#may all the popcorn kernels get stuck in your teeth

[welllpthisishappening]

Three Strikes [you're out]

It was his fault, really.

Wearing that jersey at Citi Field practically required Nina to hate the mass of muscle sitting in front of her on sight. Plus, he didn't know how to score a baseball game. So, honestly, it made sense. To hate him. Ardently, even. To push buttons, metaphorical or otherwise. A game within the game.

And, if, she found herself having fun, well, that was neither here nor there.

———

Rating: T, with sports and kissing because of who I am as a person Word Count: 9.1 K, also because of who I am as a person AN: I don’t know, guys. I got thoughts. I got feelings. The only way I know how deal with either of those things is to write about them with sports and kissing. Did I suggest that being a Mets fan was a bit like being Grisha? Perhaps! Perhaps, I did! If this is out of character just...don’t tell me.

Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll

———

The suggestion that an idea was capable of boiling a person’s blood, even in the most abstract and metaphorical sense, had always appealed to Nina. Not in a particularly violent way, of course. More in regards to the visual. 

Conjured up all sorts of possibilities. 

Little bubbles beneath her skin, searing emotion through her veins that inevitably led to tufts of smoke pouring out of her ears. Like one of those old cartoon characters, she could now only dimly remember. In moments like this, especially. When she wasn’t quite boiling, but certainly racing toward the vast and admittedly surprising precipice of abject hatred. Directed almost solely toward the mass of muscle who dared to wear a Chase Utley jersey to Citi Field on a Thursday in May. 

He needed a haircut, she thought. 

The muscle. Not Chase Utley. She couldn’t possibly care less about the state of Chase Utley’s hair. Unless he was choking on it, somewhere. Obviously. Then Nina cared very much. About Chase Utley. And this guy. With too-long strands that she was starting to believe fell almost artfully across the back of a vaguely golden-skinned neck, as if they existed solely to torment her. 

On a Thursday in May. 

Sitting there, with a seat digging into the middle of her spine and her frustration threatening the enamel on the back of her teeth, Nina was loath to admit, even to herself, that she couldn’t stop staring at him. Partially because of the hair. Which looked very—pushable, really. As far as her finger’s potential went. But mostly because of everything else. Watching the muscle was a bit like watching a statue at the Met, waiting with bated breath for it to actually surge to life because when she was that same kid who watched cartoons on weekend mornings, she rather strongly believed that the statues at the Met were wholly capable of smiling and turning and living. Artwork prone to the mystical and potentially magical.

She blamed Ben Stiller for that, honestly. 

Amy Adams to a slightly lesser degree. 

Robin Williams would suffer no criticism in this argument, naturally. 

The muscle shifted. 

Twitched just a hint in his seat. Altered the angle of his, frankly, impressively wide shoulders. Rolled his neck between them. The seat was too small. He was too big. That jersey must have been ancient. 

And, really, when it came down to it, Nina hated him most for the pencil. Tucked behind his right ear, it looked comically small whenever he pulled it between his fingers, scratching across a legitimate scorebook because in the thirty-seven minutes or so she’d spent observing this fascinating specimen of humanity, she’d noticed it was, in fact, a scorebook. 

Not a piece of paper.

Not a printout. 

Not even the one she was only vaguely confident they handed out in the rotunda downstairs. 

An actual scorebook. 

That he brought with him to Citi Field. 

She glanced down to make sure she had not actually burst into literal flames in section 205. Row F. Seat 27. No such luck. Weird. 

The pencil was back in his hand. One leg crossed the other, leaving his knee propped in the air, and there was just so much of the muscle that it was a rather small miracle of an exceptionally narrow field of science that it didn’t collide with anyone around him. Instead, it provided a built-in desk, that stupid scorebook propped up against jean-covered skin and even more muscles, pushing against fabric like they were personally offended by the concept of the blue-colored prison. 

Nina bit her lip. 

Tried to keep breathing. Because fires required oxygen, and there could be no boiling without fire and—

“‘Scuse me, ‘scuse me, ‘scuse me, just trying to—” Blood flooded Nina’s mouth, making it impossible for her to open that same mouth and let out the laugh already pushing against her lips. There were at least four little wrinkles pinched across the small expanse of Jesper’s nose, two boxes of popcorn clutched in either one of his hands and a soda between the slight bend of his elbow. He tiptoed his way around disgruntled fans, glaring at a few red jerseys for good measure. As if he actually wanted to be there. Nina kept biting her lip. “Just trying to get back to my seat,” Jesper finished, “won’t bother you again, rest of the game, absolutely, one-hundred percent guaranteed.”

Nina’s lips tilted up. 

Scrambling to her feet, she couldn’t quite balance on the edge of the seat that immediately swung back up. Something sticky stuck to the bottom of her shoe and eventually, she would find herself wondering why she didn’t simply move into Jesper’s seat. For a myriad of reasons, she assumed. 

Some of which might have mystical and potentially. 

Goddamn, Ben Stiller. 

“Accommodating sort of group, isn’t it?” Jesper mumbled, pushing past her and Nina had to applaud his dexterity. Not a kernel lost in the battle. 

“Should have waited ‘til the middle of the inning. This is just bad form on your part.” “And miss all—” He waved an imperious hand toward the field. “What am I missing, exactly?”

Opening her mouth, Nina was certain she’d come up with a reasonable explanation for the romantic nature of baseball, only she was a little busy. Keeping her head connected to the rest of her body. 

Snapping to the left, her breath caught. In that dramatic sort of way that always seemed like the perfect soundtrack to any great sporting moment. Eyes wide and fingers digging into her palm, hope mixed with the bubbles and the boils, and she barely noticed the awkward angle of her bent knees. Or just how close she was to—

Him. 

The muscle. 

She heard his pencil drop, she swore. 

Oh, Gods, but he had blue eyes. Sharp and staring right at her, Nina resisted the very real urge to let herself melt right there. In section 205. Row F. Seat 27. Well, in front of seat 27, technically. 

Pulling her knee back did not do that same knee any favors, muscles almost audibly objecting to the force of Nina’s split-second reaction, but then she forgot about the pain and the concept of depth perception. The yell tore itself out of her lungs, found its way to the rest of the noise circling the stadium, wrapping its way around people until the hope of that one, singular moment settled on the tips of her eyelashes and the backs of her heels and she wasn’t sure if she heard him at first. 

No one should be capable of possessing a voice quite so gruff, that’s why.

“Not going to make it.”

Glaring at the monstrous mass of muscle and questionably good hair wasn’t so much as a decision as something far closer to instinct, pulling her brows together and letting her tongue push at the bottom of her teeth, and he—

Looked. Right at her. And her tongue. 

Shoulders tensing, a hint of nervous energy appeared in those same ridiculously blue eyes, gone almost before Nina had a chance to realize it was there at all and she didn’t see the play. Heard it, though. The groans and the grunts, complete despair, and the first shreds of desolation drowning out the hope and pulling it from a grip that was always a little tenuous. 

No home run. No hit. Just a run-of-the-mill fly ball in center field. 

One side of the muscle’s mouth tugged up. 

“Told you.” “Oh, fuck off.”

Surprise, she thought, was a very good look on him. Most of them would be, she imagined. But right then, on a Thursday in May, with two outs in the bottom of the fourth, Nina relished the surprise. 

