Would you two stop flirting? People are trying to sleep here!”

You couldn’t help it as you muffled your laugh by pressing your lips against his once more.

[bellaireland1981]

Special Delivery for the Birthday Boy

Summary: You enlist Phoenix’s help to surprise your husband on his birthday. You’d been living on opposite coasts since he’d been called back to Top Gun and you were ready to reunite with him just in time to celebrate his birthday. An added bonus is you also get to surprise the rest of the Daggers who have no clue that Bradley is married. 

Word Count: 3.9K

Pairings: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Female! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of birthday sex but no actual smut, mentions of pregnancy.

A/N: I do not own TGM characters, I DO NOT give permission to anyone to repost, copy or translate my work to any other platform or website. Don’t steal my work... it’s not cool. AS always thank you to @waywardodysseys and @beyondthesefourwalls for letting me bounce ideas off them and encouraging me!! Reblogs and comments always appreciated! 

Masterlist

Side note: Meant to get this posted yesterday but wanted to redo a few things on it...still not 100% sure I love how it turned out but...here you go! 

YOU: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY! I LOVE YOU! I’ll be in interviews all day but I’ll FaceTime you tonight. Fly Safe! 💋

HUBBY: Thank you, Dove. I miss you so much 🙁 Wish you were here. Love you 💗

“Are you sure he doesn’t know I’m coming?” You asked, putting your suitcase into the back and climbing into the passenger seat. “Thanks again for coming to get me!”

“Y/N, I promise, he’s absolutely clueless.” Phoenix assured you, smiling. “He’s been moping around all day because he can’t get a hold of you. And you’re welcome! I can’t wait to see his face!”

“I can’t wait to see his face either… I miss that face.” You said, leaning back in the seat. “I’ll be so happy when we’re living on the same damn coast again.”

“When will that be?” She asked, merging into the traffic leaving the San Diego International Airport. “Rooster mentioned you had some loose ends to tie up out East.”

“That’s part of his birthday present.” You said beaming, “I actually just accepted a teaching position for the fall. I had an interview over Zoom yesterday. Bradley thinks I’m in interviews all day today.”

“Y/N that’s awesome!” Phoenix exclaimed, “He’ll be so damn excited.”

“I’m excited.” You laughed, “I’ve had enough of being across the country from my husband. Especially after the last mission. How are things really going with him and Maverick?”

“Honestly?” She said, “Much better than when we got back to Top Gun. They’ve talked and are actively trying. It’s been really good for Rooster.”

“Good.” You replied, “I’ve been trying to get him to reach out for a few years. He just wasn’t ready. I’m glad he got this chance. It’ll be interesting to meet the man.”

“He’s a good guy.” She said, “Bob and I are the only ones that know about you, by the way.”

“I figured.” You laughed. “I’m kind of looking forward to that bombshell being dropped too. From everything I’ve heard about everyone, the reactions should be priceless. I’m especially looking forward to Hangman’s reaction.”

“Oh, this will be absolutely priceless.” Phoenix laughed, “For as much shit as he gives Rooster for never hitting on women at the Hard Deck and not having any game… he’s going to have to eat his words. He’ll most likely hit on you though if he meets you before knowing you’re married to Rooster.”

“Are things better between them though?” You asked, “I know Hangman wasn’t Bradley’s favorite person… and they’ve butted heads in the past. When it counted though, that man came through for my husband and it’s a debt I’ll never be able to repay.”

“They’ve formed a tentative friendship.” She said, “It’s new… but there is a strong mutual respect between them. They’ve flown better together in training since the mission…have become a pretty damn good team actually.”

“It makes me feel better knowing he’s got the best pilots in the Navy flying with him.” You said, “I always felt safer when I knew he was deployed with you.”

“Just because you know I’ll keep his ass out of trouble.” She laughed. “I get it though. You have to trust your wingman. This last mission showed us that we can really all trust one another to come through for each other.”

She pulled into the driveway of her apartment complex parking her car and the two of you got out. You grabbed your suitcase from the back and followed her up to her apartment.

“Ok I just need like a half hour to shower and get ready!” You said, “Then I’ll be ready to go!”

“Take your time.” She laughed, “I’ll grab a towel for you. While you shower, I’ll text the group. Jake is actually in charge of getting Bradley to the Hard Deck for birthday drinks.”

You opened your suitcase, pulling out a sundress you’d left on top for easy access. It was one of Bradley’s favorites on you so you made sure to pack it. You grabbed the strapless bra and matching lace panties you’d bought to wear with the dress and headed to the shower. You tied your hair up so it wouldn’t get wet and quickly jumped into the shower.

True to your word, thirty minutes later you were dressed and ready to go. You’d left your hair down, opted for light makeup and only wore a necklace Bradley had given you for your anniversary (a Dove pendant on a dainty silver chain). You slipped your feet into wedge sandals and grabbed your purse and the small gift bag with Bradley’s other birthday present in it and headed out to the living room where Phoenix was waiting.

“Ready!” You said, excited to finally be headed out to see your husband.

“Jake said he’s having a hard time getting Rooster to go to the bar. He asked him after work and he said he was just going to go home.” Phoenix said. “I can drop you off at the Hard Deck then go to the house and drag his ass out. He’ll listen to me.”

“Hold on.” You said, “He’s probably waiting for me to FaceTime him and doesn't want to miss that call… SHIT! He’ll recognize your apartment…. Ok…. no problem.. I’ve got this.”

You brought your husband’s name up on your phone, hitting the call button.

“Baby you said FaceTime.” Bradley complained, answering the phone on the second ring. “Where’s your beautiful face?”

“I know, Sweetie,” You replied, sighing, “I promise I’ll FaceTime you later tonight. I messed up the time difference and I got a call from another school to interview with. I just really want to find a job out there so I can get to you. How about you go get a birthday drink with Nix and then by the time you get home I’ll be free and we can FaceTime.”

“It’s OK, Dove.” He said, “Good luck in the interview, Baby. They’ll all want you and you’ll have your pick of jobs. I just miss you so damn much. I want to be able to come home to you at night. I love you.”

“I love you too, Bradley.” You said, your heart breaking at how sad he sounded, even knowing you were about to make him so happy. “I’ll be home there with you before you even know it and you’ll be coming home to me every single night. Promise you’ll go get a drink with your friends? Celebrate your birthday?”

“I promise.” He said, “I’ll talk to you later, Baby. Good Luck.”

“Thank you, Sweetie.” You replied, “I love you so so much.”

“Love you too.” He replied.

After hanging up you had Phoenix text the group chat again to let everyone know that drinks were happening at the Hard Deck in thirty minutes for Bradshaw’s birthday. Then she texted Bradley and let him know she wasn’t taking ‘No’ for an answer.

PHOENIX: Bradshaw, your ass better be at the Hard Deck in 30 minutes or I’ll be at your house to drag your ass out myself. 😡

ROOSTER: My  wife already texted you? Lol 😂  I’m changing out of my flight suit now. Be there in 30.

“Alright, he’s changing now!” Phoenix said, smiling, “Let’s get you to your husband!”

You pulled your suitcase back down to her car, throwing it into the back again to be transferred to your husband’s Bronco once you were at the Hard Deck. Knowing you were going to be seeing him in 30 minutes caused excitement to flood your system. You’d been married for three years, together for five and gone through much longer deployments and separations that the one you’d just been through, but never before had he flown such a dangerous mission where it had been pretty much assumed someone wasn’t coming home.

“Not long now!” Phoenix said, smiling over at you, knowing where your head was going. “An added bonus to this new assignment is the deployments won’t be as often or as long. We will actually be getting to do more instructing of the new classes of Top Gun students in between missions. You won’t have to worry about long separations anymore.”

“I’ve done ok as long as I didn’t let myself think about it too much.” You said, “The minute I let myself think about how close he came to not coming home… I lose it.”

“You’ll feel much better once you see him and have him back in your arms.” She promised, “I know he’ll feel better once he’s got you in his arms too.”

“You’re right.” You said. “Just need him in my arms.”

She pulled into the parking lot of the bar a short time later and you made your way inside.  

“Looks like everyone except Rooster is here.” Phoenix said, spotting everyone in their regular corner of the bar when they walked in. “Let’s go grab drinks from the bar and kill time until he gets here. I want him to be the one to introduce you.”

You followed her to the bar, sitting in one of the free seats.

“Hey, Phoenix.” Penny said, coming over, “What can I get for you two?”

“Hey, Penny.” She replied, “I’ll take a beer, Y/N?”

“Just a Ginger Ale or Sprite if you have it?” You asked, smiling. “I’m going to be DD tonight for my husband.”

“One of these aviators belong to you?” Penny asked, grabbing the beer for Phoenix and filling a glass with ice and pouring the amber soda for you.

“He’s not here yet.” You replied, smiling. “But yeah, I have to take claim for an aviator.”

“Penny, do you know if Mav is coming tonight?” Phoenix asked, winking at you. “Figured he might pop in for Rooster’s birthday.”

“I think he said he’s stopping in.” She replied, “I’m so glad those two are finally talking!”

“You and me both!” Phoenix replied, taking a drink of her beer.

“Phoenix, why are you sitting over here keeping your beautiful friend here from joining us?” A smooth voice sounded behind you both. You turned and smirked, knowing exactly who was standing behind you.

“Bagman, you’re not allowed to harass my friend.” Phoenix said, rolling her eyes. “She is definitely not your type.”

“I’m Hangman.” He said, flashing a megawatt smile, complete with dimples. You were sure that smile landed him plenty of ladies. You had to bite back a laugh when you glanced over at  Phoenix who was rolling her eyes. “Or Jake, whichever you prefer.”

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Hangman.” You replied, glancing behind him as the door opened and a very familiar mustached aviator walked in wearing one of his million Hawaiian shirts. Thankfully he hadn’t seen you yet so you still had the element of surprise.  “Phoenix is right though, you’re not my type. I only give my heart to 6 '1”, brown eyed,curly haired, aviators with mustaches and a penchant for Hawaiian shirts.”

“Oddly specific…” He said, confused, but turning to see where your eyes had landed. You hopped off the seat and moved past him, straight into Bradley’s line of sight.

“Lieutenant Bradshaw!” You called, catching his attention. His head shot up, his eyes locking in on you immediately, a shocked smile stretching across his face.  “Surprise, Baby! Happy Birthday!”

“Dove!” He exclaimed, finally snapping out of his shock. He closed the distance between you two quickly, meeting him in the middle, and scooped you up into his arms. Your legs wrapped around him so he was holding you koala style, your lips locking against his own in a passionate kiss, neither of you caring that you were standing in the middle of a crowded bar. “Fuck, I’ve missed you so damn much, Y/N. I can’t believe you’re really here!”

“Forgive me for not FaceTiming now?” You asked, laughing “I was at Phoenix’s apartment when I called.”

“You’re a little minx.” He laughed. “I forgive you baby.”

“Bradshaw!” Jake said, “Care you’ve got some explaining to do.”

“Give me a minute, Hangman.” Bradley replied, setting you down, but not letting you go. “I haven’t seen my wife in a couple of months. Let me say ‘hello’.”

“WIFE?” Jake exclaimed, “Phoenix, you know about this?”

“Yup.” She smirked, leading Jake away from you and Bradley. “Give them a minute. They’ll join us shortly.”

You were still wrapped in Bradley’s arms and you finally felt like you were home.

“I can’t believe you’re really here, Dove.” He said, resting his forehead against your own. “You look so beautiful, Baby.”

“I’m really here, my love.” You promised, kissing him softly. “It’s so good to see your face and kiss you and to be in your arms. I love you so much. From now on, I will go where you go whenever humanly possible.”

“I love you too, Beautiful.” He replied, “I’m hoping this will be our permanent home base. How close are we to being a one coast family?”

“Actually, how likely is it that you can get leave to help me pack up our Virginia house?” You asked.

“Pretty likely.” He smiled, “Do you have a timeline?”

“Whenever you’re ready.” You said, “I accepted a job out here for the fall, officially resigned at the district in Virginia Beach and cleared out my classroom two days ago.”

“FUCK YES!” He exclaimed, picking you up and swinging you around, “I’ll put in for leave tomorrow. As soon as it’s granted we’ll book a flight back and pack it all up and list the house.”

“Bradshaws!” Jake yelled, “Join the party!”

“We’re being paged.” You laughed, “Come on, Baby. Introduce me to your friends.”

You and Bradley walked over to the corner where everyone had congregated and introductions were made.

“Everyone, this is my wife Y/N.” Bradley said, happy to finally get to introduce you to everyone, “Baby, this is the squad. You’ve met Hangman. That’s Payback, Fanboy, Coyote, and you already know Bob.”

“Hey Y/N” Bob said, coming over to hug you, “It’s good to see you again!”

“Hi, Bob!” You replied smiling, hugging him back, “It’s so good to see you too!” Then looking at the rest of the group you smiled and  said, “It’s so nice to finally meet you all. Bradley’s told me all about you guys.”

“Wait a damn minute!” Jake said, turning to glare and Bradley, “Phoenix and Bob BOTH knew you had a wife? What the HELL, Rooster? I saved your life and I don’t get to be in the cool kids club knowing you have a WIFE? I thought we were friends, man.”

“Jake…”Bradley said, unsure what to say, “Come on man, it’s not like that…we are friends…”

You look over at Jake who’s doing all that he can to not smile, enjoying the fact that Bradley has no idea what to say.

“Baby, he’s playing you.” You told your husband, winking at Jake. “Jake, stop bullying my husband. It’s his birthday. Play nicely and you come over for home cooked meals.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He replied, smiling, “Sorry, Rooster. Couldn’t resist. Congrats on the beautiful wife. She’s a firecracker. Definitely keep her.”

“I plan on it, Hangman.” Bradley said, shaking his head at the blonde aviator.

The night continues with the group playing pool, swapping stories, drinking and you filling them in on how you and Bradley met and ended up married. Eventually, Phoenix made her way to the Jukebox and pulled the plug, silencing the music, causing your husband to chuckle. There was a mixed reaction from the bar to the music being cut. Some booed, upset that whatever had been playing was cut off mid song, the rest cheered, clearly knowing something was about to happen.

“That’s my cue, Baby.” Bradley said, tapping your leg to signal he needed up. You stood up to let him get off the chair, but before you could sit back down, he grabbed your hand and pulled you along with him to an upright piano.

“They clearly know your party trick.” You teased, “Come on birthday boy, serenade your fans.” Bradley sat down on the bench, pulling you down next to him. His fingers moved over the keys, playing a random melody before launching into the familiar intro chords to Great Balls of Fire. You knew he could play a million other songs, but this one in particular held the most meaning to him as it was the one his dad had played and sang when he was little before he died.

You could tell Bradley had done this before here because everyone crowded around and were singing along with him while he played. You joined in, belting out the song alongside your husband. KISS ME BABY.. (you leaned in to kiss him quickly)    OOOOO THAT FEELS GOOD,   HOLD ME BABY….. WELL,  I’LL STILL HOLD YOU LIKE A LOVER SHOULD….. YOU’RE FINE…. SO KIND… I GOT TO TELL THIS WORLD THAT YOU’RE MINE MINE MINE MINE!  

When the song finished the bar erupted into loud cheers and chants yelling “ROOSTER”. You loved seeing your husband in his element like this. You quickly took advantage of being in front of the piano and scooted your husbands fingers off the keys, replacing them with your own and started to play Happy Birthday. You were happy when everyone around you immediately joined in and soon the entire bar was signing to your husband.

“Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy BIRTHDAY dear ROOSTER, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!”

“Make a wish, Baby”! You said, turning towards him.

“All my wishes have come true.” He replied, leaning in to kiss you.

“Hey Rooster,” Phoenix said, gently, not wanting to interrupt the moment.  “Mav’s at the bar.”

“Ready to meet my Godfather?” He asked you.

“Definitely ready.” You replied. “Then I’ve got the rest of your birthday present.”

“Baby!” He exclaimed, “You’re here, you’re MOVING here, YOU are my present.”

“Ok, well, there’s more.” You shrugged laughing. “Introduce me to Mav.”

Bradley took your hand and led you to the bar where Mav was sitting sipping a beer. He looked up as you both approached and smiled, standing up.

“Happy Birthday, Kid.” Mav said, hugging Bradley tightly.

“Thanks, Mav.” He replied, hugging him back. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

You stepped closer, smiling softly. You were nervous to meet the man that meant so much to Bradley and who had been like a father to him growing up before everything had exploded. You wanted to help your husband to build that relationship back up, knowing how important it was to have family. Your own parents adored Bradley and had immediately welcomed him into the family when you’d brought him home the first time.

“This is my wife, Y/N.” He said, his arm around your waist, “Baby, this Mav. He helped my mom raise me after my dad died.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.” Mav said, his voice thick with emotion.

“It’s great to finally meet you too.” You replied, smiling, stepping forward to pull him into a hug. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“For the record, Y/N’s been trying to get me to reach out for a couple of years now.” Bradley admitted. “I’m just bullheaded.”

“At least he admits it.” You laughed. “We’d love to have you over for dinner though, Mav. I’d really love to get to know you.”

“I would love that, Y/N.” He replied, “I’d love to get to know the one making my Godson so happy.”

“He’s easy to love.” You said, looking over your shoulder at your husband. “He makes me pretty damn happy too.”

“I think I’m going to steal my wife now and take her home.” Bradley said, “She just flew in today and is still on East Coast time.”

“Sounds good.” Mav said, “Enjoy the rest of your birthday, Kid. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” He replied, smiling, “See you tomorrow.”

After saying goodbye to the rest of the squad, you were finally able to escape out to the Bronco. Phoenix had already transferred your suitcase while you were inside.

“Do you need me to drive?” You asked, you hadn’t kept track of your husband’s drinks tonight.

“Nope. I’m good.” He said, smiling, opening the passenger door for you,“Only had 2 beers earlier, nothing since. Hop in, Dove.”

You leaned back in the seat, enjoying the air coming in from the open windows as Bradley drove you both home. He had found an apartment not far from base that did short term leases when he’d come back to San Diego for the mission. Now that you knew it would be permanent the two of you could start to look for a house together. You made a mental note to start looking at listings tomorrow while he was at work.

The apartment wasn’t too far from The Hard Deck either, so before long, Bradley was pulling the Bronco into the parking space and shutting it off. He came around to open your door for you before pulling your suitcase from the back of the Bronco.

“Ready to see our temporary home in person?” He asked

“More than ready.” You said, “Especially the bed… I really wanna see the bed.”

“I can’t wait to get you into bed either, Baby.” He smirked, “Birthday sex is the best.”

“Lead the way, Stud.” You winked, “I still have another birthday surprise for you.”

“Is it under your dress?” He asked, taking your hand and leading you to the front door, unlocking it and ushering you inside.

“It is…” You replied, “But I need something from my suitcase first.” You unzipped the suitcase and pulled out the small gift bag inside before handing it to Bradley. “Happy Birthday, Baby.”

He smiled, reaching to take the bag, leaning down to kiss you as he did, “Thank you, Dove.”

He opened the bag, taking out the tissue paper, and pulling out two onesies. Holding them up, you could see the moment it registered in his head what he was looking at. His eyes filled with tears as he read each one.

“Future Aviator, just like my Daddy,” He read, before holding up the other one to read, “Daddy’s Wingman”

He looked up at you, “Baby, you’re….we’re…really?” He was too choked up to get the words out. You smiled, tears of your own spilling over and running down your cheeks.

“Yes” You whispered, unable to get your own voice to work. He carefully set the onesies in the bag and pulled you into his arms, your own going around his neck. His lips connected with yours in a deep kiss, desperate to convey all of his love and feelings to you in that moment.

“We’re having a baby.” He whispered, when you’d both pulled back to breathe. “How far along?”

“I just hit 11 weeks.” You said, then reached for your purse to pull out the sonogram photo you had safely tucked inside, “And actually… let’s go sit on the couch and I’ll show you the sonogram…”

He took your hand leading you to the couch, sitting down with you tucked into his side. You handed him the envelope with the copies of the sonogram from the doctor. He carefully opened it up, pulling them out to look.

“Dove…” He said, shock once again covering his face  “Are you serious right now?”

“Surprise!” You chuckled, “Turns out you're top 1% in more than just flying, Baby.”

“We’re having twins.” He smiled, looking at the sonogram, “I’m gonna be a daddy.”

“You’re gonna be the best daddy.” You confirmed, “Happy Birthday, Bradley.”

“This has been the best birthday ever, Dove.” He replied, leaning over to kiss you. “Thank you for making all of my wishes come true.”

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[lucysarah-c]

Hi ik you’re not taking requests but could you share what you think the canon aot characters would think about gay people?

Hi, dear! How are you?

I feel so giggly when people ask for my opinion on topics; I don't know why. So, I'll take a minute from my birthday to reply!

This is such a good question, and I'll do my best to respond respectfully as someone who isn't part of the LGBTQ+ community. I would say that overall, most characters of AoT, or at least the ones we know well (not like the civilians inside the walls), wouldn't "mind it." For example, I don't believe Erwin, Levi, Hange, Eren, Mikasa, Jean, etc., would mind it or be homophobic. I'll summarize the upcoming rant with a quote I heard once and feel encapsulates my view of the AoT characters:

"The woke of today are the fascists of tomorrow."

It's true. Everything you fight for today to normalize, to create awareness, etc., will hopefully be granted in a few years. Society will evolve, and the new generations will think we are "close-minded" to a certain degree. There will always be homophobic and misogynistic people across generations, but probably one kid or two will call us out in a couple of years. This is great because it means society is learning.

With that said, when I get asked, "Would Levi be misogynistic? Would Levi or Erwin be homophobic?" I always think, "They wouldn't… for their period's standards." I don't think the society within the walls is very open-minded by 2024 standards. Even in my own fic, I write that homosexuality is banned inside the walls, which was the case in many countries until not long ago. In some places, it still happens. Even in societies like Korea, being homosexual isn't "illegal," but you could lose your job if your boss finds out. I follow a YouTuber from Spain who does vlogs about his life in Korea, and he's gay. He has to keep his relationship with his boyfriend secret because his Korean boyfriend could lose his job and family if people found out.

