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pleasereadmycrap · 4 years

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Time Gone By I

Pairing: Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader

Warnings: angst

Summary: Steve left, and when he comes back, things have changed. (Not canon compliant)

A/N: Hey y’all. This is my new series. I hope y’all enjoy it. Also I know that I should start a new paragraph eveytime that sombody new speaks but I hit the 250 text block limit. So yes, I know I am not following basic grammar rules, and yes, it makes me cringe too. Next, I know it looks like Time Gone By I, but the name is Time Gone By. The I is just a Roman numeral. I know that I should have put a colon there, but when I did, it kind of irritated me so I deleted it.

As Steve walked through the gates of the Wakandan palace, he couldn’t hold in his admiration. His head was on a swivel as he took in the view of the city. It was a sight that he never thought he would see. In the 40s, Wakanda had been seen as a primitive third world country. By the 2010s, it seemed that not much had changed. The world still had yet to see this side of Wakanda, although it seemed that they wanted it that way. In fact, Steve, himself, had only ever really thought about it as the place his shield was made up until now. Walking through the palace gates, the first person that he saw was Bucky. He was excited to see his best friend for the first time in so many years. It was like a pattern for them- the world ripping them apart only to put them back together again. Only, Bucky didn’t look quite as happy to see Steve. He actually looked nervous.

“Hey, Buck. It’s been a while,” he called out as he ran towards Bucky and engulfed him in a tight hug that wasn’t returned nearly as enthusiastically. Then, he remembered where he was, disentangled himself from his friend, and bowed to the king. “I’m sorry, your majesty. That was disrespectful. I forgot myself. I apologize.”

“Please don’t apologize, and call me T’challa,” he replied in his lightly accented English that sounded so posh.

“Thank you, T’challa, and thank you for your hospitality. Now, Buck, how have you been? Tell me everything. It’s been so long.”

“Uh… Things have been different without you. I missed you,” he stammered, not quite meeting Steve’s eyes,

“I missed you too, bud. Now, where is she?”

“Who?”

“C’mon Buck. Don’t play stupid. You know who I’m talking about. Where’s Y/N?”

“Um, Steve. Things have changed since you’ve been gone. There’s a lot to talk about, you know?”

“No, I really don’t. What are you saying here, Buck?”

“I think now would be a good time to excuse myself,” T’challa said before turning and walking back into the palace. He signaled for the guard and everybody else to follow him.

‘C’mon, Buck. Just tell me what’s going on. I didn’t think that we kept things from each other.”

“No, you’re right. We don’t. It’s just that you left. You ran off and you followed Peggy’s niece around Europe for three years. Look, I get it. Peggy died and you were in a bad place, but was it really worth it? Was it worth it to leave the best thing that ever happened to your sorry ass to follow some remnant of Peggy like a dog chasing a stick?”

“Bucky, if you have something to say to me, just tell me, and stop beating around the bush!”

“I just don’t think that it’s a very good idea for you to see her right now,” Bucky said quietly, staring at his feet.

“Really? Who died and made you king?”

“Very mature, Steve.”

“If I want to see my girlfriend, I damn well will!”

“She’s not your girlfriend anymore!”

“What?” Steve asked, uncomprehending.

“You left to chase tail in Europe, and you think that you can just come back, and everything will be the same. You act like you were gone for a week or two, but it was three fucking years. You left us, all of us! Things have changed! You left her for another woman! She’s moved on! She doesn’t want to see you, Steve!”

“Moved on? Who has she moved on with?”

“Nobody. She’s just moved on,” Bucky said, sounding exasperated. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. There’s a room for you in the palace. You can set your stuff there.”

“Thanks,” Steve replied, before storming off into the palace.

When he reached his room, he marveled at it. The technology in there put that of the Compound or Tower to shame. The window stretched from floor to ceiling, and the view was incredible. It was a stark contrast to the view he was used to from his crappy flat in 40s Brooklyn, or the view of New York from the Tower. It even weirded him out not to see Thor and Nat wailing on each other in a field outside. Instead, he saw wide open spaces unlike New York and beautiful architecture unlike the Compound. It was all mixed together to create the most beautiful citadel that Steve had ever seen. He thought about asking whatever virtual assistant that was undoubtedly hooked up in his room about you, but he had only barely mastered JARVIS. He didn’t even know the name of this one, so he just sat on the bed and thought about what Bucky had said for a while. It wasn’t all true, was it? Had he really been gone that long? It hadn’t felt like three years when he had been with Sharon. Despite what everybody thought, and despite that ill timed kiss, he hadn’t been with Sharon for sex or a relationship or whatever. It was just that he had realized at the funeral when Sharon spoke as Peggy’s niece, how little he knew about Peggy’s life other than when he knew her. He needed to piece it together. He needed to know more. He wasn’t ready to let go yet, so yeah, he followed a woman around Europe just to find out more about her dead aunt. He hadn’t really seen himself as leaving you. He had meant to keep in touch with you. Really, he had. He had meant to come back, but two weeks turned to four, then eight, then three whole years. When had he let that happen? Suddenly, he heard a knock at his door. Steve opened it to find T’challa standing behind it.

“Prince T’challa, what can I do for you?”

“I thought I told you that just T’challa is fine” he teased Steve lightly.

“I’m sorry? What did you come to talk about?”

“I thought I should come and welcome you properly. It didn’t seem like things were good between you and your friend.”

“No, they weren’t, but it’s none of our concern. I wouldn’t want to bother you with my problems when you’re already showing me so much hospitality.”

“If a king cannot listen to the difficulties of his people, he has no business being king.”

“Very wise.”

“My father told me that.”

“He was a good man.”

“I know, but I am not here to talk about him. I thought I would tell you that we are having a party tomorrow night. I wanted to welcome all of the fighters and give them a chance to destress before the fight.”

“It sounds like a great idea. Will everybody in the palace be there?”

“I hope so. I’ll have a suit sent up to your room. According to our calculations, Thanos should be here in two days.”

“And those are accurate?”

“Shuri doesn’t make mistakes,” T’challa said in a tone that left no room for further questions on the matter. Steve wanted to ask who Shuri was but decided to leave it alone. “I’m having some of our scientists make a suit for you. It’ll be a little more high tech and more appropriate for the occasion than the stars and stripes.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll have dinner sent up tonight. Most of your fellow teammates have opted to eat dinner in their rooms.”

“What information can you give me on Y/N?”

“I’m afraid it’s not my place.”

“Please,” Steve begged, employing his best puppy eyes.

“I should be going,” T’challa said, before leaving the room abruptly.

Dinner was sent up shortly after. It was a cheeseburger and fries, and probably the best that Steve had ever had. It reminded him of going out for lunch with Bucky after some of his less damaging fights, or going to Coney Island with girls that he only met two hours prior, but swore that he was going to marry. Steve missed back when things were simpler. After a while, the sky outside got dark, and Steve figured he should turn in early. The next couple of days were going to be rough, and he had better prepare the best that he could.

…

The next morning, Steve was woken up by blinding sunlight streaming through his window. He sat up in his bed and heard a voice coming from some hidden corner of his room.

“Good morning, Captain Rogers. The king would like to see you in the training lab at your earliest convenience,” a kind sounding female voice said in a stiff British accent that let him know it was some AI talking.

“Uh… good morning. Can you please tell the kind that I’ll be there soon, and could I also get directions to the training lab, please?”

“Just take the elevator to the lowest level.”

“Thank you.”

Steve dressed himself quickly in joggers and one of the T-shirts in the drawers of the dresser in his room. Evidently, whoever had stocked that dresser knew of his fondness for tight fitting shirts. He hustled down the hall to the elevator, still marveling at how modern the palace was. When he stepped into the lab though, he was in a whole other world. There were a plethora of machines whizzing over his head. There were different projects scattered everywhere in various states of completion. Holograms were projected around the room, showing the blueprints for multiple machines. It was like Stark Labs but bigger and even more high tech. He could hear a loud whirring coming from one corner of the room. He followed his ear in the direction of the noise to find T’challa watching a young woman hunched over a piece of metal that she was soldering.

“Hello,” Steve said as he walked up,not wanting to startle the girl wielding a glorified cauterizing knife.

“Ah, Captain Rogers, it is good to see you. This is my sister Shuri. She has been working on the suit for you.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Princess,” Steve bowed his head in respect.

“Shuri is fine,” she replied, finally looking up from her work.

“As long as you call me Steve.”

“Deal.”

“So what’s the deal on this new suit?”

“It’s over here. Follow me,” Shuri said as she started walking to the opposite side of the lab. “Your new suit will harness kinetic energy, same as my brother’s. It’s also a little darker and more appropriate for the solemnity of what’s to come, but heat reflective so that you won’t be burning up inside of it. It’ll be great if you ever decide to use it for stealth missions. The new suit will also be able to read and relay your vitals to the rest of your team, and of course, your new shields will be attached to the suit so you don’t have to worry about them getting lost on such a hectic battle field.

“That all sounds very impressive.”

“Shuri is the best we have, even better than your Stark,” T’challa cut in.

“I’m excited to see it, then.”

“Well, I’ll also need you to try it on. I used your measurements from the media about you, Dorito Man.”

“Is that what they call me?” Steve asked with a small chuckle “Yes, and it’s what your friend Natasha told me to call you when she helped me out with the guesstimating.”

“Of course she did.”

“She actually offered to help you test the suit out,” Shuri said as she stopped in front of a glass display case, containing a dark navy suit. Natasha stepped out from behind it with an impish grin on her face. “Hey, Cap.”

“Nat!” Steve exclaimed as he wrapped her in a tight hug. “I’ve missed you! Hey, I’ve been meaning to come find you and ask, how’s Y/N?”

“No, Steve.”

“C’mon Nat! Please!”

“Just put on the damn suit. Let’s get this over with,” Nat said, her voice laced with disdain. Shuri directed Steve behind a changing partition he requested, all the while insisting that it was nothing they hadn’t seen before. He emerged a few minutes later with his new suit on. It felt great and fit like a glove. “Stand on the line,” Natasha directed him, pointing to a tapeline on the floor. “I’m gonna hit you now,” and she did. She punched Steve as hard as he had ever seen her hit anyone, even their enemies, even HYDRA’s goonies.

“Jesus, Nat!”

“I said that I was going to hit you.”

“Not that hard!”

“Whatever. Now, run into that wall.”

“Why is Shuri recording?” Steve asked suspiciously. “Research purposes,” she answered simply, as she adjusted her tablet for a better angle. Steve did what he was told and ran into the wall. Immediately, he was blown back by some unseen force and knocked 20 feet onto his back. “That is so going viral!”

“What the hell was that?” he mustered out weakly over the sounds of everybody laughing with Nat being the loudest. “The kinetic energy in the suit,” Shuri answered. “I thought I warned you.”

“We all get revenge in different ways. I asked Shuri to help you test your suit. You forget, you left me too. Tell Sharon I say hi,” Nat said before walking out of the room proudly, still chuckling. “I think that I had better head back to my room now,” Steve said as he managed to rise to his feet. “See you tonight, Captain,” T’challa said as he attempted to stifle his laughs.

…

That night, Steve dressed himself in the suit that had been left at his door. It was a deep navy color that brought out the blue in his eyes. It was paired with a simple white shirt. Everything fit him perfectly like it had been tailor made for him, although he supposed it had been. He looked at himself anxiously in the mirror. He was afraid and excited. It was the first time that he would see you in 3 years. He didn’t know if he was ready. He started to walk downstairs, and he had to stop himself from running all the way to the main hall. He fiddled nervously with his cufflinks the entire way down in the elevator. When he reached the main hall, he realized how early he was. Only Natasha was there, standing behind the bar in a tailored white button down and black vest, fixing herself a drink.

“Hey,” Steve called out as he approached the bar. “Are we good after this morning?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to humiliate you.”

“I probably deserved it.”

“No, you definitely did. What are you drinking?”

“Do you have any of that Asgardian stuff from the last time that Thor was on Earth?”

“Ooh, starting off the night strong are we?”

“Well, I’m gonna see Y/N tonight.”

“Steve, are you sure that it’s a good idea to talk to her? She was messed up after you left, and now, she’s finally in a good place.”

“Why is everybody saying that? I love her! What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing,” Nat said, sounding tired, as she placed Steve’s drink in front of him. More people had filtered in at this point including Bucky. “Do you think that I should even try to talk to him?” Steve asked as he stared miserably at the bottom of his glass. “You’re best friends. It couldn’t hurt.”

“You didn’t see how mad he was yesterday.”

“I know how mad he got, and he had every right to do so, but Steve you’ve already lost him so many times. Don’t let it happen again.”

“I hate it when you’re right,” Steve said as he pushed away from the bar. “How are you doing?” he asked as he walked up to Bucky. “Worse, now that you’re here.”

“Are you kidding me? Why can’t we just be adults about this?”

“Last I checked, you haven’t acted like an adult in 3 years, if you ever did.”

“Are you really still this mad at me?”

“Are you really still a punk?” Bucky joked with a wink. “I missed you bud,” Steve said into Bucky’s hair as he enveloped him in a bruising hug, one that was returned with equal love this time. “I missed you too.”

Suddenly, Steve froze in Bucky’s arms. Bucky turned to see what had caused his friend’s sudden change, and saw you. You were making your way down the stairs into the ballroom, and you looked like a princess. Your hair had gotten longer since the last time Steve had seen you. It cascaded past your shoulders in soft curls. The dress you were wearing was champagne colored with a magnificent tulle skirt that belled out at your waist. The entire dress shimmered, giving you the illusion of having been showered in sparkles. You had reached the main floor and Steve saw your face light up when you caught sight of him.

“Hey!” you trilled as you completely overlooked Steve and flung yourself into Bucky’s arms. “Hey, Y/N. You look stunning,” Bucky stammered when he regained the ability to speak. “What the hell is going on here?” Steve asked incredulously. You whirled around and recognition flashed in your eyes as you backed father into Bucky’s chest and he wrapped his arms around you protectively. “Steve,” you gasped, the name falling from your lips like a forgotten prayer. “You- you can’t be here.”

“Really? Because the king personally reached out and asked for my help. Now does one of you care to explain?”

“You left,” you said defensively. “What are the two of you doing?”

“I thought you were gonna tell him,” you said to Bucky. “I needed more time. It’s not exactly something that you rush into when you see somebody for the first time in three years.”

“Tell me what?”

“Steve, let’s not. I mean, c’mon, we’re on good terms and besi-“ Bucky said, trying to soothe the situation, before Steve cut him off. “Screwing my girlfriend doesn’t exactly scream buddies!”

“That’s not fair,” you mumbled into Bucky’s chest, where you had turned and hidden your head. “What?” Steve asked, growing angrier by the minute. “That’s not fair, and you know it. You left me. I was devastated. Bucky was there for me, so excuse me for moving on!” you shouted as you whirled back around.” “I didn’t…”

“Didn’t what? Leave me? So then what do you call running off to Europe for three years without a word?”

“You don’t understand. I had to,” Steve said quietly with his head hung low like a puppy with his tail tucked between his legs. “Oh, so you were held at gunpoint? Were you forced to leave without saying goodbye?”

“Well, no, but-“

“Because the way I heard it,” you continued overtop of Steve’s protests. “Sharon wanted nothing to do with you after that crappy kiss, so she hopped around Europe for three years, trying to escape you, while you attempted to interrogate her about her dead aunt.”

“She kissed me.”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses Steve!”

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Steve asked Bucky who now was standing a couple of steps behind you. “I think she’s got it covered.”

“You have no right to have any opinion about Bucky and I’s relationship. You shouldn’t even be here.”

“Y/N…”

“You can’t claim me as your property, Steve, not when you threw me away like a piece of trash.”

“Please.”

“I hope she was worth it,” you spat, before walking away and taking Bucky with you.

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justauthoring · 5 years

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No Reason To (19/50)

Prompt: “And I guess… when it comes down to it, I trust you.”

It has come to my attention that by adding links to my posts, it stops that post from being seen in the tags tagged. So, sadly, I will no longer be able to link previous parts of NRT on new chapters. BUT all part can be found easily on my “No Reason To Series MasterList!” found in my bio.

A/N: SURPRISE!! I couldn’t wait for tomorrow, so I decided to just upload today as a little thank you for being patient with me and supportive!!

And we’re BACK!!! Thank you for being patient with me last week and allowing me to have a week off! I can’t promise it won’t ever happen again, but it’s nice to know that you all are supportive and patient enough to let me catch up on some much needed rest!

AND WE ARE FINALLY ON 3B~!! MEANING... VOID STILES!!

Yes, I am very excited for Void Stiles, lol. I have a lot planned and I just can’t wait to get started. Plus, this is the half of the season where Y/N and Stiles are really gonna grow close and discover their feelings for one another. So, look forward to that ;)

Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. As usual, I hope you all enjoyed!

AGAIN, remember if you’d like me to continue this series, just leave a little comment or an ask letting me know. I will NOT continue the series if no one wants me to.

Please don’t plagiarize my work - I spend a lot of my time writing, copying and pasting destroys that. If you want to repost my work. please ask first - but even then I might say no.

Pairing: Stiles x McCall!Reader

Based off of: Teen Wolf 03x13 and 03x14

“Witches are human beings who are endowed with the magical arts of sorcery, but those who view it as a religion are Wiccans. Witchcraft, in historical, anthropological, religious and mythological contexts, is the alleged use of supernatural or magical powers. Historically, it was believed in early modern Christian Europe that witches were in league with the Devil and used their powers to harm people and property. Particularly since the mid-20th century, "bad" and "good" witchcraft are sometimes distinguished, the latter often with healing.”

Biting on your bottom lip, you let the tip of your finger hover across the words you whisper aloud. Every word you reach, you take to heart. It’s about time you learned more about what you were and how you could use your powers to advantage. Not to mention, you needed to learn how to use your powers better, so you had full control over them.

Given the life you lead, there was no telling what was going to come next and you needed to prepared for anything that came your way.

Jennifer had told you that there was so little you knew about your powers, and you were determined to find out more.

Flipping through a couple of pages, your attention is caught by a particular picture. It’s the picture of hand, resting upon another, and within the drawing, red mist almost seems to be floating around. As you lower your eyes, you begin to read the small passage underneath.

“Witches have the power to feel the emotions of those they have a emotional tether to. When a witch has bonded with another, supernatural or not, emotionally, physically or mentally, they can gather enough power to feel the emotions of that said person. It only works with some though, and a lot of the time, it is because of a deeper understand-”

You’re interrupted by the sound of your door opening. Lips parting, your head snaps upwards, groaning internally when you meet the eyes of your father. Almost instantly, you shut the book you’d been reading, hiding it within viewing of your father as you push yourself off your bed and onto your feet.

“You know you’re not allowed in my room, dad,” the words roll off your tongue with distaste and you scarcely avoid his gaze as you begin shoving your textbooks and notebooks into your bag. Once they’re all settled, you throw your bag over your shoulder and move to walk out the door, only for your father’s frame to block your way. Huffing, you take a step back, glaring up at him.

“I wanted to know if you’d like me to drive you to school today,” your father offers, a hesitant smile falling on his lips.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you raise your brow up at your father. “You offer Scott?”

“Yes,” Rafe nods, before pausing; “he declined.”

“Well, sorry to say pops, but i’m gonna have to decline as well.” You offer a mock pat on his shoulder before squeezing yourself past him, shutting your door behind you.

You don’t pay any mind to your father as you head down the hallway, ignoring his burning gaze on your back.

As you turn to head down the steps, a sudden thud echoes, pulling your attention in the direction of your brother’s room. You end up arriving there just as Melissa does, and coming to a stop beside her, your eyes widen at the sight of Isaac on the floor, your mothers painting on the ground next to him.

“Hey!” Melissa calls, pulling Isaac’s eyes on the two of you. “You two supernatural teenage boys. Don’t test my entirely un-supernatural level of patience.” She signals Isaac to pick up the painting with her hands before turning, along with you, back down the hallway.

“Must’ve been about Allison,” you comment after a moment, shrugging your shoulders as you and Melissa head down the stairs. It’s the only thing that made sense. And it wasn’t like you were unaware of what was happening between your friend and ex-boyfriend. It might not bother you all that much, but you knew Scott still held some feelings for Allison, despite everything. “I’m pretty sure Isaac and her are dating, or, they really like each other.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Melissa questions, pulling your eyes on her as she raises a suspicious brow. “Your ex dating one of your best friends?”

Shrugging your shoulders once again, you nod; “Isaac and I agreed that we were better as friends. Besides, he can date whoever he wants to.” Though the words slipped past your lips with ease, you couldn’t help the bit of discomfort that flooded you. You were happy for Allison and Isaac, truly, and you held no ill feelings towards them.

But you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you a little uncomfortable... and slightly jealous. Part of you still cared for Isaac, maybe even loved him, even if he’d been right that day when saying your heart belonged to another. It did, but that didn’t mean the moments you shared with Isaac no longer mattered to you.

Seeing him share those moments with another, well, you can’t help but feel a little jealous.

“Well, well, look who’s no longer the crazy one.”

Rolling your eyes at Lydia’s words, you fall in step with her and the rest, glancing back at Allison over your shoulder as she speaks up. “We are not crazy,” she denies, which therefore causes Lydia to pause, spinning around to face the four of you, though it’s clear her words are directed towards Scott, Stiles and Allison. So, everyone but you.

“Hallucinating? Sleep paralysis?” She questions, “yeah, you guys are fine.”

After a moment of silence, Scott speaks up; “well, we did die and come back to life,” he reminds, and his words cause a frown to fall on your lips. What him, Stiles and Allison had done was to save your parents, sure, but it was also to save you. Scott had literally died to find out where you were, and part of you feels responsible for the things that was happening to them now. “That’s gotta have some side effects, right?”

The second Scott finishes speaking, the school bell rings.

“We keep an eye on each other, alright?” Stiles speaks up, nodding his head slightly. As his eyes fall on you, you nod up at him, sending him a reassuring smile as you step forward with him, heading to class. The other three hang back a moment, you and Stiles shoulder to shoulder as you walk down the hallway.

Though, just before the two of you walk off, Stiles mumbles to Lydia; “and Lydia, stop enjoying this so much.”

“What?”

“Morning everyone.”

Flickering your gaze upwards, you set your attention on the new face of a teacher stood before you, sitting up slightly in your seat.

“My name is Mr. Yukimura,” he continues, walking around his desk to stand before the rows of desks. “I’ll be taking over for your previous History Teacher. My family and I moved here three weeks ago. I’m sure, by now, you all know my daughter, Kira. Or you might not since she’s never actually mentioned anyone from school. Or brought a friend home for that matter.”

A loud sigh, followed by a thud, echoes in response to Mr. Yukimura’s speech. Your, along with almost everyone else in that classroom, attention is turned behind yourself, towards the left back corner of the room where you find a girl with long black hair with her head in her arms.

“Either way, there she is.”

As all eyes fall on her, she hesitantly raises her head, offering a short wave in response. Your lips curve into a soft smile in response, your first thought being how kind the girl looked. Though, you notice how her eyes seem to fall stuck on a figure before her, and as your own eyes follow her line of direction, a smirk falls on your lips when you realize it’s Scott.

And if your brother’s facial reaction is anything to go by, you’d say he’s just as star-struck.

“Now, let’s begin with American History at the turn of the 20th century.”

Pulling out your notebook, you flip it open to an empty page, taking out a pencil and copying out the notes Mr. Yukimura begins to jot down across the chalkboard.

Though, your attention is stolen when you feel an unsettled feeling flood your entire being. It causes you to freeze, and the first thought that pops into your mind is Scott.

Turning your head around your shoulder, your eyes fall on Scott who’s staring down at the ground as if the floor is about to jump out and attack him. Briefly glancing back at the front of the class, you lean forward, lowering your voice to a whisper; “hey, Scott,” you call, pulling his eyes on you. He blinks a few times, as if settling on the sight of you. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he replies, voice hoarse. “Yeah, fine.”

You nod, reluctantly, turning back to the front, but the both of you know he’s not.

“I’ll catch up with you guys in a second.”

Stiles and Scott nod your way, turning to the right as you halt by the classroom door. You turn your head over your shoulder, watching as Kira finishes packing up her things before swinging her bag over her shoulder. She waves to her dad along the way, who in response holds up a finger, telling her to wait a moment.

You take that as your chance.

“Hey, Kira?”

She blinks at the sound of your voice, her head turning to the left with wide eyes. When her own settle on yours, you smile brightly, offering her a wave in a signal to come forward. She does so, and you meet her in the middle, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear. She seemed a little nervous, and in all truth, you were as well, but you pushed it down, grinning brightly in attempt to reassure her. “So, I couldn’t help but over hear what your dad was saying...”

Kira’s cheeks burn at your words, and she lowers her gaze, sighing. “Yeah, i’m sorry about that-”

“No, no,” you shake your head, smiling at her. “I just wanted to ask if you’d like to hang some time? It could be just me or you, or I could introduce you to my friends? I imagine it can be hard being the new girl, so I just want to make sure you feel welcomed.”

The burn in her cheek quickly disappears as your words register within her. A small smile fall on Kira’s lips, she stares up at you in almost awe; “i’d love to!” She exclaims, before seemingly catching herself, “um, yeah, that’s so nice of you... Thank you.”

Nodding your head, you rip off a piece of paper from your notebook, quickly jotting down your number. “Of course,” you comply, “here’s my number. I’ll text you some time soon, okay? We can meet up?”

Taking the piece of paper out of your hands, Kira nods, biting her lip; “sounds great. Thank you once again.”