And sat back down. 

To be a Mets fan, was to believe in the impossible. 

The amazing, even. 

It was right there in the slogans. The advertising campaigns. On a variety of shirts, both legitimate and those sold at the bottom of the 7-train stairs. To accept the amazing, to wish for it, even, was part and parcel of the history of an organization that relished its underdog status. Thrived in its role, the second team in a city that toed the line between excess and restraint. 

Winning with this team was unexpected and unpredictable. Came without much pomp. Certainly no circumstance. Only a few trades that drew national eyes and back page headlines. More often than not, this was a team that discovered amazing when it simply should not exist. 

Misfits who created something wonderful. Who sparked something among people who, at least for nine innings, believed orange was a worthwhile color to wear. Who smiled at a mascot with a massive baseball for a head. And his wife, who sported some rather impressive eyelashes, actually. 

To be a Mets fan, was to understand heartache. 

To accept being the butt of jokes across decades. 

Every year, the knowing smiles came. Paying goddamn Bobby Bonilla. Cracks about pyramid schemes and owners who couldn’t find their way out of a money-based paper bag, team antics that occasionally drew those headlines, and players who fell in wayward ditches on their farms, ending their season before it ever really began. 

Winning didn’t come often, but it was loud when it did. The crack of a bat and a ball finding the back of a glove, shoulders slamming into the left-field wall with its massive M&Ms ad. Feedback from a microphone as David Wright thanked the Seven Line Army, in all their orange-clad glory, memories of that near-perfect October and what could have been imprinting themselves across a generation. 

To be a Mets fan, was to live and die with each pitch. Each hit. To hold your breath and wait for magic that lingered beneath skin and forced its way into bloodstreams. 

To be a Mets fan, was to hate anyone wearing a Chase Utley jersey. 

“Stew, stew, stewing, a rather hearty beef stew.” Nina narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about?” “You are stewing,” Jesper said pointedly, as if it was an obvious affliction and they both hadn’t casually descended into madness caused by extra innings. Putting a runner on second was supposed to help avoid all of this. Runs were meant to be scored in extra innings. Nothing had happened yet. “Any more and that little divot between your eyebrows is never going to disappear. Then what will we do?” Answering would only acknowledge that the divot was more like a rather obvious ravine now, and the little half-moon circles left by her nails were going to be permanently etched into Nina’s palm. 

He was still keeping score. 

How he hadn’t run out of columns in his scorebook was beyond her, but Nina figured if the muscle was someone willing to purchase a scorebook, he probably made sure it was one that also included, like, fifteen innings on each page. 

If they made it to the fifteenth inning, she would cry. 

It would be embarrassing. 

Jesper probably wouldn’t come back for the rest of the series. If she cried, that was. And she needed him to come back for the rest of the series. Sitting anywhere else wasn’t all that appealing, even if it might have been warmer up there now. 

She wrapped her arms around herself. Better to stew with, that way. 

“Do games normally last this long?”

Nina shook her head. 

Jesper groaned. Loudly, complete with his head thrown back for extra emphasis and even clearer frustration and she didn’t think she imagined the way the muscle tensed. Staring at him was becoming something of a pastime in the middle of a more acceptable one. Light didn’t quite reflect from the hair she was starting to become just a hint obsessed with, but it certainly appeared determined to try, and his ability to hold so much tension in the region directly surrounding his jaw would have been impressive in any other circumstance. 

As it was, Nina was a little concerned about the state of the muscle’s back molars. 

It was why she didn’t react as quickly as she should have. Or so she would argue for the rest of time. 

Once she got the popcorn off her feet. 

A waterfall of butter-coasted kernels landed on her shoes, a few bouncing as she did, thrust out of her seat like a canon. Whatever bit of her heart that existed solely to document the ebbs and flows of the New York Mets success flew into her throat, where it immediately took up residence directly in the middle. Wide eyes immediately started to water, which brought her straight back to the entirely metaphorical cliff of her potential embarrassment and the muscle was leaning forward. 

With his own brand of emotion. 

No obvious tension, just that steady sort of hope born among the din of baseball-type sounds and, even more importantly, baseball-type feelings and Nina was mumbling. 

“Turn ‘em, turn ‘em, turn ‘em, two, two, two, two, get the—” Suggesting she screamed made it seem as if she weren’t in complete control of her faculties. And despite the potential of extra innings insanity, Nina was just as lucid as ever and just as capable of throwing her hands in the air, while also screaming. 

Undeniably so. 

As soon as the ball jumped over the outstretched glove at short, Francisco Lindor’s lanky and overpaid body stretched out across the infield grass. Curses flowed from Nina’s mouth, some of them sharp enough to make even Jesper choke on whatever bits of oxygen he was able to gulp down, and she didn’t stop. Kept screaming and shouting, increasingly mobile hands and dexterous shoulders, miming her own throw home because whoever was playing left field was not moving quickly enough for her. 

He didn’t make the throw. 

Not in time, at least. 

Dirt flew into the air as a leg stretched over home plate and the umpire’s arms were nearly as impressive as Nina’s. Marking the runner safe and giving the Phillies their first and only lead of the night. 

Frustration mingled with out-of-place despair, far too early in the series and the season to be feeling quite as desolate as Nina suddenly was and, really, she wasn’t sure why she looked. Something about magnets, or simple curiosity, but her eyes drifted and her head tilted and she felt her jaw drop as his stupid, little pencil scratched out E6 in his scorebook. 

“What the hell, man?”

He didn’t turn. Figured. Screaming was becoming her base setting, so Nina wasn’t entirely surprised that the muscle didn’t acknowledge it, but then she was moving and leaning and tapping on a shoulder that somehow seemed sturdier when she had kneed it several innings earlier. 

“That’s not an error.” Moving in slow motion only made sense if the man was, in fact, a piece of marble. Strands of hair stuck to his forehead, acting as little paths toward his eyes and they were still blue. Good, that was good. Bad, that was bad. 

Jesper wasn’t even trying to contain his laughter. 

“Excuse me?” “Not an error,” Nina repeated, careful to pause between each word for emphasis. The muscle didn’t flinch. Stared at her incredulously, though. “Did you not see that hop?” “I saw your multi-million dollar man throw his arm out without much regard to actually making a routine play. Is that what you’re talking about?” “How is that possibly an error?” He lifted a shoulder. She was boiling over. “Should have made the play.” “It was impossible!" “C’mon now,” he chuckled, and the good fought with the bad. A symphony of contradictions blaring between Nina’s ears. Neither of which were steaming, it seemed. “Nothing is impossible in baseball.” “That was!” “Might need to come up with a better argument.” “Home scorer is not going to give Francisco an error on that. He had to dive!” “Maybe he should have been in better position, to begin with.” “The shift was on.” “Well, the shift is ruining baseball, so—” Nina gagged. Let her tongue push between rows of teeth that she couldn’t believe were going to survive the rest of the night if the acid churning in her esophagus was any indication. He looked. Again. Whatever heat lapping at the base of her spine was only marginally distracting. “A baseball purist cannot possibly wear the jersey you are wearing.” “I wasn’t aware of the rules, but, please, go on.” “Fuck. Off.” “Getting less and less creative.” His eyes hadn’t moved. As if he was documenting each twitch of her lips for his own personal posterity. Nina found she didn’t mind the idea as much as she should. 