It's extremely sad that people can't live their lives proudly and loudly because of this, but it's a reality even nowadays. So, I don't really think being open about your sexual orientation if you're not a cis heterosexual person would be safe inside the walls.

Now, do I think that AoT characters are homophobic? No. The only characters that come to mind who might be openly homophobic, based on the vibes they give me (not on panels or canon proof, just my feelings), are Folch, Porco, Zackly (because he's an old man), and Zeke. Zeke would probably pretend that he doesn't care but be really homophobic deep down and maybe even use it against someone.

The rest, I don't feel they would be homophobic. Maybe they would make some uncool comments, but mostly out of ignorance rather than hate, like maybe Jean. On the other hand, I do feel like they wouldn't have a 2024 approach to the topic, especially the men. I'm not saying women can't be homophobic, but historically, women and homosexuals have had a more "ally" relationship.

I think this is also due to misogyny. I can see AoT guys being like, "Yeah, we're cool with it… as long as I'm not the one that guy is into," or "As lond as nobody thinks I AM gay," which is a very usual approach for men. They fear other men being into them because men are deep down scared of being treated or seen as they treat women. Men often see gay men as "lacking masculinity," which has nothing to do with it but is usually correlated for heterosexual men. Especially in military settings, barracks, shared showers, locker talks, etc., men are supposed to be "men's environments." Particularly in the scouts, as they are all outcasts of society and very few in number. If they got picky about who they decided to get involved with, they would halve their numbers.

In conclusion, I feel like most of the AoT characters wouldn't mind at all. They might not be open about their sexuality because of societal prejudice, but their opinion about it wouldn't be as "supportive" as many of us are these days.

Thank you so much for your ask! I hope this somehow answers the question!

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Rachel Wahba

Vice President Kamala Harris’ emphatically raised voice demanding we must “have the courage to object when they use the term ‘Radical Islamic Terrorism?’” rings in my ears.  In what world is that  “courage”? 

It was radical Islamic terrorists who blew up the Twin Towers and destroyed thousands of American lives. It was radical Islamic terrorists who crossed Gaza into Israel and broke the country’s heart and caused the most heinous of acts that they, the Islamist terrorists proudly filmed on their bodycams. 

And the terrorist adjacent chanting “from the river to the sea Palestine will be free Yitbach El Yahud” crashes into our world here on the streets of Los Angeles, New York, San Francisco. “Hamas is coming” in blood red paint on monuments in DC is not just a “protest” of a very unpopular Israeli Prime Minister.  

There is no question Jews are between a rock and a hard place. We have for the most part been proud liberals. I remain a proud liberal. But I will never vote against Israel. Never again is now. 

If this country is not one hundred percent behind Israel and resists putting the burden of Gazan suffering on Hamas and Radical Islamist Terrorists and Iranian and Qatar funded terrorism, the Democratic party we have supported is a sham.

 “Americans are naive,” Granny said when I talked with her so long ago. But I no longer think it’s naivete. Its delusional self interest and arrogance not to recognize evil. Hamas is nothing more than a monstrous murderous death cult ready to kill all its people in the service of its paymaster, Iran. It should not be that hard to understand that Iran plans much more than Bin Laden’s pilots could ever do. 

 “Anti-Zionist” chants marching down major cities in America echo Islamic threats against Jews. Terrifying protests on college campuses and cities across America  scream for Israel’s demise, raise Hamas flags and burn American flags, glorify terrorism and normalize anti-Zionism, the Jew hatred of our time.

Denial of life under Islam is astounding despite common knowledge that gay people are not allowed to be free in Islamic countries, and caught being gay means being thrown off rooftops in Tehran, raped with iron rods (if you are a man) and dragged through the streets of Gaza, and hung on telephone poles in the Palestinian Territories. There are no open gay people in Palestine. They flee for their lives to Tel Aviv.  

You have to wonder how a progressive community I briefly felt safe in once upon a time, hates Israel, the only safe space for queer men and women, and are mum on Iran, poster child of oppression of women, murder and torture of gays, literally cloaking the country in black. 

The Orwellian Progressive idealization of monsters who started a war in the most brutal of ways and continue the war by horrifically using its own in every way possible, using its own women men and children, as many of them as it takes, all of Gaza if need be, as human ammunition to get rid of Jews and Israel is mind boggling stuff.   

Granny, you were right. Bin Laden’s rag tag jihadis were here then plowing into the Twin Towers. And it isn’t just “naivete,”on the part of people who refuse to see.  It’s denial, a sick arrogance, a cynical dance by our politicians, an ease from having lived too well too easily in the best country for too long, and a very old antisemitism. 

[world-of-wales]

The Indian PM is asking for votes in the upcoming election by saying that voters shouldn't support the opposition leaders coz they eat........Non-vegetarian food.......

This isn't him relating environment problems and veganism/vegetarianism, but rather him campaigning that in a secular country only his party is the best because they follow the moral and vegetarian majority religion. Which is funny in itself since, except for North India, the rest of the Hindus in other parts consume all kinds of non vegetarian food items.

And to most people outside India, this vegetarian vs non-veg debate might seem foolish, but here it is proving to be the main election agenda now. A lot of people may think oh he's advocating for being vegetarian, that's great. But unfortunately not in this case coz his party which is filled with upper caste Hindus mostly use this argument of food choices to demonize minority communities in the country, they deny protein to poor children in the meals provided to them by the state in public schools, their supporters go and harass & have in many cases k-worded innocent people in name of 'Cow protection', force butchers who come from low income backgrounds to shut down their stores making them unable to earn even the meagre ammount that they do etc etc. So veg/non-veg in the case of Indian elections rn is so much more than just a debate on dietary choices.

So, no talks of education, health, economy, jobs etc this election season but rather cheap and completely nonsense topics during campaigning. And I wish I could call it satire, but unfortunately this is what the so-called largest democracy has come to.

This issue is just the tip of the iceberg of all the things that need to be changed in this country to take it back to where it was before this train wreck that the past decade has been and to start rebuilding it brick by brick.

The reason I'm posting this today is that, I want to request anyone who's eligible to vote in India to PLEASE GO VOTE! exercise ur right. Don't let anyone tell you that your voice doesn't matter coz it does. And it's never been more essential for you to make use of Article 326 and cast your vote. It is ur fundamental right.

I don't think there could be a more appropriate time to ask you for this, as it is the 133rd birth anniversary of Dr. Ambedkar today, the father of the Constitution. The man who fought all his life to make sure everyone in his country had democratic fundamental rights. He gave you that Constitution that protects you and your interests and rights. The tip of his pen changed the world you live in today for the better. So please don't let that the sacrifices made by him or of all those in the Constituent Assembly, of all those who came before you go to waste. They gave this country their all, so you could have all the freedoms that you do today. They gave you a constitution based on liberty, equality, fraternity, secularism, socio-economic democracy etc to protect you, the citizens. And now, as these rights slowly get encroached upon, it is more important than ever before for you to assert these rights.

Go read the election manifestos of the parties and learn about the candidates fighting elections from ur constituency. Please make an informed choice. Don't go and vote for people on the basis of religion, caste, etc. Go and vote for that person who actually talks about the on ground issues you face, who has plans to make ur life, and the society you live in better. Who promises to give you the basic rights that you deserve, someone who promises not to infringe upon the fundamental rights as enshrined in the constitution, the one who talks about creating better employment, creating a robust health system, making sure every child in this country has access to quality education, someone who wants to create a safe space for women not just out in the world but also in the private sphere, someone who promises to work towards dealing with the problems of inflation & other economic problems you face, someone who wants to work towards dealing with the vast enomic disparities that exist across the board. Someone who wants to work towards providing safeguards for the most vulnerable people and communities, etc etc.

Go on the website of the election commission, check out the dates of vote casting in your area, mark that date, wake up that morning take ur voter id card and please go push a button on the machine at the particular booth you fall under.

Don't let people tell you that you are young, you don't know what you need, you shouldn't be jumping into political discourse, don't let them discourage you from exercising the most important right the constitution has given you. TRUST ME, YOU DO KNOW WHAT YOU NEED, POLITICS AFFECTS YOU TOO, THE GOVERNMENT POLICIES AFFECT YOU TOO, SO YOUR VOICE IS JUST AS IMPORTANT IN THESE UPCOMING ELECTIONS AS THAT OF THE OTHERS!

YOUR VOTE MATTERS. IT'S NEVER MATTERED MORE!

[bethanysnow]

Breakeven prt 4

Bang Chan x Plus size Reader!

1.5k FLUFF chan being what the kids say 'delulu'

(A.N: Tumblr ate the first version of this fic so please be kind. I am happy there is a fully formed piece though.)

His heart beat faster in his chest. He didn't know if it was from the impact or the pretty girl in front of him, but he felt the ringing in his ears and blood rush to his cheeks turning them rosey.

Normally, he was at a function for JYP he was Chan! Best leader! Leader and producer of one of the best-selling, most popular boy groups in the 4th gen if ever. He was there to be a show pony. Do tricks. Flirt with women he had no interest in because he knew it did something in the realm of securing his seat at the table. It was safe. He could be charismatic, charming, intoxicatingly so. He saved face for the company, he knew it, and everyone knew it. The friends he had were other idols. Fellow people in the pursuit of this dream, but that were also tied to work. He didn't know the last person he spoke to that wasn't….in some way shape or form tied to his work as an Idol.

He didn't know the last time he just randomly met a girl on the street who he thought was pretty and talked to her just to talk to her.

He didn't know the last time he was just Chris from Australia.

Chan wasn't shy by any means or he didn't think he was. Something in the way the woman across from him looked into his eyes though made him want to hide. He wasn't looking for a girlfriend either. Just work was work, Stay came into his life and it was almost a religious experience. This incomprehensible force was out there, looking out for him, caring about him, wanting the best for him, and all he had to do was be the man he grew into being. That permission of self was a big relief considering his addiction to work. His work as Idol. Korea as a country was dependent on this addiction, for that's what it was. Large parts of the population got a high seeing work be completed, having it also be tied to one's worth, self-preservation. Words were invented to describe the feeling of being so deeply exhausted only for it to be turned into words of praise.

That's what Chan knew and expected. Internalizing from a very young age that unless he was extraordinary, he wasn't anything.

Anything at all.

Maybe she knew who he was.

Maybe she had walls plastered with his face on it.

But in that moment, it didn't matter. Nothing…mattered.

Just her asking him if he was alright and her hand gently placed on top of his. The sounds around him began to go fuzzy with Han rambling and people having dinner.

Her eyes went to Jisung taking in whatever was being spoken, as Chan's eyes sought to memorize the vision before him. She was different. Not different bad, just different. In the world he lived in it was common practice to ‘deal with’ things. Diets, being unhealthily skinny, wanting to ‘fix’ how tall someone’s nose was. Looking at her with soft eyes he took in her appearance. She was a full-figured woman, took up space, commanded a presence. There was some blush to her cheeks, eyeshadow maybe. Simple. Only Chan noticed the details not of what was there, but of what wasn’t. No tape pulling her face back, no line of lace for a wig or caked on foundation shades lighter than her skin naturally was. She just existed. No one in his life knew how to just be. How to exist in their entirety, and yet here she was.

She was so pretty…

That’s all he could think about…she was just so god damn pretty.

“You’re staring- he’s staring. Is he? Are you okay?” Waving her hand in front of his face. He stared at her in a daze. Only for her to break him out of his delusion of what their apartment would look like decorated for the holidays and what would they name their third child. Watching him snap back to reality it left the gritty feeling of anxiety in her mouth, was there something on her face? In her teeth? Did she smell?

When Jisung said the person he wanted her to meet would be worth her while she didn’t think this is what he meant! His fucking leader?! After this encounter she was sure to give him a piece of her mind! What in the twilight zone unreality did she walk into? Chris seeing her apprehension looked to Han who winked at him giving him finger guns only to say something about picking up the dinner. Telling Chan to sit with Y/n.

Y/n…y/n. He chewed on the name in his mouth feeling where his tongue sat and bit his teeth. He had heard names like it before. Normally wouldn’t think twice about it, but seeing the girl the name was attached to made it sparkle. He wanted to say it over and over, it in the second became the sweetest sound he ever heard.

“Is it okay? If I sit here, with you? I can go- “

“No!! Stay!! Its fine- “Her voice was louder than she expected. As if something took possession of the controls in her head to grab his hand only to retract it moments later cringing instantly. Seeking solace in hiding in her purple sweater. That’s when it hit Chan how he knew her really. She was the girl from the street.

This realization caused Chan’s face to turn bright red grabbing at his earring to self-soothe the butterflies that had taken up residency inside his lungs.

“You’re the uh…girl on the street yea? You busk? I mean? I heard you singing earlier-“

Y/ns eyes widened…” Am I that loud?” her mouth tried to form words as embarrassment crept up her collar and onto her face only for Chan to grab her hand. He threw his head back and laughed like somehow, she had made the room feel like fizzy drinks and pop rocks and cotton candy all in one question.

“No! no no no no- you hehehe aren’t that loud. I just keep the window to the studio open sometimes and when I head in, I can hear you. I promise you aren’t that loud hehe” He smiled and it just got bigger and bigger as Y/n threw a hand over her heart and exhaled dramatically.

“Oh, thank god- I would hope someone would have told me by now, but I’m glad I am not taking up the entire street block with my attempt at music.” She giggled. She was giggling. Who was she?? Acting like a schoolgirl on a date. Becoming absolutely beside herself with the affect this man was having on her. Ending up just looking at the table for some illusionary script of what does one say to one of the most attractive people on the planet?

“Oh- don’t say that. You sing quite good if I’m honest.”

Her smile bloomed across her face as did the redness in her cheeks. Bang Christopher Chan was complimenting her singing. What a day this turned out to be?

Chan looked at their hands still oddly touching, he didn’t notice till now that when he grabbed her hand…she didn’t let go. Normally by now there would be some squealing or reaction, but there wasn’t. Not that it was an expectation of course. His mind drifted a little looking at their hands only to be brought back to her eyes on him with a slight tilt of her head.

“You okay though? I mean- You kinda got tabled in the dick so- “Y/n chuckled unable to keep it to herself.

As weird as asking how his dick was, it was the most refreshing conversation and question Chan had experienced in about six months. Not knowing if it was the novelty of finding someone outside of work, or how she was so different than everyone he existed with in his day-to-day life, he wanted to know. To know if it was just infatuation or something else.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I think though Jisung set me up…” The man looked over the dividers to their rapper standing next to the counter talking to a waitress, making sure he wasn’t just straight up abandoned in a restaurant with a girl.

“Oh I am right there with you-“

“You in Seoul long?” Chan asked trying to gauge what he could do.

“I guess? I am visiting a cousin in Busan over a couple months and so I always try and visit Seoul. He works, and I don’t want to just be waiting for him. I’m staying at a capsule hotel hostel thing.”

The gears in his head turned. Looking between the table Jisung, and Y/n. “Are you on whatsapp? Or Kakao Talk? I would love to hear you sing something…and I work in a studio so….” Chan couldn’t handle the tension anymore. He needed an answer like an itch he couldn’t scratch or a song he couldn’t name playing on repeat.

Jisung only then took the moment to barge into their bubble with bags of takeout. “SO- talk about anything fun??~” Han grinned so proud of himself.

“Maybe we did, maybe we didn’t, eh?” Y/n scrunched her nose at the interrupter. “I was just about to give Chan here my number…if he would still accept it~” she smiled at him taking out her phone to hand to him.