“No need to thank me,” you assure with a shrug of your shoulders. Then, taking a step back, you glance down the way Scott and Stiles had gone, catching sight of the two watching and waiting for you. Shaking your head, you turn back to Kira; “I got meet up with my brother, but i’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

Kira nods again; “okay.”

“Maybe we need a little more time to get back to normal.”

“Yeah, try not to forget we hit the reset button on a supernatural beacon for supernatural creatures. There’s a pretty good chance things are never going back to normal.”

Letting out a sigh at Stiles words, you cross your arms over your chest, leaning against the locker to Stiles’s right as you stare up at the ceiling. As much as you hate to admit it, Stiles is right -- what they did to save you and your parents, it isn’t just going to go away with a snap of your fingers. You wish it could, but, you knew it wouldn’t. Not realistically.

“I hate to admit it,” you speak up, letting your head lull to the left as you meet your brother’s gaze, past Stiles. “But he’s right.”

With a sigh of his own, Scott nods as his shoulders fall; “yeah.”

As silence falls over the three of you, your attention is stolen by Stiles who, abnormally, tugs the lock connected to his locker repeatedly. His attention is solely focused on the lock, so he doesn’t notice your gaze as he continues to shake it, before halting, blinking, almost in confusion.

“What?” Stiles mumbles to himself, causing your brows to furrow in bafflement.

“Hey,” you call, softly, noticing your brother distracted as you meet Stiles’ eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Stiles only shake his head, lips parting; “I can’t...”

Then, he blinks once more, and it’s like everything seems to suddenly makes sense to him. He lets out a sigh of relief, tensed shoulders slumping as his eyes remained trained on his lock.

Setting your hand on his shoulder, you pull Stiles’ gaze on you; “you okay?”

“Yeah,” he nods, turning his head as his eyes flicker over to your brother. “Yeah, i’m--oh, dude, your eyes.”

Glancing up, you see what’s caught Stiles attention, your eyes widening themselves when you see the red glow of Scott’s eyes. His alpha eyes. Instantly, your body tenses as you shuffle forward, behind Stiles, shaking your head.

“Scott!”

Brows furrowed, Scott mumbles; “what about them?”

As you glance over your shoulder, looking for anyone that might’ve seen Scott’s eyes, Stiles speaks up; “they’re starting to glow,” he explains, voice pitched with panic.

“You mean like right now?”

“Yes,” you urge, shaking your head. “Right now.”

“Scott,” Stiles calls, doing his best to keep his voice quiet; “stop. Scott, stop it.”

Scott lowers his head, his hand raising to cover his eyes as his breath starts to quicken. “I can’t,” he breathes, voice hushed. “I can’t stop. I can’t control it.”

Meeting Stiles’ eyes, there’s a moment of stilled panic as the two of you try to figure out what the hell to do. Then, you glance behind yourself, Stiles seemingly catching onto what you’re suggesting and he turns back to your brother, pressing a hand against the back of his head to keep his head lowered. “Okay,” Stiles whispers, following your lead as he shuffles backwards. “Okay, just keep your head down.”

“Here,” you call, gesturing to an empty classroom you’d found. Somewhere along the way, you come upon the realization that your guys attempt to not make a scene has only made a bigger scene, so, grabbing the door knob, you practically yank it open, antsy on your feet as you urge Scott and Stiles to hurry up. “In here, in here!”

You slam the door shut behind them, instantly turning around to your brother as he stumbles into room, yanking off his flannel hastily as ragged breaths escape his lips.

Stiles falls in line next to you, and the both of you step forward, intent on helping Scott before he turns around, holding up his hand. “No, get back, get back,” he bellows, his voice raspy. “Get back away from me.”

“Scott,” Stiles calls, “it’s okay.”

“We just want to help,” you add, taking a small step forward.

You don’t make it very far before Scott spins to face you once again, and his frightened eyes meet your own. “I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he cries, practically pleading with the both of you. “Get back.”

You listen, against your better judgement, standing there, at a lost on what to do.

Scott finally stops stumbling forward, turning to face you and Stiles as he slowly raises his hands. Your eyes widen when you notice him clenching his fists, his elongated nails digging into the palm of his hands. The moment you notice blood pouring out, your own hands raise, covering your mouth in disbelief. You feel the slight tingle in your own palms, before it grows progressively worse, causing you to hiss out in pain.

“Jesus... fuck!” You hiss, just as Scott falls to his knees, his clenched fists easing.

“Y/N, are you okay?’

Blinking, you meet Stiles’ gaze, only then realizing how your own position had changed as you cradled your hands against yourself. Nodding quickly, you dismiss Scott’s concern; “it’s just this... thing we have. I’m fine.”

Your attention, along with Stiles’, falls back on Scott as he slumps against one of the desks. Taking hesitant steps forward, you and Stiles crouch before him, and your wide eyes fall on the blood coating Scott’s hands, forgetting about the tingle in your own hands as Scott pants breathlessly before you.

“Pain makes you human,” he explains, chest rising and falling as his eyes fall on you. “I’m sorry.”

Looking down at your hands, you shake your head; “it’s fine, Scott-”

“Scott,” Stiles cuts in, “this isn’t just in our heads. This is real. And it’s starting to get bad for me too.” Your face falls at Stiles’s words, curling into yourself. “I’m not just having nightmares. I’m having dreams where I have to literally scream myself awake. And sometimes i’m not even sure if i’m actually ever waking up.”

“What do you mean?” You ask softly, causing Stiles to turn his gaze on you.

“Do you know how you can tell if you’re dreaming? You can’t read in dreams. More and more, in the past few days, i’ve been having trouble dreaming. It’s like I can’t see the words. I can’t put the letters in order.”

“Like even now?”

Stiles stands up, slowly, his legs shaky underneath him. Your eyes follow his movements as he glances around the room, his eyes falling on the posters and boards located in the classroom. Then, with a shaky breath, Stiles shakes his head.

“I can’t read a thing.”

Sibling. If that was true then...

Inhaling sharply, you steal your nerves as you raise your hand, knocking lightly on Scott’s door. As you wait for a reply, you glance back down the hallway, the way you came, making sure no one’s coming. Not Isaac, Melissa or Rafael. You need to talk to Scott, alone.

Because right now, he’s the only you trust not to laugh in your face or think you’re crazy. And, you’re almost a hundred percent sure this’ll work with him.

“Come in!”

Placing your hand flat against Scott’s bedroom door, you lightly push it open, peeking your head in. You find Scott at his desk, spinning slightly in his chair to face you. His face lightens up at the sight of you. “Y/N,” he greets, pushing himself up to his feet. “What’s up?”

You offer a short smile, stepping into his room before quietly shutting the door behind yourself. Scott watches your movements in confusion, raising a brow when you turn back to look up at him. Once again, you steal away your nerves, clasping your hands before yourself as you rock on your feet slightly. “I need you to do something for me.”

Scott, not oblivious to how nervous you seem, instantly nods. “Anything.”

Taking a step towards Scott, you inhale sharply. “This is going to sound crazy,” you warn, finally meeting his eyes. “But, you know how when you touch someone, you can take their pain away? Like, just by grabbing onto to them, and making contact, suddenly you’re able to have this sort of connection with them?” Scott nods. “Well, I think I might be able to do something like that. But it only works with certain people.”

“Okay...” Scott says slowly.

“Give me your hand.” After only a moment of silence, Scott obliges, holding out his hand towards you. You stare down at it, taking a deep breath before slowly raising your hand and setting it into his own. Instantly, you gasp, your body flinching in response as your eyes fall shut.

For a moment, Scott seems to drift to the back of your mind as you become overwhelmed by a flood of emotions.

Then, what feels like a second later, but must’ve been longer, your eyes snap open, and you heave heavily, stumbling forward. Scott catches you, staring down at you in concern as he holds you upright, helping you stay steady. Your breath had quickened, your chest rising and falling, and your skin feels clammy.

It was exactly like that night in the motel. With Isaac.

“It worked,” you breathe, voice barely above a whisper.

Shaking his head, Scott pulls your eyes on his own. “What worked? Y/N, it looked like you blacked out. I-”

“You’re worried. And scared. Scared of what’s happening to you, Stiles and Allison. You’re worried about dad being back, and you’re worried about me and mom. And there’s a tiny part of you that’s jealous of Isaac and Allison, but that girl... Kira! She overrides some of that jealousy. She hasn’t left your thoughts all day.”

Scott doesn’t say anything at first. At first, there’s just silence as he blinks up at you.

Then, letting out a shaky breath, Scott shakes his head; “how do you know all of that?”

“I read in this... book, that witches can feel the emotions of others. Of people they’re strongly connected to,” you explain in a haste, your lips working a bit faster then your mind is. “It worked with Isaac, back at that motel. At the time, I didn’t know what it was... but I touched his shoulder, and I felt this overwhelming flood of pain and agony... Scott, everything you’re feeling, I felt.”

“Like our pain?”

“Yes,” you nod, “but different. This wasn’t just pain. This was true emotion -- as if I was experiencing it.”

Scott nods, slowly. It’s not that he doesn’t believe you, because he does. It’s just a lot to take in.

“So, because we’re siblings--”

“It worked,” you finished, nodding.

Scott nods once more, at a lost on what to say.

“I’ve got to go read up some more,” you say in a haste, taking a step back from Scott with a wide smile plastered on your lips. You don’t really give Scott time to argue or say anything in return before you’re out the door. But, just before you make it very far, you peek your head in once more into his room.

“Oh! And that girl, Kira? She was checking you out too!”

“Okay, so what happens to a person who has a near-death experience and comes out of it seeing things?”

“And is unable to tell what’s real or not?”

“And is being haunted by demonic visions of dead relatives?”

Biting your lip, you let out a sigh as Allison finishes off the list of shitty things that have happened to her, Stiles and Scott. You don’t have a clue on how to answer their question.

“They’re all locked up because they’re insane,” Isaac answers, letting out a huff.

“Ha.” Stiles mocks, letting out a fake laugh as he shakes his head. “Can you at least try to be helpful, please?”

“For half my childhood, I was locked in a freezer.” Isaac begins, turning to Stiles with narrowed eyes. You raise a brow at their argument, leaning onto the bench in your spot next to Stiles. “So, being helpful is king of a new thing for me.”

“Hey, dude, are you still milking that?”

“Yeah, we are still milking that.”

“Okay,” you roll your eyes, setting your hand on Stiles arm as you send a glare Isaac’s way. “Enough. The both of you.” At the look the Isaac gives you, as if he expects you to back him up, you huff; “we are actually trying to figure out how to help them-”

“Hi!” A sudden voice interrupts you, pulling your focus on the right of you on Kira. She smiles down at the six of you nervously, clutching her books against her chest tightly. “Sorry. I couldn’t help overhearing what you guys were talking about.”

Glancing back at your friends, you raise a brow.

“And I think I actually might know what you’re talking about,” Kira continues, pulling your eyes back on her. “There’s a Tibetan word for it. It’s called ‘Bardo’. It literally means ‘in-between state’. The state between life and death.”

“And what do they call you?” Lydia questions, sending Kira a forced smile.

You open your mouth to answer Lydia before: “Kira,” Scott answers for you, his voice soft. You can’t help but smile to yourself slightly as you glance down at your notebook, biting your lip. “She’s in our history class.”

“Here,” you speak up, pushing Stiles slightly to make room for Kira. “Sit,” you send her a bright smile as her eyes fall on you. She hesitates a moment before taking a seat just as Lydia speaks up once again.

“So are you talking Bardo in Tibetan Buddhism or Indian?”

“Either, I guess,” Kira shrugs. “But all the stuff you guys were just saying? All that happens in Bardo. There are different progressive states where you can have hallucinations. Some you see, some you just hear. And you can be visited by peaceful and wrathful deities.”

“Wrathful deities?” Isaac repeats questioningly, “and-and what are those?”

Shaking her head slightly, Kira shrugs; “like demons.”

“Demons,” Stiles repeats, disbelief at his situation flooding him. “Why not?”

“Hold on,” Allison speaks up, “if there are different progressive states, then what’s the last one?”

“Death,” Kira answers, a little too cheery. “You die.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, dad! Who are you helping?”

Brows furrowed, you hastily make your way down the stairs, rubbing at your eyes tiredly. You’d been catching up on some homework, headphones in your ears so you hadn’t heard Scott nor your dad. It took having to go to the washroom for you to finally realize what the hell was going on and almost immediately you made your way for the stairs.

“Just get out!”

As you reach the living room, you notice Melissa making her way inside from the other side, your eyes briefly meeting hers before refocusing on the two males in front of you.

“Scott,” you father calls, voice hesitant, unsure.

“What?” Scott snaps in response, shaking his head. “I can’t believe that you’d do this to my best friend.”

Stiles?

“I’m not doing anything to your friend,” Rafe tries to explain, “i’m doing my job.”

“Your job sucks!”

“Some days I can’t argue that.”

“Can somebody tell me what the hell is going on?” Melissa speaks up, eyes wide.

Taking a step forward, you nod, your eyes trained on Scott. “What’s he doing to Stiles?”

“He’s trying to get Stiles’ dad fired.”

At Scott’s words, your entire body freezes, disbelief flooding you.

“No,” your father argues, turning from you to Melissa in seconds. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

“What are you doing?”

Rafael pauses, then; “conducting a case for impeachment.”

Raising your hand, you rub them against your face, trying to keep your steadily racing heartbeat calm as Scott’s words echo in your head.

“That sounds a lot like getting him fired,” Melissa snaps.

“The lack of resolution and ability to close cases is what’s going to get him fired. My job is just to collect the information.” As Rafe continues to explain, try to defend himself, you’re oblivious to Scott, who’s getting angrier and angrier by the second. Mainly because you’re getting angrier and angrier by the second. “And it’s the job my superiors have given me.”

“Your job sucks,” Melissa repeats, glaring up at your father.

“Scott,” you hear Melissa call, finally causing you to raise your head. It’s then that you notice Scott’s eyes glowing once more and his nails have grown, not to mention that he’s struggling to breathe. “Sweetheart,” Melissa continues, “calm down.” She takes Scott’s hand in her own, leading him away. “Come with me, right now.”

She meets your eyes briefly, and you nod, stepping in front of your father before he can follow after the two of them.

“Y/N-”

You scoff as Rafael attempts to explain himself to you as well, shaking your head as you glare up at him. “I don’t wanna hear it,” you snap, your lip snarling up in disgust up at him. “I don’t care if it’s your job, if your superiors are making you do it, or whatever. I don’t care. This is Stiles’ dad we’re talking about.”

Rafael just remains silent, and you roll your eyes, clenching your fists tightly, in attempt not to punch him.

“You disgust me.”

“Here’s where we found the den. It’s right in the middle of the hiking trails.”

Leaning over Stiles’ shoulders, your eyes fall on the spot he’s pointing at with his finger, lip in-between your teeth in thought.

“Well,” Allison speaks up, pulling your gaze on her as she raises her own to meet yours. “That could narrow it down. Coyotes travel on fixed trails. But I think you’re right about her not going back to the den. Coyotes don’t like wolves. And they’re really smart if they want to be heard, they actually walk on their toes.”

Brows furrowing, you pause as Stiles questions exactly what you’d been thinking. “Coyotes tip-toe?”

“They tip-toe.”

Just as Allison finishes speaking, the bell rings.

“We gotta go,” she continues, shuffling back. “Send me the pinned location.” She pauses though when she realizes you’ve yet to follow her. Pausing right by the door, she turns to you; “Y/N?”

Blinking, you nod over at her, “coming,” you smile softly, leaving Stiles’ side as you quickly make your way over to Allison. Though, your eyes linger on Stiles’ a moment more than usual, his own remaining stuck on you, before you eventually have to turn, falling next to Allison’s side as you walk down the hallway, heading to your next class.

It only takes you a second to realize Allison’s eyes are still on you, and she’s smirking.

“What?” You question, raising a brow her way.

“Nothing,” she shrugs, hugging her textbooks close against her chest, the smirk slowly fading as silence falls over the two of you. “Hey, Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask...”

Slowly, your full focus falls on your friends when you notice her obvious anxiousness. Glancing at her briefly as you both weave your way through the hallway, you patiently wait for her to continue.

Brushing back a strand of loose hair, Allison laughs nervously. “Well, Isaac and I have recently gotten closer and I know that you two used to date, so... I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t overstepping any boundaries. Or making you uncomfortable in anyway.”

Blinking, you pause; “are you asking me for permission to date Isaac?”

“Well... yeah.”

Shaking your head, you smile over at Allison. “You don’t need to ask for permission, Allison,” you assure, letting your hand fall on her arm. “Go for it,”

“You don’t mind?” She questions, almost unsure.

“Not at all,” you nod, “I promise.”

A wide smile falls on Allison’s lips at your words, and a small exclamation of glee leaves her lips as you laugh up at her excitement. “Thank you!” She exclaims, leaning to the side to give you a hug.

You easily return her embrace.

“Of course.”

“What you did was really sweet.”

Scott blinks up at you at your words. Smiling down at him, you take a seat next to him on the bench he’s perched upon, bumping his shoulder lightly with your own. “Saving her like that,” you continue for explanation, smirking slightly. “Girls love that hero crap.”

Scott rolls his eyes at your teasing, scoffing at your words. “It was the least I could do,” Scott shrugs, “she was returning our bags.”

Your eyes fall on the bags Scott gestures to, slowly nodding.

Before you can say anything more, Stiles comes to a stop between the two of you, calling out for your attention. “I think I know what she was looking for,” Stiles explains, holding his back, referring back to Malia. Standing up, along with Scott, your eyes falls the doll Stiles pulls out of his bag.

Scott sighs; “you took the doll from the car?”

“Why would you take a piece of evidence from the crime scene?” You pester Stiles, keeping your voice lowered as you slap him lightly on the shoulder. He winces in response, curling into himself as he pouts at you getting mad at him, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Hey!” Stiles calls out in defense, “I thought Scott could use it, you know, for like her scent.”

“Where did you get that?” You blink at the new voice, turning your head around your shoulder as a man steps forward. You briefly remember Noah introducing him as Malia’s dad. “Where did you find this?” Hastily, he pulls the doll out of Stiles’ hand, causing the three of you to take a step back in precaution as his narrowed eyes glower down at the three of you.

Staring down at the doll, his anger fades into sadness; “it belonged to my daughter.”

Just then, Noah steps forward; “Mr. Tate, I don’t know how you heard about this. If you got your own police scanner or what... But you can’t be here.” Noah steps forward, setting his hand on Mr. Tate’s stomach in attempt to push him back before the two of them freeze. Your brows furrow in bafflement, crossing your arms over your chest as you wait.

Slowly, Noah pulls back Mr. Tate’s jacket, revealing a gun.

“I have a permit,” Mr. Tate quickly explains, holding up his hands on either side of him.

“California schools are gun free zones,” Noah reminds, “permit or no permit. You need to leave, Mr. Tate. Now.”

Noah steps forward, causing Mr. Tate to shuffle back as he calls another policemen forward. Before they can pull Mr. Tate away, he turns back to Noah, his face twisting in desperation. “You find that animal. You find that thing.”

“Anyone else think we might be doing more harm than good?”

Sighing, you briefly glance at Stiles who’s beside you at Lydia’s words, before letting your gaze fall on the forest floor.

“We’re trying to keep a father from killing his own daughter,” Scott eagerly reminds, his voice desperate for you all to understand.

“Actually,” Isaac speaks up, pulling your eyes on him. “We’re trying to keep a guy from killing a coyote who is actually his daughter, who we don’t know how to change from a coyote back to his daughter.”

You let your eyes fall shut at Isaac’s words, shaking your head.

“And again,” Stiles sighs, “with the not helping.”

Scott turns to Allison, “did you bring it?”

Only hesitating a moment, Allison nods, turning towards her trunk and pulling out the tranquilizer gun she’d brought. Holding it ready in her hands, she turns back to the rest of you, nodding her head.

“It took the doll again. What the hell is so important about the doll?”

Sighing, you bite your lip as Stiles spins to face you, phone in hand as he talks to his father. You can’t tell what Noah is saying in response to Stiles, but if the expression on Stiles’ face is anything to go by -- you figure it isn’t good.

Then, realization floods Stiles’ eyes and his chin raises, his focus falling elsewhere other than his father.

“It’s the doll.”

Blinking, you glance up at Stiles’ eyes fall on you, the phone in his hand falling limply at his side. His eyes widen, realization flooding them.

Scott, Isaac, Allison and Lydia have run off, the two of them teaming in pairs, leaving you and Stiles. You would’ve followed after your brother or even Isaac, but seeming like Stiles right now, when there was a coyote on the loose and he had nothing nor no one to defend himself, seemed like the better idea.

It seems, you’d been right.

“It’s the doll?”

“All right, but why would it go all the to the school and then all the way back to the house just a doll?”

Hugging yourself tightly, you pace as Stiles continues to ramble on, shrugging your shoulders helplessly at his question.

“One that was in the car wreck firstly,” Stiles continues, “we didn’t find it in the coyote den.”

“It likes the doll,” you huff, tucking your hair hastily behind your ears. “Who cares?”

“Yeah, it likes the doll. A lot,” Stiles sighs, crouched down before you. Silence echoes, then, a question pops into your mind. “What kind of doll is it?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles shrugs, voice pitched in desperation. “It’s a doll, you know. It’s got little arms, a big baby head and dead, soulless eyes. Actually, I took a pic.” Stepping forward as Stiles to turns to face you, you lean over his shoulder, squinting your eyes to see the photo clearly.

Raising your hand, you point at the young girl in a blue coat; “that’s Malia?”

“Yeah, that’s the jacket and the scarf we found in the den.”

“Stiles,” you call, shaking your head. “She’s not holding the doll.”

“That’s Malia’s younger sister,” Stiles explains, pointing at the younger girl in a red coat. “It’s her doll.” Slowly, Stiles raises his head, turning to meet your eyes. “I know what she’s doing.”

“What?”

“I know where she’s going.”

“Stiles?”

Feeling your entire body freeze, everything Stiles has been saying over the phone to Scott goes in through one ear and out the other as you stare down at the bear trap. The bear trap your foot is directly placed on. You don’t move a muscle, in fear of the clamps shutting around your ankle.

“Yeah-”

Slowly raising your head, your entire body shaking, you meet his eyes from a far.

Instantly, Stiles rushes forward, coming to a stop next to you. You let your eyes fall shut as Stiles calls out; “Y/N, don’t move!” You want to snark back that you weren’t planning on doing so, but you keep your mouth shut, terrified that even speaking will trigger the trap. “Can’t you... use your powers? Hold the clamps down while you move your foot?”

“No,” you breathe, shaking your head. “N-No. If I move, it’ll trigger the trap and I don’t think my reflexes are that fast.” Your voice is shaky as you try to explain yourself to the best of your ability. Forcing your eyes open, you meet Stiles’ eyes who’s lowered to the ground, now crouching before you. “Stiles, look for a warning label.”

“A warning label?” Stiles repeats questioningly.

“Instructions on how to disarm it,” you explain, voice pleading.

“Y/N,” Stiles breathes, “why the hell would they put instructions on the bottom of a trap?”

“Because animals can’t read,” you remind, voice pitching.

Your body tenses as you try to keep as still as possible, impatiently waiting for Stiles to find the warning label you told him about. Then, a moment later, Stiles mumbles, “Y/N, we’ve got a problem.”

“What?”

“I can’t read either.”

You’d forgotten.

Inhaling sharply, you try to your best to remain calm, shaking your head. “You don’t need the instructions,” you dismiss, “when was the last time you’ve ever used instructions? Am I right?” Meeting Stiles’s eyes, you nod your head this time, smiling down at him despite the tears welling in your eyes out of fear. “You don’t need them because you’re too smart to waste your time with them, okay? You can figure it out. Stiles, you’re the one who always figures it out.. So you can do it. Figure it out.”

Listening to your advice, Stiles leans forward, brushing back some leaves. You’re too scared to lean down and see what he’s doing.

“Okay, here we go,” Stiles finally says, “ready?”

Letting out a shaky breath, you finally lower your gaze, letting out a soft whimper as you nod.

“Okay,” Stiles breaths, “here we go.”

He turns the valve, and letting out a tiny cry, you take your foot off the trigger, leaping to your left and falling into Stiles’ arms. His arms wrap tightly around your waist as yours wound around his neck, pulling him close as you let out breath of relief.

Settling the palm of your hand on his chest, you glance back at the trap, your lips parting at the sight of the clamps shut against one another. If it hadn’t been for Stiles, or if you had taken just a moment later, it would’ve been your foot in-between those clamps.

Still breathless, you flicker your gaze over to Stiles’, meeting his eyes through your lashes. You can feel his breath fawn over your face as he returns your gaze, the two of you staring at one another in a mixture of shock, relief and disbelief. Then, before you can stop yourself, you whisper; “you did it.”

The words seem to register in Stiles’ mind, causing him to blink as he shakes his head; “I did it.”

He did it.

“Thank you.”

Part 20? Let me know what you thought!

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633 notes · View notes

serahsanguine · 5 years

Text

School, Sex and Subterfuge NC-17

Chapter 2 of ?

part one, A03,

tagging @today-in-fic

**********************************

Notes; follows directly after the last chapter.

******************************

Chapter two; Information.

“Hello my name is Mulder, and I’m here to teach psychology. I will introduce you to contemporary research into social, development, cognitive and biological dimensions of behaviour. As part of your studies, you’ll look at the applications of psychology in a wide range of areas - from understanding the nature and causes of mental illness to investigating decision making in real life situations. As part of your course, you’ll conduct your own research.” Mulder’s eyes locked with Scully’s instantly and she felt, even in a room full room of people, they were the only ones there. He carried on speaking, his eyes never leaving hers. She was meant to be listening to him, but instead, she was mapping his face and body in great detail for purposes she wasn’t willing to accept yet.