Jesper was going to crack a rib. 

“Chase Utley is an asshole who doesn’t know how to slide.” “Ok.” “An asshole!” “I heard you the first time,” he said, losing the war with his lips. Curled up, they cut across the serious mask his face had become in the world’s least serious conversation. It was nice that Jesper ended up crying before Nina, honestly. “And he wasn’t a Phil when he hurt your guy, so I don’t think that should count at all.” Nina did not know what noise she made. Wasn’t human. Hurt a little. “Did you just call him a Phil?” “Guys,” Jesper mumbled, but she couldn’t be bothered with something as menial as the bottom of the inning when the muscle in front of her kept doing that thing with his eyes and his hair and—

Reaching out, she managed to bypass his rather impressive reaction time, grabbing the pencil before he could stop her and the crack of it between her fingers was as loud as any grand slam this slightly ugly ballpark had ever witnessed. 

Not that Nina would ever admit she thought Citi Field was slightly to moderately ugly. 

It was the color scheme. Way too much green involved. 

She gave herself exactly seven seconds to relish the look of pure amazement on the muscle’s face. 

“Use a pen,” Nina sneered, “at least stand by your scoring convictions.” “Chase Utley is going to be in the Hall of Fame.” “As a Phil?” “World Series champion.”

His ability to emphasize words with meaningful pauses was far better than Nina’s. “It wasn’t an error.” “You’re paying that guy more than anyone in the world deserves to get paid, if he’s going to lay out for a liner, then he should be able to make the play, don’t you think?” Nina bit her lip. Boiled. Stewed. 

Ah, damn. 

Her silence was an answer in the middle of a sea made up of equally disheartened fans. Who all suddenly remembered how terrible they looked in orange. Always worse after a loss. 

The muscle nodded. Once. Exhaled. Through his nose. As if he’d won, and not just his team, and Nina didn’t offer to replace his pencil. 

On a Friday night in May, Nina genuinely believed that he wouldn’t come back. Hoped for it, even. And something else almost akin to the exact opposite. 

Both were very strange feelings to feel contained in one human, body. Draped, even as it was, in blue and orange and New York City’s less famous pinstripes. With PIAZZA splashed across her back, Nina felt as if she were obligated to sit a little straighter. As if slumping in her seat — by herself tonight because Genya was not at all interested in sitting in the stands and Zoya would have laughed at the suggestion, and Jesper had to get back to the Crow Club — would somehow tarnish the reputation of a name that didn’t belong to her. 

Didn’t it, though? Just a little. Wasn’t that how sports worked? Throwing yourself into the camaraderie with both feet and occasionally flailing arms, willing to sit in an uncomfortable seat that she’d have to mention to Nikolai at some point because these were starting to feel a bit like torture devices masquerading as plastic, and a piece of paper floated onto her lap. 

He’d folded the piece of paper. 

The muscle. Not Nikolai. Who was sitting in the owner’s box, in fact. Nina assumed those seats weren’t rising up in revolt against him. 

The muscle wasn’t wearing a jersey this time. A cup of what smelled like over-brewed coffee, though, was held tightly in his left hand, while the right clutched his scorebook as if it were made of gold. Nina’s tongue swiped her teeth. 

He watched. 

Documented. 

Kept track. 

“What the hell is this?” “Is that your favorite curse, you think?” “Why are you throwing paper airplanes at me?” Lifting shoulders appeared to be his default form of response. “Felt just quirky enough not to be overtly threatening.” “Because of the guns generally associated with fighter planes?” “What do you know about fighter planes?” Rolling her whole head did not get her a smile. Or even a hint of such a thing. It did get him a few grumblings of frustration from those whose view he was blocking. Because there was so goddamn much of him. Imposing, that was the word for it. Taking up space and settling into the seat with a near amazing amount of grace, practically folding in on himself, like he was made of smooth lines and crisp edges, capable of soaring through air in a way that belied that flimsy nature of paper airplanes, and there was that word again. 

“Always liked the ones that had painted teeth on them,” Nina said, somehow fully prepared for the huff of laughter that fell out of him. He pulled a pen out of his jacket pocket. 

To hand to her. 

“You would.” “What is that supposed to mean, exactly?” “It means,” he said, nodding at the pen when she kept gaping at it, “that in my limited experience with you, Ms. Met—”

“Thought we covered lack of creativity last night.” He ignored her. Eventually, it might be a good idea to learn his name. Where that might also be the worst idea in the history of the world. Maybe Nikolai could track him down. Like through ticket sales, or something. That seemed like a breach of power, though. 

“You do have a rather impressive set of teeth on you, yourself.” “Oh, that’s an insult.” “Should unfold the paper airplane.” Most of her wanted to crumple up the piece of the paper, toss it back in his face and then possibly stab him with his own pen. But Nina also didn’t know the muscle’s name, and cold-blooded murder on a Friday night in May required a certain sense of personalization that they hadn’t quite reached yet. So, there was no crumpling. Her fingers didn’t shake. Her heartbeat held steady in her chest. 

Unfolding the paper with his eyes on her, Nina did hold her breath. For eight straight seconds, approximately. Until it all rushed out of her, entirely amazed and perpetually annoyed because the paper airplane left creases between the boxes of what was very clearly her own personal scoresheet. 

With provided pen.

“This is a trick.” “That not being a question gives me pause,” he said, but it sounded like an admission. One tinged with regret. Presumably for Chase Utley’s tendency to be a complete and utter asshole. Prone to injuring Mets’ middle infielders. 

“Is it not?” He shook his head. And the pen in his hand. “Get to stand by the convictions of your scoring actions.” “Errors occur only on routine plays.” “Yuh-huh.” “You’re here by yourself.” “Also not a question.”

“Or an answer,” Nina pointed out.

“Where’d your friend go?” “What do you put in your coffee?” “Nothing,” he answered, “seriously, where’s the friend?” Something lingered on the edge of the question. Something Nina didn’t want to notice, but couldn’t possibly ignore. Not when it came with concave shoulders, curling toward her like they were preparing themselves to block wind and glares in equal measure. The second of which was really a more pressing problem at the moment.

“Had to work.” “As a stand-up comedian?” “Hardy har har,” Nina grumbled. Leaning back against the force of his ensuing smile was as natural as wearing a Mike Piazza jersey and searching for the prize at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box. What she was less prepared for was the ability of that same smile to twist its way between her ribs, lighting another new and imaginary fire and if her mouth dried just a bit, then that was neither here nor there.

Between her and the baseball gods, fickle as they were. 

“You don’t put anything in your coffee?” He shook his head. “Sugar makes me nauseous.” “God, what a depressing way to live life.” “Eh, there are things that make up for it.” “Chase Utley?” “I think you might be obsessed,” he said, dropping into his seat so as to avoid being pelted with cheese fries from Shake Shack. The guy three seats away looked real serious. “Going to write him a letter asking for a game of catch?” “You’re making pop culture references.” “Not a question, either.” “No, a stunned statement of fact.” She wanted that laugh on loop. Wanted it to play as the soundtrack for the rest of the night and the rest of the series and quite possibly the rest of her life, lingering softly in the background of everything she did for the rest of forever. 

Matching in perfect rhythm to the predisposed nature of her blood to boil. 