…… …………

~~~~ To be continued.

@7ndipity @moonlightndaydreams @queen-in-the-shadows @chansmanda @antoniorhinothethird @hyunsvngs @channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut

[abbythewritor]

"Fairness." One Piece x Saitama reader, eleven.

"Just a Normal girl looking for an everyday life. At least, if you call sailing across the seas with idiots with useless dreams a simple task, then you might wanna see a doctor. Seriously."

Warnings: Blood, gore, mentions of Luekimia, and heaps amount of blood and strength. It might be a little cursing, but not bad, and maybe some flirting in there, but it's mostly clean.

Other things:

-You didn't get bald due to your powers; you got bald to an extreme illness.

-You part of the straw hat crew, but others are interested in you and your power.

-Everyone that is a male is taller than you.

-Monsters from the OPM world will appear in One Piece, and I'll make some new monsters you will fight.

Enjoy the eleventh chapter everyone :)

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"BIG SIS!!!!"

Well, we made it to Hancocks ship, as two beautiful women, and more women, hopped off her ship, onto the heart pirates ship, as they happily greeted her thankful she returned safely.

While that was happening, Ivankov and her crew were about to leave, as she trusted Jimbei, Ace, and Luffy to stick with me, as well as Crocodile. "Now! I trust you four with her, you all don't mind if I leave things to you?!" Her question made Jimbei nod. "No...it is fine. I can't swim yet anyway. The least I can do is stay here until she gets well." Crocodile nodded in agreement, leaning against the rail. "I owe her a favor..." Ace smiled. "Same here! She saved my life, I need to thank her in person." Luffy chuckled. "She needs to Join my crew!" The three looked to her, as crocodile scoffed. "What makes you think she'd join you, brat...?" Luffy whipped to him. "BECAUSE SHE'S MY FRIEND THAT'S WHY!" Crocodile cringed. "That's not how you belive she'd join you, just because she's your friend." "SHUT UP LEATHER PURSE! YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!" "What did you call me?!" "You heard me!! She will join my crew!!!" Ivankov chuckled at the sight of the two arguing, as Ace crossed his arms. "That's my brother for you, though, I won't go against him though, Y/n-san is pretty powerful, she seems fit for Luffy's crew." Jimbei nodded. "Indeed, it's going to be interesting how things play out. Ivankov...Ace....since we all were locked in the most brutal prison in the world...without her, all of us wouldn't have met each other....or to Save you.." Ace chuckled, as Ivankov smiled. "Your quite right, Jimbie, both of us tried our best to keep up with Luffy and Y/n-girl at Marineford, didn't we? It's hard to say goodbye to you both..but I have sweet candies waiting for me to come back to the kingdom....." She started to tear up. "Please take good care of Y/n-girl!!" Jimbei nodded, as well as Ace, accepting her plea, as the Marine ship sale went down, as Ivankov crew setted sail, as both parties said their goodbyes, the others headed to the Miaden Island, Amazon lilly which was home to Boa, the female only empire where men are prohibited.

Theirs also tribes of femal fighters that lives there as well, known as Kuja, as the ship aproached two large doors, which opened.

Behind it, many females living on the island greeted the snake princes back home.

Others were hesitant as they saw men on the ship, but stopped when they met Luffy, as Boa told them they were not the enemy. "A female who battled with Luffy is on that ship! She suffered greatly, mentally, and physically during the battle at Marineford, and she's hanging between life and death now." The females eyes widened with her statement as she turned to them. "Ladies, Carry Y/n to the Kuja Castle as soon as possible!" "Hold on Hancock!!!" She paused when looking to an older lady. "It's fine if it's just the lady. But we can't allow those men on that strange ship to step foot onto the Maiden Island. It's against our country's policy!" Her words made Boa's brows furrow. "Then at least let the doctor on to help her-" "No!" The granny interupted. "We can't allow any men to come onto the island, even if he is a doctor! We have so many good doctors on this island!" She spoke, as Law leaned against his ship wall, holding a blank face. "Well, I don't care either way, but..do you have the same medical equipmen and technology as my ship?" He asked, glaring to the old lady, who was iritated with his statement, which was true as he continued. "If her wounds open up, she is going to die.." He stated, Hancocks eyes widened as a smirk formed onto his lips. "Take her, if you don't care about it." He finsihed, as Jimbei stepped forwards. "It's obvious that we can't save Y/n-san without this man. If he can't come in, we have no choice. We must go somewhere else." He spoke, as Boa clenched her fists. "Impossible! We'd be attacked by the Sea Kings! Even if we get awa from them, the Navy could find us at anytime!" The granny sighed. "Oh well...we only do it as an exception but...you can stay in the area of th bay. The Sea Kings won't attack you there." Everyone was greatful for her kindeness, as the submarine took action to that area, the ladies of the island wishing my health will go well.

Though, with all the waiting and time, two weeks have passed, as I was still not awake, as Law had been treating me, while Ace, Crocodile, and Luffy never left, as everyone stayed at the bay side.

"How much longer do we have to stay in such a small space..." Someone spoke. "Yeah, the only thing to look forward to is...-"

"Guys! Sorry to keep you waiting! It's meal time!" The polar bear, and the three men who were playing cards smiled, as the women working with Boa brought baskets of food, veggies, and stuff to eat.

Luffy's eyes had stars, drool escaping his mouth, as Ace chuckled, a smile onto his face. "Guess we don't have to worry about starving anymore." Crocodile took a cigar out of his mouth. "We wouldn't starve anyway if we hadn't stayed here.."

Everyone started to get food, as Law and crocodile weren't hungry, a sboth of them were leaning against the tree, as a blonde women walked up to them. "Excuse me.." Law looked up at her. "Is she awake..yet?" His head shook. "I see." she spoke. "It's up to Y/n-ya's spirit." Law spoke, looking up at her. "Whether she's willing to live or not." He finished, leaving thoughts in her head, as one of her allies called her, as she left to go help.

But, as things were starting to calm down, my eyes shot open, rememebring the events of whitebead getting shot down by black beard, as well as Akainu trying to hurt ace and Luffy, Mihawk fighitng me, as well as the dead bodies of pirates caused by mariens.

All of those memories flooded in my head, sweat dripping from my forhead.

I looked down, seeing wires hooked up to me, just like when I was little as it brought tragic memories, as my breaths started to quicken.

The wires...the postion...the saem feeling long ago...I didn't like it...I didn't like it at all...I needed to get out of her...

I let out a painful scream, ripping the wires off of me as it alerted people outside, as the gorund then rumbled, an explosion happening inside the ship.

Smoke arose in the medical area, some of Laws crew, trying to get me to lay back down as I slowly walked passed them. "Lady! Lay back down! Unless you want to drestroy the ship!!" My breaths were heavy, my head simply turning as my blank, emotionless eyes looked to them, which sended shivers down their spines. "P-Pops..." I mumbled...remembering whitebeards death clearly, as outside, Ace, Law, and Jimbei ran forwards to the ship, before the roof of the submarine broke open, as I came out of it, landing behind them harshly, the ground shaking.

This shocked everyone, even crocodile, who looked at me with wide eyes, mixed with worry, as I tried to sit back up, but I still was in utter pain, my hands gripping the grass below me, my nails digging into the dirt.

"P-Pops..." I brokenly spoke...my eyes white, as I repeated it multiple times. Ace, underatnding how I felt as he took a step forwards, his face lined with remorse and sadness for me, until he saw me sat up, looking to the sky. "WHERE IS WHITEBEARD?!" I screamed, worry, sadness, and anger hitting my voice.

Tears were streaming down my face, as I started to bolt, looking for the man to see if he was alright, as I was unable to save him back at marineford.

But, to my knowledge, he was dead, as Luffy and lawd crew were trying to stop me, as Law, Ace, Jimbei, and Crocodile were sitting in a circle, just watching. "What happens if we leave her like this..?" Jimbei asked, as Lawy sighed. "It's simple. Like I said when we got here, if her wounds open up, she will die." Crocodile scoffed. "Easy for you to say when she has the energy of the rubber brat...." The four looked to me, tripping on a rock, as the crew and Luffy saw the chance to hold me down, as I struggled with their grip. "Let me go!! I need to get to the old man! He needs medical attention!" I screamed, Luffy still trying to hold me down. "Y/n-san! Please calm down!" "NO! Let me go Luffy!" I yelled, as the crew still were trying to hold me down. "Shut up! I'm looking for pops!" I yelled, as one of Laws crew members spoke. "I told you that White beard is-" "I SAID.." All of them scattered, even Luffy as I threw them off of me. "LET ME GO!" I bolted from them, as I headed more deep in the forest, as I wanted to look for whtiebeard, as Crocodile got up from his spot, before Ace stopped him. "Let me talk to her..." Crocodile glared down at him. "Why should I let you to that...?" Ace looked to the warlord. "Because her and I lost the same person we care about..." Crocodile understood, as he couldn't argue with his comment, as he simply sat back down, as Ace walked in the direction I was heading, as his ears could hear the trees getting destroyed by my anger.

My fists were bleeding, my breaths broken and raspy, my eyes shaking as I looked straight at the ground, but I realised, that I wasn't at marineford when I noticed the grass, as I looked up to brids flying over my head, and the blue sky. "W-Where am I?" I asked, wondering if it was all a dream...as I kept looking at the sky, as my memoires were still coming back to me, as whitebeard did die of black beards hands, as well as many other pirates dying by the head of marines, even a giant Orc that Ace cared about.

All the information made me clutch the sides of my face, my knees giving out as I started to whale, and cry, now knowing that whitebeard is truly dead.

Ace saw this, as he rushed, his eyes widened, as he caught me in his arms, his knees hitting the grass as all he could do was wrapp his arms around me as I cried.

"Y/n...." He spoke...as with all my pent up emoitions inside of me...I just cried into him, not wanting to even speak at all.

"The war is over.." He whispered. "Pops is..." "DON'T SAY THAT!" I snapped, my face looking up to him, as my eyes were red and puffy, which made his heart hurt. "Don't say anything!" I pleaded. "I already pinched myself hard enough to rip my skin! If it were a dream, I should've woken by now!" I continued, Ace's eyebrows furrowing more, as he listened to me, as closed my eyes, looking down. "I-It's not a dream, isn't it...? I-I wasn't able to....." Ace's grip on me tightened, his teeth gritting with sadnes as slight tears escaped his eyes as well. "Y-Yes...Cutie....p-pops...is dead.." His truthful words struck my heart harshly more, as tears continued to poor, as I clutched onto him more and more.

I stayed like that for a couple of minutes, Ace crying with me as well, as he knew whitebeard basically his whole life, as he understood how I was feeling. "I...I coudln't save him...I-I-I was suppose to be a hero...a hero w-who brings fairness to everyone...b-but I couldn't save h-him...I-I-I'm so weak...!" I sobbed, my confession making Ace's eyes widened with shock, as his grip around me tightened more, as he brought me even closert to him. "Cutie..." "A-Ace...p-please leave me be...! Go to the others..!" He sighed with my request. "I can't..I can't just watch you hurt yourself anymore..." My face grew frustraited as I looked up at him. "It's my body! Why does it matter to you-" "Then you can't blame Whitebeard for doing what he did! It wasn't your fault that he was Killed, he was killed by teaches hands! His death was nothing of your buisness!" My teeth gritted, as I gripped his shoulders.

"Shut up! It was fully my buisness! I was fighting in that War as well, and I promised him that he and I will both save you together, with no death's at all!" He cupped my face. "That's a stupid promise Y/n!" He gently spoke. "War isn't kittens and rainbows, you can't expect evberyone to live! That's not how life works! Someone had to make a sacrafice, somepeople had to die...! I know ho wyour feeling, I know what your goign through because Pops was an actually father to me!" His confession made my teeth grit, as I closed my eyes. "So don't you dare say it's your fault he died, because me and I both know it wasn't, it was supposed to be me who was supposed to die, not him!" My eyes shot open with his statement, as I looked to him with furrowed eyebrows. "A-Ace-" "It's true! I was meant to be executed! But, now do you see!? Things are more clear for you now, you belvied that you can bring fairness to everyone, that you could overcome anything just like Luffy. Althoguht you never doubted your strength, you still had a kind heart for people, no matter if marines or pirates! But all those formidable enemies you faced, all of those words from Blackbeard, your confidence was slipped away, all because your motion was to become the greatest hero, which was your guid to life!" His words made my fist clench, as he whipped some continuing falling tears from my eyes, as his forhead leaned gently against my own. "I know you have lost a lot...and the toughest enemies in the world blocked your way time after time...but you'll never find your true self like this...if your lost in full regret and guilt.....I know that it's painful now, Cutie, but you have to bottle up those feelings! Don't just think about the ones you've lost, when you can make new memoroeis with new people you have met!" My eyes widened from his words, as my body stopped, realisation hit me as I rememebred Luffy's words back on that Marine ship.

"Well if you decided to stay, wanna join my crew?" I gasped, before standing up. "L-Luffy!" More tears pooled out of my eyes, as I still had my answer to tell him.

I finally understand what I want to do in my life, as all of the past that happened to me, the war, my cancer, Saitama and pops death...everything that could bring me back down...didn't matter, as new doors were opened for me, as I had an oppourtunity to grow.

Looking up at Ace, I clutched to him again. "W-Were's Luffy?! I-I need to see him, I need to give him an answer, I-I-" Ace smiled, knowing what I'm talking about as his hand reached out to me. Without hesitation, I grabbed it as he helped me to my feet. Hugging him, my eyes closed “Thank you…” I whispered, as he hugged me back. “Of course… let’s get back to everyone else..” nodding we headed back as quickly as possible as my eyes looked to the sky, slightly smiling as I finally knew the truth.

Even through the hard times, with white-beards death, Saitama…my cancer…and life in general…I gave to push forwards, forget about the past and grow stronger and better mentally.

Because even though I was trapped and corrupted, now I found people who freed me, and will never leave my side…and I must do the same, even if I don’t leave this world.

As everyone near the ship was talking, Luffy saw me and Ace instantly, as he hopped up, smiling and running to me. “Y/n!” I smiled to, leaving Ace and running to him as well. “Luffy!” We both hugged each other, his arms going around my waist as he spin me around. Hugging me more, his hands grasped the side of my face as his forehead leaned against mine. “Your ok..your really ok..I was so worried you’d hurt yourself...or something worse..” He told me, as his voice was slightly cracked. I gently smiled, and adjusted his hat. “How could I let myself go down when I need to join your crew?” He was confused with your words at first, not believing them as his eyes widened. “C-Come again?” I giggled from his words” The whole time we were at marine ford..when you asked me that question on that marine ship, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I realized when I was kicking the shit out of those trees, I might not be able to go back to my world and to be honest, I don’t ever want to go back….this world here, I’ve never experienced so much excitement in my life. I can fight things without killing it with one punch, I-I can fit in as this world doesn’t care about what others look like, I have already made so many friends…” I look to everyone, as they all looked to me, as I looked back at Luffy, smiling more. “Even you…you’ve been by my side since stout saved me from that Jail, you never judge of what I do, say or how I fight, you know how to get a problem done and fix it, and you care for others. In my eyes, that is a wonderful captain who’s crew I’d love to join…” he smiled from my words, his heart racing as he let out a shaky sigh, as he didn’t know what to say at all. “I-I- Y/n-San you don’t know how much that means to me…you’d be a great fit for my crew, and I don’t care if your weak, tall, tiny, fat, skinny, with hair, or bald, I just know that I want to give you the same fairness as you did to me…and also give you the adventures, excitement, and fun you wanted your whole life because no person deserves to go through what you’ve been through. So yes, you are now apart of my crew, and I promise Y/n, I will not fail you as a friend, and as a captain…”

Smiling, I gently grasped his hands, as I looked straight into Luffy’s eyes. “I know Luffy….”

Leaning my forehead against his, my eyes closed as the wind blew on us both, creating a calm atmosphere.

“I have pure faith in you…”

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Author: YAY! Back to back upload!

Author: things are heating up! I wonder what life for Y/n will be in the future! Only one way to find out!

Author: I hope you enjoyed todays chapter! And This is the final chapter of the Marine ford arch, and the book is only just getting started!

Author: please don’t forget about the fan art contest! The pictures you send me will be judged by the end of October! The winner will get to decide a special chapter of their request for me to write!! Anyways, I have work to do still so I will see you all later!!

Author: BYE LOVELIES!!

[foxymoxynoona]

After the Applause (Ch. 6)

Header and linebreaks by @awrkives

Single Dad Jimin x Female OC

SUMMARY: Jimin doesn't know how he would have made it this far after the shattering of his world without the support of his thoughtful, generous, helpful neighbor. Hanbyul has lived next to hottie Jimin and his adorable daughter for years now, long enough to remember the wife he was so devoted to and lost far too young. With each safely ensconced on their side of the brick wall of the Parks' grief, it will take an enterprising little scientist to set the stage for a second chance at love.

CW/tags: grief, prior loss of spouse/parent, comfort, explicit sex, secondhand embarrassment, sort of love triangle/web/rat's nest, fluff, cursing, dating apps, fuckboy friends, dancer Jimin, stubborn dad Jimin, stubborn pre-teen daughter, miscommunication, pining

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Hanbyul stared at the website confirmation page and felt certain she’d fucked something up. She hated this feeling, like she’d done something wrong. She’d probably attached the wrong thing, or missed some egregious typo, or maybe she sounded annoying in the cover letter. Maybe her headshot wasn’t actually a good likeness.

Thank you for submitting your resume and application. One of our recruiters will be in touch with you shortly.

She belatedly felt stupid to have done this on a Friday afternoon. Now the soonest someone would contact her would be Monday, which gave her at least forty-eight hours to convince herself that applying was the most embarrassing thing she’d ever done and that they were going to laugh at her application and print it out just so they could chuck it in the trash.

Enough of that. She steeled her resolve (to do the thing she had in fact already done) and closed her laptop and crossed her arms in an attempt to look as confident as she wanted to feel. She deserved that job. Some parts were outside of her skillset or experience but most of it was familiar. A man wouldn’t let some pieces hold him back from applying. A man would apply and convince the interviewer why he was still the best candidate for the job, and so that’s exactly what Hanbyul was going to do. 

Because only about 20% of boardrooms in the country consisted of women and while Hanbyul wasn’t applying for a board position, that’s where she was reaching. Someday she was going to get there, and she’d take Sun-young –maybe by then a successful young scientist– out for coffee and say Thank you. Thank you for reminding me that we face extra challenges in the workplace and it’s our responsibility not to hold ourselves back because others will gladly do that for us.

Hanbyul would not be held back! She’d give it her all to get this new position with its better pay and improved benefits. If it didn’t work out, she’d apply for others. She’d call her parents more. She’d clean her apartment this weekend. She’d stop putting Namjoon off and finally have a truthful conversation with him –her responses had been vague and she was certain he could tell. Right now, she could do anything! Even with her trembling hands!

Because a nine-year-old had convinced her she could. Sun-young had inspired her, it was true. Her determination and serious efforts to convince her father that she ought to do science club had shamed Hanbyul into applying because she refused to be a woman who let her childhood confidence fade away. Not that she had ever been as confident as Sun-young, but it wasn’t too late to catch up! She wanted to be the kind of woman Sun-young apparently thought she was.

So she needed to do that other thing, even though she’d been dreading it: she took Hudu on a walk and called Namjoon. 

He picked up on the third ring, a little breathless but cheerful sounding. Not for the first time she wished she could just text him about this but he deserved more than that. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too upset. Hopefully he wasn’t that invested. He couldn’t be, right?

“Hanbyul? Hey, I was just thinking of messaging you–”

“Hi Namjoon. I, um… I’m sorry, I have sort of disappointing, um…”

“Bad news? Are you ok?”

She cursed how sweet he sounded. The confidence after submitting her resume began to drain away. Why was she doing all these exhausting things in the same day? She had foolishly overestimated herself. 

“I’m ok but… I know I haven’t been very responsive lately and I wanted to just be direct because you’re really great and you deserve that.”

“Ah.”

“I’m really sorry but I’m just…”

There was silence on the line. She appreciated that he seemed to understand without her saying much. Or maybe he was just shocked. Stunned. Heartbroken?! Oh god, she’d never broken anyone’s heart before.

“Look if you’re just really busy right now or something, I get it. I know I’m traveling for work a lot too, so…”

“It’s not that. I mean, I am busy, and I just applied for a better job so maybe I’ll get even busier but–”

“Oh congratulations, I hope it goes well–”

“Aish, don’t be so nice,” she complained. “I feel awful, Namjoon. You’re such a great guy and–”

“You don’t have to do that. I mean you don’t have to comfort me. I mean, it sucks, because you’re… but…”

She tugged Hudu to the side of the path so she could stop and squeezed her eyes shut. Why couldn’t he be an asshole about this? She’d feel so much better. She was aware that she was stupid, that this was stupid, that she was ending what could become something good with a great guy for no reason. Or at least not a good reason. 

“I feel like shit.”

“It’s ok.”

“No, don’t you comfort me!”

“Can I just ask… it’s ok if you don’t feel comfortable, but I just…”

She waited, trying to ignore the way her stomach twisted and her face flushed and the blood rushed in her ears. This was awful. She didn’t have much experience calling things off with men and when she did, the guy had usually seen it coming and not cared that much anyway.

“Did I do something? Is there some… feedback you can give me or…”

“You didn’t do anything wrong at all,” she quickly insisted. And then because she felt too miserable and clung to a piece of driftwood she thought might make it better: “You’re such a great guy. To be honest, I kind of have feelings for someone else and I thought I could get over it but I can’t and you deserve better than that.”

For a moment he was silent again. She could hear his breathing; he always seemed to hold the phone so close to his mouth when he spoke. 

“I get it,” he said. “That really sucks. Sorry you’re in that situation, and I hope he figures it out quick.”

“I don’t think he will but… um… thanks. And I’m really sorry, Namjoon.”

“Don’t be sorry. I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“And uh, give me a call or something if you’re ever not… not feeling things for someone else, I guess.”

“I will,” she blurted out because she couldn’t think quickly enough on her feet. She ended the call before she could say anything else stupid and pressed it to her forehead. Had that gone well or not well? She couldn’t tell. She supposed it could have been worse… but she felt like she shouldn’t have mentioned having feelings for someone else. What if he somehow figured out she meant Jimin?! And it was a cop out anyway because that wasn’t the only reason. She was emotionally compromised, but she didn’t break off with Namjoon for Jimin. Jimin wasn’t an option! She just didn’t see a future right now with anyone who wasn’t… Jimin.

She felt punchy in a different way now. She practically jogged home with Hudu, which she never did and clearly confused him; he kept looking up at her like he expected someone else might be holding the leash. Once home, she dug through her cabinets looking for anything to soothe or distract but her cupboards were practically bare. Why did she have so many ingredients but no food or alcohol?

It was in this state of desperation that she received a message from Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook: hey re hitting up hongdae club aura and youre coming

Hanbyul: ok I’m in

Jeon Jungkook: wait really???

Hanbyul: did you mean to invite someone else? 😅

Jeon Jungkook: you but you never take me up on it!

Hanbyul: I don’t want to sit at home tonight

Jeon Jungkook: ok ouch didn’t need to make an excuse

Jeon Jungkook: whatever, you can’t bring me down, see you at 10

Hanbyul: TEN?! 

Jeon Jungkook: why are all my friends grandpas? 10 is early! Don’t you bail on me too