The lecture lasted just about an hour and eventually, Scully managed to write down a few notes to get the general idea of the class. When the lights flicked on, she grabbed her notepad and pen and threw them in her bag. Moving past some people, whom she didn't care were staring directly at her, she got out of the classroom as quick a possible. She left Serah sitting there, they would meet back at their room. Scully couldn't breathe, her chest felt constricted. They had only met a couple of times but that teacher had an effect on her. She had had never felt this type of influence, this type of attraction. With one look he could turn her world on its end.

Scully arrived at her room, she managed to control her breathing and emotions once she was alone lying on her bed. What was she going? She really liked him, but he was a teacher. She was so lost in thought that she didn't notice that Serah had slipped into the room until she felt her bed dip.

“So, Dana, are you going to explain why you ran out of there like your hair was on fire?” Serah was concerned for her friend. She had never seen her act this erratic before. She looked at her friend lightly touching her arm, for comfort, to let her know that she was there for her.

“I don't know where to start.” It was an honest statement. Scully looked at her friend trying to offer some explanation to her. But she was at a loss. She stood up and started pacing the room, from window to door, back and forth.

“The beginning is always a good start.” Serah watched Scully pace and thought ‘Something’s really bothering her now’

“That's just it, I don't have a beginning. It isn't really an issue, it’s all probably in my head anyway.”

“Just calm down and talk to me, I'm here to listen.” Serah stood up and placed both her hands gently on Scully’s skin to stop her rapid walking. “I know I’m not the ideal person, but you said Melissa was touring Europe and isn't reachable.”

“Honestly, I’m overreacting. It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Serah looked at Scully. She knew when her friend had set her mind to something there was no changing it, no getting her to open up. So she changed the subject. “I’m going to a party later and of course you’re invited. It’ll do you good.”

Mulder had just finished his lecture and he wanted to talk to the pretty redhead he kept bumping into throughout the day. He was intrigued by her, captivated by her beauty. He normally wouldn’t even look at a redhead, he was more of a brunette kind of guy. But he wanted her badly, and he wanted to find out more about her. All he knew was her name was Dana and with just one look from her, he could have an instant problem in his trousers. He nearly had an incident in a room full of students as soon as his eyes locked onto hers.

He was walking through the hallways. He knew he shouldn’t, but he needed some outside help. As soon as he got to the ICT department, he realised he should have known that all three of his friends would be there. They seemed to be working on their new newspaper article for two weeks time. It was called the Lone Gunman. The three men sat arguing about the next conspiracy and cover-up. They tried to find some credit every now and then, there was news portraying the school.

“Ahh hem…” Mulder stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, looking casual with a 100 watt smile on his face. He was laughing inside.

All three men jumped and went silent. Turning away from the computer monitor and towards the sound they heard, they let out a breath they didn’t know they were holding when they saw who was stood there.

“Mulder, my man! How are you?” Said the small bald man.

“I need you to do some extracurricular computing for me,” Mulder moved away from the door and into the room and found a seat.

“No problem, we're always happy to help. Now, what can we do for you?” The man replied, leaving some space for him. He looked happy at the prospect of his friend asking for help, it wasn’t something he did very often.

“Well, Frohike, I need you to look into some files for me.”

“And what files might that be?” Frohike gave him a questioning look but he knew he’d help him anyway.

Mulder spoke in a hushed tone now and moved his chair closer to his friends “I need you to look into a students file for me.

“Is this one of your flings? You have never asked us to look into any of them. So why now?”

“It doesn’t matter, can you do it or not?”

“Of course we can, we just need a name.” The blonde long-haired man replied quickly.

“Her name is Dana Scully, Langly. She is a redhead.” He said the last part in a whispered voice and all three men gave him a look, because they all knew his type was definitely not redheads.

Frohike and Langly got to discussing the best way to quietly hack into the school’s system and Mulder started talking to the third man.

“Byers, how’s computer science treating you?”

“Half my class seem to be more into phones than computers but I do have some promising students in my class”

“That’s great news.”

Mulder and Byers carried on with the small talk about work, home life, the simple stuff. Half an hour had passed before Frohike and Langly managed to get the information Mulder wanted.

“Mulder! We have her information: her name is Dana Katherine Scully, she 5ft 3in. She has one older sister and two brothers, one older one younger. She comes from a military family and she has moved around a lot. Her father is in the navy, a Captain. She is studying a bachelor's degree in Medicine, this is her second year. She seems like a high achiever, so seems to be aiming for high marks.”

If she is aiming high it will be easier to lure her into his little trap, Mulder thought, but did not voice his opinion “Thank you guys, I appreciate it.”

With that said, he nodded at his friends and walked out going about the rest of his day.

A few hours had passed and Serah had convinced Scully to go to the party and take her mind off whatever was bothering her, which she still wouldn’t talk about. Scully didn’t have anything to wear, so Serah lent her one of her outfits. It wasn’t Scully’s style, it showed too much skin for her liking but she went with it. It was a short black dress with a square neck cut and it had an open back.

Scully was just putting the last touches on her makeup, she wanted to look feminine and sexy, something she didn’t do very often. In her mind, it was a great distraction from Mulder.

Serah walked in the room wearing some dark black shorts and deep red crop top. Her hair was down and in soft curls. Scully thought she looked stunning and wondered if she could never wear something like that herself.

They left and walked toward the frat party. It was a nice gentle walk, the sun hung low and the air was warm. Scully was slightly apprehensive about the whole thing. She was nothing like her friend, who was outgoing and a party girl. She had always been the little nerdy girl who would work through the night to get a good grade. The one that preferred to stay in and read a book on a Friday night. Serah kept talking to her, trying to keep her calm and get her excited about actually getting ou. If she was honest about herself, it was working, if only a little bit.

They got to the house and the music was blaring, the party was in full swing. Serah entered first followed by Scully. Serah got them both drinks, making sure they weren't spiked, and then she went migling.

Time flashed by and Scully eventually had quite a few shots and couple beers. She even found a guy to talk to. Well, technically, he had found her. His name was Daniel and he was doing the same degree as her. He was flirting and putting on the charm. Scully was enjoying the attention. He was touching her, placing his hands on her hips, bumping and grinding with her in time with the music. The feeling of skin against skin as they danced was nice but her mind kept wandering to the tall dark and handsome man named Mulder. How his body would feel against hers, dancing with her, grinding against her. The feeling of his muscles that she had seen earlier tense under her touch. Would he have a small package, as they say, or would he fill her completely?

She was soon brought out of her thoughts when she felt Daniel’s hand try and move in between her legs. She stopped dancing immediately and pushed him away. Only then she realised how drunk she was and her imagination and inhibitions were lowered. But there was one thing she was certain of: it was not Daniel she wanted right now. It was Mulder, no matter how bad it seemed. This party was meant to get her mind off him, but that had not worked at all. She quickly said good night to Daniel and found Serah. Prying her off the guy she was necking onto, they walked back home together.

*************************

Scully woke up not as early as she would normally do. Her head was throbbing and the sun was not helping. She knew the party had been a bad idea but at least for a little bit she had enjoyed herself before her mind got the better of her. Serah was moving about the room as quiet as possible but she soon noticed Scully was awake.

“Hey, sleepyhead. Welcome back to the land of the living. How are you feeling?” Serah stopped pottering about and sat on her bed. She was dressed in some jeans and tank top ready for the day.

“Uhg, I drank too much last night. My head is killing me. How come you don’t look or feel like me right now?” Scully sat up on her bed trying to shield her eyes from the sun shining through the window. She looked at her friend and generally could not believe how awake and happy she looked.

“I don’t get hangovers,” Serah replied smiling. “I have set two advils and a glass of water on your bedside locker if that helps, and you can borrow my sunglasses for the day.”

Scully moaned again. “What time is it, anyway. You’ve never been a morning person.”

“It’s a little after 10.”

Scully gave her a look and then flopped back down in the bed. She was thankful for the lie in and thankful that her first lecture of the day wasn’t till one.

“I will see you later Dana. I got to go to class.” She left the room locking the door behind her.

“Bye!” Scully replied but Serah was already gone.

***************************

The weeks flew by. Mulder paid close attention to Scully in every lecture but trying not to make it too obvious that it was her that he had his eyes on. They had met several times at the gym but neither speaking a word to each other.

Scully was apprehensive about that day because everyone had their first assignments handed in. Today was the day of truths of sorts. Whether it was her imagination running wild with all the sideways glances at her or the chemistry she had felt between them across the room, she didn’t really know. Whenever she spoke, he would unconsciously lick his lips. She was wondering if he was actually going to pick her for his little side project.

So, there she was, sitting next to Serah and Mulder was walking around the room handing the papers back to his students. There were happy faces and sad faces and suddenly he was standing in front of them. He handed Serah her paper, which Scully glanced at and was impressed with her friend’s score of a B. Then Mulder moved in front of her and handed her assignment back. Their hands brushed and lingered and she swore she felt a physical spark between them. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it was going to bounce out of her chest. She knew it was impossible but it didn’t feel that way. Her stomach was doing flip flops and the nerves were making her feel sick. But she kept her face calm and stern, trying to show no emotion.

Their eyes locked, she loved the colour of his hazel eyes. They could pull you in and make you forget about everything. He didn’t say a word to her and he let go of her hand and carried on moving around the room. That’s when she finally tore her gaze off him and looked at her score on her paper: it was a C. Next to it, there was a little sticky note attached with his handwriting ‘See me in my office tomorrow at 7.30pm’.

Serah looked at her. As she saw the note she smiled. Her eyes said ‘I told you so’ so loudly she almost heard it. Scully didn’t know whether to be happy about the fact that her feelings were reciprocated, at least she wasn't going crazy. Or maybe she should be scared by the fact that he had feelings for her and wanted to see her after hours. One thing was for sure she needed her sister more than ever, she needed to talk to her. Before committing herself to anything.

#school sex and subterfuge #fanfic #fanfiction #mulder and scully #fox mulder #dana scully #part two #AU fanfiction #pre xfiles

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rosebudmendes · 5 years

Text

La Vie Est Belle (Shawn Mendes AU)

Description: She has to take care of her ill father. He has to provide for his younger sister. Just when they think their lives couldn’t get busier, fate intervenes.

Warnings: terminal illness, anxiety, alcohol

Word count: 2,852

A/N: I had a blast writing this first part! Hopefully will be continuing this as a series, since there are a few unanswered questions lol. Thanks to the lovely @stockholmshawn for being a babe & helping me edit this! Hope you enjoy, let me know your thoughts!

The smell of floor wax hit you hard in the face. There was an overload of sounds of conversation and clatter, along with insanely bright lights. A strong pain shot through your head and you began to massage your temples. You and your family had just arrived in an airport in Italy and you so desperately needed aspirin and coffee. You hated flying, you always have, but your reason for departure was causing a wretched feeling of discomfort.

“(y/n),” Your father muffled behind you. His airy voice snapped you out whatever trance you were in. You turned around and saw his frail body hunched over his walker, carry-on bags resting next to him. You didn’t need him to tell you he needed help.

“Sorry Pops, I got the bags.” You rushed over and picked up all three carry on suitcases. This trip was definitely going to be difficult. Your family spontaneously decided to go to Italy, recommended by your dad’s physical therapist.

Ever since you were 10, your father has been sick. In the beginning, things were progressing slowly, and you hardly noticed any change in his health. But, the disease has become more aggressive over time and your family was desperate for a cure.

“Guys, can you please walk faster! We are going to miss the short Starbucks line!” Your mother whined from ahead. You just rolled your eyes at her and continued helping your father. You were dreading this entire trip, not only because it was difficult seeing your father in such a fragile state but because you will be stuck in a resort with your mom and her favorite companion, scotch.

Once you guys made it to the Starbucks, you helped your father sit down and rest at the table nearby. “Do you want a coffee, Pops?” You always asked him if he wanted coffee, even though his doctors recommend staying away from it. His body didn’t react well to the caffeine anymore, but you know coffee is an indulgence so you offer it anyway.

“Your father doesn’t need any coffee. I will take a grande toffee latte with extra foam.” You didn’t even have to make eye contact with her and you could feel your blood pressure rise. It was clear as day that she was only on this trip for the bragging rights. She never tried to help you care for your father, rather she complained about how hard life was to her friends.

Another trip to Europe with my loving family.

As you turned around you were almost run over by some guy sprinting into the kiosk. Saved by a millisecond, the guy quickly apologized without even looking back. Another country filled with careless people, you thought.

Fifteen minutes later you returned to the table with three drinks in your hand. You set your mom’s obnoxious order in front of her, not saying a word. You put a straw in a cup of water and suggested your dad drink some. You three sat at the table, not saying a word to each other. These last few months the only conversations that took place were about your father's health and the finances of it all. It wasn’t that you guys were necessarily poor, but after your dad had to leave his job it has been more difficult to make ends meet. Thankfully, this trip was covered by donations and charity from your hometown. Although you would never admit it to anyone, you were glad you lived in such a small town. Everyone knew everyone and was always willing to help out. The night people found out about the severity of his illness, the town practically broke. Granted, your father was a well-known businessman with many connections. Still, it would have been near impossible to get the medical assistant needed if you lived in a big city.

After you three felt well caffeinated and were used to the environment, you headed out of the airport and into the streets of Italy. You held the door open for your father, and something caught your eye. A wallet. How could someone be careless enough to lose their wallet, in an airport? Nonetheless, you picked up the wallet and put it in your purse. You felt it was a better idea than leaving it up to the universe for the owner to find it.

When you finally arrived at your resort, you firstly helped your dad settle in. These days it was hard for him to partake in daily activities without being completely exhausted. Walking from the Uber to the room was enough to give him a splitting headache and knee pain. You left him in his room to rest, not worried about unloading his bags quite yet. You didn’t pay much attention when you heard your maternity leave to go get some groceries. It kind surprised you that she’d offer to help out, but then remembered you always forget her alcohol.

Now that you were basically alone you laid down on the bed, put your headphones in and put on a calming meditation guide you use to calm your nerves. You’ve been using this meditation guide for three months now, and have noticed a small change in your irrational outbursts of anger. You were insecure about your anger management issues, and not very many people stuck around long enough to really see how it affects you.

After you were relaxed and felt at peace you reached in your purse to find the abandoned wallet. The smart move would be to turn it into the police, but you were nosy and wanted to know who was clumsy enough to drop their wallet without noticing.

Inside was the typical components; driver’s license, debit card, cash. There was something unique about this particular wallet, though. Hidden behind the driver's license was a folded up piece of paper. When you untangled it and smoothed out the harsh creases, it read “Pick up Shelia, drop off package.” There was definitely a story behind this small to-do list, and you might not ever find out.

Picking up your laptop, you searched the address that was written on the driver's license. It showed the destination was a 15-minute walk downtown. How convenient. There was a good possibility the address was wrong but no harm done trying, you thought.

Seeming as the jet lag was finally catching up to you, and you had a feeling you weren’t going to sleep well you decided to take a quick walk to deliver the wallet.

When you walked outside, the sun was setting and the air seemed soft and light. There were couples and families slowly strolling nearby, and the sounds of tourists exclaiming excitement towards the sunset filled around you. The smell of baked goods and beer was a strong, pungent combination. You pulled up the address once more on your phone and followed the directions precisely, fearful of getting lost in a foreign city.

Around 20 minutes later you arrived at the house. It was a small light blue cottage with a porch swing and flower baskets hanging off the deck. It was almost dark now, and you expected the light to be on but there was a faint light coming from one window. This worried you.

You approached the door and suddenly remembered how little French you knew. This was going to be a disaster if the owner didn’t know English. You knocked a few times and after a few seconds, a young girl answered the door. She didn’t greet you, and you were left unaware of the language that was to be spoken.

“Hello, I found this wallet- uh, it belongs to a Shawn,” You began. The little girl nodded as though she understood and slammed the door in your face. Confused, you stepped back and waited for a few moments. Behind the door, you could hear muffled talking and distant TV.

“Hello?” The door opened again and a tall, broad man appeared. He looked about your age.

“Hi, uh I think this is your wallet.” You stuck your hand out with the wallet and hoped he would be relieved to have his belongings back.

“Oh, thanks. Anything else?” He grabbed his wallet and stuck it in his back pocket. You had just noticed his face in full detail as the street lights had just censored on. His eyes were swollen and almost bloodshot red. Almost as if he hadn’t had a proper nights sleep in weeks.

“No, that's it.” You wanted to know about the piece of paper but didn’t dare acknowledge the fact that you went snooping through a stranger's wallet.

“Well, thanks for returning it to me.” He shuffled his hands around and grabbed a spare bill in his front pocket. “For the fare back-“

“Oh, no I walked here. I’m just staying a few blocks back.”

“Are you from America?” He asked, putting the money back in his pants.

“Yeah…I’m here for a few months.” You responded. Great, now a complete stranger knows your whereabouts.

“Well, maybe I could take you out for dinner one night.” His cheeks flushed with red, and he kept looking down. “I don’t meet many kind Americans here.”

“Oh, yeah sure.” You were unsettled with accepting this offer with too much enthusiasm. You grew up very aware of the dangers that came with talking to strangers. Although you were 20 now the horror stories still replayed in your mind. He handed you his phone, and you typed in your number. This was stupid, you were being so irresponsible. You shouldn’t even have walked here in the first place. There was no denying how attractive he was, and it could be fun for you to get out of the caregiver mindset, and actually experience life as a 20-year-old.

“Actually, are you free right now?” His words felt as if they just fell out of his mouth. “I could take you to this Diner close by if you want.” He said with a slight feeling of uncertainty.

You have never been the spontaneous type, you actually find joy in the planning. There was a small part of you that wanted to say yes though. To forget about your anxious thoughts, forget about all the "what if’s.” You hadn’t been on a date since your dad’s health had taken a turn for the worse, and you knew he felt guilty for being responsible for that. Even though that was only partly true.

“I’m free! I’d love to go with you!” You added a little extra excitement this time. Fake it 'till ya make it right? Immediately following your response you felt guilt settling deep in your stomach. Twisting and turning your stomach, almost causing a pain. Breathe. In and out. You replayed your meditation guide through your mind as Shawn went inside to grab a jacket. It wasn’t necessarily cold outside but as the night grew so did a slight breeze.

“Ready?” He shut the door while simultaneously straightening his jean jacket. He looked effortlessly handsome while all the while radiating exhaustion and fatigue. His dark pants hugged his thighs in a snug manner, followed with dark converse high tops. His light washed jean jacket was nicely paired with a loose white t-shirt. His casual stance and outfit made you relax a tad bit more. You were in Italy after all, might as well make some memories while you can.

You both walked side by side to the diner that was just down the street and across a small bridge. This was the first moment you noticed how beautiful the city was. The houses were built with humble accents of classical designs and neutral toned pastels. The conversations that filled the atmosphere around you were nothing but soft white noise, seemingly they were in French. Shawn filled the silence with normal small talk about the sunset and weather, nothing too personal too quick. The walk over was quick enough that you hadn’t much time to think about the horrible outcomes if he wasn’t as trustworthy as you suspected.

You continued to follow behind Shawn’s lead, being careful not to walk too close to him. Oddly enough, you weren’t afraid of being close to his physical presence. He smelt of vanilla and a familiar cologne, maybe old spice like your father used. It reminded you of happy memories at home and it was drawing you towards him more and more each step.

“Ladies first,” His voice was deep and grounding. He motioned to the small booth that the kind worker had set. You slid in and tried to release any tension that was being held in your shoulders.

“I found this place by accident, came in to get change for the bus.” He looked around and noticed you follow. “The food’s not the greatest, but they serve the best coffee in a five-mile radius.” He let out a minimal chuckle, which sent shivers running up your spine. He really was handsome. “Plus, not much can beat this view.” Both of you looked out the window onto the streets. Across the street, there was a guy selling flowers out of a mobile cart, and a body of water was barely visible enough to see the reflection of the sky. The sun was mostly gone now, only a sliver of a dome still appeared.

The waitress came around, and you both ordered a cup of coffee with a slice of pizza. When the pizza came you internally groaned. Shawn was right. For an Italian Diner, their pizza looked surprisingly abysmal.

“I sure hope the coffee tastes better than this pizza looks.” You blurted out. He chuffed and took a large bite off of his slice. You took a sip of the coffee, hesitate to burn your lips. “So, Shawn,” The coffee stung a little when it touched your lips. He looked up from his pizza, mouth shiny from the massive amount of grease that settled into the cheese. “I can only assume you didn’t grow up in Italy, your English is impeccable.”

He coughed and took a napkin to his face. “Uh, yeah. I grew up in Chicago. Moved here when I was 12.” His statement was rushed and choppy. This left you to believe there was something to that story that he didn’t feel appropriate to share over the first cup of coffee. “What brings you to Italy?” He quickly changed the subject back onto you. “Here for some sightseeing and culture shock?” The tone of his voice sounded almost jock-like.

You didn’t focus on it too much and looked out the window. You focused on your reflection and felt tears prick at your eyes. “I’m actually here with my family.”

“Like a vacation?” He questioned.

“Not exactly,” Your throat choked up. Your gaze was still focused out the window. You didn’t dare make eye contact with him, that is a for sure way to make you cry.

You still struggled to talk about your dad illness with people. They just didn’t understand. People always try to make you feel better with the casual “praying for you” and “I’m here for you” responses. None of it mattered. None of it helped. It wasn’t a magical cure for his sickness. He was still ill. And you were still hurt. The thought of your father dying, leaving you alone with your mother was haunting to dwell on too much.

“Hey, it's alright I don’t need to know.” Shawn softly uttered. He reached across the table and grabbed your hands that were resting next to the coffee cup. He didn’t follow up with any more questions, and just silently went on with his coffee. “Besides, I work most days so you’ll probably never see me again.” He pulled his hand back to his side, and you immediately missed his touch. You made eye contact again and for the first time in a long time, you felt heard and accepted. He as a stranger, you met not even two hours ago and yet you ached for him to stay with you forever.

“How come you work so much?” You wanted to know more but didn’t want to pry.

“Short answer, I need the money for bills.” He was quick with his answer.

“Long answer?”

“Well, that sounds like a second date topic.” His cheeks flushed with bright pink. His soft voice was sensual, although you didn’t get the feeling he meant it.

You smiled and pushed your hair behind your ear. “Well, if you work so much how is a second date going to happen?”

“Guess that’s up to fate to decide.” He smirked.

The tension was intense, and you hated that. You could easily come back with a snarky comment to turn him off quickly, but instead, you said nothing. For once you didn’t want to know what the future held. You were perfectly comfortable leaving it up to fate. There was something immensely romantic about a mysterious love in a foreign city. If there was any right way to be spontaneous, this was it. This was right.

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taexual · 6 years

Text

Counterfeit Feelings / Jin x Reader

Their happy ever after was just starting. And then he went and ripped her heart out without realizing the damage and leaving her in doubt. Was anything she experienced with him real?

Pairing: Jin x Reader

Warnings: strong language, cheating, A LOT of angst

Words: 4k

Request: Heyy Could you do a scenario about Jin ? Where the reader find her fiancé (Jin) cheating on her and he saw that he's been caught. He wants to still be with her.

Thank you @like-duh-hello for this request! Hope you enjoy! 💕

Y/f/n – your friend’s name;

You woke up feeling anxious for some reason. You knew you were going to have three back-to-back meetings at work and just the thought of this exhausted you, but this was nothing new. You weren’t anxious about that. It was something else, but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

You got out of bed quietly, trying not to wake your fiancé up. You resisted the urge to kiss his cheek before you left because you knew it’d wake him up, and he only got home about five hours ago.

You took a shower, dried your hair, dressed up, and headed to the kitchen to pour yourself some coffee into your metal to-go cup. Just after you had lifted the coffee pot, however, you heard the sound of someone typing something on their phone.

You thought you were imagining things because the only other living person in this house was still sleeping when you checked just a few minutes ago. You still tip-toed to your bedroom to peer inside, though. Sure enough, Jin was lying in bed, typing something on his phone.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you said, startling him so much that he jumped up, locked his phone and threw it back onto the nightstand next to the bed. “Why are you awake so early?”

“Yeah, no, I just heard my phone vibrate and woke up,” Jin said, yawning dramatically. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah,” you answered. “I should be back home at about eight.”

“Eight?” Jin repeated, suddenly looking elsewhere, seemingly in thought. “I’ll be in the studio when you get home, then.”

You hesitated before replying because you could swear he had told you he’d have a free day today. Thinking that maybe he just wanted to work on something, you let it go.

“When do you think you’ll be home?” you asked him.

“Late, probably,” he answered. “Don’t wait up, I know you’ll be tired when you get home.”

You only nodded, feeling another wave of anxiety wash over you, when you left the bedroom and headed back to the kitchen, and Jin – who was always very clingy, especially in the mornings – didn’t bother to ask you for a goodbye kiss.

Trying to convince yourself that this was just because he was tired and he probably drifted back to sleep as soon as you left, you grabbed your handbag and the coffee, and left the house.

Work was everything that you expected and more. And then, after your second meeting, when you felt like ripping your hair out from stress, your assistant told you that the third meeting was canceled because the representative of the other company had gotten sick and couldn’t come. Not wanting to seem rude about celebrating someone’s illness, you nodded politely and walked to your office to gather your things.