“Where are all your friends, then?” Nina asked, almost desperate to change the direction of the conversation and her internal dialogue. The blue evolved. Right there in his eyes. Darkened until it looked like the sky before a storm and that was ten-thousand times worse than any other drivel she’d come up with so far. 

Licking her lips was idiotic. Naturally, that’s what she did. 

“Not here,” he replied, “but I know the hitting coach.” Strictly speaking, that should not have been quite as awe-inducing as it was. Nina hadn’t paid for her tickets, after all. Had no intention of paying for tickets ever again, if she was being honest. So, really, seeing how caution swept the muscle’s face was kind of a dick move. 

On her part, specifically. 

“Should I be impressed?” Shoulder lift, right on cue. “I knew him in college. Was, uh—” “—Wait, did you play baseball?” Color didn’t rise on his cheeks. Not in any romantic way. Nothing about it was swepping, which was good because the Phillies had won the night before, meaning any sweeping would also guarantee Mets losses. It arrived in splotches. Bits of pink and nearly-red, tiny pinpricks of unregulated emotion that immediately affected the ability of Nina’s pulse to stay even. 

She grinned. 

Wide and honest, ignoring the strands of hair that fell in her eyes when she let her head fall. 

He didn’t look away. 

She’d think that was important, later. 

“You contain multitudes, Muscle.” “Insulting,” he grumbled. “Quite possibly the tallest man I’ve ever encountered in the flesh.” “That can’t possibly be true.” “You don’t look like a baseball player.” Back to the correct shade of blue. Just for a moment. Disappearing in the haze of a 90 mile per hour fastball. Right up the middle. But Nina had always been fairly good at tracking pitches, and she might not have been a former baseball player, but picking out the slider amongst a never-ending stream of heaters was like her personal superpower. 

“So I’ve heard.” “From scouts?” “Sometimes, yeah.”

“Of the professional variety?” “Every now and then.”

Letting out a low whistle, Nina’s spine relaxed. Tension that had taken root between her shoulder blades loosened, watching the face in front of her and the mask it was so obviously clinging to. Kept slipping, though. While staring directly at her. 

It was, she would argue, why she did what she did. Without mumbling. 

“You wanna sit?” “With you?” “Rude. You threw paper at me.” “It was a well-constructed airplane,” the muscle argued, “so you could also score the game. This was a nice thing I was doing.” “Past tense.” “Am doing,” he corrected. “Currently.”

“That mean you're going to sit?”

She counted. Seconds. Moments. Breaths. Dug her teeth into her lower lip. Against the side of her tongue. He nodded. 

And climbed over the seat. 

So, that was only going to marginally mess with her brain. 

“Alright then,” Nina said, doing her best to flatten her paper against the bend of her knee, “tell me everything about your baseball tale of woe.”

He didn’t. 

At least not at first. 

It took until the fourth inning for them to begrudgingly agree that mowing patterns in the outfield was an abstract art form that did not often get the credit it deserved, before deciding, in no uncertain terms, that the NL East boasted some of the better uniform options in all baseball, even if that was mostly because of the Marlins and—

His hand moved to his shoulder. 

The right one. More than once. Gently massaged the muscle there, a slight grimace that Nina only noticed because she was sitting squarely in the middle of objectification and she didn’t even know his name. Yet, she reminded herself. 

They’d get there. 

They didn’t. Not in that game, anyway. 

A Saturday afternoon in May didn’t present the same sort of chill that required scalding hot coffee with absolutely nothing else in it, but Nina was playing with hope and resting on her not-so-cautious expectations. Seeing how wide his eyes could get was extra. 

Sugar on top, if you will. 

They got very wide. Frozen, even. Stuck halfway down the row, still no jersey, just his dropped jaw and slumped, possibly injured shoulders, ignoring the jabs from nearby season ticket holders who were starting to believe this mountain of muscle existed solely to block their sight lines. 

Nina figured that’s what it was, at least. 

He smiled. 

That smile. Her smile. When she’d begun to claim it, she couldn’t begin to pinpoint, but it might have been six and two-thirds innings into last night’s game when his left arm had bumped her right, just enough warmth wafting off him to be noticeable. To leave goosebumps in his awake, too. 

“There’s no sugar in it,” she promised, “so you don’t have to worry for the state of your stomach.” “I didn’t once think you were trying to poison me.” “High praise.” “Deservedly so.” She flushed. Ducked her eyes. Tried not to chew her tongue in half, or allow the burning-hot blood racing through every single one of her extremities to burst its way out of her skin. That would be off-putting. And traumatic. 

“Here,” he added, tugging another folded piece of paper out of his back pocket, “for you.” “Are you printing these off in the hotel?” “Should be a private investigator, Ms. Met.” “Did your coach make you stay in Queens, Muscle?” The hand that landed on her waist — to move her, just to move her — was warm and blistering and those were two very different words with a pair of very different meanings and even more jarring consequences, and he sat down next to her. 

Huh. 

Huh. 

“Been taking the train in from Grand Central.” “Ugh, he’s making you stay over there? There’s no good food in that part of the city.” “Quiet, though.” Sticking her tongue out when she gagged continued to be one of Nina’s less impressive traits. “I blew my shoulder out my junior year of college.”

One of Nina’s knees buckled. Only one. The right one, actually. She refused to believe that was a sign. From baseball gods, or otherwise. “Hitting?” “Throwing. Probably because of the hitting, but the blowing out actually happened on what was considered by most in the know to be a pretty routine throw from left field. Hurt like hell.” “Yeah, I bet.” “I don’t remember a ton of what happened right after. Might have yelled? Quite possibly blacked out. Definitely heard something snap, which admittedly terrified me, but then there were a bunch of people talking and walking me down the tunnel and more lights and tests. The phrase never the same again was thrown around with alarming regularity.”

Cold. Nina was cold. Freezing beneath a mid-afternoon sun, one of those May days that tease of summer yet to come. They smell like cotton candy and potential, of a distinct lack of responsibility and SPF 70. 

She had sensitive skin. 

“Were you by yourself?” Asking questions she somehow already knew the answer to was equal parts cruel and unusual, particularly when asking it of a man whose name never got to back pages. Or her ears, it seemed. She swallowed whatever was sitting in the back of her mouth. 

“Brum was there,” he said, but it sounded like an excuse. A practiced line that had started to reek of insincerity. “My—well, my parents had been gone for a while. Same old sob story you always hear, y’know? Kid loses everything, finds salvation in the dogma of sports, gets pretty good at it, and then—” “—Loses it all again?” Nina finished. She thought she did. Whoever was talking didn’t sound like Nina. Sounded like someone who had painstakingly refolded her paper airplane the night before. To keep on the nightstand next to her bed. 

“Some of it, yeah. They wanted me to stick around. Stay on staff. Coach. But that was—” He clicked his tongue. Distant eyes stared past that goddamn M&Ms ad, and Nina didn’t think. Wasn’t that how the best athletes were, though? All instinct and lightning-fast reaction times. Responding to a situation before the rest of us mere mortals could even begin to fathom the circumstance. 

He didn’t push her hand off his. 

The coffee was going to go cold. 

“Very maudlin way of approaching things.” She chuckled. Tried not to cry, for entirely new reasons. “Impressive vocabulary for a jock.” “Keep workshop'ing your insults, Ms. Met.”