Hanbyul: I’ll see you at 10 if you can actually get us in…

Jeon Jungkook: you’re cute, you’ll get us in

Hanbyul laughed. Hard. She knew she ought to be giddy for a man who looked like Jungkook to say that kind of thing, but he said that kind of thing all the time in a way that didn’t actually feel very specific anymore. Only after the date was set did she have a rush of terror realizing she had just agreed to go out clubbing with Jungkook… but it was true that she felt jittery and didn’t want to be home this evening. She felt like she could do anything! Even stay awake until 10pm to go clubbing on a Friday night! 

She had a sneaking suspicion she knew exactly which of Jungkook’s friends had insisted ten was too late at night. Though he’d obviously be the hottest one there, she didn’t think Jimin was into the scene –certainly not in the time she’d known him. She had absolutely no concern that Jimin would be at the club. She also felt like this might be a good chance to really establish a platonic friendship with Jungkook and quiet her slight fear that she was leading Jimin’s close friend on. You know, since she’d already slept with and ghosted then dumped another… 

Her dress was short. It was the shortest dress she owned. She didn’t really own revealing clothing, nothing sexy for hitting the clubs, but she’d bought this dress that was a little too small and so that would have to do. She’d just have to remember not to raise her arms or… disaster! 

She kept tugging it down as she made her way inside with no issue –Jungkook had put her “on the list” and texted her to come on in, which seemed really suspicious. He was easy to find, practically spot-lighted under a round table in a distant corner, animated and laughing with another guy and two girls.

She carried herself bravely forward, nerves instantly frazzled by the loud music, pulsing lights, and close bodies she had to weave her way through to reach them.

“Hey you didn’t bail!” Jungkook cheered when she reached his elbow. “My only true friend.”

The use of friend instantly set her at ease, though she wasn’t prepared for the names lobbied instantly at her amidst their shouts of protest at his remark: Jung Hoseok, Park Andi, and Han Chun. Years and connections were shared and she tried to keep up over the noise of the club, answering the questions as formally as a job interview. She had hoped no one noticed how nervous she was to be out with people she didn’t know, but Jungkook seemed to because he insisted on buying her a drink, which she was overwhelmed into agreeing to. Only when he returned with her cucumber something in hand did she realize there were two men and two women and Jungkook had just bought her a drink and maybe calling her his friend was all part of his plan. Even though that seemed absolutely ridiculous when both those women looked–

Oh. Hanbyul realized she had miscounted. 

“I can’t even count!” she groaned and let her face fall against her hand, not even caring that the slump might smudge her makeup or transfer oil to her chin and give her acne. Who cared what a girl who couldn’t even count looked like!

“Who’s counting? You don’t need to count anything right now,” Jungkook laughed. “You want me to do some math for you?”

“He can’t do math,” Hoseok immediately ratted him out. “Don’t ask him to do math, he just picks a number.”

“That’s not true!”

Andi giggled and leaned in close to agree, “He acts like he’s thinking really hard and then confidently gives a very wrong answer.”

“He doesn’t need math, he’s so pretty,” Chun suggested, though Hanbyul couldn’t tell if her smirk at Jungkook was predatory or just teasing. She didn’t know these people, and clearly her day was beginning to take a toll, so she really shouldn’t have come out. 

“Shut up, don’t blow my cover. Hanbyul’s a smarty, don’t make me look stupid,” Jungkook laughed.

Hoseok nodded and agreed, “I’ve heard about it.”

“About… me?” Hanbyul clarified, tilting her head.

“Neighbor Hanbyul,” Hoseok confirmed, which made more sense, even if it made her a little sad to be still Neighbor Hanbyul. “Sunnie talks about you a lot too.”

“Ahhh that girl.” Hanbyul grinned as a warmth blossomed in her chest. That was better, at least. “She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

Jungkook’s stare and slow grin made her nervous as he nodded, the others confirming. It was quickly made clear they all knew Jimin and Sun-young –Hoseok was a teacher at Jimin’s studio, Hanbyul was quickly educated on, and Chun and Andi both danced with him and Jimin. When asked if she’d ever seen Jimin dance she admitted that she hadn’t and chose not to disclose her YouTube history. There weren’t many videos on there but there were a few! Anyway, they clearly meant seen him dance live, so it wasn’t a total lie.

“We hear a lot about your son, too,” Hoseok added. Hanbyul, mid-sip of her cucumber something, promptly choked. Jungkook seemed to take great glee in pounding her on the back.

“My what?”

“Hudu?”

“He’s a dog!”

“A dog can be a son!” Hoseok laughed with the rest of the table. He smiled with his whole face and it reminded her so much of Jimin she could almost believe they were related.

“Honestly a dog is the best son,” Andi insisted. “Like, I love Sunnie with my whole heart, but I don’t want kids of my own. I’ve got a cat and I want a dog too but I don’t think I’m tough enough to walk one in the winter.”

“You’re not tough enough,” Jungkook agreed; Andi dipped her fingers into her glass and flicked the droplets his direction.

“I would die for my dog,” Chun announced. “I can never have kids while he’s alive, it wouldn’t be fair to him.”

Hoseok sighed and admitted, “My dog still lives with my parents.”

“It’s their dog,” Jungkook snorted.

“It was my dog but I couldn’t have him with me at university housing when I was younger, and they were all so attached by the time I moved out on my own so– but we could get a dog,” he said, pouting his lips in Jungkook’s direction as if it all came down to his choice.

“I want a dog,” Jungkook agreed.

“Well fuck, let’s get a dog! Woah, but is it a betrayal of Mickey, that’s what I’m worried about…” Hoseok sighed and slumped.

Hanbyul murmured sympathetically and sipped her drink faster. She did not understand what was happening. On the surface she appeared to have joined a group of very fun, down to earth people who just happened to look insanely gorgeous and not of this world in shiny button-up shirts and sequined dresses. It was a complete injustice for these people to be both fun and look like that, and Hanbyul the boring dowager in her plain dress. 

Yet at the same time it made perfect sense because these were Jimin’s friends, and he was like that too! Hanbyul felt utterly stupid for having agreed to come out and yet simultaneously, selfishly fascinated. She felt like Jungkook had opened a door for her that Jimin had not, letting her see this adult social aspect of Jimin’s life –arguably without his permission. Not that he owned these people or anything… but if part of her reason for being here was to learn more about Jimin and get closer to him in that way… fuck, she was a creep! Would she have ever even talked to Jungkook if he wasn’t Jimin’s friend? She doubted herself now. 

“I’m getting another, do you want one?” Andi asked, nudging Hanbyul in a friendly, familiar way that she was flattered to have somehow already earned .She didn’t want another one, but she also did.

“I can buy you something back,” she offered Jungkook before following Andi.

“It’s fine.”

“I insist.”

“Ok, whatever you get.”

“Even if it’s girly?” she checked.

He gave her a horrified look and clarified, “It’s a drink, there’s no gender.”

Hanbyul too was horrified and insisted, “No, I know! But sometimes men are so–”

“I’m just fucking with you. Girly is fine, I don’t discriminate.”

Hanbyul did not know what to make of him, especially since Hoseok was now leaning to the side laughing into the final sips of his beer.

“Forget this, I’m coming too,” Chun decided. “They just want to stand around and drink.”

“We’re going to get more drinks…” Andi pointed out.

“But we can dance on the way and back!”

In that way Hanbyul found herself boxed onto the dance floor for a period of time that could have been ten minutes or an hour, she couldn’t have said. The music was high energy and heavy-bass and she couldn’t tell when one song ended and another began. Her movements felt painfully clumsy next to the graceful way Andi and Chun twisted and swayed. It would be obvious to anyone observing that she was no dancer –but everyone was packed too tightly for anyone to really observe. Hopefully. 

She was glad when it ended, and that relief led her to agree to the round of shots Andi bought. Chun missed her mouth slightly, the rum dribbling down the cleavage of her dress, which Andi dramatically helped her wipe. Then they leaned in close with Hanbyul and scouted out the hotties along the bar, of which they considered there to be very few. 

Hanbyul kept waiting for one of them to ask her something pressing or private –maybe why Jungkook had suddenly invited her along, or why she’d come, or why she thought she should delve further into Jimin’s life when she was just his neighbor– but they didn’t. 

The closest was Chun asking, “What do you think, Hanbyul? Anyone at this bar catch your eye? What’s your type?” But she didn’t have any malicious twinkle in her eye or bullying smirk, it really seemed like just a sincere question! And Hanbyul began to realize that maybe she was getting too used to workplace politics and competitiveness and it was interfering with her ability to just make friends. Was that what was happening here?

Maybe it was that hope, or maybe it was the alcohol starting to do numbers in her blood, but she admitted, “I don’t think I have a type… at least not one that has worked out for me.”

“Oh no. Something recent?”

“Oh… I did end something recently… but it wasn’t his fault, it was…” Oops. Just in time she realized she couldn’t say more about this without revealing way too much –not only because all roads led to their friend Jimin but also because she’d only just met these girls! “It didn’t work out,” she summarized.

“Another shot?” Andi asked, already signaling for the bartender.

“No, wait–”

“Yes!” Chun agreed. “You can feel sad about it tomorrow if you really want to, but tonight there’s dancing!”

“I’m a terrible dancer,” Hanbyul found herself confessing. They were overwhelming, both of these women, pressing another shot into her hand. It was bitter this time and made all three grimace and smack their lips.

She thought they’d missed what she said anyway but Andi insisted, “There’s no such thing as a terrible dancer. Technique? Sure. But dancing is just… feeling! It’s just moving! It’s just breathing.”

“You have clearly not seen me.”

“I was dancing with you five minutes ago!” Andi laughed. “And now I’ll dance with you again, let’s go!”

Hanbyul had Jungkook’s and her drinks in her hand, but did her best to shimmy and sway adequately along with Chun and Andi in the direction of the table. She felt ridiculous but their acceptance was a balm on her self-conscious soul. Jungkook and Hoseok leapt up at their approach and began dancing as well. It was just such a completely different club experience than Hanbyul was used to when she would go out with work peers, or longer ago when it was college friends rotation around her, drinking too much, picking at each other’s appearances and achievements to feel better about themselves in what felt like a hunting grounds for sex.

This didn’t feel that way at all! Hanbyul found her nerves dissolving with each sip, with each song (assuming it wasn’t just one long song playing which she thought entirely possible), with each moment of shared laughter. It was impossible but she began to feel as though she had known these people for a very long time.

Also the alcohol helped. 

Hoseok spun her around –vaguely she recalled making some comment about ballerinas– which led to her promptly over-balancing against him, or it was possible Jungkook had bumped into her, and possibly on purpose because they were dancing near their table and the space was tight and everyone was very close together. She felt barely on her feet and slid around to lean against the table instead and catch her breath so she didn’t accidentally drag Hoseok down. Their empties were gone and she hesitated over the waters, which had now sat unguarded for some period of time. She ought to get water fresh–

“Hey hey! You came out after all!”

Hanbyul didn’t know how she even heard Jungkook’s shout over the noise other than her sixth sense suddenly shooting an alarm up her spine. She turned, not even bothering to hope it was literally any other friend of Jungkook’s than Jimin.

No, worse. 

There was Jimin, an eyebrow lifted and his mouth open in surprise aimed clearly, undeniably in her direction.

And there beside him, both eyebrows lifted and mouth open in surprise aimed clearly, undeniably in her direction, was Namjoon.

“Fuck!” she choked out.

Jungkook gasped and grabbed her arm, asking, “Did I step on your foot?”

“No but I suddenly need to go home– I mean yes, I need to go home.”

“Shit, how bad–?” Jungkook dropped to a crouch, reaching for her foot. Which was a very bad look, she thought. She leapt away from him, but teetered again because the alcohol. The alcohol! Shit, she could not be drunk at a club like this in the presence of either Jimin or Namjoon and most definitely not together!

“I’m fine, but I’m heading out. Goodnight!” Would they believe that she hadn’t seen them and that’s why she wasn’t greeting either one of them? All of this had happened in the span of four seconds.

No, it wouldn’t make sense, even her alcohol-riddled brain knew they were directly in front of her.

“You really don’t have to leave on my account–” Namjoon said.

“Why do you have to go, just because I’m here–” Jimin said at the exact same time.

They stopped and looked at each other and Hanbyul lost at least three years off her life. 

And then mercifully, before they could say anything, Andi flung her arms around their shoulders and cheered, “You sad sacks came out after all? Let’s get you some motherfucking drinks!”

“Wait, you’re both really here? You never come out!”

“I have a kid,” Jimin defended, suddenly all smiles as Chun descended, pinching his arm and brushing something off his shoulder. 

“I, uh,” Namjoon coughed and looked over their heads. “I just don’t like places like this.”

“Oh sorry it’s not refined enough for you,” Andi tittered. “Too busy at art galas and restaurant openings to consort with club scum, huh?”

“Andi,” he complained, dimples flashing, all the charm Hanbyul had initially liked about him. And yet she felt so closed off from it now, like she could recognize but not really connect with that charm. How could she when Jimin was there beside him, glowing like her north star?  

Hanbyul saw her chance and took it. She ducked around them all and tried to flee for the door. She could call an Uber and be speeding away, looking back through the rear window, before anyone even noticed she was gone.

Unfortunately, the club was a confusing place and after weaving across the throng of dancers, she’d been carried by the current upstream to the bathrooms. 

“Shit-shit,” she mumbled to herself and darted inside because she really did need to pee too and better to do that now. Maybe they’d think she was already gone and stop looking for her and she could still escape. She took her time, braced every time the door opened for it to be Andi or Chun ruining her escape. But as some amount of minutes (uncountable because alcohol) ticked by, she steeled herself and found her confidence. She could get out of here. Whatever Namjoon and Jimin talked about in her absence, at least she wouldn’t be here to face it. That was a Tomorrow Hanbyul problem. Today Hanbyul needed to get the hell out of here.

She stepped boldly from the bathroom in the direction she was certain was the front door –and ran boldly into Namjoon.

“Hey.”

“Oh, hey, Namjoon,” she said, thinking as she said it how casual and cool she sounded. Might as well tack on hey, wow, I didn’t see you, didn’t know you were here!

“Hey look, I– sorry, I guess I surprised you… I didn’t know that you uh… knew these people… or would be out at a club… tonight. This club. With these people.”

“Oh, yeah, it was sort of a… a spur of the moment thing. Jungkook invited me along and I didn’t want to just sit at home so…” Her words caught up to her and she realized how terrible that sounded. I dumped you but I also didn’t want to be bored so I just went clubbing.

“Ah. So Jungkook uh… is the guy…? I didn’t even know you knew him…”

“What guy?”

“That you said…” He leaned in close as the music took a turn, and the warm scent of his cologne was unkind as he said closer to be heard, “You said you had feelings for–”

“Oh! NO THAT’S NOT HIM!” she shouted, stiff-arming him away. A little too roughly, she realized, and quickly grabbed his arm and apologized, “Sorry, I– I forgot I told you that. No, it’s not him. He’s just a friend. Sort of. And I– sorry, I’m a little drunk right now kind of?”

“Ah.”

“I didn’t just break things off with you and go party, I was feeling pretty bummed so I thought I’d do something out of the ordinary…I mean, it was the right thing to do but like I said, um… but now you’re here and…” And Jimin is here…

“Hey, it’s fine,” Namjoon assured her. “If you aren’t comfortable with me here, I can leave but if it’s ok, I can be cool.”

“You’re very cool,” she agreed.

He smiled, a handsome dimpled smirk like she hadn’t answered his question correctly, and corrected, “I just mean, I’m only going to be here for a drink and then I’ll go. This isn’t really my scene so don’t let me chase you away.”

“Ok.” 

“And uh, just so it’s out there, if you… ha, nevermind. I’m just going to get my drink, don’t mind me.” He held his hands up and backed away and Hanbyul hated not knowing what he’d been about to say. Maybe: if you want to be friends, that’s cool, I can refrain from ever letting anyone know we had sex and a few dates. She hated that he was probably not saying that.

Almost as much as she hated seeing Jimin standing not too far off, having clearly watched their interaction.

She couldn’t go talk to him. Not while Namjoon would see her and she would probably say or do something that would make it immediately obvious who Jimin was to her because damn he looked so good! He’d gelled his hair back and rolled the sleeves of his dark button-up to his elbows. The club lights flickered off his earring, as if he needed any help from a spotlight to draw eyes to him. Hanbyul felt like the crowd dramatically parted, like the lights shone specifically for him, from him. 

She couldn’t read his expression, couldn’t tell if he was confused or annoyed to see her invading his friend group, or if he had a guess as to what had happened between her and Namjoon. For all she knew, Namjoon had told him everything before they came tonight, or in the time since she’d fled the table, and Jimin had come to demand what the fuck was wrong with her.

But Namjoon was a class act, maybe he hadn’t said anything. Maybe Jimin was only curious about why she and Namjoon had been speaking so closely. If she left now, all Jimin would know was whatever Namjoon said about it. If she stayed and everything seemed cool, maybe Jimin wouldn’t think anything weird was happening. She’d mentioned before she spoke to Jungkook through the app, so it couldn’t be a total surprise she was here.

It made sense in her mind, and was a better excuse than that other thought: I just want to hang out at a club with Jimin. 

Who was she kidding, she couldn’t stay here!

He was walking towards her and she couldn’t move. 

“Hey,” he greeted when he reached her and she wondered if he ever used that line on women at the club because it would totally work, looking like that.

“Jungkook invited me and I had a really long day so I thought it would be good to get out of my apartment,” she blurted out in an attempt to distance herself from Namjoon in one sweep.

“It is a good idea,” Jimin said. “I didn’t know you went clubbing.”

“Rarely.”

“Me neither.”

“You look like a natural,” she assured him.

“Clubber?”

“Huh?”

Jimin shook his head and laughed, “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Me?”

“Uh… yes?”

“Yes,” she said, despite knowing she really shouldn’t. More alcohol was the last thing she needed but Jimin had offered! Jimin twisted his hand behind his back so she could hold onto it and trail him through the club to the bar. Jimin asked her what she wanted and paid and she felt bad to let him pay but he’d bought her a drink!

Drink in hand, she was the one to lead them back to the table, though it had been abandoned; all Jimin’s friends were dancing. She thought to join, but Jimin leaned against the wall and she felt anchored to his side.

He nudged her arm and asked, “So how do you know Namjoon?”

“Dating app,” she answered quickly. “And Jungkook. I think all your friends are on there… I make a lot of friends on there… it’s not just for dating!” What was she even saying? She thought maybe if she said “friend” enough it would be enough to save her.

“Friends, huh?” He was practically shouting to be heard, not leaning in as close as Namjoon had. She wished he would; she felt like the distance meant something. “I don’t know anything about apps but I started an account today. Guess I’ll see you on there, huh?”

Hanbyul didn’t know what to do with that information. Why had he made an account on a dating app?!

Same reason as you, moron. Park Jimin was ready to start dating again, that’s what it told her. He’d come to the club looking like that, so maybe he’d been hoping to meet someone here. He must be, to come out when he didn’t normally. The thought of watching him pick up a woman made her break out in a cold sweat. What if she ran into her leaving Jimin’s apartment in the morning–no, probably he wouldn’t take someone there with Sun-young at home, but maybe she was spending the night somewhere else? 

“I hear it’s tough though,” Jimin said, still shouting. “Namjoon had a thing going I guess and it ended today so I made him come out too.”

Oh god, he knows.

“I’d rather meet people the traditional way,” he continued.

“Here?” she asked, face twisting into a grimace. “I guess it depends on what you’re looking for.” 

“Ah… I don’t know…”

“Not all of us meet people as easily as you but I don’t think you’ll have a hard time,” she shouted back.

He pressed his hand over his eyes and then laughed, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Do you need a pep talk before you go hit on someone?” she asked, drawing on all of her strength to be what he needed in this moment and not do what her drunk brain was encouraging her to (lean in and kiss.) “You are brave and smart and funny and–”

“Are you giving me the same speech you gave my daughter?”

“Maybe!” she laughed because he was laughing and because it all felt briefly very funny, having this shouted conversation in the club with Jimin. Encouraging him to go meet a woman “the traditional way” (drunk in a bar) to take home and do the things she wanted to do with him and hope he didn’t find out she’d done those things with his friend already… but different things! Similar in theme but different!

He finally did lean in and begin, “You know what she told me today? She– hey, maybe we should go somewhere we can hear–”

“HEY!” Chun suddenly appeared, followed in short order by Hoseok. “The fuck are you wallflowers doing?”

“Come dance,” Hoseok agreed. “You can talk at home!”

There wasn’t room left to argue. She and Jimin were dragged out, downing their drinks on the way to abandon on a table, and then pressed into the dancing mob. Hanbyul had hoped to position herself so she could at least dance near Jimin, but her hesitation when faced with Namjoon and what he might realize about her feelings towards his friend was just enough time for Andi and Chun to slide in between. Instead Hanbyul found herself on the fringe with Jungkook and Hoseok.

Maybe that was for the best. She was like a baby: without Namjoon or Jimin in sight she was able to forget them, aided by alcohol and loud music and the antics of these two of Jimin’s friends. Despite being physically graceful men, they were clearly just having fun with dancing; both grinned and laughed and didn’t take themselves too seriously which helped her feel less self conscious about what her less-drunk brain would have termed “awkward motions at best.” Maybe she was getting the hang of dancing in the club! Maybe she’d be confident enough now to dance over closer to Jimin! 

Abort abort abort!! Hanbyul froze at the familiar way a random woman danced with Jimin, her hands trailing over his body. Maybe she wasn’t random? Jimin did not seem put off by it, just laughed and lifted her hands but kept her close. Hanbyul wasn’t sure what to make of that. Was Jimin really that bold or did he already know that woman? Hanbyul couldn’t imagine dancing with a man like that. The envy flooded her.

She tried not to look again but it was hard not to. She felt suddenly like a switch had flipped and all the fun she’d been having abruptly turned off. She was being stupid jealous. Hadn’t she just encouraged Jimin to go meet someone? And they were just dancing. And even if it went somewhere, it wasn’t any of her business.

“I need water,” she announced to no one in particular and disappeared again, responsibly leading herself to the bar. It tasted weird and unpleasant in her mouth, and at the first sip she had the urgent need to pee, which meant another swim upstream through the crowds to reach the restrooms. The club was becoming less fun by the minute.

She didn’t think that much time had passed but when she tried to find the group again, they’d scattered. Trying to locate them was a fool’s errand; she’d think she saw one only to squeeze her way there and find it to be someone else. She was all twisted around. The room felt overly loud, the music too loud, the lights too bright. 

There, Jimin!

At the bar, nodding as the woman from earlier leaned in close to say something in his ear. He said something back, right in her ear, then appeared to look around before shaking his head. The woman touched his arm.

Hanbyul knew her night was over. She couldn’t stay here and watch him pick up a woman. She shouldn’t have been here in the first place. She could still see Namjoon out of the corner of her eye, that good guy she’d dumped for no reason other than that it was casual fun when she wanted something serious with someone who was not available, only for him to immediately find her out at the club. She couldn’t find Jungkook. She barely knew Andi and Chun. Her feet hurt and her head was swimming and she felt like she kept getting drunker even though she hadn’t had anything to drink in a while.

Oh no, she realized with a longing for sobriety. I drank too much. Control of her arms and legs felt exaggerated, and the music felt like it was leaking into her skull, and she had the impulse to take off her clothes because it was so hot in here.