It was only six o’clock when you walked out of your building, looking for an empty cab. You couldn’t wait to get home, thinking that maybe Jin still hadn’t left to the studio and you’d have time to spend with your fiancé before he had to go to work again.

However, when you unlocked the front door of the house and were greeted by dead silence, you knew he had already left.

“Jin?” you called out loudly, just in case, but your voice echoed around the empty walls.

Sighing, you placed your stuff on the couch in the living room and headed to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water. Just then your phone vibrated. It was a text from your best friend.

“Is there any chance that you’re free to go to the club with me? PLEASE?”

You glanced at the clock again. It was almost seven. You were home alone, not really sure when Jin was going to return, so you shrugged your shoulders and quickly typed the answer.

“Surprisingly, yes. I don’t have anything better to do anyway.”

You were on your way to the bedroom, when your phone buzzed again, indicating that she had replied.

“I’ll ignore the fact that you made me sound like I’m some charity case you don’t want to take and say FUCK YES! I’ll pick you up in two hours! LOOK STUNNING (but then you always do, #girlpower)”

You laughed after reading it.

“Did you just use a hashtag in a text message?”

“Maybe. BRB, gotta find the most uncomfortable heels ever!”

You smiled again and threw your phone on the bed, ready to take a shower to wash the stress of work away, and to prepare for a night out.

Two hours later, you were already prepared to head to the club. Just as you were putting perfume on, you heard a car signal outside. Knowing very well that it was Y/f/n who’s too lazy to get out of the car and knock on your door, you quickly grabbed your purse and a jacket, and were about to leave the house, when you realized that you needed to let Jin know where you were, in case he got home before you did. You always did that because you didn’t want him to worry when he didn’t find you home.

Quickly, you grabbed a piece of paper from a notebook in the hallway and wrote him a note.

“If you get home before me – I’m at the club with Y/f/n. Hope you had a great day. Love you so much! Always yours, Y/n”

You hung it on the fridge – not doubting that he’ll be snacking on something when he returns home – and then finally headed outside of your house and into Y/f/n’s car.

“Took you long enough,” Y/f/n said as you closed the passenger side door. “The fiancé didn’t want you to leave?”

“No, actually, Jin’s working,” you said, buckling your seatbelt while she drove out of your driveway.

“Still?” Y/f/n asked, checking the time in the car. “It’s nine o’clock. On a Friday night.”

You hadn’t even realized it was Friday today. This week was really difficult and the days seemed to blend together.

“Huh,” you said. “You know what the weird thing is, though? I remember him being really excited on Monday because he found out he’d have a free Friday, so he’d have three whole days to rest before he had to start rehearsing again.”

Y/f/n could sense the worry in your voice. “I’m sure something came up and he found out he had to work today after all.”

“Yeah, maybe,” you said, biting your lip and slowly starting to overthink everything. “But he was really weird today in general. Like, this will sound sappy and I’m sure you’ll mock me, but he didn’t kiss me goodbye today. For the first time since we moved in together.”

Surprisingly, Y/f/n didn’t start to make fun of you. She just gave you a look that showed you she was concerned but tried to cover it up for your sake. She probably didn’t even realize she looked like that, but that caused you even more panic.

“Maybe he was tired,” Y/f/n tried to suggest helpfully, but you could tell she didn’t actually think that.

Feeling your hands start to shake and the anxiety from this morning return, you just nodded. “Yeah, maybe.”

You reached the club a few minutes later, and once both of you stepped out of the car, Y/f/n took your hand and squeezed it, a comforting smile on her face.

“Let’s have fun tonight,” she told you. “You can think about Jin’s weird behavior later. It’s not about him tonight.”

“What is tonight about, then?” you asked, groaning playfully. “Actually, wait, why does tonight have to be about anything? Can we just… get drunk?”

“We can,” Y/f/n nodded. “But also, we’re going to build your self-esteem back up by counting the amount of guys who ogle you with their eyes.

“I’m engaged,” you reminded her.

“Jesus, Y/n, I’m not saying you’ll be sleeping with all of those guys,” she said. “Just let them buy you drinks and flirt with you without you flirting back.”

You bit your lip, not having enough time to reply to her because you entered the club and the loud music made you both deaf for a few seconds.

“I’m loving this already!” Y/f/n screamed as she dragged you towards the bar.

“There’s a lot of people here tonight,” you said but she didn’t hear you so you had to repeat it louder.

“Of course, there is!” she yelled. “It’s Friday night and this is one of the best hotspots in the city!”

“How come we didn’t pay anything for the entrance, then?” you asked.

“Because I know the bouncer,” Y/f/n replied, stopping in front of the bar. “Now come on. Less talking, more drinking.”

You complied and followed her advice to get guys to buy you drinks. It wasn’t like you were incapable of buying them yourself – which, actually, would have been difficult, considering the amount of guys surrounding the two of you – but it was Y/f/n’s strict orders that you had to follow. Not daring to cross her, you finished your second cocktail, not forgetting to thank the guy who bought it for you. He took your thanks as something else, though, and felt the need to place his hand on your thigh, smiling flirtatiously.

“I’m sorry,” you said, preparing the line you always used to get rid of unwanted attention. “I feel like I’m going to throw up. Would you mind moving before I—”

You dry-heaved for more effect and the guy was gone within seconds. Smiling triumphantly you turned to Y/f/n, who was always impressed by how fast this tactic of yours worked.

However, just as you were opening your mouth to say something, something else caught your eye. Your gaze drifted past Y/f/n and landed on a tall boy with jet-black hair and shoulders as wide as the entire continent of Europe. You saw him dance with a brunette girl, and although you couldn’t see his face, you felt anxious again.

“What is it?” Y/f/n asked, following your gaze to the guy.

“It’s probably nothing,” you answered. “But that guy right there looks just like Jin.”

Y/f/n turned back to look at you with raised eyebrows. “Please don’t tell me you’re out here drinking and you’re still thinking about your fiancé so much that you see him everywhere.”

“No, it’s just that…” you returned your eyes to Y/f/n’s face for just a moment, but when you looked back at the dancefloor, the black-haired boy wasn’t there anymore. “Okay, nevermind. Maybe I really am paranoid.”

“I’m glad you admit it,” she said. “Now come on. There’s a queue of guys, waiting to buy you drinks.”

“A que—” you started skeptically, but then you turned around and were met with three seductive smirks on three different guys. Flattered by this attention, you turned back to Y/f/n. “Remind me again why we don’t go out to drink more often?”

Y/f/n laughed loudly. “That’s my girl! Now, come on, drink up! I have a feeling the next song is going to be good and I need to be drunk before I can dance in public.”

Two more drinks later, both of you were already on the dancefloor, hands in the air. You could barely hear the song that was playing because of the crowd of people you were in, but you were still having fun. Alcohol and Y/f/n’s company always managed to relax you so much that you forgot about all the worries in the world.

However, one worry could not be avoided, especially not after having drunk at least four cocktails.

“Where’s the bathroom?” you asked Y/f/n, trying to get her to stop jumping around so she’d focus on you.

“What cat room?!” she asked, still moving around too much to hear what you were saying.

“Bathroom!” you repeated a little louder.

“Oh! Back of the club,” she pointed in three different directions at the same time and then laughed. “Okay, this club is spinning. Am I drunk yet? I didn’t think I was so lightweight.”

“Will you be okay here alone?” you asked, knowing that you’ll have to find the bathroom on your own.

“What do you mean alone?” Y/f/n replied, extending her hands to point at the crowd of people all around her. “I’m with my friends!”

People standing the closest to her screamed in approval and raised their drinks. Y/f/n started to laugh at this, and you nodded, knowing she was in good – although drunk – hands.

Trying to get through thick crowds of people was difficult when you were sober. It was ten times worse when your legs wobbled with every move and your head was dizzy.

Finally, you managed to reach the back of the club and came face-to-face with a couple of leather settees that were all occupied by couples who were basically having sex.

As you walked past them, still trying to find the bathroom, you were pretty sure you saw several girls who were already shirtless and it didn’t look like they were stopping there.

You tried to ignore the horny couples and instead look for doors that would lead you to the closest bathroom. On top of that, you had to try to avoid drunk people who seemed to be purposefully walking right into you. Sure, you were drunk as well, but you still weren’t drunk enough to lose your balance or sense of direction.

You were about to steer left to avoid another drunk person, but then you stopped. Something in your peripheral vision caught your eye.

A shirt. More specifically, a white shirt. A shirt that you’ve already seen tonight. Actually, a shirt that you’ve seen a ton of times before. Matter of fact, you were the one who bought the shirt.

Slowly turning your head, your eyes met the black-haired boy from before. He was lying on the settee with his back to you, kissing the same girl he was dancing with before. And he was the owner of the shirt. But the shirt was barely on him anymore. The girl underneath him was ripping it off of him, while his lips moved down her neck.

Your heart must have realized what you were looking at before your brain did because you felt it start to beat faster, while you still stared.

The brunette girl saw you first. Her eyes widened in shock at the sight of you but you weren’t sure if she recognized you or if she was freaked out because you were just standing there.

The black-haired boy felt the girl stiffen up, so he opened his eyes and unattached himself from her neck. He followed her gaze and in a matter of a few seconds, the same chocolate eyes that had once offered to give you the whole world, broke your heart into a million pieces.

Jin.

The black-haired boy was Jin.

Both of you weren’t able to talk for a few moments. Then you saw him start to open his mouth.

That was your cue to leave.

Speeding through the crowd away from the cause of your heartbreak, you could still hear him call your name and you died a little more inside.

By a lucky miracle, you managed to run into Y/f/n in the crowd of people. She was still dancing joyfully and for a moment, you regretted your decision to warn her before you left. But then again, you couldn’t just leave her alone.

“Y/f/n,” you called, fearing that Jin will catch up to you before you could leave the club.

Y/f/n turned to look at you, the alcohol clouding her ability to read through your emotions.

“Hey! Did you found the bathroom?” she asked you with a big smile.

“It was Jin,” you said, the words leaving scars on your throat and in your heart. “I just saw him with a girl. They were seconds from having sex right here in the club but they saw me.”

Y/f/n stopped jumping and her face fell. “Y/n, I—”

“I’m sorry but I’m leaving,” you said, hearing your name being called out somewhere in the club. “Will you be okay here alone?”

“I’m coming with you,” she said, fear in her eyes. This news has clearly sobered her up.

“No,” you told her. “I want to be alone right now. I’ll catch a cab. You stay here, okay? Try to have fun.”

“I can’t just let you leave, Y/n!” she protested, grabbing your hand and forcing you to stop walking.

You heard Jin’s voice closer and your heart clenched, forcing tears to start pooling in your eyes.

“Please, Y/f/n,” you said, your voice cracking. “I’ll text you when I get home. Just let me go.”

Heartbreak was clear on your face and Y/f/n, with a hurting heart, let go of your hand, letting you walk out of the club as fast as you could, while tears poured out of your eyes, clouding your vision.

Although it was Friday night, the lack of taxis was stronger than ever. You asked the bouncer of the club to call you an uber because your phone had died but the bouncer was Y/f/n’s friend, not yours, therefore he didn’t care that your heart was broken. He didn’t care that you were going to see your cheating fiancé face-to-face if you didn’t get out of here right now.

“Y/n!” you heard and realized it was too late.

Panic rose in your throat and you almost choked on your tears. You heard someone run out of the club and turned your back, praying that a taxi would just appear in front of you out of nowhere.

“Y/n, please wait!” Jin’s familiar voice called.

The same voice that told you he loved you so many times. The same voice that promised to love you forever.

“L-leave,” you managed to say through soft sobs.

“Let me explain, Y/n, baby, look at—”

“Don’t call me that,” you told him, sounding angrier than you expected.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. This doesn’t mean anything. Please talk to me,” Jin continued as he extended his hand to touch your shoulder and get you to turn around to look at him.

You flinched away from his touch. “Don’t fucking touch me! I told you to leave!”

This attracted the bouncer’s attention. You could see him glare at the scene you two were causing but he still didn’t move.

“Y/n, please,” Jin’s voice was laced with pain but you couldn’t understand why.

He was the one who cheated. He was the one who ruined it. He was the one who ruined you.

Finally, your prayers have been answered, and you saw a taxi pull up from around the corner. You raised your hand immediately and saw the taxi driver nod as he started to drive towards you.

“Y/n, don’t leave. Talk to me,” Jin tried again, this time more desperately.

“I don’t have what to say to you,” you said, wiping the tears away from your face with the back of your hand.

“It kills me to see you like this, please—”

“Stop fucking lying to me!” you snapped and finally looked him in the eyes. “You can’t expect me to listen to what you have to say after you just threw away the last three years of our lives like it meant nothing to you. Fuck you, Jin!”

“It meant everything to me!” Jin countered, watching the driver of the taxi stop next to the sidewalk. “Our relationship is the best thing that ever happened to me. Please, believe me!”

“I don’t believe a single thing that comes out of your mouth,” you said, opening the back door of the taxi, not being able to wait until you were finally left alone with your thoughts.

Jin grabbed your arm, stopping you from getting into the taxi. “Y/n, don’t do this, please.”

“Don’t do this?!” you yelled, watching him flinch and release his grip on you. “Don’t do what exactly? Leave, after you humiliated me? After you fucking destroyed me? Yeah, no, I’ll pass on the offer to stay.”

“Y/n…”

“Fuck you,” you said.

He was getting ready to say something else but then his eyes saw the movement of your hands and he realized you were taking off your engagement ring. The ring that he had given you barely three months ago. The ring that promised you a future.

“And fuck this,” you added, throwing the ring at Jin and forcing it to bounce off his chest and land on the pavement between you two. “Maybe you can give it to someone you actually love.”

You got into the taxi and left while he stood speechless.

Jin watched the taxi fade away into the distance while its lights were reflected on the diamond ring that you had left lying on the pavement, right next to Jin’s trampled heart and the painful realization that he lost you.

It took him thirty minutes to catch another taxi, so he could get home and beg you to stay with him. Beg you for forgiveness even though what he did was unforgivable.

Jin loved you more than life itself. He thought about reasons why he felt the need to betray you like that, but he couldn’t come up with any. He must have gone out of his mind to even look at a different girl. To take you for granted. To cheat on you.

He hated himself so much, he had to bite his lip, so he wouldn’t punch the windows of the taxi out.

When he finally got home and called for you, he realized it was too late.

You weren’t here anymore.

He ran to the kitchen, knowing that you always left him notes when you went out, so he wouldn’t worry. Desperately, he had hoped that you wrote him a note and told him that you needed time to think about this.

He would have given you as much time as you needed. He would have given you all of the time in the world if only you managed to find it in your heart to forgive him.

But he didn’t find anything. There was no note on the fridge.

Still not believing it, he frantically looked around the kitchen, hoping you placed the note somewhere else. After having not found it anywhere, his eyes noticed the seemingly empty trash-can next to the fridge.

Once he glanced inside of it, he saw a crumpled up piece of paper. His heart beating fast at the realization that this must have been the note, he reached into it and got it out. He straightened it out, only to realize that you had ripped it into pieces before you threw it out.

One piece – the only piece that had readable words on it – fell out of the handful of small paper chunks.

Jin grabbed it, his eyes quickly scanning the words.

“I love you so much! Always yours, Y/n.”

The piece of paper fell out of his hands when he lost control of his body and fell to his knees, his heart crumbling in his chest at the horrible realization that he ruined the only good thing in his life. The only thing that made him happy. The only thing that was meant to last forever and more.

He felt a sob escape his chest as he refused to accept the only possible outcome of his actions.

He was never going to get you back.

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luci-in-trenchcoats-fluff · 6 years

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Honeymoon

A/N: Originally posted on @luci-in-trenchcoats

Summary: The reader and Jensen are on their honeymoon except somebody refuses to admit they have a cold…

Pairing: Teacher!Jensen x actress!reader

Word Count: 1,800ish

Warnings: implied future smutty times, language

A/N: Written for Angelina’s Roll The Dice challenge where my fic had to involve a castle, have one main character be a teacher and one character have an injury or illness…

“Honey,” you said, fishing through your purse, shoving a tissue at him. “You’re-“

“Don’t say it,” said Jensen, letting out a big sneeze in the hotel lobby. “I’m not sick.”

“You’ve been sneezing since we took off in Georgia,” you said, Jensen blowing his nose. “That was a continent ago.”

“I am fine,” he said, putting his hands on his hips. “See?”

His eyes were red and puffy. He looked about fifty shades too pale and his nose was running.

He looked more like one of his students with a cold than a guy about to have the time of his life.

“We’re here, in Europe, on our honeymoon and we’re doing this,” he said, grabbing his bags, nodding to the front desk. “Let’s go, sourpuss.”

“Jensen, if you don’t feel good-“

“It is a cold. I will survive,” he said. “Come on. It’s not like we can turn the car around and go home now anyways.”

“Considering we flew, I’d say not,” you said, picking up your bags.

“Now you’re getting with the program,” he said with a smile.

“Do not use your teacher voice with me,” you said Jensen smirking.

“Sometimes I’m allowed,” he teased, holding out his hand.

“In your dreams,” you said, looping your arm around his instead, Jensen chuckling as he pulled you to the desk.

“Definitely in those,” he said, bumping his hip into yours, calming down before he pulled out his wallet. “Hi. We have a reservation for-“

“Ackles?” said the receptionist, Jensen nodding. “I couldn’t help but notice your wife when you came in. She’s even more beautiful in person.”

“That she is,” he said, watching as you took a step back.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” said the receptionist, backtracking as fast as possible. You understood it back home in the states and even then you could get by most days without much notice. Finding someone that recognized you in a secluded getaway in a tiny corner of Europe was more jarring than anything else.

“She’s just shy,” said Jensen. “Long flight over here so we’re a bit tired.”

Jensen made idle chit chat as you checked in, the receptionist only smiling when you reassured him you were good.

“Here’s your map,” he said, handing over a leaflet. “Baggage can show you to your room.”

“Why do we get a map?” asked Jensen with a curious smile.

“The castle is quite large and guests often like to explore the grounds once they settle in,” he said.

“We’ll be sure to check it out then.”

“Wow, this place is nice,” said Jensen, dropping his bags on the floor, sniffling some but his excitement getting the better of him. “We’re in a freaking castle. How awesome is that?”

“Still a little boy at heart,” you said, laying down on the huge and comfy looking bed. “Don’t lay down.”

“Why?” he asked, groaning when he lay on the other side. “I’m never getting up again.”

“Exactly,” you said, Jensen letting out a real groan when his phone rang. “Please tell me you remembered to get on an international plan for the trip.”

“Yes,” he said, pouting at his phone. “It’s school.”

“You did tell them you needed a sub this week, right?” you teased, Jensen smacking your arm lightly.

“Of course…I think,” he said with a laugh, answering his phone. “Mr. Ackles speaking…” Jensen said, pulling the phone away. “I was told to put it on speakerphone so you could hear.”

“Hear what?” you asked, Jensen shrugging before you were hit with a round of congratulations from his class.

“Aw, thanks guys. Mrs. Ackles is the lucky one,” said Jensen with a smirk.

“I thought it was Miss,” said a little girl, Jensen cocking his head into teacher mode.

“A Miss is used for an unmarried young woman normally, Stacy. Mrs. is used when a woman is married,” said Jensen, throwing an arm over your waist.

“Are you gonna have a baby now, Mr. Ackles?” asked a boy, your eyes rolling.

“Someday,” Jensen said with a laugh. “It’s almost time for recess over there so I’m going to go but I’ll see you guys next week, alright? I want you on your best behavior for Ms. Yax.”

“What’s a Ms?” someone asked.

“Ms. Yax can answer that,” said Jensen, hearing the class say bye before the other end got quiet. “How they doing Lauren? Terrorizing you yet?”

“If only they knew how awful you are,” she shot back. “Y/N can testify.”

“Horror stories. So many horror stories,” you teased.

“Enjoy yourselves and bring me back something. Oh and get working on that baby you two,” she said before hanging up.

“That was sweet,” you said, Jensen humming. “Your little guys miss you.”

“Yeah. Wait until they have Lauren and playtime for a week and then I make them do real work,” he said.

“You teach kindergarten, not college algebra,” you said.

“I teach life skills,” he said. “And basic math.”

“I fear for future generations of Austin children,” you said, Jensen biting his bottom lip as he tickled you. “Okay sick boy. You get better and then we can have all the tickle fights you want.”

“It’s our honeymoon and you want me to keep my hands off of you?” he asked, holding a hand to his chest.

“You’re a shitty actor,” you said.

“Am not,” he teased, standing up. “I was an actor, little missy.”

“I thought it was Mrs. Ackles,” you said, flashing a wink. “You were an actor for like two seconds.”

“Well I figured I’d be the smart one that went to school to support us when we both crashed and burned. I didn’t realize I’d marry the star of the longest running sci fi show ever,” he said.

“Most episodes ever,” you said. “Gah, I was barely 18 when the show started. I’m so old now.”

“How do you think I feel,” he said. “Still waiting for that guest star spot as some hideous monster for you to gank.”

“So you’ll be going as yourself?” you said, barely dodging a pillow being thrown in your direction.

“Keep it up, Ackles. You’re done for once I beat this cold,” he said, walking to the door.

“Where are you going?” you asked.

“To figure out if this castle sells orange juice in the shop downstairs,” he said, pausing as he opened it. “Add that to the list of things I never thought I’d say in my life.”

“You stay in bed and I’ll go find something for you,” you said rolling off the soft mattress and guiding him back over.

“I’m fine,” he said as you sat him down and peeled off his boots.

“You remember that in sickness and in health part of the wedding?” you said.

“I will give you a day and a half to get me better but after that, we’re having fun.”

Two Days Later

“Good evening. You appear to be feeling better, Mr. Ackles,” said the waiter at the restaurant.

“I have a very good nurse,” said Jensen. “I am definitely getting that steak again. I think it’s got some magic healing thing going on.”

“You can’t have steak three days in a row,” you said. “This is a renowned restaurant. Try something else.”

“Well what are you getting?” he asked.

“Steak. Medium please,” you said, Jensen raising an eyebrow. “You know I don’t listen to my own advice.”

“I can’t believe I married you,” he groaned with a smile. “Make that two steaks and a bottle of red please. Whatever you think would go best.”

“And a pair of whiskey neats for the Ackles…that’ll be right out,” he said as he headed back towards the kitchen.

“He so gets us,” you said, Jensen smiling like he was going to make a joke but simply letting a small flush fall over his face. “Honey?”

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, more to himself than to you, lost in his own little world for a moment. You saw him notice your stare, ducking his eyes down for a second, lifting them back up like he did on your first date.

“Four years together and you still get nervous,” you said.

“You don’t?” he asked.

“I didn’t say that,” you said.

“Still got the hots for me?” he asked, giving you a devilish smile.

“I married a dork,” you said.

“Yes you did. Too late to change that now,” he said.

“At least you’re a cute dork,” you said, grabbing his hand across the table.

“Adorable dork,” he said before taking a deep breath. “I should have married you years ago.”

“I’m sort of glad you didn’t,” you said. “You were my best friend years before my boyfriend, fiance, husband…we didn’t have to rush.”

“We could go make a pillow fort in our room if you want,” he said. “Before we work on that baby making.”

“Pillow fort yes, baby making…” you said, tilting your hand back and forth.

“Practice?” he said, nodding when you did. “Yeah, we should definitely get in as much practice as we can just to be safe.”

“You can never have too much practice,” you said.

“I say we have a great dinner, go hop in that fancy shower, get in some practice, room service some dessert, more practice and then sleep in that wonderful bed until we take our handy dandy map and explore the castle tomorrow,” he said.

“Sounds great,” you said.

“Good cause supposedly…part of the castle is haunted and I figured we should totally check that out tomorrow night,” he said. “I got my very own hunter to take care of ‘em for me.”

“We are not going ghost hunting,” you deadpanned.

“I’ll only scare you like twice. Max,” he said.

“I’m going to regret this,” you said, nodding your head anyways. “Fine but don’t scare me too much.”

“You’re going to try to scare me now, aren’t you,” he said, watching your smile grow dark.

“Never,” you said.

“Uh huh,” he said. “Want to dance while we wait for our food, Mrs. Ackles?”

“Of course, Mr. Ackles.”

#spn #supernatural #jensen x reader #luci-in-trenchcoats

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rememberthattime · 4 years

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Chapter 55. Third Anniversary

Three years! I really can’t believe it. I remember every moment of our wedding day, and the emotions are still so vivid that it feels like it could’ve been three weeks ago.

After Noosa and New Zealand for our first two anniversaries, how could Chelsay and I possibly celebrate this year?

Ah, Paris. A return to where it all began.

This trip was especially hard to come by. After the Scotland escape, I had zero doubts about Paris in late August. People were traveling, Coronavirus was under control in Europe, borders were open, and we’d found friends to watch Indy.

Then, chaos struck. I remember where I was: drinking my morning coffee and reading Twitter news. August 14. Due to a spike in French Coronavirus cases, the UK government announced that any travelers arriving from France were subject to a two week quarantine. Sure, this would impact Chelsay and I returning from Paris, but wasn’t a deal breaker - We can just work from home after our trip.

But I nearly spit out my coffee when I read France’s response. In an entirely petty political move, France announced they’d institute a reciprocal quarantine for travelers from the UK. THIS would be a problem. Chelsay and I were only going for three days, so we’d be stuck in the hotel the whole trip. Adding to the pressure, this weekend’s anniversary wasn’t the only one at risk... We had an upcoming French road trip that was now also on the chopping block.

Adding further chaos, that very same day, Indy’s stomach bug returned. Our friends that planned to watch him have their own puppy, and because the bug is so contagious, we’d now need to find a new sitter. Complete chaos.