“Brum, he just got hired by the Phillies, right?” She knew that answer too. “Is this the first game you’ve been to?” His eyes slid to hers. In that same slow motion as before, and that couldn’t possibly have been less than seventy-two hours ago, but life had a tendency to be weird like that and good like that and, well, you can’t predict baseball, Suzyn.  

“Why the Mets?” It wasn’t the question she expected. Felt far too big and more than a little terrifying, jumping into the deep end of the pool from the highest diving board. But that same pool was always crystal clear, the sort of blue they wrote songs about. Summertime and the living was easy. That sort of thing. 

“Because there’s something wonderful in a team that defies every bit of sports conjecture. That breathes in the chaos and spits out something that, every now and then, is absolutely beautiful. That lets me be bigger than myself for nine innings and a minimum of one-hundred and sixty-two games. That takes all my shortcomings and accepts them because one time this team claimed there was a raccoon fighting with a rat in the dugout tunnel. Because they don’t play The Imperial March during lineup announcements.” Something, something—she needed better sunscreen. 

So as to not get burned by the force of his sun-like smile. 

“I think a raccoon could probably take a rat, don’t you think?” “I don’t know,” Nina wavered, “I own a fair amount of Staten Island Pizza Rat merch.” His hand flipped. Fingers curled around hers and held on with an ease that settled her acid and cooled her blood, finally finding that middle ground between frigid and fission. 

“Explain the single seating.” “I had a friend here on Thursday.” “And he had to go back to work. Where does he work?” “Bar in Jersey.” Curiosity flashed in the blue, but then it was gone and Nina must have imagined it, looking for more common ground and mutual understanding. Her fingers looked minuscule between his. 

“If I told you that I know the new owner of the Mets,” Nina started, “because I went to college with his girlfriend, and he’s been listening to me talk about this team for the better part of a decade now, so he decided to spend some of his inherited millions to buy it, and now that same girlfriend is sitting up there perpetually confused why I like to be out here, do you think you’d hate me on principle?” One blink. Two. Head tilt. Jaw clench. His lips popped when they opened. 

“No.” “No?” “No,” he echoed, “Nikolai Lantsov shouldn’t have spent so much money on your shortstop’s contract.” “Wasn’t an error.” Both shoulders lifted.

“Nina Zenik,” she said, a tardy greeting that should have happened well before the hand holding. The hand holding continued. 

“Matthias Helvar.” “Did you bring a pen?” He pulled another one out of his jacket pocket. 

They disagreed on no less than half a dozen calls. Impressive, since they didn’t actually start paying attention to their separate score sheets and books until early in the third inning after Nina had barely cleared the cheese sauce off the corner of her page. 

Introducing themselves made it feel as if they’d crested another level in whatever the proper term for this not-quite relationship was. 

Jabs weren’t nearly as sharp, but elbows brushed and noses scrunched. Makeshift disdain blurred against subtle infatuation, sunshine in his hair and pressing against the barrier of Nina’s consistently reapplied sunscreen. They talked. Laughed. Shouted and screamed, standing at different times. Much to the chagrin of everyone around them. 

She didn’t bother asking about the Chase Utley jersey. Knew that it was as much a part of Matthias’s fandom as the Piazza jersey was to hers. Connecting him to something that was only partially his, because no matter how much this sport might be capable of sweeping over them, of bringing them along with the current, there was a riptide always threatening just below the surface. Capable of drowning and filling lungs, leaving them both taking on water and hastily constructed metaphors. 

Plus, they both hated the Yankees. So, they talked about that. 

Talked about places in the city they liked to go, Nina’s knowledge of hole-in-the-wall restaurants leaving his eyes as wide as she’d hoped they could be, tiny pools she was more than willing to dive into. With perfect form. 

Laughter became the new normal for the pair of them, chancing glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking. They always were. As if those magnets were real and forceful, leaving them both grinning like idiots whenever they were caught in the act. 

Once an inning, then. 

Matthias didn’t sing during the seventh-inning stretch, but Nina was loud enough for the pair of them. Especially when she was standing on her seat, a hand flat on the small of her back. 

“So you don’t fall,” Matthias explained, and the words immediately branded themselves on that corner of her brain where Nina kept good things. 

They shared a plastic helmet of swirl ice cream. With rainbow sprinkles. 

He called them jimmies. 

She made fun of him. 

And then—

It was over. 

No drama. No walk-off hits. No extra innings. Just a Mets win that didn’t require the bottom of the ninth. And she was happy with that, she was. Less so with the way her stomach dropped as soon as her knees bent and her chin lifted, barely tempered hope and the sort of want that did not require magnets to direct her gaze. 

Matthias loomed above her, casting shadows and the desire to finally push her fingers into his hair was nearly too much to ignore. Nina did. In favor of what came next because she knew what came next, and this was not that serious. Sitting on opposing lines of a flimsy at best baseball rivalry did not mean she couldn’t push up on her toes and catch the mouth of someone who no longer felt like a stranger. Until that same mouth inevitably opened and she got to do whatever she wanted with her tongue. 

Only—

One of the season tickets started grumbling, and the sea of fans pushed forward and the only way Nina stayed upright was because of the arm around her waist. Matthias’s nose ticked her skin along the back of her neck. 

“Told ya,” he mumbled, and if he saw the goosebumps, he didn’t mention them. 

That was nice. 

He was nice. 

She was—

A mess, at best. 

Mostly because there was no kissing. Almost like they were nervous of what would happen if they did. Of shattering this tremulous understanding and shaky alliance, but Matthias’s fingers squeezed Nina’s hip before he said, “See you tomorrow.”

She did not see him tomorrow. 

When tomorrow was tonight and now and Zoya and Genya kept doing circles around the room. 

Sunday Night Baseball on ESPN required a certain amount of protocol and it was the first broadcast with Nikolai in the owner’s box, which meant plenty of shots at the owner’s box, and Nina sat in her very plush, decidedly warm seat, with only minimal argument. 

There was champagne, so. That helped. 

Plus, she figured she’d— “Is it a guy?” Genya asked without preamble, propping her chin on her hand. “Is that why you don’t want to hang out?” Nina sighed. “You know me better than that.” “Sure, sure, sure, looked real cozy down there, though.” “Are you spying on me?” “Nah, Zoya was.” Frustration clawed at Nina’s consciousness. Surprise did not. This was par for the course and several other out-of-place sports cliches. 

Zoya finished her drink before adding, “I didn’t leave this suite all afternoon, yesterday, the security guards that Nikolai knows in that section though…” “That’s splitting hairs,” Nina argued. “And they were just doing their job,” Nikolai added, shouting in a way a multi-millionaire absolutely should not. Zoya rolled her eyes. 

“Whatever they were doing,” Nina said, “they didn’t need to be doing it. What if someone got robbed while they were watching me?” “You think people are getting robbed in broad daylight inside this stadium?” “Maybe!” “Were lots of Phillies fans here,” Genya pointed out. Laughter clung to her words, quiet snickers from the rest of the assorted peanut gallery. Before they noticed that Nina wasn’t lacking. Might have paled, if the matching expressions she was met with were any indication. “Oh,” Genya exhaled, “good looking Phillies fan, huh?” Nina grit her teeth. “He knows Brum.” “The bastard,” Nikolai sneered. 