Don’t do it! The last tendril of her rational self pleaded with her to behave. She shushed it gently with a finger to her lips.

“You!” a voice at her elbow called. She spun, expecting Jimin, finding Jungkook.

“You were lost!” she cried.

He glared and wagged his finger, “You disappeared! I’ll be in deep shit if I lose you!”

“With the proper authorities?”

“Wha?”

Someone bumped into her and she edged closer to Jungkook with a pout. She didn’t want to be here anymore. She wished Jimin would take her home –no, Jimin wouldn’t take her home, even though they lived right now to each other. Jimin might be taking someone else home.

“He’s still talking to her,” she realized, her eyes landing on Jimin despite the crowd. She couldn’t tell if it was the same woman but it didn’t matter. Jimin was going to take home whatever woman he wanted and meet more women on the dating app and Hanbyul was going to have to just sit back and cheer him on. She wanted to cry.

“Hey, you ok? You look like you’re about to cry.”

“I want to go home,” she said in a small voice. “I’m too drunk…”

“Ah, damn. No, don’t cry.”

“I won’t cry,” she vowed, though didn’t quite believe it herself.

“What? I can’t hear you… let’s just get you home,” he said, as best she could tell. When he nudged her towards the door, she let him guide her out. It had cooled off considerably outside and she shivered. The sudden shift in volume left her feeling teetery, as if she’d been leaning on the noise and body heat.

“How drunk are you?” he asked, hand gripping her arm.

“Um, just a little bit… I can get a cab…” she pulled her phone out of her purse and promptly dropped it on the ground. “Oops.” It was embarrassing for Jungkook to see her like this. She didn’t know how she’d gotten this far, just one drink leading to another, and it was all fine until suddenly she fully understood she was watching the love of her life–

“He’s not the love of my life,” she insisted.

“What now?”

“I don’t know, where’s my phone?”

Jungkook held it up, but promptly overbalanced and fell on his ass. Only when he started laughing did Hanbyul consider she wasn’t the only drunk one, and it was overwhelmingly comforting in that moment. A few tears did leak out then.

“Shit, you’re crying. Let me go get Jimin, he’s better with that kind of–”

“NO!”

“No… Jimin?”

“Can I sleep at your place?”

“Uh…” Jungkook looked up at her from the curb. “Yes… but–”

“Not to have sex!”

“Ok geez.”

“No, I have to get home to Hudu… where’s my phone…” 

“It’s dead,” Jungkook told her.

Hanbyul promptly sat down beside him on the curb and sighed, “Well shit.”

“I’ll get you home.”

“You don’t have to.”

“No? I should just wave and let you walk off? Jimin would shred my balls and peel the skin off my body.”

“Ew,” she gasped.

“Oh he can take you home, he lives right by you.” Jungkook began to rise but Hanbyul knocked against him to send him sprawling again. “What the–”

“No!” she cried on a delay. “Anyone but him.”

“Anyone?”

“It can’t be him. He’s… busy.”

“Busy…?”

“Like… flirting. I don’t want to get in the way.”

“Nah, he won’t mind.”

“I can’t! He can’t see me like this! Who knows what I’ll say?!”

“What’s the worst you can say?” Jungkook laughed. “‘I’m in love with you’?”

Hanbyul grabbed his arm, eyes going wide, and demanded, “Did I say that?!”

“Wha?”

“How did you know that?!”

“The… fucking… wait… do you?”

“Did Namjoon tell you that?!”

“What does Namjoon have to do with anything?”

“I didn’t tell him who but I didn’t think he would show up today and why is Jimin friends with everyone in this city–”

“He’s a friendly guy.”

“I know and I know I’m just a friend so you don’t have to tell me but I still didn’t mean to…” She trailed off, unable to bring herself to admit she’d fallen in love with him, or unknowingly slept with his friend, or that her jealousy over him even talking to other women in the bar right now was going to consume her.

“Hey.” Jungkook nudged her arm with his. She gave him a miserable look. “I don’t think you’re just a friend.”

“Thanks, Jungkook. That’s sweet of you… I think…”

“No, I mean–” A car interrupted him, pulling to a stop so close that they both scrambled backwards. “Oh that’s our car.” She thought it was too soon for a car to have arrived. How had he even ordered one on his phone without her seeing? They scrambled into the car like a pair of street rats.

“Oh my god I’m too drunk I shouldn’t have been saying any of this! Stop making me talk!”

“It thinks it’s the alcohol.”

“Too much,” she sighed. “Why did I come out with you?”

“To have fun. Admit it, you were having fun.”

“I was, until…”

“So you’re like… in love with–”

“Stop saying it! I didn’t say that.”

“You pretty much did,” he tittered.

“You can’t tell him. Promise me. Promise me, Jungkook, not a word!”

“Why would I tell him your business?” Jungkook snickered. “I think you should tell him. And let me watch.”

“Jungkook. Jungkook Jungkook Jungkook–”

“Hanbyul, what.”

“We can never tell him,” she said with utmost sincerity, grabbing his hand and squeezing as tightly as she could. “He can never know.”

“Why not?”

“He and Sun-young are too important to me. Do you understand?”

“Yeah but what if you’re important to him too?”

“I am. I get to take care of Sun-young sometimes and he likes my cooking…” She closed her eyes because the car ride was making her dizzy. At least thinking of Jimin helped settle her head just enough she didn’t think she was going to puke in the backseat of the Uber. Probably. 

“Yeah but what if he thinks you’re more important than your cooking?”

She smiled and wished she could move enough to pat his head as she explained, “He doesn’t but I can be happy with being neighbor Hanbyul, but not less than that if I make him uncomfortable and he stops talking to me.”

“I don’t really know you a lot but I don’t think you should settle.”

“That’s sweet.”

“Yeah, I’m sweet,” he agreed. “I think it matters, love and romance and… and thinking someone is the best part of your day…”

“Are you a romantic?” she gasped.

“That’s what I’m saying!”

“I thought you were a…”

“A what?!”

“A flirt…” Fuckboy.

“I am a flirt. I can be both. And I’m not setting for anything less than… I’m waiting to meet someone who gets all red faced talking about me like you do about Jimin.”

“I do not! I’m just drunk!”

“It’s cute.”

“I wish I could fall out of this car and have it run me over.”

Jungkook laughed hard and Hanbyul actually felt all right for him to know her secret. At least for right now. Even though he was one of Jimin’s best friends, at least right now her drunk mind did not perceive a threat that he would run and tell. Right now he felt like her friend too, like they were just two drunk girls in the bathroom sharing secrets. Except it was the back of a cab and his only secret was that he wanted to be in consuming love someday. To be honest, Hanbyul did not think being in love agreed with her so far.

Because yes, she was a little bit in love with Jimin and so far it was nothing but stomachaches.

They walked together up to her apartment. She thought he was just being a gentleman, but when she got back from the quickest pee she’d ever taken Hudu on, she found Jungkook puking in her bathroom.

“Mixed my alcohols,” he groaned. 

Well, Hanbyul was drunk enough to spill her secrets but not enough to puke. With any luck, Jungkook wouldn’t even remember these conversations tomorrow; she hadn’t realized he was as or even more drunk than she was.

“You can sleep on the couch,” she told him.

“The couch? Come on, let me share your bed.”

“Jungkook!”

“We don’t have to fuck! Jimin would never forgive me–”

“Stop talking about it!”

“About fucking? Or Jimin? Or fucking Jimin–”

“Jungkook!”

“Come on, you’re practically my sister in law at this point, just let me sleep in your–”

“I am not! What are you talking about?!” She covered her face and leaned against the wall. And refused to admit that she felt some secret little thrill in this teasing, in someone else making her connection to Jimin seem real and acceptable and possible. Even though she knew it wasn’t and that Jungkook was just a brat who was enjoying teasing her –which was sweet in its own way but she was definitely going to die of embarrassment tomorrow if he remembered any of this.

When she uncovered her face, Jungkook was holding Hudu, swaying slowly with the pup under his chin, and humming. 

Until he suddenly set Hudu down and sprinted to the bathroom again. At that point he decided he wanted the couch after all, since it was closer to the toilet. Hanbyul brought him a trash can too and a glass of water, by which point he was already asleep. Not that she was far behind. The room spun as she lay in bed, the events of the day sliding and jostling over each other.

Jimin was so handsome. And sweet. And charming. And kind. And handsome.

It didn’t matter what Jungkook said. Jimin wasn’t interested in her like that, as evidenced by his attention to other women, as evidenced by his mentioning dating other people to her several times now, as evidenced by his joining of a dating app when there was a perfectly ok Hanbyul down the hall.

Plus… Namjoon.

Well. This had been fun. But Hanbyul was never going to drink again and never going to go out with Jungkook and their friends again.

But first she made sure Jungkook was asleep with traitor Hudu curled up on his legs, and closed her bedroom door, and let her vibrator walk her through the memories of the way Jimin had looked and danced, except this time around her, kissing the lingering taste of his drink into her mouth…

Jimin slept like shit. Every time he’d start to doze, he’d grab his phone again, squinting at the blinding brightness to see if there was a message back. Occasionally he’d manage to fall asleep only to bolt up, certain he’d heard his phone ring –that obnoxious awful ring he’d put on ever since that one time Sunnie’s school hadn’t been able to get hold of him because he always kept his phone on silent and they’d called Hoseok, the second emergency contact, to go get Sunnie and she’d thought it meant her dad died too.

There was never an obnoxious ring going off. Instead he drifted in and out of sleep until Sun-young was awake, enough of an excuse to get out of bed and go through the motions of making them both breakfast and rattling off their plans for the day. Not that there was much for this one blessed weekend. Jimin wasn’t teaching any classes or partaking of any workshops or attending any performances by fellow dancers. Sun-young wanted to see her friends but there was nothing planned yet, and she had no weekend dance since there was no reason for her to take on extra. It wasn’t time for dress rehearsals yet. For her final recital.

“We need to grocery shop,” Jimin suggested, because their fridge was empty and that made him think of cooking and food and Hanbyul, which was better than thinking of Sunnie quitting dance. Hanbyul who had not answered his phone call or either of his texts asking if she got home all right. That wasn’t excessive, was it? But she’d been very drunk, and every time he’d tried to make his way over to her, Kim Hayoon kept catching hold of him again –and he couldn’t exactly just shove her off because she sat on the board of a scholarship that aided many of his students, which in turn kept his lights on and doors open.

Hanbyul must be ok. Just hung over. Hoseok said he’d seen Jungkook getting her an Uber and while Jimin would have greatly preferred that someone let him know Hanbyul was heading out so he could catch a ride home with her, he knew he could trust Jungkook. The fact she was drunk was both obvious and endearing, he could see it in the way she danced without her usual reserve, and the exaggerated way she responded when anyone talked to her. She just had a different look in the club when they’d talked that he couldn’t quite explain but it had just felt… different. He hadn’t understood she was drunk at first when they spoke, and maybe she wasn’t yet then, maybe that came later. He didn’t know, she just seemed happy. He had gotten painfully little actual time with her and the injustice of that was palpable. She’d looked amazing and he had never in his life expected to be at a club with her and he would have liked to dance together. Preferably just the two of them… and what the fuck was wrong with him that he hadn’t managed to make it happen?!

“I’m not hungry,” Sun-young said, possibly related to his comment about grocery shopping. He closed the refrigerator, now several degrees warmer, and looked over where Sunnie poked at her gyeran bap, cheek resting on her hand.

“You want cereal instead? We have…” He trailed off, realizing they had none. Hanbyul might have some he could bum off her…

“No,” Sun-young sighed. “Can I watch TV?”

“Sure, but we should go grocery shopping today and figure out what else we need to do… laundry… do you have homework?” Even as he said these things, he frowned. He did need to do these tasks, but he also wanted to just have fun with his daughter. Maybe Hanbyul could come along? He could tease her about last night, make sure she understood he had wanted to dance with her–

But to what end? He’d dance with her and maybe she’d humor him and only think to herself a little why is this old dad wanting to dance with me at the club? Why is he even here? He didn’t usually go to clubs –not because he didn’t enjoy them but because he didn’t usually have the time or energy. But Namjoon was bummed because that girl he’d been dating had called things off and it wasn’t serious but it kinda sucked and so Jimin had called in a favor with Yoongi and put himself together and gone to the clubs.

And there was Hanbyul, for no reason he could comprehend at the time, long hair pulled back to show off her neck, wearing a cute very short dress he’d never seen her in before… vibing with Jungkook. For a moment he’d lit up like a holiday tree with surprise and envy and relief, because here was an opportunity to spend time with Hanbyul in an adult setting except she was already spending that time with Jungkook! 

And then there was whatever Namjoon and Hanbyul had been talking about by the bathroom. He didn’t realize she’d gotten to know so many of his friends around him and now he felt even more like an idiot not to have invited her into his circle long ago. They clearly got along with her, she seemed happy –except for that moment she spoke with Namjoon, and looked so distressed it was hard to hold himself back from running in to save her. Maybe he should have. At the time he’d hesitated because Hanbyul wasn’t his to save and whatever they were talking about wasn’t his business. He’d been anchored by that twist of displeasure that she was young and single and pretty and so were his friends. 

Sun-young curled up on the couch with a blanket and watched some kid drama with an unblinking, disconnected stare. It dragged Jimin from his thoughts of Hanbyul.

“You ok, Sunnie?”

“I’m tired.”

That was wildly unlike her. Jimin perched on the edge of her couch and touched her forehead but couldn’t decide whether it was unusually warm or not. 

“Does anything hurt?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Your head? Your stomach? Your throat?”

“I don’t know, I just feel…”

“Yes?” he prodded, waiting for the revelation.

“Tired.”

Illness in Sun-young always raised a panic in him on par with what he’d experienced when she was only an infant and he and Subin young, inexperienced parents convinced every sniffle could be the first sign of something fatal. Most parents learned over time through proof of the contrary that colds were common and their child was healthy, though the fear always lurked in the shadows. But when Subin was suddenly very sick, and only a short time later died, it broke that security in Jimin. Any illness could be the last one. 

The doctor’s office was used to his overreactions at this point. He didn’t care, though he tried to reign it in once Sun-young made clear she found the coddling overbearing. He tried to trust her assessment of her own body, but she was a child! She gave him nothing to go on this time anyway, just tired, so Jimin checked ears and nose and throat, took her temperature, pressed on her belly, took her temperature again.

“A small fever,” he murmured.

“I think it’s just a cold,” she said, drooping to the couch again. She nudged his leg. “I can’t see.”

“Your vision is hazy?!”

“You’re blocking the TV.”

“Oh…” 

“My throat hurts a little,” she conceded, as if throwing him a bone in his worry. He had thought it looked a little red, her lymph nodes a bit swollen to touch.

This called for an aggressive offense of yuzu jelly tea, popsicles, and Sunnie’s favorite stew samgyetang. But they were out of popsicles, there was only a scrape of yuzu jelly left in the jar to make tea with, and of course he had no samgyetang readily on hand.

He glanced at the clock. It was nearing ten now. Surely Hanbyul would be waking up –even if she’d slept in with a hangover. In fact, he had some Easy Tomorrow she could drink! He should have taken it over last night and regretted his thoughtlessness now. She might be having a rotten morning and it would be shitty of him to show up and ask if she had any yuzu jelly or could make samgyetang for his sick daughter.

But she might be already making it for herself, and she might not mind sharing the jelly, and she might appreciate the Easy Tomorrow later than never. Plus he could confirm with his own eyes she’d gotten home safe.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“Just to see if Hanbyul has yuzu jelly.”

“Tell her to come watch TV with me,” Sun-young said from her blanket burrito. “You can say I’m sick if it makes her come.”

“I think you are sick, kiddo.”

“I’m just a little tired.”

She coughed immediately afterwards, as if even her body couldn’t stand by the dismissal of her symptoms. Jimin would never. Already he was evaluating just how far he’d let her symptoms get before he’d take her to the doctor. The answer: not very far.

He felt a twinge of guilt as he knocked on Hanbyul’s door. She might have a headache so he started quietly but when he didn’t hear anything, graduated to the buzzer.

He tracked footsteps to the door and then a pause during which he assumed Hanbyul was peeking through the peephole to see who was bothering her on a Saturday morning. He ran his hand through his hair, hoping he didn’t look too rough.

The door swung open to reveal Jungkook wearing yesterday’s clothes and looking puffy-eyed and crusty. He yawned and scratched at his cheek and gave Jimin a sleepy grin.

“Hey, Easy Tomorrow, thanks,” he said, reaching for the bottle. “I was just heading out. Hanbyul’s still asleep if that’s who you’re looking for.”

Jimin was so completely stunned to be confronted by Jungkook answering Hanbyul’s door that he could only stammer out, “Who else would I be looking for at Hanbyul’s apartment?”

“Yeah, good point.” Jungkook unscrewed the cap from the bottle and downed it in one long chug while Jimin just stood there, waiting for an answer to any of the questions he couldn’t find his voice for: why are you waking up inside Hanbyul’s apartment wearing yesterday’s clothes? Why did you go home with her? Why did you invite her out in the first place? Are you two dating now? Did you fuck?

Bottle empty, Jungkook handed it back to Jimin and clapped him on the shoulder as he said, “It was good you came out last night. I think everyone had a lot of fun.”

“Uh… yeah, uh…”

“Fuck. Think I’ll get some more sleep at home… see ya later. Tell Sunnie I said hey.”

Jungkook did not seem to realize that Jimin was stunned speechless. He set off down the hall, leaving Hanbyul’s door open as if Jimin was going to just waltz right in. She wasn’t even out of bed yet! Had she slept naked after Jungkook…

Jimin pulled the door shut, making sure he heard the click of the lock before sprinting back to the safety of his own apartment. There he snuggled down beside Sun-young and pulled out his phone to order yuzu jelly tea and stew and anything else he could think of that they wanted for delivery, cost be damned. 

What the fuck?! Had Jungkook really gone home with and slept with Hanbyul?

Jimin couldn’t even process it. Jungkook ought to know she was off limits! But also, of course Jungkook wouldn’t think she was off limits, because Jimin never said so, because she wasn’t off limits. Even if it felt wrong for her to not be off limits. Even if Jimin and Hanbyul weren’t dating, she shouldn’t be dating any of his friends either, right?? Because… because there was still an emotional connection there…

Jimin flat out didn’t know what to do. Everything in him warred between marching right over, coming out with it and seeing what she said… and doing anything in the world except that.

But coming out with what? What did Jimin have to offer Hanbyul? Absolutely nothing in some areas and too much in others. A single father, a dead wife, a heart still trying to adjust to the idea of letting someone else in. If Hanbyul was interested in Jungkook, then Jimin was not the guy for her. Jimin should be looking for someone older and settled or something anyway, right? Maybe someone with a kid too, so they could mutually burden each other –not that he thought Sun-young was in any way a burden, but it was a lot to ask someone who wasn’t a parent to suddenly become one!

“Is unnie coming?” Sunnie asked, sitting up and leveling a pink-faced pout in his direction. 

“Oh uh, I don’t know, she wasn’t awake yet.”

“Can you call her? I really want her to come over.”

Jimin stroked Sun-young’s hair and took her acceptance of this touch as proof she was very sick. 

Would it be such a bad thing if Hanbyul wound up with Jungkook? He could use someone to look after him, and she could use someone who could be fun and free with her. And she’d still be in Sunnie’s life, just as an aunt instead of…

Was he really thinking of Hanbyul like this? It wasn’t in any explicit way, words still seemed impossible and ill-fitting and heavy. He didn’t know what he wanted, he doubted Hanbyul wanted this nameless space, he was too afraid to look directly at this thing taking hazy shape in his mind, this future starting to come into focus. Did the future have to be big and scary? Wouldn’t it be the easiest thing in the world right now for Hanbyul to walk in from the other room and settle on the couch with them, legs folded beneath her, Jimin’s arm around her shoulder and Sun-young draped across their laps? Hanbyul’s head settling onto his shoulder…

The physical closeness was the only thing that would be new, and he wanted it. He craved it in such a sudden, overwhelming rush that it almost drove him from the couch to take a lap around the apartment to work out this restless energy. He wanted Hanbyul here and it wasn’t fair that she wasn’t. Sunnie wanted her here too! Couldn’t they just have what they wanted this time? The scene was playing out in his mind, the casual affection, Hanbyul’s hand stroking Sunnie’s hair, Jimin’s fond smile, maybe a soft shared kiss once Sun-young drifted off to sleep halfway through the movie. God, to kiss Hanbyul, to share a warm, close embrace that he’d been deprived of for years! And for the first time in as long, the longing for it didn’t bring him to his knees in grief. Subin was there in his heart, forever and always, but there was space for Hanbyul too, space he desperately wanted her to fill. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach as he stared at the empty space on the couch as if she was really there, as if they were sharing the phantom first kiss. His flush was as real as if they had.

God, he was pathetic. Lonely, and latching on to a fantasy of his neighbor. He tried to push the thoughts from his head with limited success and turned to narrating the TV show to Sun-young instead until she insisted he stop. 

“Is this what you want to watch? Here, let me get you socks and your stuffie. Maybe you need some medicine too? I think delivery will be here soon–”

“Appa just stay still with me.”

He immediately froze, still as a statue as Sun-young adjusted in his arms, her little warm body curled up with his in a way he’d feared she had outgrown. 

Well he sure fucking wasn’t moving now.

“Ok. I’ll stay,” he assured her. 

“Did you message unnie?”

“Yes,” he partially lied. “But she has something else going on. It’s just going to be us, ok?”

“Ok,” Sunnie sighed and he felt her head getting heavier against his chest. 

There. There, if she could accept it, he could too. They didn’t need Hanbyul or anyone else in their lives. The two of them and the memory of Subin were a whole-enough family. Things were already getting better between them since he’d budged on the dance and science, and the future would be ok. 

He’d let Jungkook know to take care because Hanbyul was a good woman, and then he’d let go of that silly dream he’d almost fallen into.

He had Sunnie and Sunnie had him and they didn’t need anyone else in the world.

Except maybe someone to get the delivery at the door so he didn’t have to unsettle his sleeping daughter. Shit! 

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[pengychan]

hi! sorry to bother, ive been following you for a while and i am a fan of your writing. i know this is quite random but i was hoping i could ask you a question related to italy. i know you do not speak for everyone there but i would like to hear your perspective. i wont go into the long story but i do not feel safe in my current country but i found out i may be able to access italian citizenship through a family relation.

could i ask, how do (or did) you feel about life in italy from your point of view? related to cost and safety especially. what advice would you give to someone who would like to move and work there?

thank you in advance <3

Hi! Sure, no problem!

Cost of living varies wildly depending on where you are - it's insane expensive in some cities (Milan on top of my mind, but Rome isn't cheap either) and tends to be cheaper in the south. The overall cost of life is not too high, but wages tend to be low, so our purchasing power that's kind of meh.

When it comes to safety, it can also vary within the country, but overall I think it's fairly safe, with violent crime going steadily down year on year (although the number of women killed each year, often by partners/ex partners/stalkers, bucks this trend and is not going down). Tbh Italy doesn't shine on any aspect, but is also not terrible in most of them, so for the most part is kind of okay-ish? Very far from perfect, but also not the worst pick in the continent probably.

If you're thinking to move here it definitely helps to learn the language ASAP because your average Italian absolutely SUCKS at foreign languages, including English. So communication might get hard. If you'd like any more specific advice feel free to send an ask or a DM and I'll do my best to answer - maybe if you have experience in a specific sector, like say hospitality, I can get in touch with someone who works in it to get more specific advice?