This was probably a sign. We should just delay the trip. But I NEEDED this trip! I’ve genuinely never been so busy at work. I was deploying a product and creating an entirely new program at the same time. I had to escape.

Chelsay & I were rattled, but determined to get away, we planned two alternate trips for this anniversary weekend, Rome or Lake Como. I incessantly refreshed Twitter waiting for news from France and, although the name of this post foreshadows a miracle, at the time, our Paris trip was doomed. There were a few weekend walks where Chelsay and I agreed we’d book Italy when we got home, but something always held us back. We wanted to go to Paris, and wouldn’t give up until we absolutely had to.

Somehow, the reciprocal announcement never came. France cooled, and perhaps due to my emails to every diplomatic department, realized there were still UK tourists willing to visit (and spend).

Chelsay and I eventually found a sitter for Indy, and our dream anniversary trip was back on! ...with renewed appreciation for how lucky we were to return to Paris.

We’d be taking the train for our first international trip in six months, and in a fitting send-off, Chelsay and I departed from St. Pancras Station on August 29. Exactly three years to the day that we were legally wed in the adjacent Camden Council Building.

We both exhaled as the train began along the tracks. After the past week’s twists & turns, Chelsay withheld any excitement until we were literally en route.

After arriving at Gare du Nord, our taxi to the ritzy Westin Vendome was an immediate flood of emotion. It was reminder of why we love Paris, the prettiest city in the world: with its cream hue, decadent ornaments, steep grey rooftops, and hidden attic skylights. It was a reminder of why we love traveling, and why we returned to the UK: we can be transported to a new planet within a two hour flight or train ride. Finally, it was a reminder of the events and feelings of our wedding weekend three years ago.

I’ve always been keenly and precisely aware of setting, and internalize ‘place’ with every memory. Chelsay always jokes about her first time in Southlake: “...and this was our grocery store, and this was my dentist, and this was 7-11 where we got slurpees one time...”. If I can get that excited about returning to the CiCi’s Pizza from my youth, imagine arriving in the city that played host to my fondest memories.

After dropping off our bags, Chelsay and I stopped for lunch at a brasserie in Montmartre, and reminisced about every detail from our wedding weekend. About the surreal scene seeing our American friends and family outside Le Bon Georges, about Chelsay’s reveal and her timeless bridal elegance, about the ceremony in Chapelle Expiatoire, the reception in jaw-dropping Le Meurice, our first dance under the Eiffel Tower, or PIANO MAN concluding the sweat-fest on the Seine. The feelings from that weekend came right back: the planning pressure beforehand, the joy of the day, and the relaxation as we left for the Maldives. The emotions were still so vivid - it three years later, but felt like the day after... waking up with J-Lo stuck in my head.

The next few days were a trip down memory lane. Mike & Chelsay’s Parisian Greatest Hits. Track #1: the quiet backstreets of Montmartre.

This neighborhood has quickly become Chelsay’s favorite. There are a few touristy spots, but as you descend the steps behind Sacre Couer, you escape into the life of a local. Charming brasseries, colorful fruit stands, quiet green spaces, and small boulangeries up-and-down Montmartre’s leafy boulevards. Before our trip, Chelsay asked me the specific scene I was hoping for from this trip. I told her I’d imagined walking down tree-lined Rue Caulaincourt, cuddling together under an umbrella as it rained, then darting into Boris Lume, a patisserie we’d visited on our 2017 birthday trip.

There were blue skies as we passed Sacre Couer, with gorgeous fall colors providing a photogenic setting. My umbrella-cuddling dreams weren’t to be.

Except at that moment, heavy grey clouds rolled in and droplets began to sprinkle down.

WHAT?! This was EXACTLY what I’d described. HOW?? It was so sunny just 10 minutes earlier.

As we cuddled under the umbrella on leafy Rue Caulaincourt, we definitely acknowledged that this was my dream. We were both giddy.

But given the circumstances, I don’t know how we didn’t freak out more. This was EXACTLY what I’d wished for.

As the rain became harder, we escaped into Boris Lume for a sweet reprieve. Chelsay describes her lemon & basil tart as the favorite dish she ate all weekend. More broadly, this was the ideal scene I’d envisioned before our trip... and somehow it came together within an hour of arriving!

So, how do you follow such an incredible start to our anniversary trip? How about returning the exact spot where Chelsay & I said “I do” three years earlier: Chapelle Expiatoire.

The setting was as pretty as I remembered – we were both impressed with our 28 year old selves. How did we book a place like this?

After taking in the setting for several moments, we recreated the day: Chelsay walked down the aisle. I watched as she ascended the steps into the Chappelle. We kissed at the altar, and left our ‘ceremony’ holding hands.

After the Chapelle, Chelsay & I had another wedding reunion planned: Le Bon Georges. This little bistro and its owner, Benoit, played host to Chelsay & I’s Welcome Dinner. It was the most surreal moment of the entire wedding weekend: walking through winding Parisian streets to find our closest friends and family awaiting us. We hadn’t seen many of them in two years, yet there they were – surrounded by the cream colored buildings and classically grey rooftops of Montmartre.

The welcome dinner itself was just as special as the setting, and based on this trip’s meal, Benoit’s standards haven’t slipped over the years. Chelsay and I enjoyed an absurd amount of steak (had to be 20+ oz) and a rare full bottle of wine while catching up with Benoit.

We returned to our hotel later that evening and enjoyed the romantic view, closing one of the best travel days we’ve ever had.

Then I woke up at 5 AM… It could’ve been the wine, or more likely the 20 oz rare steak, but I felt dreadful. My stomach hurt, my head hurt. I’m not kidding when I say that had the Lil Wayne song ‘I Feel Like Dying’ stuck in my head.

I managed to fall back asleep until 7, but the pain didn’t subside. Chelsay wouldn’t wake up for a few hours, so I was on my own in this foreign land.

I knew I had to do something or I’d risk losing the whole day. Keep in mind, this is not America: there aren’t 24 hour convenience stores where I could get a coconut water, or a McDonalds open at this time for a greasy pick-me-up. I frantically Googled: any cafes nearby? I need bread – is there a boulangerie open?

Alas, the French didn’t offer anything that fit my urgent need… but Uncle Sam did. God bless it: a Starbucks open at 7 AM, and just a 10 minute walk.

I threw on the same clothes from the night before – not even looking at a mirror – and stumbled out of the hotel and down the empty streets for my venti black coffee, a sugary smoothie, and anything with starch.

With remedies acquired, I stumbled back down the street towards the Tuileries, aiming to recluse myself in the quiet, healing gardens. Seven years ago, Chelsay was battling a similar ‘sudden’ illness – it was a simple French sandwich and the Luxembourg Gardens that revived her then. Could I replicate her improbable recovery today?

The scene had all of the makings for a miracle: Comically large coffee. An entire baguette. Quiet setting. Crisp air. Fall leaves (not required, but a nice touch). Most important of all, my favorite chairs in the world: the Parisian “lean-back” loungers.

As the sun rose, my spirits lifted. My headache and stomach ache subsided, and I was revived. Another miracle recovery, thanks to French gardens with an assist from Uncle Sam’s conveniently open roaster. I repeated this routine the next morning (minus the illness) – the below picture captures the peaceful setting, but let’s just say I wasn’t as put-together on the first morning.

Chelsay awoke around the time I was fully recovered. I kept trying to tell her about my morning trials, but it was impossible to convey. This is why I have the blog: so I can always remember these travel miracles.

I had a new appreciation for our saved day, and determined to take advantage, we set off for breakfast at nearby Angelina’s. Though normally too busy to find a table, Chelsay and I were easily seated and enjoyed a decadent but delicious eggs benedict. We needed a big breakfast given the day’s activities.

We set out for a long walk on our way to a neighborhood we’d never visited: Canal Saint-Martin.

The walk itself was the highlight of our day – Paris is unquestionably the prettiest city in the world, and our peaceful Sunday stroll had me considering whether we could live there. We stopped in the quiet Jardins du Palais Royal, browsed the tiny commercial alleys of Le Marais, and made stops at two of Chelsay & I’s wedding photography locations: the Louvre and nearby Pont des Arts. Based on these pictures, we were putting on our own photography clinic that day.

Arriving in Canal Saint-Martin, the setting was certainly a different side of Paris. Though attractive in its own way, it’s much younger, and less classically Parisian.

We weren’t in Amsterdam though, so we didn’t stay long. That said, we were there long enough to spot a dumpling house with a line around the block. Now, I know French cuisine is one of the finest in the world, and no one comes to Paris for dumplings… but this line caught our attention. We quickly Googled: ‘Gros Bao’, huh?

What we’d stumbled on was a mix between Din Tai Fung and Bone Daddies. Chelsay’s favorite savory dumplings, mixed with the unpretentious vibe of one of my favorite restaurants in London. It was a total surprise, but genuinely could have been the best meal of the trip… which says A LOT given we’d visited Le Bon Georges the night before.

We spent the rest of the afternoon lightly shopping and relaxing around the hotel, before heading out for our evening activity, a blend of previous Paris experiences. On every one of our Paris trips, Chelsay and I have spent at least one meal picnicking on the Eiffel Tower lawn. On most occasions, we’ll pick up a baguette, fromage, and some chacuterie from nearby Rue Cler.

On this night though, we decided on a tribute to the night after our wedding. Rewind to 2017: we’d spent months eating responsibly, so the day after our wedding, we were craving something carby, starchy, and heavy. We found a rotisserie chicken from a nearby market, with juices dripping onto a bed of potatoes. It can only be described as dirty, but after months of ‘shedding for the wedding’, it was perfect.

Now, back to present day. After a brief stop at our final wedding photo location, we picked up another dirty rotisserie chicken and potatoes, found a quiet spot under the Eiffel Tower, and feasted like medieval kings (meaning without utensils). There will be no pictures of the banquet.

Our last day was relatively short given our afternoon train back to London. That said, we were still able to enjoy a petit dejeuner, Chelsay got an exclusive tour of the original Goyard shop, we popped in to appreciate Monet’s Water Lillies, and returned to one of our favorite places in the world, the Luxembourg Gardens.

And that was our third anniversary trip.

It was a perfect analogy to our relationship.

Chelsay and I always talk about how ‘easy’ we have it, but when you think about it, we actually live a fairly demanding lifestyle. Three international moves in five years. 50+ trips. Challenging jobs. And of all the dogs we could chose, we landed on a border collie!

But our lifestyle together, and our ability to keep things light throughout, has prepared Chelsay and I for any small hurdles that come our way. Not even the French government quarantine threats could stop us.

Like our annual anniversary celebrations – from Noosa, to New Zealand, and now to Paris – our relationship continues to get better every year.

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dykephannie · 7 years

Text

REALITY OTP CH. 1

MASTER LIST. PLAYLIST. NEXT CHAPTER. PREVIOUS CHAPTER.

click here for my twitter to receive sneak peeks into next week’s chapter and special behind the scenes info!

summary: Avid fangirl Gracie Green expected that the most extraordinary thing to happen to her at Summer in the City was meeting her long time obsessions Dan Howell and Phil Lester. This proves to be untrue when a fatal virus sweeps through the convention, killing everyone except for Gracie and the very two people she was there for. The odd threesome must travel across Europe to escape an evil tyrant who has claimed the crown for herself, and face not only the dangers of this new, post-apocalyptic world, but the feelings and secrets uncovered by the life threatening journey.

Because after all, it’s the harshest conditions that reveal the deepest truths about us, truths we’re not even willing to admit to ourselves.

important note: This is a PHANfiction, as in a fanfic in which Dan and Phil will enter some sort of relationship other than friendship by the end of the story. Please do not be turned off by the presence of the original character, she is merely a platonic companion of Dan and Phil. Perspectives will switch between the three per chapter. Thank you, and enjoy.

chapter word count: 2.2k

tw: mention of fatal illness

GRACIE

The end of the world generally starts off normal for most people.

They get up, out of bed, get changed, brush their teeth. Go to school or work or get back into bed and they go about their business until the fireballs start raining and their school or their work or their house ends up a heap of ashes for some Katniss Everdeen type to stumble across twenty years after the End only to discover their rotting bones and the useless keepsakes that were the only part of them to survive.

That’s not how it went for me.

Today, August 11th, 2020, had been a day long awaited for almost a year, from the moment I sat at my computer screen after hours upon hours of waiting, eyes burning from the bright light in my dim room, finger hovering over the mouse, refreshing constantly, until the moment of satisfaction finally came. Two tickets to Summer in the City, confirmed for Gracelyn Green. Today, well, it was anything but normal.

I had called Eliza immediately, my squeals echoing around my small room, hers doing the same, if not a bit more subdued than mine. That night I started at my desk, pencil scratching against the paper, etching the outline of the familiar curls and cheekbones, suddenly inspired by the prospect of seeing that face, desperate to make a worthy gift. I remembered I had stopped at the eyes. It was the first time I had realized that those eyes didn’t quite look right. From then on in every drawing I did of him, I was never quite satisfied with the eyes.

That very same first drawing was hanging above my head, those eyes filled in with constellations. I had been staring at it all night, unable to sleep, a cocktail nerves and excitement brewing in my stomach. It was strange how one could plan a moment for six years yet still be caught so off guard when the moment drew near. I picked up my phone, just as the 5:59 shifted to 6:00. It was go time.

The blue morning light was streaming through the gaps in my blinds as I pushed aside my duvet and strode across the room to the outfit meticulously selected and draped across my couch days earlier. I called Eliza, sticking my phone under my cheek as I pulled up my ripped jeans.

“Hello?” my best friend grumbled, voice heavy with sleep.

“You're not awake yet?” I chirped, running a brush through my blonde waves.

“It’s six am, Gracie, no rational person is awake right now.”

“Come on bitch, since when are you rational?”

I heard Eliza sigh on the other end as I shifted my phone back into my hand and wandered down the hall and into the bathroom. My house was quiet save for the squeak of the floorboards under my toes and the click of the bathroom door closing. And the house stayed quiet as I spoke to Eliza behind the door, struggling to get my eyeliner just right and the morning tangles from my hair.

At around 10, Eliza pulled up in her Range Rover, honking loudly.

“Do you have your workout clothes?” my mom called as I pulled the door open extravagantly.

“Yes mom!”

“Because you have an hour of karate and then two of jiu-jitsu on the last day of your convention!”

“I know mom!”

“Have fun, be safe!”

“I will!” I shouted, closing the door behind me and shouldering my heavy backpack, full of two nights worth of clothes. Our parents had decided that 17 was mature enough to stay in a hotel alone, which meant we wouldn’t have to drive back and forth every day of the convention.

“You look cute,” Eliza said drily as I buckled in.

I glanced down at my blossom sweater. “You like it?”

“Definitely a statement.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” I leaned over and knocked the bill of her ProSyndicate snapback resting on top of her coily black hair. “You’re just as much of a total nerd as I am. More, in fact.”

“Yeah yeah, at least I don’t draw creepy fanart.”

“At least I don’t have a Call of Duty gaming channel.”

Eliza stuck her tongue out at me, dark eyes flashing in the sunlight. “How am I supposed to handle staying with you for three days straight?”

“We’ve been friends with me for eight years, I think you can manage.” I frowned. “Plus, my fanart isn’t creepy.”

Keeping an eye on the road, she reached over and pulled out the drawing of a couple lying together on a couch, long limbs intertwined, eyes closed, content and happy. “That’s creepy, Gracie.”

“It’s not,” I insisted. “It’s art.”

Eliza knew it was useless arguing with me. She leaned forward and connected her phone to Bluetooth, playing some old Lana Del Rey song.

“Is this necessary, Lize? Shouldn’t we be getting pumped up and excited, instead of listening to, like, the most depressing artist ever?”

“Well what do you want to play?”

I grinned manically, grabbing the aux cord before she could object and clicking on the playlist at the top of my Spotify.

“You’ve got to be joking,” she groaned.

“What? You like Muse!”

“Yeah, not in this context.”

It took us about an hour to drive to the ExCel Convention Center, and by the time we found parking, we had an two hours to get to the meet and greet line. The line ate up about an hour of that time, but after showing our tickets at the door and ceremoniously draping my lanyard around my neck, Eliza and I were in.

And holy shit was it glorious.

Crowds of people milled about the bottom floor. Some were dressed in dull colors despite the bright hues in their hair and the glittering piercings in their ears and noses. Others wore flowing, flowered dresses and high heeled tennis shoes, accompanied by ambitious cat eyes and smoky eye shadow. There were people in band shirts and onesies, flower crowns and combat boots. Within seconds I spotted a group of squealing kids a few years younger than me, dark black whiskers on their cheeks and familiar faces on their shirts. I was too excited to cringe, too electrified by the sea of people just like me.

And the convention center itself was magnificent. Balconies and floors stuffed with merch booths and advertisements for the newest YouTube Red shows, accosting us with either Jake or Logan Paul’s ads as soon as a corner was turned. I would’ve lived here if I could’ve, even if it meant sleeping uncomfortably close to one of the Pauls’ giant robot faces.

“Where do you want to start?” Eliza asked.

I laughed out loud. She already knew the answer. I made a beeline straight to the merch booth of my choice, bringing Eliza with me.

“Can’t we visit MatPat’s store first? They have a new Game Theorists shirt design and I want to support them but they’re limited edition…”

“Nope, not happening.” We were already in line, and a familiar face was already coming into view.

“You’re a bitch,” she grumbled, drumming her fingers against the table at the booth.

I shoved her shoulder. “Shut up, he’s coming!”

A tall man with light brown hair approached, smiling when he noticed my excited gaze. “Hey Martyn!” I told him. Practice for the real thing, practice for the real thing. “Could I get one of the new posters and a whisker hoodie in a small?”

“Sure thing.” He reached underneath the table, handing me the hoodie and the rolled up poster. I handed him my money.

“A selfie too?”

Martyn smiled and leaned across the counter, pressing my change into my hand as I snapped the photo, sending it immediately to my Snapchat story.

“Thanks dude!” I told him, collecting my merch and striding away from the merch booth, trying to mask the shaking in my hands.

“Did you just call Martyn Lester dude?” Eliza hissed as we walked away. “What are you, American?”

“Please stop reminding me of that, I’m like ten seconds away from dying of embarrassment.”

We browsed the gaming tent next, on Eliza’s not-so-polite request, only for me to watch her pick up everything within sight and promptly put it down after glancing at the price tag. I had a Princess Peach sweatshirt slung over my shoulder by the time she eventually settled on a DS pack with the new Animal Crossing.

“Mario? Really?”

“We’ve played together since the Wii game came out!” I said defensively. “It’s basically our childhood!”

“We never did beat that last world.”

“We should get on that.” I glanced at my phone. It was almost time. “C’mon Lize, we’ve got to get upstairs!” I told her, grabbing her by the wrist again and tugging her towards the nearest staircase before she could even put her change in her wallet.

We ran to the end of the end of the meet and greet line, almost colliding with a smaller girl with a flower crown clutching a colorful book in her hand nervously.

“So sorry,” I stuttered, putting my hand on her shoulder to steady myself.

“Oh wow!” she exclaimed. “You’re sunshineboyes!”

My face heated up. I had been spotted a couple times at VidCon last year, getting identified by the URL of my tumblr blog, which boasted nearly 30 thousand followers due to my fanart. Getting recognized always caught me off guard. I was just a girl that liked drawing YouTubers, not one of the YouTubers themselves.

“Oh, uh, hey there!” I said. Eliza raised her eyebrows, turning to her phone. “It's nice to meet you!”

“I love your art so much,” she gushed. “Is that some of it in there?”

She pointed at the folder in my hand, I opened it up, flipping to my favorite drawing. The lion filling up half the frame glared back at me, across from the large blue eye and pale face and dark hair on the other side. “Uh, yeah. These are the ones I’m giving to them.”

“Wow!” she squealed. “They're even more incredible in real life!”

“Thanks, you're sweet.” I figured that was closest to the ahhhhh ty! ilysm!! sentiment I could get to in real life.

“Can I get a selfie?” She already had her camera open.

I leaned my head against hers, smiling widely as she snapped the photo. She opened up tumblr as soon as she brought her phone down.

“Tag me in that, I’ll follow you!” I told her. Her face positively lit up.

“Oh wow, wait until I tell my group chat that Gracie’s following me!”

I blushed again, turning back to Eliza, who was still glancing down at her phone, amused.

“What?” I hissed.

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just funny, that’s all.”

We chatted amongst ourselves for another hour, waiting as the line slowly grew larger behind us, and my hopes slowly grew higher. My heart was nearly hammering in my chest, and I had to concentrate on taking deep breaths or risk hyperventilation. I couldn’t gauge how excited Eliza was in comparison to me. Eliza claimed to only causally enjoy the pair I positively obsessed over. But I didn’t think it mattered. Meeting someone famous on any level had to be exciting.

Even more exciting, I realized as the line started to move, if they had taken up nearly six years of your life.

After another couple hours I could see the corner of a plastic tarp littered with SitC and sponsor decals, two tall, unmistakable shadows cast over it. My heart was lodged in my throat, no matter how hard I tried to swallow it down, and the warm bursts of excitement throughout my chest had turned to cold fear pumping through my veins, a cold fear that no amount of positive meetup descriptions could ease. Because what if mine went wrong? What if I accidentally blurted something out that I definitely didn’t mean to blurt out? What if instead of my totally fine fanart, I packed that one NSFW thing I did and then almost immediately deleted in fear that my mom would do a random computer check? What if I hugged them wrong? Or tripped over one of them and broke my face? Or broke their faces?! I would never be forgiven. I would go down in history as the girl who gave NSFW art to and broke the money makers of --

“Gracie!”

I blinked out of my spiral of panic. Eliza had her hand on my shoulder. “We’re next.”

The girl in front of me had just disappeared behind the tarp, and my heart had just risen even further than I would’ve thought humanly possible. I was so close. Literally a couple minutes and ten steps away from a dream that had been six years in the making…

When a loud crackling noise sounded through the convention center from the speakers in the ceiling.

“Attention Summer in the City guests and staff. Please remain calm. We have just been notified of a fast traveling, fatal virus spreading through London. We are putting the ExCel Center under quarantine. Attention Summer in the City…”

It took just a second to process before the ground under my feet began to spin. Eliza was clutching my arm tightly, nearly cutting off the blood flow with her sharp nails. The shadows were disappearing behind a closed door. Screams were echoing through the center, drowning out the calm drone of the PA system.

But honestly I barely registered the fact that my death might be creeping up on me with every breath I inhaled.

I was just pissed that I wouldn’t get to meet Dan and Phil.

#ohhhh boy here we go #i'm so nervous about this guys #i'm so excited to share this with y'all #(as i've literally been working on it for over a year)#but i've been feeling very subconscious about my writing as of late #and this is the biggest thing i've ever done with the intention of posting?#i don't know i hope at least someone will enjoy it #and to that someone...#welcome to the crazy wild ride that is reality otp!#reality otp #phanfiction #phanfic #phan #phan angst #phan fluff #phan smut #(eventually lol)#franfic

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thecontentedreader · 7 years

Photo

It’s time for another book haul post! My reading has not been as great as it had been during the summer. I’m back to school and working towards finishing up my teaching degree -which is taking up the majority of my time. That being said, I have picked up some books this month that I am really looking forward to jumping into! My book haul this month is under the cut!

Synopsis:

Adelina Amouteru is a survivor of the blood fever. A decade ago, the deadly illness swept through her nation. Most of the infected perished, while many of the children who survived were left with strange markings. Adelina’s black hair turned silver, her lashes went pale, and now she has only a jagged scar where her left eye once was. Her cruel father believes she is a malfetto, an abomination, ruining their family’s good name and survivors are rumoured to possess more than just scars - they are believed to have mysterious and powerful gifts, and though their identities remain secret, they have come to be called the Young Elites.

Teren Santoro works for the king. As Leader of the Inquisition Axis, it is his job to seek out the Young Elites, to destroy them before they destroy the nation. He believes the Young Elites to be dangerous and vengeful, but it’s Teren who may possess the darkest secret of all.

Enzo Valenciano is a member of the Dagger Society. This secret sect of Young Elites seeks out others like them before the Inquisition Axis can. But when the Daggers find Adelina, they discover someone with powers like they’ve never seen.

Adelina wants to believe Enzo is on her side, and that Teren is the true enemy. But the lives of these three will collide in unexpected ways, as each fights a very different and personal battle. But of one thing they are all certain: Adelina has abilities that shouldn’t belong in this world. A vengeful blackness in her heart. And a desire to destroy all who dare to cross her.

Why I Bought It:

When I was in my local Chapters recently, they asked me if I wanted to donate two dollars to a local school and in exchange I got to ‘pick a date’ with a book. Beside the counter they had a number of books wrapped up with different things written on the front. Some books had a genre written across it, while others had one word to describe the theme of the book. I loved the concept of being introduced to a book without having any preconceived notions about it. I picked up a wrapped up book that had “YA read for the young and fearless” on the front. It turned out to be The Young Elites by Marie Lu! I am super excited to read this book. I haven’t read any of her books before and have only heard wonderful things. I can’t wait to dive into it.

Synopsis:

She used to work for the U.S. government, but very few people ever knew that. An expert in her field, she was one of the darkest secrets of an agency so clandestine it doesn’t even have a name. And when they decided she was a liability, they came for her without warning.

Now she rarely stays in the same place or uses the same name for long. They’ve killed the only other person she trusted, but something she knows still poses a threat. They want her dead, and soon.

When her former handler offers her a way out, she realizes it’s her only chance to erase the giant target on her back. But it means taking one last job for her ex-employers. To her horror, the information she acquires only makes her situation more dangerous.