“Most people don’t like him.” “Because he’s a bastard, yeah.” “How’d the Phillies fan know Brum?” Zoya asked, and it wasn’t like Nina wanted to tell them. Words poured out of her all the same, excitement carving its way into the conversation because even if she could rationalize the lack of kissing after a three-day conversation and occasional argument, none of her friends could understand how she didn’t get his number. 

Neither could she, quite frankly. 

“This is either disgustingly romantic,” Nikolai said, “or it’s exceedingly dumb. Of both of you.” Genya clicked her tongue. In agreement, Nina figured. “Second one, for sure. Do we have to go arrest him for something? Bring him up here, nervous and scared—” “Same sentiment,” Nina mumbled. “—Only for him to see you, awash in a sea of moonlight and outfield lights, and then you live happily ever after despite your baseball allegiances?” “He hates the Yankees too.” “Something, at least,” Zoya said, but it was missing the edge. The acid. The anger Nina had almost prepared herself for. “You going to go down there, or….”

Finishing the sentence was pointless when Nina was already standing, Nikolai’s laugh ringing in her ears as she did her best to push her finger straight through the elevator button. She bobbed on the balls of her feet, impatience skittering up her spine and there were too many buttons and too much laughter, but that was likely a good thing, and the security guards didn’t stop her. 

From running into the section. 

Only to find two sets of empty seats. His and hers. A weird, depressing, matching set. 

Nina waited. Stood at the top of the section stairs, waiting for a flash of familiar hair or those eyes that she probably hadn’t dreamed about the night before. Never came. The goosebumps did, for an entirely new and even more depressing reason. 

The security guard asked her to leave. Twenty-eight minutes after the last out. 

Matthias hadn’t been at the game. 

To be a Mets fan, was to wait. 

For wins. For David Wright’s body to heal. For that same rush that came in 2015, only this time, it also came up with a World Series championship attached to it. 

Nina wasn’t very good at waiting. 

Summer crept forward. As it was apt to do. Going back to the ballpark was second nature to Nina, but the Mets were on their West Coast swing, and spending a week and a half with Zoya and Genya touring the greater California coast wasn’t entirely appealing. So, she was in New Jersey. 

Leaning against the bar of the Crow Club, Nina watched the crowd. Most of them saturated with fruity alcohol, drinks that never came with those little umbrellas because the thought of such a thing would have set Kaz’s teeth on edge, but this was Atlantic City and that required a certain level of nonsense to be met consistently. 

Plus, Nina knew Inej liked those drinks. 

And that was that, for Kaz. As they say. 

Heads turned at tables while she watched, conversations that only occasionally acknowledged the baseball games on TVs hanging above them, others recounting beach exploits from that afternoon and plans for the rest of the evening, a steady din of noise and humanity that somehow made it easier for Nina to breathe. 

It smelled like salt when she did. 

“Looking awfully thoughtful,” Inej said, appearing out of nowhere to grin knowingly at Nina. “Give you a nickel for them.” “They’re not worth that much.” “What about one of those tokens from the casino down the boardwalk?” “Does Kaz know Jesper went to play there again?” “Absolutely.” “And?” “And what?” Inej parroted. “Who are you looking for, exactly?” “No one.” It was the wrong answer. A telling answer. An answer Nina didn’t realize she was capable of providing until the very moment those five letters in that specific order passed between lips in desperate need of ChapStick. And kissing. Gods, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t kissed him. 

“Our dear, darling Nina is pining,” Jesper explained. Drink in hand, the soft clink of casino tokens was as absurd as it was not, a mix of youth and age and responsibility and not. The perfect blend of summertime status. 

Nina took a sip of his drink before he could offer. She assumed he would offer. 

“For that,” Jesper hissed, “I’ll tell Inej the rest of the story.” He did. Spared no expense, really. Recounted scorebooks and shouting matches, although some dramatic license was taken at that point, drawing a small crowd that included a guy Nina had never met before, staring openly at Jesper like he’d hung the moon. She’d make fun of him for that. Maybe. After the story. Probably. 

Inej was a rapt audience, taking in details and occasionally letting her eyes flit toward Nina. Who never once disputed anything. There was nothing to dispute. The goddamn paper airplane was still sitting on her goddamn nightstand. 

“And you just never saw him again?” Inej asked. Nina shook her head. “That’s tragic. Not—maybe not grand scheme, world level, but tragic all the same.” “No kissing either,” Jesper added. 

Nina’s heart dropped. Shattered at her feet. Like one of those plates, you could shoot at in the arcade. “How do you know that?” “I didn’t, until right now. Simple assumption, though. Who could pine at your level if there’d been previous making out?” “Two different things,” Inej murmured. 

Jesper hummed in agreement. “And Nina wanted both. Fraternizing with the enemy.” “He hated the Yankees, too.” “So, what? The enemy of my enemy is my friend? My good-looking friend?” “He was good-looking, right?” That earned her another hum — and got Jesper a look of passing consternation from the guy at his side. Nina desperately needed to learn names in a more timely fashion. Determined to remedy at least one situation, she took a deep breath and immediately, very nearly died. 

It was very dramatic. 

Sweeping, even. 

Because the door opened and she knew the music didn’t stop and the Earth didn’t pause mid-rotation, but it felt like her center of balance had been inextricably altered and that wasn’t the bad thing it should have been when Matthias Helvar took his first step into the Crow Club. 

Not falling over really was a rather monumental miracle. 

If she decided to move, Nina did not remember it. Could not bother with something as menial as cognitive reasoning or the ability of the neurons in her brain to properly fire, not when she was twisting around tables and reminding herself of all the very important properties oxygen possessed. In regard to continued consciousness. 

He didn’t move. He waited. Watched. Documented her, it felt like. 

She wasn’t entirely opposed. 

Their shoes nearly brushed. 

“Huh,” Matthias breathed, slumping slightly to get into her eye line. Or just closer to her. The specifics didn’t matter. “I was right, then.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “You said your friend worked at a bar in Jersey.” “This is a bar in Jersey.” “Yeah, we might be going in circles, actually.” “What are you doing here?” Nina was dimly aware of Jesper shouting something, but the buzz between her ears was far too loud and even the concept of pulling her gaze away from Matthias’s made her want to grit her teeth together until she ground them down completely. 

She licked her lips. 

He smiled. “After I got hurt,” Matthias explained, “I didn’t know what way was up. So, I went...up. Best as I could, really, up the Shore.” “Is that a joke?” “No, I thought your friend looked familiar. Was driving me nuts, honestly.” “How?” “Twenty questions, Ms. Met.” “Matthias!”

Her voice cracked. Her foot stomped. Air crackled and the world very likely did shift because the hands on Nina’s cheeks were warm and perfectly sized to pull her that much closer and she was legitimately proud of herself. For not stepping on his feet. He didn’t really give her the chance. 

Rocking against each other, there was a joke about tides and current to be made and Nina pushed them back, down or up, and direction didn’t matter and time didn’t matter. Sports allegiance was the least of her worries. Not when Matthias’s arm found her waist and there was something to be said for the stretch of his upper body. Capable, as it was, of lifting her up and he was ten-thousand times better at any tongue thing than she could have possibly imagined. 