Whether or not you decide to live in Italy, definitely grab the chance to get that citizenship - it's EU citizenship, and it allows you to easily move and work in 26 other countries if Italy doesn't work out for you. Never hurts to have that option!

[alatismeni-theitsa]

Hi,

Can I ask your opinion? There is one YouTuber who is lives Spain and USA and he sounds quite basic. Thing that makes me think is that he says that ottoman and Arab slavers weren't as bad as Atlantic slave trade. Reason for that was because slaves can earn their freedom and their children weren't slaves and after they get free they lived part of society etc. He says that best way to find information treatment of slaves is people who own them. What is your opinion of this? Like I know how Balkans they tattooed girls to keep the safe and captured young boys were convert to islam and rise soldiers.

"that best way to find information treatment of slaves is people who own them." oh, really? Let's go read old WASP's accounts of their Black slaves. I'm sure they will be very reflective of the truth, right? 😂😂 It's all "please look at the perspective of the slaves!" until the slaves are European, apparently.

I think this whole discussion of "Arab slavery wasn't that bad" is a way to minimize an extremely wide and despicable slave trade that lasted for more than A THOUSAND YEARS (and still hasn't ended). In comparison, slavery in America lasted from the 17th to the 19th century. (400 years if we are generous)

Also, I'm sure they would change their tune once they learned that "Brown" and "Black" people too were taken as slaves in this slave-trade. Especially "Black" people were taken a lot and in rural areas they were forced to work in the hardest of conditions, often not living more than 5 years.

I will link videos below that mention all the countries where slaves were taken from, reviewed by Black African women. But I will focus here on Europe because that's what USians have in mind when they say "it wasn't that bad".

Whole villages were taken. Villages. For centuries on end. The sheer amount of people who were taken is scary. We are talking about large populations that changed the genetic makeup of certain areas. And we have veeery few accounts of these people earning their freedom. Just because they legally could, it doesn't mean their "masters" let them.

Families were separated. They were killed when they were trying to escape. They could be beaten and lashed at any moment, for any minor inconvenience they created for their "lord". Yes, there were house slaves, too, like in transatlantic slavery, but they were also made to work under extreme conditions (e.g. extreme heat). They were working in plantations and in mining, things that the free people wouldn't do themselves.

They were castrated. They were raped and often carried the child of their rapists. Through these rapes, many children were born and mothers tried to hush this fact and hide it from future generations. Being seen as an "exotic commodity" isn't the flex these people think it is. Being a "white breeding mare" the pirates went all the way to Norway to capture, isn't a flex.

A White woman cost higher than a Black woman (racial discrimination against Black people that spread in other areas too) but that meant that European women were hunted down intensely and they had almost no chance of escaping captivity through ransom. It was more profitable to be sold, than to be returned with a ransom paid by their families or foreign countries. Arabs "preferred" non-Black slaves, and so many non-Black slaves were taken for many centuries. A double-edged sword, because you don't exactly want a slaver to "prefer" your "race" for any reason.

And if you think that highly sought enslaved women in the "entertainment" industry weren't frequently abused or raped, you can look at the abuse numbers of free women in the entertainment industry today...

People born from rape during slavery were much more than we think. Having to "ruin yourself" with tattoos (according to your tradition) and raise your child as another gender, speaks volumes of the lengths people went to avoid a very frequent phenomenon. The Greek revolution against the Ottomans clearly stated "we don't want to be taken as slaves anymore! We prefer one hour of freedom over 40 years of slavery!" In many cases, the slaves were outright called "chattel"!

Taking the male population as children is also looked by the outsiders as "good" because "they lived in good conditions and they were educated" but please go tell that to the mothers who never saw their children again. These children were also stripped of their culture and religion and language, and were often employed to oppress and kill their own people. Many Balkan countries have songs about this phenomenon.

This slave-trade was totally legal and acceptable within the Ottoman and Arab empires but it was also pirating activity that supplied the slave traders. It was mostly the Beber nations but many Africans, and West Asians and Arabs in the Arab peninsula benefited from it. They often took part in the "stealing people" operations. For example, the most exposure to Black people Greeks had was when they saw them as pirates in Arab ships. That's why the slur for a Black person in Greece historically is basically "Arab".

Europeans were building WALLS toward the sea to prevent these attacks. (Ironically, some were built by the same government that took their subjects as slaves) Thessaloniki had these walls, for example. Like, I'm not sure if the USians who often compare the slave trades ever thought of having a wall towards the sea as a normal thing. Some European nations still have sayings like "there are no Moors at the coast" as another way to say "all is safe". That's how much the trauma has stuck.

In the video linked below, there's also mentioned a revolt towards an Ottoman leader because "why won't you let us have slaves from Europe??" Does this conflict ring a bell, fellow US-ian friends? 😂

European nations and the US had created TREATIES with African states (which didn't stop the attacks in many cases) as an effort to basically say "ok, stop taking our people! we will pay you!" The amounts paid were extravagant but they were still small in comparison to how many people (and profit lol) would be lost otherwise.

There were a few cases where a slave could free themselves in the Arab slave trade but this was the case in the American slave trade too! Legally slaves in the Americas could be freed if their master wanted it, if they paid off their master, or if they were illegally enslaved. They could also have court cases to win their freedom, or serve in the military in exchange for freedom. Some were allowed to have side businesses and earn their own money (and eventually pay for their freedom).

We know there were such cases but, as I mentioned above, just because it is the law, it doesn't mean that it happened a lot.

An American would tell you "noo! Despite some legal protections it was still horrible!" and I'm asking, why don't you say this for the millions and millions of slaves in the Arab slave trade when it comes to laws VS actual treatment?

"their children (the children of slaves) weren't slaves". The recorded history shows that they usually were slaves, though. A minority, if lucky enough, could gain freedom while being born a slave. But slaves were often lumped together in certain areas so they had children with other slaves. And even children by free men often were considered slaves, unless the free male master decided to recognize them.

Just because it isn't Louisiana weather and just because the slaves (usually) didn't die on the way to their destination, it doesn't make it less atrocious. There was a reason our traditions speak of people killing themselves before they could get captured into slavery.

Like a gay Greek man said the other day "we are not supposed to be thankful just because you're not dragging us on the streets and stoning us". The laws saying "Provide shelter, and healthcare and don't mistreat your slaves" doesn't mean this was followed. "Shelter" could be a dirty shed. "Medical attention" could be splashing some water on the wounds from the lashing. "Don't overwork them" could be "I work them too much but not to death, so it doesn't count."

The video speaks more about the white slave-trade of US people but it's good to note how this looks "mild" (for lack of a better word) to what was happening in Europe. I'm not saying this as "these slaves had it better compared to the European ones". No. I'm simply saying that the danger and frequency were much larger for European people, mainly those who lived in coastal nations.

This video focuses on other areas, mainly in Africa, where slaves were frequently taken from.

[kayandthegoldendays]

yesterday I found myself in the jungle with six children. a wordschooling family had joined the expedition and I was awestruck by the fearlessness each of those girls showed. a vivacious tiny redhead leapt ahead of me when she saw me withdraw and tossed a snake aside before turning around red curls draped over her face, dirt on her nose, smiling brightly and says “…it’s okay! You’re safe!”.

she read my mind. I knew I was safe indeed.

a few miles later, her mother and I began to chat. they spoke of how they left Australia, and how they’ve traveled 11 countries with their girls. they call Nicaragua home now. the girls have acquired three languages in the interim and the fearlessness makes sense.

it was this unusual feeling of “ah you are the families I’ve read about”, years ago when I was sitting in a sterile IVF clinic, as the nurse would draw my blood, I would scroll through the world schooling groups dreaming of myself with a little babe strapped to my back as I climbed the mountains I’m now climbing.

it’s odd, I wonder sometimes if I released too quickly or if I made the wrong call. I wonder if I would have had two babies by now living in the little pink house by the sea on Yucatán.

and I think part of maturing is recognizing that sometimes the best call isn’t the one you always want to make. and two things can be true. I tried hard enough and I also could have tried harder…but not at the expense of my mental health.

only a few days ago, I had encountered a women newly postpartum in the town close by completely distraught by her baby’s inability to latch at the breast properly. we spent the next few hours troubleshooting and I made a new friend in the process. she asked me if I had children of my own and I didn’t have the words to explain. it’s difficult explaining sometimes.

instead I shook my head no and said I wasn’t given that gift. she surprised me and said I was fortunate. I thought about how motherhood is only a gift when there’s choice involved.

sometimes at night I find myself consoled by my ancestors, thinking of all the babies I’ve helped enter the world. all the mothers I’ve encountered, supported and nourished. I have helped build families even if it wasn’t my own. and I find this distinct peace in knowing that I have still found joy in my life even if didn’t look like I once thought it would.

and maybe that’s all that’s needed to have closure, knowing that joy still lives on if we seek it.

[aphroditestummyrolls]

tell me about colm 👀

AHHHHHH HELLO

I have a lot of feelings about colm fahey. A lot of them are linked to my story Keep You Safe, but they are part of a larger, more blanket headcanon that is just how I characterise him. So, this is my backstory for colm and Aditi.

Quick CW for canon typical racism and prejudice against grisha; and also a lot of talk about grief, because this man needs therapy ✌️

Colm in Crooked Kingdom is generally mild mannered, dislikes violence, and is frightened for his son’s welfare, but he’s stunted by his grief and deep superstitions. And that’s just about it. Colm’s character is Superstitious Farmer, Consummate Widower, and Perpetually Concerned/Emotionally Distant Father. That’s it.

I’ve tried to build a backstory for colm that allows him to have Lived a little— he clearly had SOME spark of adventure at some point. You don’t move countries without one! I see him and Aditi falling in love over that, building their their relationship in Novyi Zem, and then traveling together— while also testing Colm’s acceptance of grisha abilities. In my headcanon, they had a long engagement, and traveled around the True Sea while Addy trained her abilities with different teachers through different countries. Colm goes with her because he loves her. He wants to be with her, and he can accept this. He’ll prove it to her. It’s not until they’re in Ravka, and Aditi finds out that she’s pregnant that they decide the best place to be zowa— and to raise a potentially zowa child— is Novyi Zem.

They go home. They get married, build the farm, and Jesper comes along.

Jesper doesn’t know the details of these stories. Colm used to tell him sanitized little tidbits, and Addy would teach him little things she’d learned from her many teachers, but there is so much about his life that colm hasn’t told him.

One of my headcanons— that is specifically going to be in my Crows Witness Protection Program for Wayward Fathers, but is also just general— is about the one thing that they did in between Ravka and Novyi Zem. The thing that they never mentioned to Jesper at all. They stopped home in the Wandering Isle. Colm hadn’t told his family much about his new life, pregnant fiancée, or their many travels. They knew he was happy in the frontier lands, and that was it. But, on their way home, colm decides to take a leap of faith and introduce them to addy properly. On one condition: they cannot know that she’s grisha.

Addy hates that— she had finally let herself relax into the idea that colm had left his cultural superstitions behind, and while she understands that he’s just trying to protect her in a possibly hostile place, it feels… bad.

And it only gets worse. One of Colm’s uncles, Llewelyn, is the only one to accept their relationship. For the first bit, things are just awkward, but when Colm’s father and brothers find out that he and this “local frontier woman” are intending to marry? That they’re going to have a child??? They go ballistic. They can’t fathom why he would want to be with addy, instead of any of the nice Kaelish women that have taken to Novyi Zem, or… honestly, they thought that colm would return home when he had his fill of travel. And instead he’s having a bastard child with a zemeni woman?

It, of course, becomes a hell of a fight. And it accidentally comes out that Aditi is also grisha.

Ultimately, colm is told to choose between Aditi and Jesper, and his blood family. He will never be welcome home again if he leaves. So, he leaves.

Colm never stops being angry with them, but also never stops missing them— especially when Aditi passes away. And all he has is a wild son that he doesn’t know how to raise, and addy’s family knocking on the door to make sure the both of them are alright once a fortnight. He never feels like he belongs, he feels like an outsider, and that, eventually, becomes his identity. Colm, I think, is a man who has both been forced to isolate, and chosen isolation. His isolation defines him to the point where he finds it almost impossible to connect, even though he really does try. And loneliness— in its own way— becomes an addiction.

He misses who he was, but that man died with his wife. And he’s been going through the motions ever since, not allowing himself to acknowledge the fact that he has no clue who he is anymore. He’s having the world’s quietest, most drawn out identity crisis. To the point that he probably doesn’t even know it’s happening most of the time. He’s just here to get the occasional letter from his son in Ketterdam, and harvest jurda. Colm Fahey, lifelong local foreigner.

It’s not until he and jesper finally start to be honest with each other and get on the path to some sort of healing that anything starts to change.

Alright, I’ve rambled enough. I hope that literally any of this made sense. But please do pop by and ask more anytime! I love him and I love taking about him!

[faveficarchive]

Home Fires (Part 1 Cont.)

By Christine "Roo" Toups

LOVE/SEX WARNING/DISCLAIMER: This story depicts a love/sexual relationship between two consenting adult women. If you are under 18 years of age or if this type of story is illegal in the state or country in which you live, please do not read it.

Carelessly, words and music by C. Kenny/N.Kenny/N. Ellis used without permission. 

NOTE: © copyright 2000 One Bard Writin'

Chapter 7 

Mel had taken up a position at the front door, her nose inches from the screen. On the other side, black flies buzzed and knitted their legs against the tightly?woven metal, and beyond the flies, under the searing outback sun, Alice said her farewells to Dinah. She couldn't make out the words, but the gestures ?hands swiping at tears, a last lingering embrace ?spoke volumes. Neville Bonner, his dark face an impassive mask, endured in silence the girlish expressions of sadness and regret, but as his daughter dropped her arms to her sides at last, he stepped forward and took Alice by the shoulders. Mel watched as he spoke earnestly to her, gesturing once towards the house before placing his rough, dry lips against her forehead. Mel regretted that her position did not afford her a better view of Alice's face as Dinah moved away, walking backwards in her father's shadow returning Alice's wave before turning into the sun. 

The solitary figure left standing by the plane placed her hands on her hips, her chest rising and falling in a long sigh of resignation. She turned and walked towards the house. Mel watched them, the retreating figures of Dinah and her father, and Alice as she approached the door; she was impressed that neither girl turned to look back at the other. She pushed the door open as Alice stepped onto the verandah, aware that she was probably the last person in the world the girl wanted to see at this moment.

"Thanks," Alice murmured as she brushed past Mel on her way to the kitchen.

Thanks? Okay, scan for sarcasm. Nothing. Mel closed the heavy door with care, and even before she pushed through the swinging kitchen door, she could hear the clatter of silverware being drawn from drawers.

Alice had spread a good quality lace cloth on the table beneath windows that opened onto a view of the paddock and windmill. As she carefully laid out the silver, the great knife on the outside, fork on the inside debate raged in her head. She heard Mel enter the room, and without looking up, she said, "You might want to check your bread."

Mel reacted as if startled. "My bread...?" A quick glance inside the oven. "Oh, my..." Using a couple of paper thin pot holders, she carefully moved the baking pan from oven to butcher's block. "I think it's alright," she said, poking the golden crust with a finger. "You just narrowly averted a disaster." Alice conjured up a smile and collected three mismatched plates from the cupboard. As she passed Mel to set the table, she was humming. "Just two place settings, Alice."

Alice turned the plates flat against her middle. "Am I sent to bed without supper?"

"I don't know what they're servin' at the corroboree," replied Mel quietly, moving the length of the kitchen. "Probably somethin' still wigglin'" She took the plates from Alice's hands and addressed her seriously, so there was no misunderstanding. "We'll miss your company at supper."

"You mean it?" Her face lit up with a jaw?breaking grin. "Aw, Mel, you're the best!"

Mel held up her hands in an attempt to stem the tide of enthusiasm. "Hold your horses now...Go splash some water on your face and run a brush through your hair..." She followed Alice into her bedroom, all the while issuing advice and directives. "I declare...you look like a ragamuffin. And you have Mr. Bonner walk you back afterwards. I don't care how late it is. I won't sleep a wink until you're back safe and sound."

"Can't I stay the night?" Alice dragged a brush through her hair, from roots to end. "Since it's Dinah's last night here...I could be home first thing in the morning."

Mel exhaled wearily. "I must have 'sucker' written all over my face. Alright," she conceded, jabbing an index finger at Alice's chest. "But you be home bright and early."

Alice tossed the brush onto her cluttered bureau and presented herself for inspection: dusty chambray work shirt, khaki slacks rife with horse hair and sweat. "Look alright?"

Mel knew her opinions didn't matter one way or the other, but she thought it sweet of the girl to ask. "You'll do...Better run if you wanna catch up to them."

"Strewth, yes!" Alice barreled out her bedroom door with the enthusiasm of a freshman fullback, leaving Mel rooted to the spot by sheer disbelief. 

"Not so much as a thank you. Well..." She turned to leave and saw Alice's dirty battered hat, with its sweat?stained kangaroo?hide band, lying brim down on the bed. "Honestly," she said, picking it up. "Forget her head if it wasn't attached." She shrugged and caught her reflection in the mirror, breathing genuine surprise into the word, "Sucker."

"Hey, Mel?" Alice's reflection joined hers in the mirror. "I ?"

"Forgot your hat," Mel finished for her as she settled the hat atop Alice's head, tilting it first to one side, then to the other, then back until it sat jauntily on the crown of her head. "Oh, well, you wear it however you like." 

"I wanted to say thank you, Mel." Alice straightened the hat, and in the ensuing silence, she could tell that her expression of gratitude had caught Mel off guard. "Those should have been the first words out of my mouth. I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate this, and I promise," she elaborated, her words taking on the weight of a blood oath. "Not one word of this will ever reach my mother's ears."

"Better not," Mel cautioned, smiling crookedly. "Or you'll have company in the dog house." She tucked an errant strand of hair behind Alice's ear and ran her finger the length of a strong jaw; although Pappas family etiquette warranted a greater display of affection, she knew that not everyone was comfortable with such things. "Okay, scoot."

Alice stepped back, eager to be on her way and yet careful not to offend Mel with a too rapid exit. "You're okay, Mel."

Mel laughed. "The most tolerable in a long line of fiancées?"

"The most," Alice agreed, backpedaling from the room before turning and gaining momentum as she plunged through the screen door, heedless of the explosive return as it fell, unchecked, back to its jamb. * * * * * * * * * * CHHH?POK! Janice sat bolt upright, sending a small tidal wave over the side of the tub. She had drifted off in her tepid, wet cocoon only to awaken abruptly to the sound of a gunshot.  Oh, Jesus. She's killed her. She put the soap, which had refused to lather in the hard water, back into the soap dish and stood up in the tub, murky water running off her well?toned body in sheets. She wrapped the large bath towel around her as she heard the bedroom door open. "Mel?" As there wasn't a shy bone in her body, Janice stepped around the corner and breathed a sigh of relief. "Mel...are you okay? I thought I heard a ?" 

"The door. Remember?" Mel cast a lingering glance over Janice's exposed body. There was little she hadn't seen ? in half light, in Braille in the dark ? but this was different. Full afternoon sunlight was cascading through the bedroom windows, bouncing off the damp blonde hair, soaking into the golden skin of her exposed legs and shoulders. Mel tilted her head; she didn't remember that little starburst?shaped scar on Janice's collarbone; it looked new. She had an almost uncontrollable urge to kiss it.

Janice was encouraged to be the subject of such thorough scrutiny, and so it took a supreme effort to pull the towel tightly around her and tuck a corner into her cleavage. She even managed to conjure up a suitably flustered expression. "Hey, how would you feel if I looked at you that way?"

Flattered. Mel blushed, and her eyes instantly found other targets on the floor of the room. "I'm sorry. I just came in..." She bent and gathered a discarded pair of jodhpurs and the grimy white blouse. "...to collect these. I'm startin' a load of wash."

"Mel, you don't have to do that...Matter of fact, I'd prefer it if you left the blouse especially. I don't have a clean one to wear."

"Well, if you think I am going to let you sit down at my supper table in this ?" she held the blouse away from her body, out of respect for her nose. "You have another think comin'." She added the white brassiere to the pile in her arms.

"Aw, no, not that, too! C'mon, Mel...what am I supposed to do?" She threw up her hands. "Turn up in a towel?"

Mel backed towards the door, a quirky smile on her face. "Well, dinner will be informal."

Janice put her hands on her hips. "Don't tempt me, sweetheart." 

Mel moved towards the open bedroom door, turning at the threshold. "I'll find you something to wear. Alice probably has somethin' that'll fit you. Be right back."

Janice dropped onto the bed and crossed her legs, the towel riding up to mid thigh. "So help me, she brings me anything with cute little animals on it, I'll be sick," she muttered, her fingers tented open on either side of her, testing the spring of the mattress. She hadn't slept in a bed in five weeks, and the clean linens and firm mattress were like a siren's call. She fell lazily backwards, eyes closed, with her hands cradling her head.

That's how Mel found her minutes later. She stood in the doorway, a starched white blouse dangling from the fingers of one hand, while those of the other established a deathgrip on the doorknob. There was nothing furtive in her observation; Janice need only look up to see her. In the end, it was precisely the idea of those jade green eyes opening and fixing on her own that prompted Mel to slip the clean blouse over the inside doorknob and leave the room. 

Padding down the hall, mindful of the report of her heels on the hardwood floor, she wondered at her attraction to Janice Covington, a woman with a bit of dash and a predilection for hazard. She was a cynical, brilliant archeologist with the gift of keen insight. The image of Janice, stretched out on her bed clad only in a towel, crept into her mind, and she chased it away as counter-productive to her current retrospection. 

That was her gift - to be able to switch mindsets in milliseconds and to concentrate her intellect on one thing exclusively. She made an audible sound of amusement as she entered the kitchen. Wonder who I got that from?  Her own background consisted of mostly?absentee parents; she had been raised by an affectionate grandmother, with only occasional input from her mother. There had been select boarding schools in the Carolinas, and she was an alumnus of the college where her father had been dean. Although she was not without intelligence, she had to concede that she had traded on the family name and her father's reputation more often than she cared to admit. The name Melvin Pappas, mentioned in the right circles, opened doors and minds alike. And after his accidental death on a dig in March of 1940, she had flown to Istanbul, at her mother's request, to close his affairs. Chief among those duties had been replying to unanswered correspondence. There had been stacks of letters, unopened bills, and a dozen yellowed telegrams, one of which led her to Macedonia where a hail of bullets awaited her. In the end, it had been her father's good name, dropped in the receptive ear of Dr. Janice Covington that led her back to the half-nude vision recumbent on her bed. She didn't know whether to curse her father or to thank him.