Resolving to meet the threat head-on, she prepares for the toughest fight of her life but finds herself falling for a man who can only complicate her likelihood of survival. As she sees her choices being rapidly whittled down, she must apply her unique talents in ways she never dreamed of.

Why I Bought It:

While Twilight was an entertaining series, it was never one of my favourite series to read. I enjoyed the books and the movies but it was never something I obsessed over like many other people my age did at the time. Meyer’s other novel The Host, however, is one of my favourite books. While some people I’ve talked to haven’t been fans of The Host, I most certainly have.

I was at Costco with my mom a couple of weeks ago and saw The Chemist and figured I should pick it up. I’m really curious to see if her next adult novel will be as enjoyable to me as The Host was. My hopes are up high, so I hope it doesn’t disappoint!

Synopsis:

Nineteen-year-old Sydney has the perfect summer mapped out. She’s spending the next four and a half weeks traveling through Europe with her childhood best friend, Leela. Their plans include Eiffel-Tower selfies, eating cocco gelato, and making out with très hot strangers. Her plans do not include Leela’s cheating ex-boyfriend showing up on the flight to London, falling for the cheating ex-boyfriend’s très hot friend, monitoring her mother’s spiraling mental health via texts, or feeling like the rope in a friendship tug-of-war.

As Sydney zigzags through Amsterdam, Switzerland, Italy, and France, she must learn when to hold on, when to keep moving, and when to jump into the Riviera ... wearing only her polka-dot underpants.

Why I Bought It:

First: the cover. How could I pass up an amazingly gorgeous cover like this one. It’s perfect. Do judge a book by its cover when it looks like this one (haha!). Second: the author is Canadian! I really love supporting Canadian authors when I have the chance too and I’ve heard some great things about Mlynowski. Third: the synopsis of the book reminded me so much of Love, Lucy by April Lindner (read my review here) and Love and Gelato by Jenna Evans Welch (read my review here). Passing up contemporary travel reads just isn’t in my vocabulary! I cannot wait to give this book a read!

Synopsis:

Avonlea beckons in this cookbook inspired by the most famous Canadian children’s book, L.M. Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables. “Kindred spirits” both young and old will enjoy experiencing late-nineteenth-century Prince Edward Island firsthand through the delicious recipes culled from the eight books in the Anne of Green Gables series.

From Poetical Egg Salad Sandwiches, to Anne’s Liniment Cake and Diana Barry’s Favourite Raspberry Cordial, these recipes are easy to prepare and delicious to serve up any day, on a weekend, or for special occasions! With full-colour photography, whimsical illustrations, and quotes and anecdotes from the books, get ready to be immersed in Anne Shirley’s world.

Why I Bought It:

Anne of Green Gables has been a staple book series in my house. I was Anne for halloween one year, I’ve been to Prince Edward Island (where the book was set) and to a museum in Bala, Ontario. The author and the book are Canadian and like I said before, I really love supporting Canadian authors and stories. Needless to say, Anne of Green Gables has been a large part of my life. The author of this cookbook is Lucy Maud Montgomery’s granddaughter and her father, L.M. Montgomery’s son, was the doctor who delivered my mom into this world!

We heard that Kate Macdonald would be at our local chapters to chat about the cookbook and sign copies. My mom jumped at the opportunity to meet Kate and tell Kate the story of how her father delivered my mom. Kate was absolutely wonderful to meet and was so genuinely pleased to hear the story. She said that she loves hearing stories like that and to know the different people that her father brought into this world. I can’t wait to try out some of these recipes and immerse myself more into Anne’s world!

Synopsis:

Sixteen-year-old Aza never intended to pursue the mystery of fugitive billionaire Russell Pickett, but there’s a hundred-thousand-dollar reward at stake and her Best and Most Fearless Friend, Daisy, is eager to investigate. So together, they navigate the short distance and broad divices that separate them from Russell Pickett’s son, Davis.

Aza is trying. She is trying to be a good daughter, a good friend, a good student, and maybe even a good detective, while also living within the ever-tightening spiral of her own thoughts.

Why I Bought It:

I was a fan of The Fault in Our Stars. Similar to Twilight, I didn’t become obsessed with it like most people but I certainly enjoyed the writing of John Green. I haven’t read any of his other books even though I own them all. But there was something that drew me towards this book and I’m really curious to see how I enjoy it.

I was invited by Penguin to attend the 2017 Fall Gift Show at their Toronto office on October 19th. One of the perks for attending was receiving a 20% discount at the Penguin Shop (which is the tiniest little shop ever!). I actually had no plans of buying any books because I have so many on my TBR shelf right now. But, I saw this book with a tiny little sticker on it that said “Signed Copy.” How could I walk away from a book that I will eventually read that was signed? Yeah, not a chance. I’m really looking forward to reading and reviewing this book and seeing how John Green’s long awaited return plays out!

#booklr #bookblr #book haul #bookish #book blog #book blogger #ya books #the young elites #marie lu #the chemist #stephenie meyer #i see london i see france #sarah mlynowski #anne of green gables #anne of green gables cookbook #kate macdonald

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kayleygoestolondon · 5 years

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Hola, Spain!

I’ve just logged on and realized that I haven’t posted since last summer... eek. In my defense, I didn’t travel anywhere exciting the first half of the school year, and by the time I went to Paris and Morocco, I thought people had surely lost interest in reading my posts. We have more important things to read about! Brexit! Donald Trump’s latest tweets! What bizarre name Kim Kardashian will give her newest baby! However, I had such an incredible time in Spain and Portugal that I figured I might as well write it down. Even if my grandparents are my only devoted readers, it’ll make a good memento for me to reflect on fondly when I’m 80 years old in a retirement centre in Camrose.

My latest trip began with arguably the best flight I’ve ever had. Since I usually fly alone, I’m always stuck sitting beside one of the following Flight Ruiners™:

Crying infant who will not be soothed

Severely overweight person who insists on taking up most of my personal space

Armrest hogger

Somebody with a terrible illness (most likely the plague or Ebola) that coughs and sneezes the entire flight

NOT THIS TIME! I was seated with two guys from central London who were on their way to Barcelona for a bachelor party. At first, I expected the worst: when I flew to Morocco, an entire bachelor party boarded the plane at 6 AM already drunk and proceeded to be the most obnoxious human beings I’ve ever encountered for three hours. These guys redeemed my faith in good old British lads. They chatted with me the whole way about travel and insisted I have a drink with them to celebrate being hired at a new job! They even paid, which was great, because I am the stingiest person in the world and would never pay for a beer on a flight. It’s also part of my personal vendetta against RyanAir. When we arrived in Barcelona, it was after midnight and pouring rain, so they offered to share their cab with me to make sure I got to my AirBnB safely. Chivalry isn’t dead after all!

My friends from Canada (Dillon, Candice, and Bal) were waiting up for me at the AirBnB with McDonald’s chicken nuggets and a batch of questionable homemade sangria. If that isn’t a welcome, I don’t know what is.

BARCELONA

We had breakfast at the cutest tiny cafe and I had the best omelette of my life made by an equally cute and tiny Spanish woman. Also discovered that “cafe con leche” (Spanish coffee with milk) is pretty delicious.

We did a walking tour of the city and learned lots of interesting historical facts while seeing some of the main sights. On the tour, we met some other Canadians so we went for drinks with them afterwards. What a small world.

Discovered you can go into a store and buy an entire jug of wine. Or, if you’re an efficient on-the-go type of person... wine juice boxes.

Checked out the Sagrada Familia. I’ve been to nearly every famous cathedral in Europe (#humblebrag) and this was the best one. If you go to Barcelona, it is 100% worth seeing.

Walked up to Parc Guell, which has a beautiful view over the city. Fun fact: the park was designed by Gaudi, the same designer of the Sagrada Familia. If you’re gonna read this all the way through, you bet I’m gonna give you some unrequested knowledge. His architectural style is pretty distinct and I really loved seeing how those elements were incorporated into the design of the park.

Hopped in the car and prepared for the first portion of our journey. This is where it’s really important for me to note that we started our trip with “Whose Bed Have Your Boots Been Under” by Shania Twain (more like Shania SPAIN, am I right? lololol). This song did not leave our heads for the entire week. I’m not exaggerating. We sang it constantly. In the car. At the beach. In the bar. SHANIA TWAIN EVERY DAY.

DRIVING IN SPAIN

Since Spain drives on the right side like we do (sorry UK friends, but the left side is stupid and I will fight you about it), it was pretty easy to navigate... excluding the massive traffic circles with stoplights in them and no lanes marked. We circled those in terror, not knowing what we were doing but somehow avoiding collisions.

There are tolls EVERYWHERE. We paid 40 euros in tolls between Barcelona and Valencia, which is a toll-tally ridiculous amount (lol, I’m not even sorry for these jokes)

The highways are really well-maintained, but are virtually empty. We encountered almost no traffic at all and didn’t see any police either. Dillon did not take advantage of this and drove a respectable speed the whole way, rather than living out our Fast & The Furious fantasy

The Spanish countryside is really gorgeous. It’s much more mountainous than I realized, particularly the areas that we drove through. We got some really stunning scenic views along the way.

We all had important roles within the car. Dillon was the Driver, I was the Navigator/DJ, Candice and Bal were the backseat Snoozers and Snack Providers. This meant that Dillon was the MVP of the trip, because he drove without any road rage at all (how is that even possible... my driving is just like a constant stream of swearing), whereas my sole contribution was playing 500 Miles by the Proclaimers as often as possible.

VALENCIA

We had the unfortunate timing of arriving Valencia just as a massive football game was ending; Valencia had won against Barcelona to win the Copa Del Rey. The streets were swarming with people and the honking was endless. Easily the second-most stressful part of our drive. Want to know the worst one? READ ON FOR MORE (#clickbait)

Spent our whole day there at the beach. The weather was great, if not a bit windy, and Dillon was magically transformed into a red lobster thanks to the sunshine. We all went home with sand everywhere. I think I still had some in my ears at the end of the trip.

We enjoyed beers and a selection of meats and cheeses on the beach. We ate so much meat and cheese during this week. You may be thinking, “Meat and cheese seem very impractical to eat on the beach because of all the sand”, and you would be CORRECT... but sandy cheese is better than no cheese.

There were no toilets or change stalls at the beach so we had to go on a bit of an excursion to find somewhere. We eventually infiltrated a fancy hotel to use their lobby bathroom. Candice and Bal got caught going in the second time when the concierge asked if they “had enjoyed the toilettes, and would they perhaps now like to pay for something from the hotel bar”. They ran away. Classic escape!

We sampled a traditional Spanish drink, horchata, which is a “plant-based milk drink” according to Wikipedia. Sounds appealing, right? We collectively hated it. That’s what we get for trying something non-alcoholic. Therefore, it was logically much safer to stick with beer for the rest of the trip. At least, that’s what I told myself.

GRANADA

En route to Granada, we passed through a place called Lorca. High on top of a mountain, we could see a massive fortress. We spontaneously decided to drive up there and check it out. Turns out Castillo de Lorca was built in the 9th century and is one of the largest castles in Spain. Super cool... and we were the only tourists there!

Most Stressful Driving Moment: leaving Lorca Castle. Obviously because it’s on top of a mountain, the roads coming down were windy and steep. Our Google Maps got confused and took us down a side road into this local area that was hellishly narrow and we ended up going down a road that was like a 75 degree angle. I had visions of us driving our poor Volkswagen Polo off the edge of the cliff. Dillon, ever the stoic hero, got us out of it while I panicked and failed at asking locals for directions.

Our apartment in Granada was in the historic part of the city, within the old city walls. Think super tiny, winding cobblestone streets with high buildings. It was very charming, if not excessively sweaty climbing all the stairs. Good thing there was beer at the top!

In the evening, we went for a really great traditional dinner and then to a flamenco show. Definitely one of the highlights of the trip for me. For some reason, the waiter did not seem to think we were capable of drinking 2L of sangria when we first placed our order. We proved him wrong.

We sampled churros with chocolate the next morning. This is apparently quite a traditional thing and honestly I could eat it every day for the rest of my life. Who doesn’t want to start their day with deep-fried dough and chocolate dip?

As we left Granada, we stopped at Alhambra Palace & Gardens. It was founded in 889 AD and mostly constructed in the 13th century. The gardens were stunning and were more impressive than anything I’ve seen before, including the gardens of the Taj Mahal. (#humblebrag2)

SEVILLE

It was a long walk from our AirBnB to the centre of Seville and it was about 35 degrees out, so we punctuated our stroll with frequent beer stops. This meant that we were feeling pretty good by the time we arrived at the Plaza de Espana. Some scenes from Game of Thrones were filmed here, so you could probably add our names to the credits now.

We then had the best seafood paella and sangria at a local restaurant! The paella was HUGE... and we ate all of it. No regrets.

Seville was one of the friendliest places I’ve ever been. When we went for breakfast the next morning, we went to a local cafe where literally nobody spoke any English. The manager seemed really excited that we were there and got us our own separate table. There was no menu, so we managed to communicate that he could bring us whatever he wanted. We got this awesome selection of incredible sandwiches and he checked to make sure we were happy with them. Everywhere we went, people were super eager to please and would joke around with us, despite the language barrier. I’d go back here in a second.

FARO

We crossed the border into Portugal after leaving Seville and made a pitstop at Praia de Faro. It’s a small island that’s basically just beautiful beach and little bars and restaurants. We had some great beach time and beers because it was a scorching 37 degrees. Dillon attained an even higher level of lobster.

Women on the beaches of Spain and Portugal often go topless... so when we asked a stranger to take a photo of the four of us on the beach, I realized afterwards that there was a mostly-naked lady in the background. Thank goodness for Photoshop; I made that disappear.

LISBON

People in Portugal speak better English than people in Spain. I only managed to learn two words in Portuguese: “cerveja” (beer) and “obrigada” (thank you). I got along with those pretty well :)

The metro system in Lisbon is super easy and efficient, so for the first time we took advantage of public transit and spared ourselves walking everywhere in the extreme heat

When we went out for dinner that evening, we discovered that boiled meats are pretty standard in Portuguese cuisine. This was not my favourite :( On the other hand, Portuguese custard tarts (pasteis de nata) are phenomenal.

We checked out the seaside and a couple of cool markets. We also took a walking tour here to learn more about the city. Our tour guide recommended a super cool bar underneath a church. There was some kind of street festival going on, so there were outdoor bars and decorations everywhere. We explored that and then ended at an outdoor cinema.

I had to get up at 4:30 the next morning to get an Uber to the airport. Note to self: next time I have an early flight, don’t have so many cervejas the night before. Lesson learned.

If you’ve made it this far, wow - you probably need a hobby! This trip was so much fun and so interesting; I really wanted to take the time to tell the story. If you haven’t been to Spain or Portugal, maybe I’ve convinced you to go. I couldn’t recommend it enough. I owe the biggest thank you to Dillon, Candice, and Bal for being my travel companions and for making me laugh a million times during the trip. What an amazing final experience before I head back to Canada in August :)

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mitchbeck · 5 years

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CANTLON: WOLF PACK START FINAL WEEKEND OF THE SEASON

BY: Gerry Cantlon, Howlings HARTFORD, CT - The 2018-19 season that started out with so much promise, comes to an end with it being the fifth of the last six springs in Hartford without post-season hockey. The magic of fourteen straight seasons with the Wolf Pack playing post season hockey has long since gone. In its place have come an annual ritual of eerily quiet locker rooms and the omnipresent feel of gloom with the recognition that the roster for 2018-19 does not resemble the one that started or in some cases that ends this season. Friday night is the home finale against the Hershey Bears with the puck drop coming at 7:15 pm on Fan Appreciation night. Then the team travels to Pennsylvania to close things out. Saturday night they will be in Allentown against the Lehigh Valley Phantoms and then on to the Giant Center in Hershey on Sunday. The team's record of 29-34-7-3 will again be under .500 for the season. The Pack is 3-6-1-0 in their last ten, currently 40 points behind the division-leading and AHL's best, the Charlotte Checkers, and twenty points behind Hershey, who were below the Pack in the standings on December 1st. The team will be in eighth and last place in the Atlantic Division. Only the Binghamton Devils prevent them from being last in the 16 team conference. The Pack will finish with either the fourth or fifth worst record in the AHL and have the third worst goals against at 2.54. Not a pleasant read. John Gilmour is battling Steven Fogarty for the team scoring title. Gilmour has 54 points and was named to the first team of the AHL All-Stars on Thursday. Gilmour is also in a race with Hershey’s Aaron Ness (51 points), and Zach Redmond of Rochester (50 points) to lead all AHL defenseman in scoring. If he succeeds, after Sunday's games, Gilmour will become only the second player in franchise history to do so. In 2008-09, Andrew Hutchison was the other. One of the likely 2019-20 roster members will be Nick Jones. In his first six games, Jones has shown elements missing for large chunks of this season in Hartford. He picked up two points last week in a game in Springfield, His first pro goal helped the Pack climb back into the game. “It felt good to get it out of the way and not have to think about it too much. I caught him (Springfield goalie, Chris Driedger) in a weird position and I was able to sneak by the five-hole on him,” remarked Jones. Jones is going through the standard pro-baptism like every college and Junior level player goes through. “There is such a wide range of guys here and it’s a nice organization, happy to be here,” said Jones. He has learned to play with different players very quickly. “Seems like I have a new set of linemates every night and I’m certainly getting a feel for different players. Actually, at North Dakota, I had a lot of different linemates too. It’s nothing new to me." Life at North Dakota saw him get to play at one of the more prestigious hockey programs. He played at the Ralph Engel Arena, one the nicer hockey venues in the country. “It’s a special place. I was very happy and fortunate to play there. The fan base, the culture, and the history it's amazing to play in that arena every night.” The Calgary, Alberta native opted for the college route than major junior. “It gives you more time to develop. I think you don’t finish at 20, just a little later and I think it made a difference for me. I think you get more practice time, get to play against bigger players, which helps when coming to this level. There are a lot of draft picks on the team and in the league, and you get a lot of exposure.“ Jones is completing his degree with a concentration in sociology. Getting his diploma means working on time management. “It’s so different. I’m trying to figure out what do with so much time because I’m running off to class and going to finish things up and head back for graduation next month. His audition thus far looks like Jones will be a major piece of the 2019-20 puzzle for the Wolf Pack. PYATT RETURNS Its been ten long years and a lot of traveling, but ex-Pack forward, Tom Pyatt, finally found himself back in Hartford last weekend with the Utica Comets. He started out his third season in Ottawa but got caught up in in the early season issues of the Senators and was traded to the Vancouver Canucks and found himself back in the AHL with the Comets. He was able to pop in a goal in a 4-0 shutout victory. “I was very excited to play here tonight," Pyatt said. "I was able to walk downtown a bit before the game and it brought back a lot of memories. Time goes by quickly. I was 20-21 years old then, now I’m 32. It’s good to be back." With all his travels as a player, the thought of being back in Hartford wasn't at the top of his mind. “Things go by so quickly. You never know in this business where you might wind up.” Pyatt scored just his fifth goal in 33 games so it meant a lot to him to get on the scoresheet last Saturday. “Its been a while since I scored, so that felt really good. Credit Reid (Boucher). He did all the work on that play. Getting one shorthanded, always a plus. We have gone through a tough month-and-a-half. Between here and the changes in Vancouver, it hasn’t been an easy time. We've stuck together pretty good. It was nice to get Maz (ex-Pack netminder, Marek Mazanec) a shutout. It was one of our better defensive efforts,” Pyatt said, Pyatt and his teammates helped the former Hartford goalie to record his first shutout of the season. Pyatt spent two seasons in Switzerland with HC Geneva-Servette where he was coached by a former New Haven Nighthawk, Chris McSorley. He is currently undecided on his future hockey plans. “I really am not sure. Been a pretty tough season. I started out my third year in Ottawa and halfway through changed my address. I really enjoyed my experience over there in Europe. I’m just looking to finish out this season and take some time off and think over the summer back in Thunder Bay and enjoy the family, enjoy the house and then make a decision later in the summer." When he was a member of the Wolf Pack, Pyatt took an extended period to help his middle brother, Taylor Pyatt, who had lost his then-fiancee, Carly Bragnalo, as a result of a car accident in a cab in Jamaica. She was just 27-years-old. Time has been a great healer. “It was great. I got to play with him in his last year of pro in Switzerland. That was a lot of fun. Now, he is a Dad with a two-year-old girl. I was in Hartford back then and took time off. It was a hard time for him. He got married again, and man how time flies, but things are all good for him now.” In his time in Hartford, Pyatt was a very underappreciated player by the Rangers. He went on to rack up nearly 500 NHL games in other places like Montreal, Ottawa, and Vancouver. “When you're that young, you don’t appreciate the breadth of the game. I’ve had a lot of different experiences, but I got it all started here. It takes a few years to develop. I had two good years here and enjoyed my time here." Hopefully, Pyatt has a few more years of service as he's one of the true good guys in hockey. NOTES: Former UCONN defenseman, and their team captain, Derek Pratt, who played in the Wolf Pack training camp, and was later recalled from Maine, but never played here signed a PTO deal with Utica for the final AHL regular season weekend. The Pack released defenseman Matt Register after five undistinguishable games where he added an assist and five shots on goal. He was returned to the Toledo Walleye (ECHL). Quinnipiac’s Scott Davidson signs with the AHL’s best team, the Charlotte Checkers. He brings the number of Division I college players that have signed pro contracts to 155 and the total number of college players to 174. Ex-Pack, Chris McCarthy, who spent all season with the Reading Royals (ECHL) signs a PTO deal with Hershey. Former Yale Bulldog, Mike Doherty, goes from Manchester Monarchs (ECHL) and signs a PTO deal with the Providence Bruins. Another former UCONN player, Joseph Masonius, was released after twelve games with Manchester (ECHL). He's had a long season. Masonius was cut from the Wilkes Barre/Scranton Penguins after (AHL) camp. He was sent to the Wheeling Nailers (ECHL). His contract was brought out so he then played one game with the South Carolina Stingrays (ECHL) before being released. Pro hockey is a tough business. Stratford native, Jamie Sifers, played his high school hockey at Fairfield Prep and Salisbury Prep (winning titles at both schools). He was in the opening lineup last weekend for Utica. He announced he will retire after this weekend after playing in 640 AHL games and compiling 167 points. Sifers won a Calder Cup with Lake Erie (nee Cleveland) in 2016 and had 37 NHL games with Toronto and Minnesota. He also spent three seasons in the German DEL league after a four-year college career at the University of Vermont. Ex-Pack Bert Robertsson gets his first head coaching gig in Sweden after seven years as an assistant coach at Skelleftea AIK in the Swedish Hockey League (SHL). He will be the head coach of Linkopings HC in the fall. Congrats to ex-Pack and ex-Ranger, Dane Byers, truly one of the nicest players ever to come through the Connecticut capitol city. He has announced his retirement from hockey after completing a second season with the Manchester Storm (England-EIHL) where he was their team captain. He tallied 29 goals and 55 points in 56 games and 182 PM. He had 11 games in England 53 goals and 125 points and 289 PM Byers played for the Wolf Pack for three-and-a-half years. He was the captain for two-plus years. Byers was the last captain before the ill-fated switch to the CT Whale brand. He was the first Wolf Pack captain ever traded, albeit at his own request, and ironically his first game was with the then Springfield Falcons in Hartford two days later on November 12, 2010. In 255 games in Hartford, Byers scored 72 goals had 90 assists for 162 points and racked up 546 PM. He was a captain with Hershey and Springfield, plus he was an assistant captain at Oklahoma City. In 564 AHL games, Byers had 128 goals and 304 points and 1,245 PM. He played with San Antonio too. In just 14 NHL games he scored one goal with the Rangers and had 60 PIM. He was an assistant captain for the Lahti Pelicans (Finland-FEL) for one season. His brother Cole Byers played in one Wolf Pack training camp with him. He is the cousin of legendary Bruins ruffian, Lyndon Byers. His wife Ashley and their three sons are moving back to his native province of Saskatchewan and taking a job outside of hockey. The IIHF Division 2 Group A World Championships are underway in Belgrade, Serbia with Cheshire, CT native, Rob Malloy, playing for the third time for the Australian National Team. In their first game, Malloy tallied the second goal at 2:58 of the first period just 1:27 after Australia struck first. The Mighty Roos dropped the opener in overtime to Belgium 4-3, but they won their second game, 3-2 over host Serbia. The key came in killing off a major penalty late in the second period and early third period to preserve their first win. The Australian team shutout Spain 4-0 in their third game. Malloy was helped on their first tally, a power play goal, at 13:01 of the opening frame. Switching off with Jamie Woodman at the right point, Malloy headed to the left side of the net. Woodman’s right point shot was redirected by Malloy but was stopped by Spain goalie Ander Alcaine. However, the rebound was the right there for AIHL top scorer Darge Wehebe to bang the rebound at the right side of the net. Vadim Virjassov and Kieren Webster each had a goal and an assist for Australia including beautiful play on the fourth goal with Webster intercepting a Spanish outlet pass and sent a great behind the back pass to Visjassov and finished it with a forehand to backhand lifted over a prone Alcaine with 5:50 left in regulation. The other countries in the six-team group are Serbia, Belgium, Croatia, Spain and China. The only other familiar name is former NHL first round pick for Boston and AHL’er, Shaone Morrison is skating for Team Croatia after playing the regular season with the Oji Eagles (Japan-ALIH). -When Malloy returns for the start of AIHL (Australian Ice Hockey League) season he will see a CT face face in the lineup against him with the Melbourne Ice. Former UCONN player Jesse Schwartz who played this season with Roanoke Valley (SPHL) and a two game recall to Brampton (ECHL) become the third university player to play in the AIHL (Matt Grogran and Trevor Gerling were the others). -The short season South African Super League (SASL) has a new champion in year four of the league as the Cape Town Kings finished with the best regular season record winning all eight games and outscored their opponents 61-26. The leagues’s leading scorer is a former US Division III college player (Nazarethy College-UCHC) Uthman Sammal with 32 points in those eight games. The Pretoria Capitals finished in second place. Read the full article

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ethelbertpaul444-blog · 6 years

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30 Children of Anti-Vaxxers Tell Their Stories

At this place, it’s common knowledge that inoculations haven’t been links between autism. Physicians have checked and checked again, but nothing plausible has ever come up.