Tracing her lips and twisting around her own, like he was taking a very personal and detailed inventory. One of his thumbs brushed against Nina’s cheeks, but she honestly couldn’t figure out which one. Everything was sensation and feeling, a bases-clearing double that kept the rally alive and the roar in the background wasn’t the crowd at Citi Field, but Inej perched on the edge of the bar and Jesper balanced on the rungs of a rickety stool, and they only broke apart to fall back together. 

Nina closed her eyes. 

Better to remember, that way. 

To let her breath catch whenever Matthias’s neck dipped again, the sort of angle that sonnets were written for, and epic romances documented. Right side up and cross dimensions and Nina’s eyelashes fluttered. Open, closed. Once, twice. 

He was still there. 

“You go down the Shore, everybody knows that,” Nina whispered, still somehow sounding like herself. Good, that was good. And only good, that time. 

“I think you’re getting paid by the disagreement.” “I liked shouting your name.” His eyes—

Sparkled, maybe. 

She didn’t even hate herself for thinking that. 

“Probably about as much as I enjoyed hearing it,” Matthias said, “and I’ve been here before. Spent that summer drinking at,” his head jerked toward the corner where Inej waved, “that corner. This was as far away from school and baseball and everything I thought was gone as I could find.” “Ah, the scorebook makes sense now.” “Does it just?” “You know baseball isn’t often predictable nor nearly that organized. That’s the appeal, so people claim.” “They do,” Matthias admitted, “but I—is that demon-looking guy still working here?” “Kaz owns this bar.” “Of course he does. You know everyone, don’t you Ms. Met?” “Impressive like that.” Humming wasn’t really her favorite of the audible, non-word responses, but Nina heard something different in that sound than she ever had before. Almost like hope and something worth waiting for, if only because the waiting found her first. 

She kissed the bottom of his chin. 

It was all she could reach. 

“I really wanted you to be here, Nina,” Matthias said, “and I’m sorry I wasn’t there Sunday. For that game, I—that wasn’t part of the plan, but...well, Brum had set up this whole interview with a college team in the middle of nowhere, thinking I’d be good with that and—” “You weren’t good with that?” His hair shook when his head did. “Not really, no.” “Did he kick you out of your hotel?”

“Smart too.” “Total package.” “Yeah,” Matthias said, a note of awe that made Nina’s skin prickle, “anyway, I’m pretty much in New York full-time now, but trying to find you there seemed impossible.” “So you figured you’d try a bar in the middle of Atlantic City?” “I leave a very strong impression,” Jesper yelled, practically jumping off the stool when Kaz glared. Inej’s smile was hypnotic. 

“Something like that,” Matthias agreed, “so this is the part where we actually give each other our phone numbers and then—” His arm tightened again, finding a bit of space that certainly hadn’t been there twelve seconds before. Just enough to make sure Nina heard him mumble I like you before he kissed her. Or she kissed him. 

Either or, really. 

They went to Yankee Stadium on Labor Day weekend. 

Nikolai pulled some strings to get them suite seats with complimentary well drinks and never-ending popcorn and both Matthias and Nina wore wholly out of place jerseys. Supporting neither of the teams on the field. Just each other, maybe. At least without much argument. They had better things to do, anyway. Fingers laced together, Nina shouted at the field and Matthias stared at anyone who dared glance in their direction and it was weird and wonderful and exactly what sports was supposed to be. 

Caring about something beyond reason, something bigger and better than any one person was alone. 

#matthias x nina #helnik #helnik fanfiction #nina zenik #matthias helvar #soc fanfic #insert shrug emoji here #every now and then i have these like...five hour bursts where i write all these words at once #this is the product of one of those

[eggjorp]

Ch2 - Boxers or Briefs?

Main Masterlist

3AM Masterlist

Chapter 1 - Insomnia

Next

Notes: swearing, angst, comedy, 3k

You end up drifting off at around six and wake up to both your alarm blaring at half past eight and your head throbbing with a similar kind of ring. You get out of bed, sighing as you trudge to the bathroom, getting ready for class.

You swap your pyjama bottoms for jeans and throw a hoodie on top, grabbing the bag you carefully packed the night before (one of your few good habits) and a banana you stuff into your mouth as you leave. Once you arrive in class you silently sit next to your group of friends and grab the closest source of caffeine.

“Black coffee? Are you fucking with me? You’re such an old man oh my god!” you exclaim after taking a big gulp of the stolen coffee.

“Yet you’re still happily drinking it? Fuck off that’s mine, you kept me up late I need it!” Doyoung retorts.

“I didn’t do shit actually. If I remember correctly you told me to shut the fuck up and you went to bed. And you ignored me! A lot! I told you, I’m sensitive!” you pout as you hand him back his coffee. During this interaction the rest of your friends sit there in confusion, you don’t bother trying to explain, not enough energy.

“Okay did y’all fuck or what?” Jaehyun asks pointedly, and Johnny tuts at him for his explicitness. Instead of replying you wink at Jaehyun and ignore Doyoung’s disapproving glare. Jaehyun gasps dramatically, “Oh my god y’all really fucked? I thought you guys were like archenemies, but FINALLY!” his words catch the attention of the people sitting around but it doesn’t last long as he offers them his signature charming smile as an apology.

“We didn’t fuck, they texted me at three am and five am, calling me a bum and a poopyhead? They’re actually so immature. How you’re at such a prestigious university I’ll never understand. Perhaps you paid your way in? Fucked the dean of admissions?” he turns to you, quirking his eyebrow.

You give him a smirk, “Darling, you don’t need to worry about how eventful my sex life is. If I were you I’d worry about yours.” you poke, knowing full well Doyoung prioritises his studies over relationships. It is something you admire but you would never tell him that, god no, you would never give him the satisfaction.

“Should I be envious that your grades resemble your sex life? Full of Ds?” he snaps back, and you purse your lips to stop a snort, as you reach down to pull your laptop out of your bag and hide your face.

Before the lecture starts you reach your hand over Jaehyun to grab Doyoung’s coffee once more, finishing it with a quick gulp before smiling sweetly and dropping it into the bin beside you at the end of the row.

“That was uncalled for.” Doyoung’s jaw tenses and he glares at you. If eyes could kill, you would be dead ten times over by now. Nothing new though, you’ve grown immune to his stare considering how many times you’ve fallen victim to it. Annoying Doyoung is the highlight of your day—no, week— and has become part of your routine.

“Guess what?” you lean over the desk and beckon Doyoung to lean over and meet you in the middle. He stares at you blankly, refusing to move, and you roll your eyes, “Your face was uncalled for.” you grin, once more, before returning to your seat and focusing your attention on the start of the lecture.

“For fucks sake, the stubble in my armpits keeps stabbing me. It's so uncomfortable!” you rub at them, hoping to soothe the skin. Johnny laughs and Doyoung rolls his eyes. “I don’t think that’s information we needed to know.”

“Your face isn’t information we needed to know.” you bite back, sticking your tongue out at him,  watching his jaw tense and teeth grinding.

“You know, if you keep grinding your teeth like that, you’re gonna flatten them all. You’re gonna look like an old man with no teeth at the age of 25!” you snort, pointing your finger at him.

“I wouldn’t grind them if you didn’t stress me out so much!” he scoffs.

“I wouldn’t stress you out if you didn’t stress me out!” you immediately return. Johnny is laughing at you both for the entire duration of this conversation and inwardly you congratulate yourself for providing such brilliant entertainment.