She gave the bread a half an hour to rest and used her time well, slicing the veal thin and layering it upon a garishly?painted platter. She ladled new potatoes and au jus over the meat and placed a few sprigs of parsley along the perimeter, hiding the chain of purple daisies that bordered the platter. Along with the bread and the fresh green beans she'd prepared, there were green olives and sweetbreads like her grandmother used to make. It was a great deal of food. She and Alice would be dining on leftovers for a week. She took the platter to the table then lay a small dish of fresh butter beside the bread. After folding the linen napkins in a fan pattern, she swapped the placement of knives and forks and stood back to admire the table. "Well, it's not Delmonico's, but it'll have to do." 

"It all looks and smells marvelous, Mel."

Mel jumped, her hand to her heart. "Janice...I didn't hear you come in. Did you have a nice nap?" 

Janice shrugged and dug her hands into the front pockets of her slacks, feeling decidedly ill at ease in the borrowed blouse, which fit well about the waist and shoulders, but cut her just slightly across the bustline. It gave her a modicum of comfort to know that she couldn't slip effortlessly into the clothes of a thirteen year old girl. "You couldn't resist, could you?" 

Mel's eyes jumped from the firm breasts beneath the straining buttons to Janice's face too quickly to disguise what could only be described as honest-to-goodness lust. "Beg pardon?"

Janice fingered the colorful embroidery just above her left breast. Whomever the seamstress was, she had been a true artisan - the words St. Ignatius' School for Young Ladies were plainly visible in Shelley?Volante font?style. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

Mel couldn't suppress a laugh. "Janice, honestly, I never even bothered to look. I chose that one because it's cut large." Janice merely grunted her displeasure and screwed her face into a scowl. "Would you rather it were emblazoned Our Lady of Perpetual Debauchery?"

Janice folded her arms across her chest. "Honestly? Yes." She smiled wryly and, in doing so, changed the whole complexion of the conversation. "But I suppose it'll have to do."

"You are truly magnanimous, Dr. Covington. Would you care to be seated?" 

Mel held out a chair, indicating that Janice should take what was traditionally the head of the household's seat. The implication was not lost on Janice. "Only two place settings?" she inquired as she pulled the chair up to the table. "Alice not joining us?"

"I sent her on to the party." Mel opened the icebox. "It seemed the thing to do if I wanted to live with myself." 

Janice swiveled in the chair and crossed one leg over the other. "Was she being difficult?"

"Just the opposite," came the muffled reply as Mel groped about in the icebox. "She was civil and mature." She poked her head above the door and narrowed her eyes at Janice. "You know how that grates on me."

"She's got you here, Mel," chided Janice, displaying an upturned pinky finger. "Admit it."

"I knew I could count on you to be sympathetic and understandin'. Remind me again why I asked you to supper?"

"Because maybe you missed me..." She pinched her thumb and forefinger together. "...maybe just this much?"

Rather than confirm or deny Janice's intimation, Mel opted to change the subject. "What would you like to drink?"

"What've you got?"

Mel moved items from front to side, clearing a path for her reach. "Simply everythin'. There's milk and lemon squeeze...water, tea...oh, and some perfectly awful local beer." Mel displayed an unlabeled amber bottle. "I think it's bottled in a woolshed someplace. I don't recommend it."

"That'll do." Janice crossed the floor and took the bottle from Mel. Having been at the very back of the icebox for some time, it was half frozen, just the way she liked it. "You know me: I like living dangerously." She held the bottle up to the light as she walked back to the table and judged the meager amount of sediment floating within to be acceptable. 

"Why don't you put on some music?" Mel, her hands occupied with condiments, gestured with her chin to a standing oak phonograph beneath a curio shelf.

"Any preferences?" Janice asked, as she raised the battered lid of the phonograph. "I think I spoke too soon." She picked up a sleeveless 78 with more care than it had previously been shown in its lifetime. "We have a very scratchy copy of...ooh, Noel Coward." She made a face as she looked at Mel. "I think I was ten when this was recorded."

"The phonograph was a wedding gift...for Jack and Peggy." Mel popped the cap from Janice's beer and began serving the veal. "I think those albums are probably original to it."

"Billie Holiday," Janice crooned. She removed the slick black record from its sleeve with care and held it by her fingertips. "With Teddy Wilson. Naw, Mel, this is relatively new." It wasn't just new, it was pristine, and had, in fact, probably never been played at all, very likely due to the color of the artist. Considering what little she knew of Peggy Greenway and her narrow opinion of the Aborigines, she marveled that the album had been allowed in the house at all. "You Go To My Head, More Than You Know..." Song titles that might have easily been describing Mel, a possibility that was given further credence by the next song title: Them There Eyes. She looked to the table, where Mel had taken the chair kitty corner from her own, and seated the record beneath the needle, setting the volume to 3 on the dial. She opened the double doors on the phonograph's face to reveal the speaker as You Go To My Head opened with a combustible alto sax. She was sitting beside Mel shaking the napkin into her lap as a clarinet riff paved the way for Holiday's one?of?a?kind vocal stylings. The timbre was just a touch cynical, and Janice knew, without actually knowing Holiday personally, that she had been burned at love before. "This is nice, Mel," she murmured, feeling decidedly warm beneath the thin blouse. She looked down at her plate, trisected neatly with meat, starch and vegetable, all carefully prepared by a talented cook, and yet nothing looked as enticing as the woman seated across the table from her.

"Janice..." Mel turned an anticipatory gaze on her guest. "You aren't eating."

"Savoring the moment, Mel," Janice replied. She sliced into her veal with enthusiasm, but it was all for show. Food no longer held any interest for her. Mel's proximity had whetted a different kind of appetite. She lay the knife across the edge of the plate, dropped her free hand into her lap and speared the vaguely rare meat with a fork. When she looked up, she found Mel's eyes waiting, alight. Before she had taken one bite of veal, she was already anticipating dessert. 

Chapter 8 

"...sandstone ramparts hundreds of feet high, miles wide, pockmarked with caves." Janice absently swirled the warm beer at the bottom of the bottle. "But you know something, Mel, and this might be the beer talking, but I think it's the sort of dig I could just walk away from. The whole place just has a...a feel about it...more churchyard than graveyard."

"Kakadu's a spiritual place," Mel replied. "Small wonder you're uncomfortable. Your workers...are they local to Kakadu?" Janice nodded. "There's your problem." The serving fork hovered over the meat platter, targeting a slice of veal. "More veal?"

Janice waved her hand, fending off a third helping. "It's standard practice to employ the natives, Mel."

"You haven't found anything they didn't permit you to find. The real finds, the genuine rarities will elude you as long as you use locals to point the way." Mel tucked an olive between her perfect white teeth before sucking the pimento from its salty green blanket.

Janice was entranced, holding the last sip of beer in her mouth briefly before swallowing. "And what would you have done differently? Hire outsiders?"

Mel lifted an eyebrow. "If I had taken the job, then, yes, I would have imported a crew, but that's a moot point, Janice. The dig is yours." She laid her fork and knife across the plate, signaling an end to the meal, and to the discussion.

But Janice was persistent. "Why didn't you take the job, Mel? You were local; you were Moffat's first choice ??"

"Because I was local and for no other reason." Mel folded her napkin in quarters before tucking it beneath the edge of her plate. "Jack said it was probably because I work cheap, and it's true. I would've paid Moffat for the pleasure of headin' the dig."

"Instead, here you sit...one of a handful of warm bodies in a three hundred mile radius." Janice's voice held the unmistakable edge of sarcasm as she quipped, "Flies, heat, isolation: I can see what you like about it." Further conversation on the dubious virtues of the outback faded away on the dying strings of a violin passage. For a moment there was only the ghost of a heartbeat, the rhythmic thump thump thump of the needle as it rode the groove of dead air between tracks before sliding into the last song on the record. Carelessly, Janice's personal favorite on an album full of memorable tunes, began with the incomparable piano work of Teddy Wilson. Two beers brave, carelessly might also have described the way she looked Mel in the eye and said, "So tell me about Jack."

Mel pursed her lips and sat up straight, lacing her fingers around her water glass. Her eyes held Janice whole as she groped for a response. One of the advantages of outback isolation had been the almost total lack of peer judgment. Unfortunately, that same isolation left her unprepared to field even the most harmless inquiries about her relationship with Jack. "What's there to say? He's divorced as you know...a cargo pilot in the RAAF...He's 42..." She let her voice trail off, giving the impression that she had imparted all that she knew about the man. 

"Forty two..." Janice whistled softly, one short note of disbelief as she enjoyed Mel's discomfort. "What does he look like?"

"Dark hair, dark eyes...tall...my head fits just beneath his jaw when we dance," Mel replied with a little smile as a memory warmed her. In the smoky warmth of a first floor hotel room in Athens - champagne on the bedside table, Cole Porter on the radio, and a crown of honey?blonde hair tucked neatly beneath her chin while warm breath traveled the valley between her breasts and four bare feet interlocked, puzzle pieces on a hardwood floor... Indelible little details of first?time foreplay. The memory was so vivid, yet made painful by the realization that that life was behind her.

"He's tall, I got that much." Janice's fingers beat a lazy tattoo on the empty beer bottle. "What else? How did the two of you meet?" Mel stood abruptly, taking up her plate and glass. "Mel?" Her eyes followed Mel's retreating form across the kitchen. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin's wrong," Mel replied, as she stacked the dinner plates by the sink. "I don't understand your interest in Jack, that's all. Another beer?" 

Janice waved a hand dismissively. "Hey, you brought him up. Besides, I think I deserve to know a little bit about the man. After all, I'm sitting in his chair...eating his food..."

"Sleepin' in his bed...Goldilocks." Mel returned to the table for the meat platter. 

"Speaking of sleeping in his bed ?" Janice began pointedly. "How is he in that area?"

Mel's jaw dropped noticeably. "I don't know why I'm surprised you asked that. With your ego, you'd be forever beggin' comparison."

Janice laughed, but there was no heart in it. "I have a healthy ego, as you pointed out."

"With good reason," Mel replied as she turned away. "You spoiled me for any future lovers."

"And that's a bad thing?" 

"It is, yes," said Mel. "When you're tryin' to start a new life."

Janice shrugged. "What was so wrong with the old one?" A reply was not immediately forthcoming. Mel's back was to her, but Janice could see her hands were still and her head was down. "Mel?"

"He's a dear, dear, man, Janice." Mel began quietly. "He's kind, sympathetic, funny. I don't know where I would be if I hadn't met him when I did."

Janice fought to keep her composure. "You mean it was just a matter of timing."

"In a way...yes." At the butcher's block, Mel wrapped the leftover veal in waxed paper, secretly relieved to have something to do with her hands. "We met the very day my steamer docked in Sydney Harbor. I was comin' down the ramp, he was seein' his niece off. I broke a heel off my shoe and would've pitched right over the side if he hadn't been there."

"A real Sir Galahad," mumbled Janice, although it occurred to her, somewhat cynically, she conceded, that the niece Jack had been seeing off at the dock was very likely not his niece at all. Naturally, she was alone in her suspicions. 

"He insisted I share his cab, waited with me while my shoe was repaired and bought me a lovely supper." Mel slid the wax package into the icebox and stood in the open doorway, savoring the chill air on her body. "It was the best possible introduction to the country."

"Better than gunfire and death threats?" quipped Janice with mock surprise. 

"I know that tone, Janice," said Mel, moving reluctantly from the icebox to the table. "And it sounds suspiciously like jealousy." 

"Not at all," replied Janice, quick to dismiss the notion. "On second thought, I will take another beer." She rose from her chair. "You want a beer, Mel?" She could feel Mel's eyes pursue her into the kitchen.

"You don't have to be jealous, Janice." Mel's voice was kind and soothing, and she meant well, but she couldn't help saying the wrong thing as a general rule. "You're not in competition with Jack."

"I know that, and I am not jealous." Janice opened and closed the icebox without removing anything. "What I am is hot. It's hot in here."

From her place at the table, Mel gazed out the window where the windmill cast long shadows upon the hard?baked ground, blood?red in the twilight. "Sun's settin'...Why don't we take this conversation out to the verandah...where it's cool?" She switched off the phonograph and closed the cover. 

"Peachy." Janice bit back a more acidic retort, dismayed at the possibility of an in?depth conversation on the merits of her rival. Perhaps rival was not the right word, although it had seemed appropriate enough during the long flight to Coolinga. But now...here she was, a guest in Jack Greenway's home, where his personality permeated everything as surely as a sponge soaks up water. His chair. His food. His woman. She followed Mel from the room, convinced that any hopes of a reconciliation were about to be finally and irrevocably dashed to pieces. 

At the foyer, Mel continued out to the verandah, while Janice excused herself to visit the bathroom. She splashed water on her face and patted it dry with a hand towel, studying her fractured reflection in the cracked mirror as she did so. She had come to Coolinga convinced she would find Mel miserable, aching for the lover she left behind, but their reunion had been on the tepid side of passionate at best. Still, she was certain Mel had warmed to the idea of her presence. The woman had baked her sourdough bread. Sourdough bread, for Chrissakes! "If that isn't love, what is?" She was surprised to hear genuine confusion in her voice; she was unaccustomed to the feeling. 

All her adult life she had been able to have her way, whether by skill, wits or sheer force of will. In a field rampant with male counterparts, she was unique and notable for far more than her gender. By age 25, she had made enough money to live comfortably and to have the luxury to pick and choose the archeological commissions which most interested her. With her gifts, came hard?won notoriety; she had the respect of her peers. What she didn't have, however, was what she wanted most. Ain't that always the way? 

She pushed away from the counter and knelt on the bedroom floor to root through her satchel. To her relief, she found the object of her search nestled discreetly in a cocoon of woolen socks. Squat at the bottom, rising in a tall, graceful neck, the dark amber, 94 proof Tennessee Sipping Whiskey was the only Jack she was interested in at the moment. It had originally been intended as a gift to soothe the ruffled feathers of a mechanic to whom she owed money, but she would have to find another way around him. She broke the seal on the bottle, intending to down a generous swig or two before joining Mel on the verandah. She hefted the bottle carefully, almost reverently, tasting the full, sweet flavor of burnt caramel and vanilla at the back of her throat before a single drop of whiskey had touched her lips. 

Tapping, and her name uttered as a hiss. "Janisssss."

Janice opened her eyes, a revelation in itself, since she hadn't been conscious of closing them. Across the room, on the opposite side of a six?paned window, Mel rapped on the glass with her knuckle. She had seen the bottle, but there was no reproach in her voice as she said, "Bring that...and two glasses... and hurry, or you'll miss it!" she beckoned, conveying a sense of urgency before stepping out of view, leaving confusion in her wake.

Miss it. Miss what? Janice stopped in the parlor to collect two heavy glass tumblers from the sideboard and made her way onto the verandah, successfully navigating the explosive screen door without dropping her kit. Using the toe of her boot, she eased the door closed and looked for Mel, who was conspicuously absent. "Mel?" She set the whiskey and glasses down on a sturdy wicker table and sighed heavily, her frustration evident. "Where'd you go?"

Mel poked her head around the corner of the porch. "Over here...come see!"

Janice walked the length of the porch, her curiosity snuffling ahead of her like a keen beagle. Rounding the corner of the house, facing to the south, she saw Mel standing poised, dead center of the front stoop. Her head was tilted slightly back, and her mouth was opened in unabashed wonder. "What is it? If it's a dingo, I've seen plenty of those."

"Try not to sound so jaded, Janice Covington, and come here," Mel hissed reproachfully, fanning one hand to her, gathering the smaller woman under her shoulder. "Now," she whispered, as if more volume were an intrusion. "Stand just here..." She stepped back and guided Janice into her place on the worn gray boards. "Do you see it?"

Janice exhaled wearily, her eyes scanning the horizon, left to right, from soft sage and violet to a vivid spectrum of crimsons and yellows. It was breathtaking, and it wasn't a dingo. Points for Mel. "Yes," she whispered, trying to convey her pleasure. "It's beautiful, Mel." She felt warm fingers at her temples and a gentle upward pressure; unconsciously, she found herself leaning back into the support provided by Mel's lanky frame. She could feel two firm breasts, peaked, at attention, against the sensitive skin of her shoulder blades. She might have reveled in that feeling indefinitely if her breath hadn't been snatched without warning from her chest. Directly above her and to her left, divided by a line of native wattles, the sky was clear with a quarter moon and a blanket of dazzling stars; and to the right, off?set just slightly by the sagging tin roof of the house, the sun was setting, wallowing gloriously in the foothills, bathing the gums and mulga in raw, homespun gold. Day and night sharing the sky at the same moment. It was, Janice conceded, the oddest, most beautiful of dichotomies.

"It happens every sunset." Mel's mouth was just inches from Janice's ear, so close her breath stirred the tiny wisps of hair at her nape. "...a few minutes later every day. I find myself standin' out here, where you're standin' now...waiting. I know that must seem foolish to you, but I suppose I'm a simple woman."

Janice turned to face Mel, careful to maintain the physical and emotional connection that had been created. "You're not simple at all...you're a damned pioneer, Mel." She left those fathomless cerulean pools to turn her own eyes skyward again. "I mean, look at it..." The last vestiges of light were leaving the land, being replaced by a creeping carpet of mauve and ebony. It stole Janice's breath the way few things could. "I've been living in this land for six weeks...sleeping under the stars, and do you know, it never once occurred to me that this place had anything new to show me. How thick is that, I ask you?"

"Pretty thick," Mel echoed with a grin. She dropped her hands to her sides, unintentionally skimming Janice's hips as she did so. "Oh, sorry." I'm not. Janice turned on her heel. "I got whiskey, remember?" At the little wicker table, she opened the bottle and turned to Mel, who had taken a seat on a wooden glider. "How do you take it? On the rocks? With water?"

Mel countered brightly, "Oh, however you like it is fine."

"Two fingers. Neat." She passed Mel a tumbler and seated herself in an old bleached rocker that overlooked the wide expanse of horizon. Shaking out her damp hair, she took her first sip of whiskey...center cut, her father had called it...like the heart of a good watermelon...strong and flavorful and just what she needed. She sighed contentedly and stretched her legs out, crossing them at the ankles. The sun was a molten sliver on the horizon, and the worst of the day's heat was over at last. Trees growing by the verandah were full of sparrows and finches twittering in concert with their counterparts inside the small aviary. Somewhere to her left, just beyond the hangar, a dingo howled. She was primed to notice everything, most especially the woman she loved, sitting across from her, making a face as she swallowed her whiskey in one gulp. Janice raised both eyebrows inquiringly as Mel choked. "Uh, Mel? You might want to take it easy there..." 

Mel screwed her eyes shut, sputtered and nodded rapidly, holding her glass in front of her. "May I have..." cough "...another, please?"

Janice left her glass on the arm of the rocker and retrieved the whiskey bottle. "This is sipping whiskey, Mel...say it with me...sip?ping?whis?key..." She held the bottle over Mel's empty glass. "If you're not accustomed to it, it'll bite you back." Mel lifted her glass until it clinked against the bottle. "Okay, suit yourself." She refilled the glass, unable to shake the impression that Mel seemed to be marshaling her courage, fortifying herself for some earth?shattering admission. "What's on your mind?" she asked, giving voice to her thoughts; she toyed briefly with the possibilities, none of them favorable if your name happened to be Janice Covington. 

"I was...I was mulling over the virtues of a really fine whiskey," Mel replied, her fingers grazing Janice's as they clasped the neck of the bottle. "I don't have a great deal of experience with drinkin', as you know, but I find that I quite have the knack for it." Mel took custody of the bottle. "This has a...a kinda smoky quality to it..."  sip "...oak, I think."

"Probably aged in oak barrels. You sure you don't want me to take that?"

"Did you want another drink?" Mel asked as she held the bottle possessively between the pillows of her breasts.

Lucky bottle. Janice shook her head slowly, placing her hand over the wide mouth of the tumbler. She took two steps back, leaning against a support post. As she watched Mel go repeatedly to the well, she determined that at least one of them should stay sober. 

Mel settled back into the glider, the open bottle of whiskey tucked between the armrest and her hip. She kicked off her shoes, heedless of where they fell. Her face was flushed, warmed by the liquor, and her eyes were luminous in the moonlight. Meeting Janice's expectant gaze, her courage waned temporarily. It wasn't until she'd cautiously tipped back another shot of whiskey, that she found her voice. "If you drink from a bottle marked poison, it's almost certain to disagree with you sooner or later."

"If you're referring to the whiskey..."

"It's from Alice in Wonderland, and I'm tryin' to make a point. Please, don't interrupt." Janice settled back against the post, suitably reproached, while Mel focused on a knothole in the floor boards. "Lewis Carroll as prophet...it's not an idea many people can warm to." She kept her eyes down, unable to bear either the confirmation or denial in the other's face, and she was grateful Janice had the presence of mind to remain silent. "All my life I knew what I wanted, what was expected of me as a woman, and as the daughter of Melvin Pappas. These things were seldom complementary of one another..." Mel's voice trailed off; she groped for the bottle at her side, but her hands were shaking and her aim was slightly off. She felt Janice's fingers close over her own. "One more...for luck."

"I think you've had enough, Mel." Janice set the bottle on the table between them. "Just...take a few deep breaths and spit it out...whatever it is." She took a long pull on her whiskey, reflecting miserably on her inability to cope with rejection, and braced for the worst.

"I've made some mistakes in my life, Janice," said Mel, the words leaping from her lips, a verbal suicide. "I have done some things that I've regretted, and people I cared about paid the price." She looked into the bottom of her glass and was afforded an unobstructed, if distorted, view of her bare feet. "Oh, my...look a' that..." She tilted her head in wonder. "I have big feet," she said, as if the discovery were a revelation. 

Janice rolled her eyes. It's official: she's drunk. It's a damned record. The number one problem with drunks, in her opinion, was the propensity to be distracted by the smallest things. It was both blessing and curse. "You have nice feet, Mel," she said succinctly as she approached the glider. She took the empty tumbler from Mel's hands. "I think you should probably lie down for a while, sleep this off."

When Mel felt Janice's hand upon her elbow, she looked up into a pair of sparkling green eyes and felt compelled to apologize. "I'm sorry you came all this way, Janice." Strong fingers encircled her arm, drawing her into a standing position. "I know it must seem like a tremendous waste of time to you now, and if I'd known you were comin', I'd've stopped you."

Standing there, with Mel's arm wedged securely between her own hip and elbow, Janice felt her knees go to jelly. Here it comes. "Later, Mel...All this can wait till later." She stopped at the front door of a house settled with shadows. With her free hand, she groped for the lights. 

"Did you bring the whiskey?"

"It's fine where it is," Janice replied, frustration bleeding into her voice. "God dammit, what're you people? Bats?!"