Still, there are people who marks as ‘anti-vaxxers’ and nosedive to vaccinate their children. Now, in a packed Reddit yarn, those peoples’ children have a few things to say about it.

Check out narrations from 30 children of anti-vaxxers, who each feel quite different from their parents!

div >

One redditor always thought they had been vaccinated–until their bos detected otherwise.

I had an idea they were anti-vaxxers, but it was never substantiated.

They mentioned my younger friend wasn’t[ inoculated] but it was “justified” because we were living in the mountains of Montana and it was too far a drive to the Doctor . i>

I presumed I had been as I was born in civilization and we didn’t move to the hills until I was 3.

We were homeschooled, my fucking brother had hardship at college with his immunizations and Mom replied all the paperwork was lost when they moved . i>

I was 30 years old and I was offered a job at colleges and universities facilitating improve physicians, started coming paperwork asking for proof of vaccinations, I just said test me and give me whatever I necessary.

But I know I’ve had Chicken Pox . i>

Passes out I had nothing , no antibodies and I’d never had Chicken Pox either( Mom told I had ). Lit up both weapons with a scamper of shoots over the next three month.

Never forgot telling my sweetheart and he bawled “You’ve been to Mexico, TWICE, and Europe. Oh my god.”

Called my mama and suggested “Hey I’m coming a enterprise and they say I’ve never been vaccinated. Was I? ”

She got unusually defensive and said no, she detested preparing us scream as children and they’re bad for little kids . i>

Too, did I truly need them? She then tried to talk me out of them . i>

Since I know how they labor I appeared particularly okay causing her know I’d already started the process . i>

I’m so indebted for all of you protecting me until I found out . i> –sirenssong

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This redditor, regrettably, lost the results of an illness for which a vaccine exists.

via: Getty

Mom went rubella when pregnant with me. As a develop, I was born dangerously deaf so there ya lead.

Life’s not best available . i> –strangeunluckyfetus

This person’s parent had to see them with measles to understand the best interests of vaccination.

via: Getty

I got measles, as a 22 -year-old, in my first week of moving to London . i>

I’d previously lived up north, and on my first day of working following the end of finishing uni, I embarked feeling sleepy. By the second epoch, I appeared pretty bad but soldiered on.

Third day, I originated making( fairly effective) anaesthetics for the remainder of the week. Saturday, listened a regional fair, after making my morning analgesic . i>

Had a bottle of brew with my father and experienced very strange afterward, almost floaty but in a kinda bad road . i>

Ruled to stop taking the anaesthetics, woke up with a storming excitement and intense coughing on Sunday.

Hobbled out of couch, feeling dizzy and horrible and find in the reflect of the shower that I looked like an Oompa Loompa( red-faced splotchy rash all over ). i>

My stair mum had been appearing similar evidences that week, she decided to call an ambulance, who checked both of our necessities and turned out I had a storming( 41 c) fever and low-toned oxygen.

They made me to A& E and I was devote liquids via a trickle.

Later, my stair mum came in and was given the same therapy; medical doctors on call said it’d maybe be a general viral illnes . i>

At dwelling, took the week off drive and recovered. Step mum taken away from 2 week. She went back to A& E a couple of daytimes after; the doctor on duty immediately recognise that it was measles.

Thing is, in England if you get it, an organization called Public Health England has to be legally informed by medical doctors, which informs your workplace about your illness.

Cue an flustering email being sent by your new boss to everyone in your companionship before you’ve even assembled the majority of members of your colleagues . i>

Took a while to rally. In a week I appeared well enough to be out and about. You’re exclusively virulent when you have the rash( and a little before and after ).

I still find out of thump for various weeks. This happened in July, and I didn’t feel quite fully recovered until October or so.

Obviously, neither myself or my stair mum had been inoculated with the MMR. My father and sisters had had it as children. We immediately came both jabs, after we were told how agonizing mumps could be . i>

Strongly recommend everyone gets the MMR vaccine. It’s straightforward and time-honored.

Measles is sickening and can cause complications in adults. My intense coughing almost certainly motived some lung impair, and my whisker exactly kind of … fell down in the months following.

Save yourselves ! i>

My graduation formality was a couple of weeks after this. My actual mum saw how ill measles had left me and changed her head on vaccinations.

Shame it had to be that method, though . i> –AdamJay2 6

It’s a good thought medical professionals are often ready to help minors of anti-vaxxers, even later in life than usual.

via: Getty

My parents chose not to vaccinate my sister and me. They have some … unique hypothesis about science and medicine.

We were also homeschooled if that clarifies anything . i>

We both wound up volunteering at hospices at different points in “peoples lives”, so we had to get caught up anyway. For me, it was at age 20, for the purposes of an internship at a mental health facility.

It was a little awkward showing to the nurse why I had nothing on my chronicle, but she was understanding overall . i>

My big concern now is what will happen when I get around to having children of my own in a few years.

I think they’ll meet me as a bad father if I get them inoculated, so I’m forecasting some fireworks . i> –Arihagne

This redditor’s struggle wasn’t for their own vaccination, but their parents’.

via: Getty

I was vaccinated when I was a baby as part of a mandatory vaccination program in the Soviet Union, but my parents wouldn’t vaccinate/ do boosters after we moved to the Mood.

My home is pathologically leery of doctors and remedy of various kinds and favors homeopathy and alternative medications.

I didn’t realise I wasn’t perfectly inoculated until I moved in for a physical in college.

Up till then, I’d just assumed I’d been fully vaccinated in Russia( Because that’s what my parents told me ). i>

I got all my photographs up to date and I merely never mentioned it to my parents.

Their anti-medicine stance has softened as they senility, but I generally avoid the topic because I can’t treat their bullshit and it never leads anywhere anyway . i>

That spoke, I had a baby this past December in the middle of a really bad flu season and I told my parents that they weren’t allowed to see the babe until we are able to produce proof of a flu photograph( this is absolutely something they’d lie about, so yes, I required written proof ).

They both got one as soon as they recognise I was serious. –Kookalka

Next up, another redditor passed their parent the same choice…and the answer wasn’t so peaceful.

This person’s mother had a different answer to the’ do inoculated for my baby’ ultimatum.

I said the same concept, and my mum opted not to see the baby for to three months. Bizarre life selections.

Eventually she hasn’t had a lot to do with fostering her grandson, which might be for the best.

To her ascribe, she is honest. –actuallyarobot2

div >

When in doubt, go with science.

I was not inoculated as small children because my mother design vaccines were evil, unchristian, and other ridiculous things.

This was in the early’ 80 s before all the autism BS, but she had her own unique thoughts. I got myself inoculated when I went to university.

My baby was thwarted and wanted to write a letter to the school justifying her theological considers on inoculations( as “shes had” done for years to keep me exempt ), but I decided to go with science . i> –squeezymarmite

div >

Even a medical magnitude didn’t change this redditor’s anti-vaxxer parents.

via: Getty

I didn’t receive any vaccinations through childhood due to my parents’ faith.

Once I got to college, I did my own experiment on them, learned the actual discipline behind them, and “ve got all” vaccinations.

I then went to medical academy, and hitherto they still don’t believe me and my medical position involving vaccinations.

Holidays can get awkward . i> –guardian5 28

Starting college without your vaccines contributes an extra few hurdles.

via: Getty

When I was 19, I had to get some vaccines in order to start college, and my mom was NOT helpful.

First, she tried to get me exempt from the inoculations, and when that didn’t task, she transmitted me into the clinic( alone) with completely false/ outdated info.

I was super embarrassed when the harbours looked at my memoes and told me that none of it was correct.

But luckily they helped me figure out what I needed and didn’t shame me too much for not having a previous vaccination chronicle. A couple year later I went back in to get the rest of the recommended inoculations . i>

My sister had her first teenager( and the first grandbaby) last year, and our mama has been pushing her not to vaccinate. Fortunately, my sister decided to inject . i>

She still is trying to get us to watch a documentary about it to change our minds.

Now all us minors really don’t talk to our mom about vaccines because it always turns into an proof. – i> itsshamefulreally

And the process of applying to college is hard enough without parents interfering.

via: Getty

[ My mommy] sabotaged me going into the college I missed plainly because they did not accept religion exemptions and she couldn’t trick any doctors into signing a health exception.

I wanted to go make love myself, but the latter are through admitting employments by then, and I was frantic to go to some college, so I witnessed a different one. –eXpialidocious_

On the next sheet, one child of the anti-vaxxers has a response to an anti-vaccination “documentary” that prepared the rounds a few years ago.

There’s an anti-vaccination movie called’ Vaxxed’( made by an ex-doctor whose permission was lifted ), and these redditors are NOT about it.

via: Getty

We had our first juvenile at the beginning of its first year and had to tell my father that since he won’t get injected, he won’t be able to see his grandbaby until the child gets their kills.

The babe had their first round of films a few months ago, and my father been in a position to stay. It agony me to do that, and I know it ached him, but I was not putting their own children at risk for his option . i>

This last weekend we called my father. At the end of site visits, he sided me Vaxxed .

He knows our thinks on the matter- preventable diseases should be prevented, herd immunity shields those most at risk, autism is not caused by vaccines.

It’s just … contemptuou.

I know he thinks he’s trying to protect his grandson from harm, but it’s coming from the entirely wrong attitude, and no one can seem to change his opinion on the issues. –humplick

More often than not, anti-vaxxer parents are trying to protect their kids–until they realize where the real danger is.

via: Getty

My mum didn’t get the measles vaccination because at the time she thought it caused autism; she was kinda one of the first anti-vaxxers, wrote to articles about it everything . i>

Anyway, a girl in our social group caught meningitis and succumbed, mostly freakishly exceptional.

After that, mum was really scared the same concept could happen to me with any disease and mostly sidestepped me to get up to date with my shots.

I predict the central takeaway is that when my mum was younger and inexperienced, she reflected everything was a danger; she honestly visualized she was doing best by me, I predict . i> –bellend_bellend

This redditor’s mother eventually rolled it around herself!

My parents didn’t grant us the whooping coughing inoculation for the purposes of the advisement of our pediatrician.

I actually didn’t know this until last year, so I get and went injected on my mom’s recommendation. She wrote my siblings and me the following email to introduce it up : i>

As a parent, you are bound to make many mistakes.

For me , not having the advantage of younger siblings, the internet, or( first) many friends with newborns, I conceive I learned to parent on the operate . em>

At the time, there seemed to be a forcing rationalization not to include the pertussis ( em> shrieking coughing) inoculation together with whatever else was the recommended protocol for infants under the age of one year.

I think we had predicted that it was one inoculation too many to be included in the series, and our first pediatrician felt strongly that it might have harmful side effect.

Gramps had told me that he retained having whooping cough as a child, and although it was frightening, he endured.

Draw your own conclusions here ! em>

Nonetheless, I would now hope that you all might consider following up with medical doctors to see if “youre supposed” inoculated now as adults.

Out of shame, I’d be willing to sweetened the agreement by paying for whatever isn’t covered by your healthcare.( Tetanus kills, flu hits, etc. aren’t a bad idea either, although you’re on your own there !) em>

Also, I want to apologize to[ Sister ],[ Sister] and[ Brother] for the time we went to the geneticist who made pierce core samples of your bark for testing.

We had no idea-and there’s no excuse for our ignorance-that it would be a process painfully administered without anesthesia. I appear traumatized to this day, so I can’t imagine how abominable “its all for” you.

I was reminded of those procedures recently when I heard Nobel Prize-winning geneticist, George Church tell his story on The Moth: My Life as a Guinea Pig . em>

I love you all dearly ! em>

So, I didn’t get them on my own in contradiction to my parents’ decisions, but at any such requests, after they realise they had made a mistake. –affixqc

div >

Don’t be afraid to ask your doctor about concerns–they’ve done this many times before.

via: Getty

When two daughters was bear, “were in” scared of the mercury. We queried a medical doctor, who asked everything to us clearly.

The poverty-stricken doc had that gaze though –” Oh shit , not this again “… i> –cat_of_danzig

In fact, this redditor had an idea of how much physicians have to explain the essential of vaccinations.

When we had our first kid, we were shopping around for a pediatrician, and I was astounded how many doctors precisely told us they would only be our general doc if the children were injected.

I had no idea how often they must have that discourse . i>

Apparently, in some sits, the percentage of anti-vaxxer parents is as high as 10%.

The number of mothers who are reluctant to give their kids vaccines can be as high as 25% . i> –dsf9 00

Keep reading for a crazy narration of how far one parent went to prevent “their childrens” from receiving certain types of medical attention.

Sometimes understanding takes a while, and now this redditor needs all their shootings together.

via: Getty

My parents were very against it.

Never peculiarly vocal about it, but growing up, my academies would unionize mass vaccinations for all the babies( MMR, etc .) and I was always mysteriously off sick those epoches.

My institution never detected, and I was always moderately fortunate as I have a terrifying phobia of needles and never really understood the state implications . i>

I’ve never had any health problems, but I’ve had partners weirded out by it. I was dating one guy who didn’t want to go near me formerly he found out I hadn’t had any vaccinations. That felt curious . i>

Last time there was a measles outbreak at my university, and I was very nervous about it.

Called my mothers for advice and their reply? “Go get the vaccine.”

Classic.

I’m guessing their sentiments have changed over the years, but they’re too glad to pronounce outright that maybe they were wrong and their children’s state could now be at risk . i>

About occasion I got the rest of them done! –1742587

This redditor’s mother is not merely anti-vaccination, but anti-doctor absolutely. It resulted in a medical emergency.

via: Getty

My father is just plain crazy when it comes to medical topics, and thinks that hospices and doctors only crave your fund.

So I was never vaccinated. For a little insight into the craziness, when I was 14, I was a wheeze away from croaking from a explosion supplement.

My mom rejects to take me to the hospital despite the grief.

It was only when I started urinating blood that my father said he was taking me to the hospital. I was in and out of consciousness while he carried me to the car.

My mama physically campaigned him as he carried me.

I was medevaced to a larger hospice and had emergency surgery. The doctor told me in convalescence that the infection was spreading to other parts, and my form to begin to shut down.

If it had been a couple of hours or more, it would have been too late . i>

Fast forward 4 years later when I joined the Army…the gauntlet of kills I received to get all the vaccinations was something else.

I literally strolled almost naked down a row with several medical staff on each side protruding me with needles everywhere as I was told to keep walking forwards and not stop . i>

I am 35 now and experience just as healthful now as I did as a kid.

Never had any other issues except for a hernia from tireless employ. Vaccinations do very best than injure . i> –Kukulcan8 3

Lack of vaccination lead to a terrible bout of whooping cough for this redditor–and four siblings!

via: Getty

My mothers are applied to not inoculate me or any of my four siblings, but when I was like three years old me, and my siblings all came down with whooping cough.

It disfigured my lungs, and I have yellow stains on my teeth because the high fevers cooked my adult teeth inside my thought. My parents vaccinated us after that . i>

I am not and have never been mad or spiteful toward my mothers for not vaccinating me.

They were just naive, and doing what the hell is thought was best for my siblings and me . i> –Volcano_gurl

Herd immunity is the key to ridding ourselves of dangerous contagious diseases.

What people don’t understand about vaccination is it isn’t just there to protect the vaccinated.

It keeps the “herd”( herd immunity ); the people who can’t be injected for whatever reason.

This is part of the same reasons being vaccinated if you’re able to be is really important. You’re not only protecting yourself.

You’re keeping those around you whose immune organizations aren’t up to it and could be hugely negatively impacted by their fellow neighbours accepting for their own ignorant rationales . i> –hihelloneighboroonie

div >

This child of anti-vaxxers has batch of reason to discontinue tradition.

My pa was the anti-vaxxer, my mom was mostly unsure. Neither my brother or I were inoculated at delivery, and I didn’t get my fires until I revolved 19.

My friend had to get a tetanus shooting once when he was six, due to serious injuries. It burned my daddy up for a while . i>

His reasoning was ordinary: he believed that the mercury in the inoculations would start us to somehow develop autism.

My parents were also pretty hippy-dippy compared to most baby boomers, so they were concerned about chemicals and all that as well.

Jokes on them, though, because both my brother and I have[ Aspergers] regardless of being unvaccinated . i>

It was always a pain in the ass whenever we had to do school-related paperwork or field trip substance because my mothers would have to produce a letter stating that it was their “religious right” to keep us “untainted” by vaccination( we were never a theological kinfolk ). i>

I wasn’t a super sickly babe( with a few exceptions ), but my younger friend suffered a lot.

He went pneumonia when he was little, like 3-4. They had to keep him in research hospitals and I remember my dad taking care of me at home while my momma stayed in the area with my brother.

About a year or two after that he got stepping pneumonia and again was hospitalized.

He’s also allergic to damn near everything and has bad asthma now. He has epilepsy, and we both have chronic migraines . i>

I never had anything gravely life-threatening to its implementation of illness, but there was a virtually yearlong period where I had strep throat almost every other week.

I should have had my tonsils out( they wanted to intubate me at one point but for whatever rationalization changed their judgments ?), but my papa threw a fit about having any surgeries acted.

I likewise developed shingles when I was 13, which my father first dealt with as lethal ivy and left mainly untreated until my mother intervened.

I still have little to no concern on swatches of the left side of my form from the sore scars. That sucked . i>

I did, nonetheless, “re going to have to” get my vaccinations when I diverted 18 and enrolled in college. He was not very pleased about that that, and actually, we didn’t talk for nearly a year because of my decided not to get inoculated.

Eventually, we worked happenings out, but it made a while. I’ll be vaccinating small children I may have in the future, though . i>

Tl ;d r: wasn’t inoculated until I chose to do so myself as a law adult bc mothers were afraid of autism.

My brother and I were sick a lot as a kid, with some truly preventable and stupid maladies. I plan on vaccinating any children I have . i> –Larktoothe

Keep reading to see how one member of Reddit shut down their family’s dissents like a boss!

Here’s how one redditor made it to their anti-vaxxer grandpa

TAGEND

My grandpa is reassured on the whole inoculations generate autism occasion.

When I was pregnant with my first child, he harped on it so much until I finally did, “it doesn’t cause autism, but even if it did I would still do it. I’d very have an autistic child than a dead one.”

Shut him up fairly well. –HCGB

div >

This child of anti-vaxxers changed their thought about it after receiving the effects first-hand.

My mommy is against inoculations, and I grew up in a particularly anti-vaccine academy and was treated by homeopathic and holistic physicians.

I used to believe all that. Then I started med school and changed my attention to” inoculations aren’t bad, but they aren’t necessary.”

Then I did a spin at a pediatric hospice in the neurological orbit. That was a huge eye opener !! Meningitis is an abominable sicknes, and anti-vaxxers never talk about it.

The infants I realized “re the only one” that subsisted and had brain damage subsequently . i>

It was atrocious to see adolescents that could have had a perfectly normal life to end up like that. –anesthesiagirl

div >

This redditor got their MMR vaccine in the nick of time.

My parents were against the MMR vaccination as my older brother was diagnosed with Aspergers shortly after he received it.

I’m the youngest child and so never got the thrusting, although there are mumps actually effected my mum to repair half deafen as a girl.

It always manufactured me unpleasant knowing I wasn’t protective and I was of a strong memory to do it eventually, but of course it’s hard going against your parents’ beliefs when they felt so strongly at what had happened to them.

To me it felt like a constitute of prohibition of the autism in the family, which they see as much worse than it is–my brother is an amazing person, and they should give him more credit . i>

Before you go to Uni you have to get a meningitis jab; while I was at the doctor’s, the doctor showed “re giving me” the MMR . i>

I told her my mothers were against it and she said she’d give it to me now and then in a few months I could tell them and prove that I was absolutely fine. So I did that . i>

A few months after receiving the full vaccination, my flatmate and close friend get diagnosed with rubella.

It spread all over her body stimulating glandular and scarlet delirium, she spent over a few months in the hospital and was in a fatal statu.

If I hadn’t done it at that moment, I could’ve been in serious trouble. And rubella isn’t common now at all.

So if in doubt about becoming behind their backs, do it for yourself and your own safety, and that’s the only justify you need . i> –lazyswayz

div >

Pro tip: protect yourself from cancer wherever you can.

via: Getty

When the HPV vaccine came out, there was a assortment of narratives on the bulletin about girls having poverty-stricken reactions to it, get seizures, lethargy.

Most of it nonsensical, but my mother visualized the word narratives and chose not to get me vaccinated. But then, right after college I had a brief bout of thyroid cancer and decided I would take every precaution I could to not get more cancer.

So I got the photographs. I recollect at the time I didn’t tell my mom, but afterwards, it came up.

She was more huffy than anything else, and attacked her remembers at the time, but abode my decision and reasoning . i> –xrf_rcc

This redditor caught three cankers that is likely to be avoided with one shot.

via: Getty

My mothers never explicitly said they were anti-vaccine to me, but I was never injected as small children.

I actually caught Measles, Mumps, and Rubella on separate occasions, luckily diagnosed quickly enough to not motive any major health inferences long term, but still a pretty bleak knowledge each time . i>

So yeah, thanks for that . i> –otto8 2

Finally, read up on the next sheet about one redditor’s trust on’ herd exemption'( and family fuss because of it ), plus an Autistic person’s response to anti-vaxxer concerns.

One redditor can’t even call the in-laws.

I am immunosuppressed due to transplanting, and my husband’s area of their own families are anti-vaxxers.

I don’t think they believe I’m serious about not accompanying home rallies ever again . i>

I know I can bump into a nonvaccinated being by only being out in public, but if I can bypass a known hazard, I’m going to do it . i>

Thank you, everyone, who’s had their photographs for helping hinder me alive and healthy !! i> –auntiepink

div >

Tragedy switched this redditor’s mama into an anti-vaxxer.

via: Getty

My story seems a bit complex. My baby is an avid anti-vaxxer, but didn’t become that action until after my late sister expired.

She denounced the vaccines she got a few weeks before her demise( she was 3 months age-old) for it, instead of the SIDS tragedy it was.

My next youngest sibling was’ allergic’ to eggs, and so didn’t get any inoculations until she used 8, after my mothers were divorced and we had to move to a brand-new position with new laws.

My two youngest siblings “ve never been” injected against anything . i> –MomentoMoriBenn

Even if vaccinations and autism were related( they aren’t ), autistic people are here to tell us it’s not the worst thing that could happen.

As an autistic being now as well it hurts been told that so many mothers think it’s the worst possible event that could happen to their child.

I would think croaking of measles ranks a bit higher on that scale . i> –el1 414

div >

This redditor had a scare after a childhood of anti-vaccination rhetoric.

via: Getty

My mummy had a child who grew brain damaged during delivery due to a gap in the umbilical cord.

She grew convinced that there was some negligence cover-up and gradually that everything of medication is one big conspiracy . i>

I stopped get vaccines around 10 due to a mysterious ailment I had that turned out to be recurrent benign positional paroxysmal vertigo.

For some ground, physicians couldn’t illustration it out and pondered I had psyche cancer.

My mama grew convinced it was vaccine-related, and claimed she “traced my vaccine” and it was a “bad batch” that had killed a son who got it.

I stopped getting vaccines and passed in structures to clas each year claiming “personal objection” exemption from all vaccines from that place on . i>

I purposed up deciding to become a biomedical scientist and enrolled in a Ph.D. platform.

The Hep B inoculation was recommended for all students, and I received the first trend of the vaccine…and then referred to it to my momma . i>

She Turned OUT.

She told me she couldn’t repute I would do something so stupid, and that there were so many bad actions I could have and they didn’t all happen instantly . i>

I started speaking cruelty narratives online about bad Hep B shot actions. And I panicked.

I really reflected I may have done something really stupid.

This was pretty sardonic since I was in a discipline Ph.D. curriculum, but I was still making sense of what part of my childhood indoctrinating was true-blue and still coming to my own notion organization . i>

In my pause/ indecision, I failed to get the next dosage of the Hep B fire in the requirements for go opening. I did intend to get onto, but I forgot about it in the craziness of grad school . i>

Fast forward to my 3rd year; I was analyse liver cancer and working with a liver cancer cadre line called Hep3B.

I was reading the literature and stumbled on a article that said that scientists identified that Hep3B cells are infected…with LIVE HEPATITIS B VIRUS . i>

That was actually fright because I had been working with them for months and obviously had not made the prudences you are supposed would make if you are working with active human pathogens . i>

The reality that I passed up a free HepB shot and could have stupidly contracted HepB really solidified the best interests of inoculations for me that day . i>

I didn’t ever have self-evident indications of HepB, but nonetheless, I worried that I might have it up until I got pregnant with two daughters and experimented negative during the course of its prenatal tests . i>

Needless to suppose, my daughter has gone 100% of her inoculations and will continue to. I chose for her a pediatrician who refuses to see the individuals who don’t get all of their vaccines on schedule.

I don’t even want to share a waiting area with unvaxxed kids . i> –the_real_dairy_queen

Some parents have select hearing when it comes to vaccines.

My mum was entirely against vaccinations.

I only got the MMR by mistake because they didn’t ask the mothers- merely strung us up outside the library and we proceeded in one by one.

She was furious when I told her what had happened . i>

I caught bellowing coughing at senility 34, and it was inferno.

My collaborator dislikes her for putting me through that. I’ve since had a few vaccinations for proceed, as has my younger sister.

Neither of us “wouldve been” tell our mother that we have had them though . i>

There was a slight hint a few years back, and she was already through the ceiling before my sister rectified herself and lied to cover the mention.

We will never tell her . i> –realbasilisk

Like this story? Share and spread the word of these redditors’ firsthand accounts of the dangers associated with a lack of vaccinations.

Read more: http :// twentytwowords.com/ children-of-anti-vaxxers-respond-to-their-parents-philosophy /

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healthandfitnessrecipes-blog · 6 years

Text

Me, the Mush

https://healthandfitnessrecipes.com/?p=4593 I feel mushy.

My joints have sort of felt like mush since Sunday night, and I have stretched my energy to its limit, to the point where I have genuinely worried about physically collapsing and my speech sometimes becomes slurred because I am too exhausted to enunciate and my thoughts feel like they must swim through a sea of molasses to turn into sounds. I also feel like I am scrambling to hold onto all of this love that people have poured out to me over the past two years and I do not yet know how to allow that love to lift me up rather than weigh down on me. Because of the chronic nature of my illness, even when I am not managing an acute health crisis I am still living in a body that seems way more fragile than the bodies of the people around me. When I woke up on Monday I ran straight to the bathroom and threw up, and given how much I had put myself through on Sunday, I could not even blame my body for its backlash. I gazed into my bloodshot eyes as I washed my hands. The stark paleness of my face took me slightly aback and I mumbled, "I'm sorry," to the mirror, apologizing to myself for demanding so much of someone so weak. When I returned to my room I discovered a sweet text from a friend I have not seen in a long time, reading, "Hey Rach! Something is wrong with your account - you wrote a comment that didn't make sense on a post from 2013, and you liked and unliked a 2014 photo three times a few minutes ago. It made me miss you more! What is going on at UNC these days?" Normally social media account issues like this are such a headache, and yet this inconvenient incident turned out to be an opportunity to reconnect with a friend I have been missing quite a bit lately. Somehow everything in my life seems to turn back to love, and it is really wonderful but also sometimes leaves me feeling immensely guilty. How can I ever give back all that I have received? How can I ever say "thank you" sincerely or frequently enough? So this is how today is going to go, I thought as I typed out a reply and placed a Zofran on my tongue. A rebellious body? Probably. Unrelated inconveniences? Perhaps. Undeserved love? Almost certainly. On Tuesday, after a hectic Sunday and Monday which were packed full of all sorts of activities back-to-back, I decided just to rest. I have never seen my mother as proud of me as she was when I revealed my intentions to take a break to her on Monday night. "That is great!" she said encouragingly, with way more enthusiasm than I had anticipated. This is probably not the reaction most mothers have to their eighteen-year-old daughters saying they have no plans to be productive, I thought, reflecting on all of the familial pressures my peers recount in the couple of minutes before each class starts, sacred moments of commiseration for overworked undergrads. My mom has been gently encouraging me to do less, but I love everything I do and all the people I get to interact with along the way, so I usually fail at this and then call her crying at least once per week because I am too exhausted to do literally anything and am wondering how I am supposed to live my entire life like this.

My sweet cat Brooke, who was not too happy that I was trying to type out a Spanish literature essay while she was trying to take a nap on my hand.

In a miraculous deviation from my normal Tuesday routine, which typically involves capitalizing on my day of no classes by scheduling lots of unnecessary activities, I forced myself to stay in my bed even after I woke up, resisting the urge to go somewhere or do something. My cat and I spent quality time chatting about a variety of our favorite topics, including the futility of the cat-versus-dog debate and how ridiculous our puppy Dante can be, as she sprawled out her paws on my comforter, which, to her delight, was gently heated by the morning sun streaming through my windows. What does one do on a rest day? I asked myself, discontent with the idea of cuddling with my cat for hours on end despite how sweet she is. I decided that rest days should involve watching cycle 10 of America's Next Top Model, playing piano until the searing pain in my wrists becomes too much, and writing a Spanish paper. As the day progressed, I realized that I was likely coming down with an infection, but I did not admit any of the symptoms out loud until my mom directly asked me how I was doing later that evening after noticing my agitation. I nonsensically but genuinely thought that if I did not say anything the infection might take a hint and pack its bags. So here I am, once again fighting something that is quite adept at breaking me down (classic, right after I work up the courage to make a celebratory social media post about not having an infection). At its onset, I remembered that there was the possibility that this was just my severe seasonal allergies, especially since my lungs are doing their fun annual thing where they just stop working and I have to revitalize them with medications that make me shaky and dose me with a pinch of panic. I took Benadryl to test my allergy theory, but when this did not improve my symptoms at all, I was pushed further towards the upsetting realization that my most dreaded moment of the semester had arrived.

As a result, my mom received another teary phone call (my specialty as a daughter) this morning after a doctor's appointment which finally confirmed an infection and left me feeling like we might be starting this cruel cycle all over again. Lots of people have proven themselves to be fully committed to making each day a little less exhausting for me by helping in every way they can, but I seem to be following a sprint-collapse-sprint-collapse pattern rather than adhering to the doctrine of the steady jog. I am thankful for friends and for parents who catch me in their arms without scolding me for my illogical pacing. They are the true saints of this world. "Two more days," my friend reminded me this morning, putting her arm around my shoulders when she witnessed tears of exhaustion well up in my eyes. "You can do this, my friend. Two more days and then you can rest for a whole week." I think I am more likely to collapse than to rest. Rest implies some sort of choice. It seems as though I could collapse for the entirety of spring break and still feel fatigued, but I was motivated nevertheless by the imposition of a finish line. I loved her for this sweet reminder, and for helping me to think just a little further ahead than pain allows me to unaided. "And don't schedule anything," she snapped. We laughed as I wiped away a few stray tears. I do not take for granted my ability to go to class this week, even though I am sick and my energy is just barely detectable. As some of you may remember from "Flying Home Early," last year I missed the entire week of classes prior to spring break due to laryngitis, severe allergies, infection, and poor airway function. When I realized that I needed to return to North Carolina immediately, I had to email one of my professors, who had the option to kick me out of his course due to my excessive absences and the participatory nature of the class. I was doing well in his course, and wanted desperately to stay enrolled, but I was too sick to allow this to be a deciding factor in my decision to come home. I already had my plane ticket. I was completely at his mercy. I sent an email begging to remain a part of the course but promising my understanding and respect of his decision regardless. "I am sorry you are struggling right now," he wrote back quickly, "... rest assured that I will work with you." I cried silent tears of relief reading this email from the New Orleans airport, tiny droplets that soaked into my medical mask and made me cough a bit. Living with a chronic illness means living with so many moments of having to show people how imperfect you are, whether through a humiliating email admitting that your body is failing in every way or curled up with a mask on in an airport terminal with no one sitting closer than five feet away from you. I do not think that having arthritis is a gift in the slightest, but this repetitive experience of having to humble myself and be my most broken in front of people certainly is, even though most of the time I do not appreciate it until long after these embarrassing moments pass. There is nothing more frightening, and there is nothing more human. My body forces me to abandon the illusion that I have it all together. The same condition that traps me frees me to see the very best in people, to view them in their most kind and accommodating and gentle and encouraging moments. Constant physical reminders of my own fragility remind me that my life is a dandelion that could be carried away by the smallest gust of wind at any moment, and so I try to live a little more meaningfully than I might otherwise. As you might expect, I have been reflecting quite a bit lately on the past year and all that it has entailed. On February 15th of 2017, I submitted a transfer application to UNC Chapel Hill. One part of this process that I only shared with a few of you, and just briefly mentioned in "Coming Home to Carolina", was that my plan was to spend my entire sophomore year studying maternal health as an exchange student in Amsterdam. I applied to my program, met with study abroad advisers, created an academic plan and timeline, submitted a research proposal, and was accepted. I was looking at Dutch dorm rooms and apartments and my family and I were planning when they would visit me in Europe. In the spring of 2017, I was enrolled in advanced public health courses that I did not even have the prerequisites for in preparation for my year abroad. This grand adventure was financially possible thanks to my Tulane scholarship, and I could not have been more excited. My dear roommate covered our dorm room in index cards with Dutch vocabulary. I became a Duolingo Dutch pro and learned many simple sentences. I scoured the Internet for possible church services that I could attend once I was there. Studying abroad for a full academic year was a dream I had been clinging to since middle school, and I was so excited that it was finally becoming a reality. As you can imagine, by mid-February/early March of 2017, when I was hearing terms like "thirty percent airway function" thrown around despite having two or three nebulizer treatments a day, and was constantly on steroids to try to curb the inflammation taking place all over my body, and was receiving "full allergy cocktails" that included literally every antihistamine the student health center had swallowed at once in an attempt to raise my blood oxygen levels, I knew, even before I could confront the reality, that Amsterdam was off the table. I started screening calls from my study abroad program. I stopped worrying about paperwork and legal hurdles. I was too focused on my lungs and the rest of my collapsing body to fool myself into the notion that I would spend a year traipsing around Europe with all of my new Dutch friends. I was angry with myself for ever thinking I was healthy enough to do this, but I did not even have the energy to stay mad about it because I was so consumed with trying to figure out where I would spend my next three years of undergrad, a decision I thought I had made in 2016. I realized that my college experience would likely involve a lot more staring at tile ceilings and breathing slowly through a medical mask than adventuring through countries and continents in impressive academic pursuits. This was the hierarchy of my plans for sophomore year: go to the Netherlands, stay at Tulane, and transfer to UNC. Transferring to UNC was my worst-case scenario, my fallback so that I would not end up in a situation in which I would be forced to withdraw from college altogether due to my medical inability to spend another year in New Orleans. Looking back, I am grateful that I had the foresight to think of this back-up option (although I thought of it less than a week before applications were due, which was as inconvenient at it sounds), and even though the whole process of admitting that I might be falling apart in a way that made my life unsalvageable was excruciating, my body was breaking down enough that no one asked me to justify my decision once I revealed in April that I was transferring. A couple of days ago, I was expressing to a Tulane friend whom I adore that I missed our campus, our friendship, and our time together. "Rach," she said tenderly, after a lengthy pause, "You were so sick." I could hear her voice tighten as she became emotional and admitted, "I was so afraid for you." Sometimes I need this reminder that my life in New Orleans was not as perfect as I make it out to be when I am missing the life I was forced to flee. Sometimes misery deserves to be remembered.

I flew home for Easter break just a few days after announcing that I was transferring to Carolina. I got home around midnight and sobbed while my mom hugged me because I did not want to transfer. I went upstairs to my room and found this sweet gift - a brand new Carolina pillow, along with a UNC water bottle and shirt. My parents are the sweetest.

The combination of thinking a lot and having an infection has made me extra mushy this week. Sometimes I can disguise my mushiness for a few hours, like sticking Jell-O in a freezer, but I always thaw eventually, and then I am just as emotionally squishy and liable to become shapeless at the gentle squeeze of a hand as I was before. Sometimes my mushiness makes me weepy and overly sentimental and gives me this simultaneous short-term and existential awareness of the importance of loving one another and of saying out loud or putting down on paper all of the nice things we think about people. Joint pain, nausea, infections, allergies, and fatigue all increase my base level of mushiness. Of course, this is not always outwardly reflected, especially when I am in significant pain. Like any human, I can be distant and irritable and quiet and snappy when I am not feeling well. And then, of course, I feel horrible about myself, for not being a decent human being and for not matching up my actions with my mushy inner state, even though I am also trying hard not to be too mushy. As you can probably tell, this is an exhausting endeavor. When I am trying to feel less mushy, it helps to freak out over reality television, and it helps to lament that Peter was not the Bachelor (the greatest injustice of our time - Peter, if you're reading this, please marry me). It helps to unnecessarily stress out over my course registration, and it helps to go to the mall and spend an hour picking out a single pair of heels. It helps to talk about concrete, trivial, and pointless things that non-mushy people have the privilege of filling some of their time with, and it helps to re-watch the clip of Kim Kardashian losing her earring in the ocean five times in a row. It helps to blast Beyoncé from my car speakers, and to roll the windows down and sing along even on chilly days. It helps to laugh at Ellen videos while I am nebulizing or sticking needles into my stomach, and it helps to giggle over Vine compilations in the library with my friends at 10 p.m. It helps to spend a solid five minutes chatting with a Target cashier about winged eyeliner and it helps to gossip about the British monarchy with strangers in Barnes & Noble. Of course, I am perhaps even more grateful for the people who step into a world of mushiness with me, who bravely reveal that they are Jell-O, too. I cling onto these people because they become strongholds I know I can turn to when the whole world is crashing down, people who feel or have felt that same humbling brokenness and unrelenting pain. Over the past two years, I have found myself needing the friendship of other people with chronic illnesses more than ever before. I am only just now discovering that there are elements of this fundamentally flawed state that are innately human enough to encompass people who have had all sorts of tough experiences, not just those who have suffered from physical illnesses. There is much more companionship in the world than I previously imagined. What a beautiful discovery this has been.

I am a hot mess today, with a burning throat and ears that feel like they are submerged in water and lymph nodes that are swollen and an appointment that overwhelmed me and a prescription for antibiotics that makes me want to cry and classes that I do not feel like attending and a body that just wants to lay down and a soul that is still mourning the loss of Amsterdam and New Orleans and stable health. I could try to toughen up, but I think for now I will just stay mushy. My doctor, my nurse, my professors, my parents, and my friends have all met me where I am today, offering kindness and hugs and meals and validation and rides and memes. I hate existing in the mushy space. It makes me feel so broken and honestly, it sometimes makes me feel worthless, like a weak soul existing within a trash body that just cannot seem to understand that it should be redirecting the energy it devotes to attacking itself to fighting the infections that seem to overtake me so easily. But I cannot be anything else today, so I will try again tomorrow to be a bit sturdier, and hopefully that determination will be enough to guide me through. If you have pulled yourself together today and are putting on a brave face for the world, I commend you. And to the crumbly and the mushy and the melting, and the weepy and the grieving and the fearful, and to all of you who have had to come to the tragic realization that at some point your life as you planned it became unsalvageable, I am with you.

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stormyrecords-blog · 6 years

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new arrivals 1-12-18

stormy records13306 michigan avedearborn, mi 48126 313-581-9322 week number two of the new year finds us with a rare 50 degree day!! a little thaw in the midst of winter can be so good for everyone's mood and mind set. get out and walk your dog, visit some fun places, and let your body move again before the next wave of cold and snow returns. you deserve a day to feel good!! and while you are having a 24 hour reset on life, check out this list of new records and cds coming in this week. besides great new recordings, we also have some beautiful newly arrived used jazz and soul records. we're open regular hours, and we're always happy to see your smiling face! INSTORE PERFORMANCE!!saturday jan 27th the city of dearborn is hosting a whole slew of live music, and the Stormy Records performance is going to beERIK MALUCHNIK6pm free, all agesbeautiful soundscape ambient music made with guitars and synthesizerserik has been working on a large body of new pieces lately, and has agreed to grace us with some advance listens into those compositions - we're really excited!! our mark down new lp section has been updated - most titles are 1/3 or less than their original prices. lots of drag city titles, thrill jockey, warp. we need ot move these records on out to make room for other records deserving of shelf space. these are good titles by good people and i'm sure you;ll find a few in there to make you happy. in on friday New Detroit Based dance music!!we have the brand new 12" single from YAKTEQ entitled El Coyote for only $7.99. Side one is more of a shimmering techno melodic number, and side 2 has some seriously heavy bass grooves. a great addition to your dance collection! Cluster & Eno: s/t LP $26.992018 repress of Bureau B's 2009 reissue. LP version. Originally recorded and released in 1977 on Sky Records, the first collaborative album by Brian Eno and Cluster was the first ambient record produced in Germany, and is considered the seminal, defining work of the genre. Brian Eno was certainly instrumental in creating and popularizing the concept of "ambient music" -- but it was not his invention alone. The German musicians Hans-Joachim Roedelius and Dieter Moebius (Cluster) were brothers in spirit. As so often in music, the idea of ambient was in the air -- both Eno and Cluster experimenting with the form in the 1970s, rendering any debate as to who influenced who redundant. What is certain, is that Brian Eno attended a Cluster concert in Hamburg in 1975, strategically positioning himself in the front row. Sure enough, he was invited on stage to jam with the band and, after the show, the participants arranged to meet up again. They did so two years later at the Old Weserhof in Forst, the domicile of the German duo. Eno and Cluster spent three weeks in Conny Plank's studio, resulting in two albums: Cluster & Eno and After The Heat (1978). In the liner notes, Asmus Tietchens (who also plays on the record along with Can's Holger Czukay) writes: "Clearly, all three musicians inspired each other during their three weeks together without any clash of personalities. Nevertheless, some tracks sound more like Cluster, some more like Eno. So it made perfect sense to collect the tracks with a Cluster flavor on Cluster & Eno." The importance of this record can never be overstated, nor can its elegance of diverse forms be matched. From Indian sitar and tamboura, to synth warbles and airy tributes to Western groove, it is a rare glimpse at what happens when masters meet. Kalma, Ariel: Osmose LP $26.99Born and raised in Paris, Ariel Kalma studied electronics, computer science, music and art in Paris, he performed with several bands, then toured the world and visited Europe, Japan, India, Eastern Canada, and parts of the USA. Apart from rhythm & blues, pop and jazz, he acquired assorted experiences in Middle Age French, electro-acoustic, and modal music. All the travels broadened Ariel's musical horizons tremendously; listening to and playing with different styles, people, and instruments, intricate scales, techniques, timing and rhythms. After learning circular breathing from a snake charmer in India, Ariel practiced it on soprano sax (for many sleepless nights) in the basement of a cathedral in New York, when he was not playing upstairs on the large harmonium. Returning to France in late '76, Ariel could include those endless notes into his own long-delay-effect system with which he toured, playing solo concerts. Ariel contributed to the birth of (then) new music genres: minimalist, space, ambient, new age, and electronic. In 1977, Paris, Ariel Kalma was preparing an album of new music. Through an INA connection, Ariel was recommended to Richard Tinti, who had just come back from Borneo (Papua New Guinea) with hours of rainforest ambiences in high quality recordings (on a Nagra recorder). To their amazement, birds and keyboards, flutes and crickets, saxophones and frogs, war drums and (very vintage) drum machines had much in common in terms of pitch, rhythms, effects (i.e. crickets and fast flanged synthesizer). Ariel decided to blend his new compositions with the rainforest atmosphere, and thus Osmose was created. KALMA, ARIELFrench Archives 1977-80 4LP BOX $89.99Another indispensable compendium of the great French experimental artist's musical opera. With this four-LP box set of fully unreleased archival materials, Ariel Kalma ideally retraces the map of his own path and spiritual journey during the '70s. Some of music contained in Sarasvati Planet Ariel, Planet Air, Ascend Descend, and Astral Cathedral are born as sound environments for group therapy sessions that carrying healing, trance, and relaxation. The occult and arcane music of Kalma awakens consciousness, expands chakras, sculpts memory indelibly, appears to encompass all the emotional aspects of the universe, and brings its listeners back to the archetypal moments of creation. What is most impressive is the variety of atmospheric stimuli, the rich source of inspiration and compositional mastery. The solemn, triumphal and liturgical, meditative and ascending tone of celestial chapel organs and harmonium, the darkness of Farfisa and Yamaha PS-30 lunar and spectral sequences, the exotic oriental breath of circular dances transfigured and dissolving by the specular shapes of the Wasp Synth... everything converges to the purity abyssal of eternity sound. The melodic and harmonic phrases of sax always reveal a deep song, while the solar blow of flute gives elegiac moments of Debussyian flavor as bucolic recalls of fauns from Eden's lost. Listeners will be struck by equinoxial and solstitial lights, in perfect balance between flares and shadows, nature and galactic procession. Kalma's sensitive ear is expressionist, almost a possible scenario for astral architectural utopias of visionaries such as Hablik, Taut, Steiner, or Poelzig; it absorbs and re-reads in a personal way some insights of the cosmic psychedelia of the early '70s such as K. Schulze, Heldon, Tangerine Dream, Popol Vuh. The music is fully unreleased, with only a few tracks being different versions of previously released tracks. LAVICE & COMPANYTwo Sisters From Bag: S/T CD $15.99Two Sisters From Bag: S/T LP $29.99Known in the record-collecting world as an incredibly rare album with just a handful of known copies, Jazzman Records present for the first time the full-length album reissue of the Two Sisters From Bagdad album as performed by LaVice & Co.. Originally intended to be sold alongside performances of LaVice Hendrick's ambitious but ill-fated musical theater production, the album's scarcity was swiftly ensured as Two Sisters From Bagdad ran for just two weeks at Detroit's Bethel A.M.E. church amid poor attendances due to scant promotion. With only a handful of copies sold in that brief window, many of the remaining copies were subsequently destroyed in a basement flood, meaning that until now few people have ever heard the album in its entirety. A varied set of jazz and gospel infused funky soul, Two Sisters From Bagdad was composed and orchestrated by two precocious young talents, E.J. Garrison and Rhodia McAdoo. It's an album full of surprises, and is notorious for the heavy funk workout Though's Were The Days. Not only have Jazzman Records unearthed and faithfully reissued this true obscurity as the 26th part of their ongoing "Holy Grail" series, but through interviews with Garrison and McAdoo themselves, they have uncovered the beguiling back story to the music, the play and the life and times of its original creator, the late LaVice Hendricks. As always the detail is revealed for the first time in Jazzman Records' extensive new sleeve notes. BROKEN ENGLISH CLUB/CLAUS FUSSCitrinitas Edition 12" $15.99London based electronic music label Khemia Records announces its seventh split release vinyl EP. The third edition of the Magnum Opus Series features "Thee Art Ov Metals", a raw, menacing, post-punk inflected cut, drenched in reverb over an insistent ebm groove from Broken English Club alongside the pristine cardio bleeps and rave hypnosis of Claus Fuss's "Static Ace". Together they form the Citrinitas Edition. Clear limited edition vinyl. Prurient: Rainbow Mirror 4CD $23.99"On Rainbow Mirror, the latest work from renowned noise-music artist Prurient, fifteen new time-stretching tracks explore the more glacial and meditative side of Dominick Fernow's noise and power electronics with a total running time of almost three-and-a-half hours. Not necessarily the direct follow-up to the Frozen Niagara Falls album, this second conspiracy between the label and the band stands as another singular landmark among the vast repertoire Fernow has amassed. While familiar moments from that recent album can be found within, this ambient noise marathon also conjures the atmosphere of Fernow's old-school noise histrionics, while bringing in introspective new observations. This intense, unforgiving, trance-inducing aura is presented through waves of time-stretching electronics, layered counterpoint feedback, loops, and extended droning pulsating synth passages." TRINOSOPHES UPCOMING EVENTS AT TRINOSOPHES Friday, Jan. 12: Lime Rickey International, Matthew Smith (solo) Lime Rickey International is born of noise and nation. Using voice, live processing and fictional folk dances - Lime's performances are built with political and cultural confusions. She is the alter-consciousness of dancer/artist Leyya Mona Tawil, who has done extensive dance work with improvisors- especially locally with violinist Mike Khoury. Matthew Smith's i nstruments are combined in real time with subtle shifts of ambience- slithering toward prog rock freak zones. Solo improvisations from the guitarist of Outrageous Cherry who doubles on trumpet with Chatoyant and THTX, and plays synth with Crime and the City Solution. Doors at 9pm; $7. Sunday, Jan. 21: Growing Pains, Mike Donovan (Sic Alps), The Funs, Nathan Franco Detroit's Growing Pains play catchy, self-depricating garage pop that's crafted with the same romantic anxiety as early Buzzcocks or The Modern Lovers- as indicated by their record title, 17 Songs About the Same Girl- and a vocal delivery reminiscent of the non-chalant, better side of David Lowery. Mike Donovan's old group Sic Alps always had an undercurrent of roots Americana beneath their "lost band of the 60's" vibe and odd explorations. As a solo artist, Donovan has flipped the script, leaning heavily into acoustic sounds, telecasters and the overlap of early country and early rock- with enough swagger to make it legit. If you feel like you'll miss the rock abandon of Sic Alps, don't worry, Donovan is bringing his friends The Funs from Chicago and their mixture of garage and psych will make you feel like you got the full experience . Rounding out the show is the whimsical, bedroom-pop project of Detroit's Nathan Franco. Doors at 8 pm; $8. COMING SOON 2/25 Adam O' Farrill and Marcus Elliot 3/15 Desertion Trio, Mars Williams (US), Tollef Østvang (NO) 3/29: Ben Bennet/Michael Foster Duo, GRID 4/18: Rempis/Ochs RELATED Spectrum 2 (Shelton/Peterson) Winter Jaunt Skeeter Shelton- saxophone, winds+ Joel Peterson- double-bass, strings Tour Dates 1/23:Nashville,Tennessee (venue TBA) 1/24: Barking Legs Theater- Chattanooga Tennessee 1/25: Louisville, KY (venue TBA) 1/27: Vanderelli Room- Columbus, Ohio 1/28: Robinwood Concerthouse, Toledo, OH

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