"I haven't always liked the choices I've made, Janice," said Mel, flipping a light switch on the opposite side of the door. "Erratic, my daddy would've said." She leaned heavily into the smaller woman. "You steer, I'll walk...Following my, my heart one minute, my head the next..."

"Can't go wrong with either of those. Whoa, watch your head." Janice guided her across the bedroom threshold, relieved to find the light switch on the first attempt. She backed Mel across the floor until her calves met the edge of the bed. "Okay. Sit." 

"I made mistakes...Sit?"

Janice snorted. "Bend your knees...it'll happen by itself."

Mel's face softened. "You're so good to me, Janice," she said sincerely; the ache in her voice broke Janice's heart. "You and Jack...both so good to me."

Jack. There's my wake?up call. "Yeah, well..." As a sparkling retort, it failed miserably. "Get some rest, Mel."

"Did'ja ever do that? Try somethin' just to try it...to get it out of your system, like the cold or the flu...or to satisfy someone else's expectations..."

Better and better. Worse than a fling, an experiment. Janice set her jaw; there were no words to convey her hurt, her disappointment. When she turned to leave, it was all she could do not to bolt from the room. 

"I've hurt people, Janice..." Mel's voice stopped her at the door. "I hurt you."

"Yeah. You did...but I'm tough, Mel," Janice replied, her back to the room. "I'll get over it." 

"I won't. I can't. Janice...please look at me."

Look at her? Yes? No? Janice suspected that whatever steely resolve she still possessed would vanish at the first sight of tears. "That's probably not a good idea, Mel." 

With supreme effort, Mel got to her feet, dizzy at first, then queasy. "Please...You're gonna walk out that door, and I'm never gonna see you again...I just know it...So you turn around and lemme say this one teeny tiny little thing." 

Janice inhaled deeply and squared her shoulders like a boxer bracing for a blow. Mel swam into her field of vision...flushed and bleary?eyed, weaving just slightly as she smoothed her skirt with sweaty palms. Different picture, same effect. "Okay...I'm listening."

Chapter 9

Mel blinked rapidly, astonishment plain on her face. Clearly, despite her heartfelt appeal for indulgence, she hadn't anticipated Janice would yield quickly, if at all. Her legs were watery, anesthetized by a combination of whiskey and anxiety, but she was determined to deliver this next bit of information standing, if for no other reason than it might give Janice pleasure to knock her down. A quick inhale and on the exhale, the words, "I love you, Janice." There was the smallest twitch between Janice's brows, easy to miss unless one knew what to look for; but seeing it was one thing, and translating it was another.

Janice's response was inflectionless and noncommittal. "I see." The two syllable equivalent of a polar bear in a white room. 

Janice's apparent apathy took Mel by surprise and sent her scrambling for elaboration. "I plan on leavin' here when Jack returns next month." She shrugged. "Don't love him... love you." On the strength of that claim, Mel crossed the floor, knees shaking. "I'm askin' to come back, Janice... I'm askin' to be a part of your life again." Her eyes, swimming in hot, unspilt tears, scanned Janice's carefully?set face. "Well...say somethin'..."

Janice breathed in through her mouth; she could taste Mel on her tongue, a frothy concoction of whiskey and guilt and fear. There were few things that sobered a drunk faster than fear. "God knows, Mel, when I arrived here, I'd have forgiven you anything just to have you back in my life...And a few minutes ago, those words and your tears might've been enough to reconcile our differences. But frankly, now...I have to say I don't come that cheap." 

Light?headed with fear and apprehension, Mel stammered, "What can I do? What do you want me to say? I've been as honest as I know how to be."

Janice was tight?lipped. "In vino veritas. Wine or whiskey, you had to knock back a third of a bottle to be honest with me...to confess the truth: I was a mistake, and our relationship was an experiment." Mel opened her mouth to argue, but was cut off abruptly. "Mel, you said as much." She turned her eyes to the sagging ceiling, struggling to recall the exact turn of phrase. "Did you ever try something just to get it out of your system...? Ring a bell?" 

"If you're gonna go around quotin' me, at least get it right. I never referred to you as an experiment or a mistake. The truth is ?" cough Mel fought down a brief wave of nausea, holding up a finger indicating that Janice should wait. "...the truth is..." cough 

"The truth is you left me because you were afraid I would leave you. Somewhere in the back of my mind, that makes sense, in a paranoid, insecure kind of way. It's even kind of flattering. What I don't understand is your situation here and now?this mop-the- floors?laundry?on?the?line?dinner?on?the?stove domestic bent. I don't get the attraction, Mel. Granted, Alice is a great kid, any woman would be proud to have her as a daughter, but ?"

"I can explain."

Janice waved her off. "It's okay, Mel. I understand. You were raised in a conservative, Southern household, by a conservative, Southern grandmother. Your future included white picket fences and babies, and a husband. But before you settled down to all of that, you wanted to sow your wild oats, as they say...experiment with different things. Well, I had a good time. I hope you did; and now that you've got it out of your system, you can settle down to marital bliss with the partner your parents always wanted you to have...someone with facial hair, who dresses left or right." 

Indignation and embarrassment fought a pitched battle on Mel's face. "Now, you jes' hold on!"

"Although, I have to get my own two cents in here and say that you have lousy taste in men. I mean, I don't know Jack Greenway from Adam, but from everything I have heard and seen in the last few hours, I know that he's the last man on earth I would pair you with. What is it, Mel? Does he remind you of your daddy?" she asked facetiously. 

"Are you through? Can I talk now?" Mel asked through clenched teeth, a reaction that was as much anger as it was a way to bite back her rising gorge; too late she had discovered that she was a proficient drinker, but a terrible drunk. "You keep sayin' you understand this, and you understand that. News flash, Janice: you don't understand anythin'." Mel looked seriously down into the youthful face of cynicism; it was one of those times when her height was an advantage. "Now...you sit." She thrust a finger at the bed. When Janice hesitated, she raised a single eyebrow and from somewhere deep in her ancestral line, summoned up 'The Look'. "Your butt on that bed. Now." 

Janice lighted on the corner of the mattress, watching in silence as Mel struggled to maintain her upright position. "Maybe you should be the one sitting."

Mel took a step back and leaned against the wall for support. "You say you talked to my mama. Long conversation?"

"Ten minutes, thereabouts."

The corner of Mel's mouth twitched. "That's plenty time enough. Did you love your mama, Janice? I mean, before she left you and your daddy, did you have a good relationship?"

Janice scratched her ear and shrugged. "We were close, yeah. Is this going someplace?"

"Indulge me. Would it be safe to say that you did your utmost to please her?" Janice nodded and Mel countered, "Out of love and respect." Again, a nod. The tall Southerner melted against the wall, kept upright by sheer force of will. "You had ten minutes, long distance with Miss Julia Pappas. How was it?"

Janice labored for just the right word. "Interesting." 

Mel coughed, and then laughed into the back of her hand. "Don't play the diplomat, Janice; it doesn't suit you."

"You want me to say she was cold and blunt? Okay, I will. One minute into the conversation, I was ready to throttle her."

"Get in line," Mel said, nodding sagely. "Knowin' my mama as I do, I'm gonna guess that she didn't tell you I called her from the airport in Athens the night I left."

"Funny...she didn't mention it."

"We had quite a long talk...or maybe I should say: she lectured and I listened, a first for me. All those years growin' up, I managed to tune out a lot of what she was sayin' and find my own way, my own paths, always to her dismay. I could never please her, and she never tired...tires... of remindin' me of my failures. The way she saw it, leavin' you was the smartest thing I'd ever done, which only reinforced my opinion of her. I had called for understandin' and sympathy and gotten a slap in the face. She said, 'Come home, Melinda. I forgive you.'...like lovin' you was some kinda crime. She even offered to wire me plane fare, but I didn't want anythin' from her." She flushed and weaved. Janice was at her side in an instant. "I have to sit for a spell..." Without speaking, Janice helped her back to the bed, though she herself remained standing. "Look at you," Mel said, her voice softly marveling. "Even now, as angry as you are with me, you have such good instincts, Janice; that was one of the things that drew me to you."

Janice softened just slightly, though it would take more than flattery to win her back. "And Jack..." she prompted with genuine curiosity. "What drew you to him?" 

Mel closed her eyes briefly, as if conjuring forth the recollection. "His innate decency, I think. He spoke of his family, his daughter, with such affection."

Sitting on the bed, with some distance between them, Janice remarked on the only thing about Jack Greenway she liked, apart from his absence. "Like I said, Alice is a good kid. You had a ready?made family here."

Mel looked at her hands, trembling in her lap. "Certainly that was an attractive prospect. It wasn't until later in our relationship that I discovered I was merely the last in a long line of sweethearts. When he left here seven weeks ago, he gave me the house keys, two hundred dollars cash, and his word that he would be back. He gave me all that, but..." she held up her left hand and wiggled her fingers. "No ring." She shrugged. "You don't give a ring to your house sitter."

"It never...well, it never went beyond that?"

Mel smiled, amused by Janice's delicate approach. "If you're askin' if we ever consummated the relationship, the answer is no. Oh, there were a couple of false starts, but I think he knew my heart wasn't in it. My first night here he took a blanket and pillow out to the sofa and never pressed the matter again."

Janice heaved a sigh of relief. At last, the 'experiment' had been identified and the only thing that shocked her more than the identity was Jack's surprising depth of character. "If you didn't love him, why did you stay, Mel?"

"Because I had nowhere else to go," Mel replied simply. "The truth is I got off that steamer flat broke, needin' isolation, time to think. This house provides all that. Jack. Well, I suppose you could say I fell in serious like with the man. He's kind and generous. He knows when to talk, and when to listen, and he doesn't hoard his emotions like a lot of folks do. So, when you ask if he reminds me of my daddy, I'll have to say ?no, he most certainly does not."

Janice shuffled uncomfortably. "Touche'." She had closely watched Mel's face throughout her confession, gauging sincerity or deception based on her observations. Her instincts told her that what she was hearing was the truth, stripped bare of all pretense, absent of mitigating circumstances. She wanted to return that honesty with words, a touch, a kiss...a caress...yet something inside screamed for caution. She didn't trust her hands, so she sat on them. "I want to believe you, Mel."

Mel turned to face her. "I don't know what else I can say, Janice, except that you are and never have been anythin' but what I absolutely wanted out of life." She extended a hand and cupped the heart?shaped face lovingly in her palm. "Can you accept that I made an awful, horrible mistake the day I left you? Do you know how much that has hurt me every day since?" Her hand, unsupported by Janice's own, began to tremble with the fear that she had misread the situation and moved too soon. "Tell me you don't want me...Tell me there's not this huge achin' chasm where your heart used to be...Tell me you don't love me, and you can walk out of here and never hear from me again."

Janice swallowed hard; Mel's hand against her skin was almost painful. Beneath her thighs, her own hands scrunched the bedspread into fistfuls. "I don't think I can do that." 

Mel dropped her hand slowly to her side, and swallowed deeply, audibly. "Do you hate me very much?" She dreaded the answer.

A smile turned up the corner of Janice's mouth. "Some day, I gotta compile a book of useless questions."

Mel almost wept with relief. Her plea, "Kiss me, Janice," carried all the weight of a dying man's cry for water, a request that, in good conscience, could not be denied. She leaned forward, meeting Janice halfway, and when warm lips connected, she felt a shudder run down her spine - hot and icy at the same time. "More..." she urged, her lips sliding against Janice's, an unquenchable thirst begging to be slaked. She plunged one hand into sweet?smelling honey hair, while the other slid beneath the blouse to cup a firm breast, its nipple made hard and erect by the single brush of a calloused thumb.

Janice was not prepared for the mindless lassitude that gripped her at the first touch of those talented hands. Heat coursed through her body like a fever. Had she not been able to taste the whiskey on Mel's lips, present in every kiss rained upon her face, she might have been content to endure such an assault indefinitely. She knew she should resist; it was the honorable thing to do, even if she would hate herself in the morning. "Mel...Mel, honey...we have to stop..." she murmured without conviction. She groaned, tilting her head back as feather?soft kisses grazed her from chin to cleavage, and fingers fumbled at the buttons of her blouse. "I mean it, Mel..." she protested, even as her nipples sprang to life, minds of their own. Traitors. Summoning up her last reserves of self?control, she wrested herself from Mel's embrace and stood. "I think we should stop..." She observed her lover laboring for breath, and she could see her reflection clearly in those wide, cerulean pools; it flattered her to be seen as an object of lust. "I gotta go splash some water on my face or...somethin'..."

Mel caught the retreating figure by the arm. "Janice...did I do somethin' wrong?"

"Aw, no, sweetheart, it's just...well..." Janice tugged at the front of the blouse, pinching the icon of St. Ignatius between her thumb and forefinger. "There's just somethin'...I don't know... indecent about being groped in this blouse."

"If it bothers you that much...take it off."

Janice chuckled. "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"So would you," replied Mel pointedly. "Make love to me, Janice." She held Janice's gaze as her long fingers drifted down to the buttons of her own blouse.

Janice raised her eyes heavenward. "This is a test...it's gotta be."  Passion's gauntlet. She shifted her gaze back to Mel, who was murmuring soft obscenities as she struggled with the top button of her blouse. "Not tonight, honey. You have a headache."

Mel got to her feet. "I am not drunk," she said adamantly.

"Oh, yeah?" She held up three fingers. "How many fingers?"

"Ohhh," Mel grinned slyly and groped Janice. "I like this game!"

Janice squealed and captured Mel's roaming hands in her own. "Jeeze Louise, Mel!"

Mel managed a genuinely wounded expression as she stood there, both hands pinned against her chest by Janice's strong grip. "I'm comin' on too strong, aren't I?"

"Oh, God...don't ask me that. I'm almost certain I'll lie." She released her grip and gathered Mel to her in an embrace that seemed to temporarily satisfy their mutual need for intimacy without jeopardizing either woman's integrity. They had been moving in a slow, almost indefinable circle for a full minute before Janice was conscious of the movement. With the covert introduction of a melody, it graduated from random motion to sensuous dance. The words of the song wound their way from Mel's lips to her ear in a sweet, mournful sigh, taking on the aspect of a heartfelt confession. She would never again listen to the lyrics in the same way.

How carelessly You gave me your heart And carelessly I broke it, sweetheart I took each tender kiss you gave to me Every kiss made you a slave to me Then carelessly I told you good?bye But now at night I wake up and cry I wish I knew a way to find the love I threw away so carelessly.

"That was nice, Mel," Janice murmured. "Reminds me of that night in Athens...remember? Our first night together?" She felt Mel nod against her shoulder. "Cole Porter on the radio, $8 champagne on ice...you and me in the bed...on the floor... against the wall. It was perfect."

Mel disengaged and stepped back, putting enough space between them so that she might look Janice seriously in the face. "I promise, Janice, never to be intimidated by perfection ever again."

Janice winked and once again pulled Mel into an embrace. "I'm gonna hold you to that," she replied. She spun Mel out to arm's length and held her briefly by the fingertips. "Dip?" With a snap of her wrist, she pulled her partner into her and dropped her in a dip that even Astaire would have envied. Grinning, she queried, "Am I good...or what?"

"Janice...would it spoil this moment for you if I threw up?"

[mchiti]

I just want to ramble a little to anyone who wants to listen/read... I didn't realize how desperate I was to positive Muslim/arab/north African representation until I watched the world cup and saw the Moroccan nt and how people all across MENA were connected and supportive and loving especially how the players treated their mothers and wives it felt like a safe space looking at our men being successful and happy in the western world was such a positive thing yet....when this happened....it brought me back to reality and how our men treat women and unfortunately I know the western media are gonna use this against us as usual be xenophobic,islamaphobic, racist and give off the stereotype that our men are violent and can't be trusted.

Also I've seen a lot of people say "he can't do that he's Muslim" or "he would never do such a thing" and even which god I wish it was true... But bad people exist in every religion and every community just bc he's Muslim doesn't mean he won't commit haram if that was true we would be live our best lives. And also "the french are trying to sabotage the Arabs and north Africans especially after what happened to Saad Al mejard" which I need people to shut up about this bc Saad was proven to actually r*** these girls and it's soooo hard to prove it and convict criminals so can you imagine how bad it is that he got convicted?

It just makes me mad af I rather support a potential liar rather than a potential r**** I feel frustrated, as a girl I always believe the victim even if victim girls come out and say they were lying I think how much they were payed to say that? Bc after all this is a nobody who's standing against a millionaire man who can get away with anything .

Looking at the world I realized people espresso men are always afraid of being falsely accused of SA and I just want to say .. I never saw a famous man who's an abuser or who committed assault career gets ruined at all , they disappear for a year or two and come back like nothing happened.

I just wish the girl is safe , his mom"oh ya Allah I can't imagine how she feels " and kids safe away from the media

It's just frustrating..... I hope all the girls safety and to never get close to encounter such a horrific experience.

I'm sorry I talked so much I don't have anyone to talk with about this..

tw rape/SA

hayati, anon, hi. I have to be honest it took me a while to manage to get through this bc I have such low energy but I also would never ignore you or not answer you because I hear you, it's so upsetting and I'm very sorry you feel like you have no one to talk to, I don't want this for anyone. I'll just put everything under the cut, I try to be as respectful as I can to other people who don't want to go through this stuff rn

darling I genuinely feel every single word. My thoughts and duas are with the victim first and foremost. If it's true, she deserves justice, but right now she deserves support nonetheless because you're right, at the end of the day if this turns out to be false you've just given support to someone who lied, but if this is true and you stand by him, you're supporting a potential r*pist, so. I hope she's safe, I'm keeping her in my duas, I'm very sad for her.

Secondly I also feel sorry for people in our community who looked up to him. When you are part of a minority and a diaspora kid, or even if you grow up in the country but it's a country that faces strong economic issues and had such a difficult history, you tend to find yourself within your people. I'm talking about Moroccans but also about Africans, Arabs, Muslims, diaspora kids anywhere who looked up to him. We're desperate for representation within our own kind and I feel very much for everyone - me included because I'm genuinely am struggling a lot today, and you anon - who are left down. I was very attached to him bc of everything he had to overcome and what he represented for me and for us so yeah, this is very, very disappointing beyond level. I know many people say "why are you surprised, they are rich men" sure, but we're still here aren't we. And I still can wish that someone I adored wouldn't have done such a terrible thing.

The Islamophobia is real right now, the amount of ridiculous stuff I'm reading. I'm trying to stay in a safe space today, but I'm just sad this kind of gets to me too you know? Like I feel weird about posting about morocco nt now because I don't want to upset people, but I also feel like I'm internalising certain agendas because people are still posting about other psg players, so. You know? I lost two mutuals too and I haven't even posted anything.

But also I'm so disappointed and heartbroken at some of the Muslim community right now. A lot of Moroccans (and not just them) complaining about how France is putting up a propaganda against Maghrebis, it's just unreal really. It's frustrating because it's going to invalidate our struggles and our battles against actual racism too you know. The fact that they are still defending Saad Lamjarred is beyond me with such the history he has and it took years for a bit of justice.

Anon, I also want to wish you to take care of yourself and be in a safe space and I send you an hug extra tight today.

[eyesaremosaics]

This air of desperation in the city, is thick as teeming fog. Everything feels disjointed. Misplaced. All this incessant rain, washing away the grime and the glow.

Lately I am feeling frightened. Strange how little I valued my life… even just a few years ago. Now I cling to it savagely. Finding oneself wanting to live, has been a strange and frightening concept for me these last couple of years. I forget that I have a lot of trauma until something triggers it. Today, some guy was stalking the kids and I.

At first I thought I was imagining it. A man walked in and stared me straight in the eyes for a long moment. The expression on his face—gave me chills, and set me instantly on edge. It was not a friendly glance. This was an intense, unblinking stare. A sort of “I’m watching you” kind of stare. I turned away from his gaze, and tried to focus on playing mini golf with the kids. He kept following us, going out and coming back in again. Each time staring directly at me. Even the children I was with noticed this and pointed it out to me. “He’s definitely looking at you.” She said.

For over an hour this guy was staring at us, and they eventually told him to leave, but then he just stood right outside the door and stared directly at us. I became so uncomfortable, I had to tell one of the cashiers to please call security. I didn’t feel comfortable walking back to the car alone with the kids, in the dark.

When security got there, they said they had noticed him hanging around by himself. And when we walked out, he was standing right there waiting for the kids and I to leave. It was an awkward moment where we all stared. First he stared directly at me, then his eyes moved to the security guard. They made eye contact, after which he gave the security guard a little nod. After that he walked away, and left the area entirely.

I know in my gut he was waiting for me to come out with the kids, and he was going to try something. I don’t know what, but the stare…didn’t feel good. It was an eerie feeling. My spidey senses were set off almost immediately. He was all by himself, drinking and smoking constantly. He ordered 4 beers in an hour.

Is this just trauma from the assault bleeding through? Was I imagining it? But… no…The kids pointed it out too…and so did the security guards. Why does this stuff always happen to me? I feel like I’m a magnet for the criminally insane or at least severely disturbed men.

After all my horribly unhealthy relationships with men over the years…plus the childhood trauma…matched with the assault in Hawaii—I think my brain is legitimately fried, and my nerves are shot.

Nobody talks about this. Survivors are silenced by the shame they feel in sharing their stories with others. They feel that their vulnerability is a weakness. The horror of their experience… makes others uncomfortable. So they refute it. They can’t hold space for it. They repress, and deny.

Today I spoke with the prosecutor in Hawaii, looks like 20 years is what he will get for attempting to murder me. He will be very old by the time he gets out. It’s a hollow victory. Part of me wants to wash my hands of this. Part of me wants to go to trial. Sadly, this is the best guarantee I have of him going away for most of his life. With trial, he may get a lesser sentence. I know he would hurt other women if he was back on the street. No question. I couldn’t live with myself if I did nothing to ensure he was behind bars as long as possible. However.. the justice system is so broken in this country. Justice is never fully served in all the cases I’ve studied. No one really wins. It’s a dark matter. With dark, coagulated details.

I know I didn’t imagine what happened today. It was confirmed by everyone around me. Something wasn’t right. Better to be safe than sorry.

I just keep reflecting on all the scary instances I’ve had in my life….All the stalkers I’ve had… always weirded me out. Like—why? I felt like a nobody most of my life. Perhaps it was because I was unapologetically weird. Not caring what people think—is a great power. Weird attracts weird, but there is good kind of weird—and scary kind of weird. I tend to attract the latter.

How many women have this shared experience? So many I imagine. It would comfort me to hear some of your stories. How did you deal with these situations?