“What the fuck do I do?” he asks as you three reach the McDonald’s, “You exist.” you deadpan, ignoring him as you walk past him to get into line. He rolls his eyes for about the twentieth time today and doesn’t respond. Doyoung decides it’s better to ignore you back.

“Johnny, Dongyoung, what do you guys want?” you ask.

“Umm, cheeseburger, fries, strawberry milkshake,” Johnny responds, followed by silence. You look expectantly at Doyoung.

“Hey? You big bum, what do you want?” you ask Doyoung, poking his side. He falters for a second, “Uh, Chicken nuggets, Large.”

You nod and turn to order, “But why?” you look back at him, confused, “Why are you ordering me food?”

This time it’s you who rolls their eyes, “Are you rejecting free food? Okay, I see how it is.”

“No, I’m not! Just wondering...” you ignore and order, telling them to sit down as you wait for your food. Once you return with the food you sit down, drinking your hot chocolate and munching on some chips.

“Yo, have you guys watched the new Pokémon movie yet?” Johnny asks. You shake your head.

“It’s probably gonna be shit. People go for the Pokémon, not the plot.” Doyoung pokes. “The plot is the Pokémon you dumbass,” you respond.

“Regardless of the plot or the Pokémon let’s go watch it!” Johnny suggests excitedly. Reluctantly you all make your way to the cinema, buying a large popcorn to share, and get your tickets for the movie.

“Hey, Doyoung?”

“What?”

“You’re an expired waffle.” The room may be dark, but you don’t need light to know that Doyoung was rolling his eyes.

“You’re a useless paperclip.” he retorts and at this, you gasp “Kim Dongyoung how fucking dare you.”

He smirks and feigns innocence, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You narrow your eyes at him and give his wrist a light slap, “You know exactly what I’m talking about! I used that insult and you said it was dumb and now you’re using it!”

Doyoung slaps your wrist back, “A dumb insult for a dumb person eh?” your mouth is wide open. You’re astounded that he dares give you this attitude, so you do what any normal person does— you grab a handful of popcorn and drop it down his shirt.

This, of course, causes Doyoung to yell and a little girl to stand up from her seat, turn around and say, “Excuse me can you please be quiet?” Doyoung grabs at your hand, still hovering over his shirt and you both politely apologise. Johnny is cracking up, as expected, and Doyoung is boiling with anger. You can practically see the steam tumbling out of his ears and the scowl across his face is clear in the light from the screen.

“You’re helping me get it off!” still with your hand in his grasp he stands up, pulling you along with him, and some popcorn falling to the floor with a crackle.

“What the fuck am I meant to do?” you whisper but he pays you no attention and urges you to walk down the stairs.  The audible crunch of the stray popcorn under your feet after every step makes you wince and Doyoung’s grip on your wrist remains tight. Reluctantly you follow him out of the theatre doors.

“You’re such a fucking child! Now I have popcorn stuck in my boxers, Y/N, my BOXERS!” he frantically pulls on his shirt, trying to rid himself of the small kernels.

“You seem more of a briefs guy to me...” you respond with a cheeky smile, attempting to keep the mood light-hearted.

“You’re going to pay for this!”

“Hey, I bought you McDonald's, didn’t I?”

“That doesn’t give you a free pass to shove popcorn down my shirt! What is it with you, seriously!” his irritation only heightens with your responses, allowing for some harsh words to fall from his mouth.

“Do you have any common sense at all? We’re trying to watch a movie for god’s sake, and you’re just playing around like an immature child! Can you not be sensible for one fucking moment?” you furrow your eyebrows while listening to him berate you.

“Alright there, Mr Kim, maybe you wanna slow down for a second? Go clean yourself up and take a breath.” you try to be the sensible adult he doesn’t think you can be and hold back with further insults.

“Oh great, now I seem like the bad guy,” he says, giving up in trying to rid himself of the popcorn remains.

“Don’t worry, we know in this situation you’re the adult and I’m the child you get to lecture.” You cross your arms and squint at him, struggling to hold in your own irritation.

“Your passive-aggressiveness is really subtle you know!” you take a step closer and tilt your head with a sweet smile, “Well I learnt from the best!”.

His jaw tenses and your eyes quickly flit to it before returning to his, “Seriously, stop grinding your teeth— but you don’t need to take my advice! Who in their right mind would listen to an immature child, right?”

You try to walk past him to go back into the theatre but Doyoung lightly grasps your forearm. “I didn’t mean what I said...”

You turn to look back, faces only centimetres away but eyes filled with spite, “Yes, you did. In your eyes I’m nothing but an irritating child, but you’re right so it’s fine.” you yank your arm away and re-enter the theatre, returning to your seat.

“Everything okay?” Johnny asks.

“Yep. He just got really pissed.”

“Oh, because of the popcorn?” Johnny offers you a sympathetic smile.

“Because I’m apparently immature and dumb and can’t be sensible.” you scoff.

“I mean, you did chuck popcorn down his shirt...”

“And he’s slipped ice down the back of mine? It’s mutual. Or at least I thought it was.” you sigh, frustrated that the day had to turn sour so quickly for no good reason.

You and Johnny end the conversation there, even when Doyoung returns. The extent of any other conversations consisting of the occasional comment about the movie. The movie ends, and you take your time getting up, stretching your limbs and yawning.

“That was actually a decent movie.” Johnny expresses.

“Yeah, it was okay, but I feel like it was more plot twist than plot,” you joke, both boys chuckle and hum in agreement but you pay no attention to Doyoung.

“Let’s go get sushi?” Johnny suggests. You groan in response “I’m a broke bitch and I bought us all McDonald’s earlier! Only if you pay?” you give Johnny a sweet smile, but he responds with a look of pity, “Hoe, I’m broke too...”

After exchanging a knowing look for a few moments, you both turn to Doyoung with that same sweet smile, and he knows exactly what you want.

“Ugh fine, but there’s a cap on how much you can spend!” he groans and begins walking ahead while you and Johnny cheer together.

Johnny links his arms with yours as you follow Doyoung to the restaurant, the time filled with absentminded chatter.

“Alright fellas, I need to go to the toilet, don’t kill each other while I’m away!” both you and your frenemy roll your eyes and ignore him, continuing to eat your meals.

After about thirty seconds Doyoung breaks the silence, “I’m sorry about earlier.” and while you would love to snap back with something rude and witty, you swallow your anger and echo his short apology.

Johnny comes back and, although you still aren’t speaking, he can sense the tension has dissipated and is content with the progress. A few more jokes and beers later you all end up outside of the restaurant, Johnny insisting he’s fine even though he keeps mixing up his home address with a bar nearby and you send him home by taxi, opting for a train as you’re not sure your bank account could take another hit.

As you and Doyoung live relatively close you take the same train home and so are walking to the same train station.

“Uh, can we stop here for a second? I need to get some things.” he pauses outside of a convenience store and you give him a small nod. A few minutes later he remerges with a white carrier bag in his hands.

The pair of you continue walking, breathing in the cold air, and he pulls out an item from the carrier bag, grasping your hand and placing the item in your palm, before closing your fist and giving it a tight squeeze.

“Drink this tea before bed, it’ll make you sleepy, there’s no caffeine.” you chuckle quietly at his gesture and tuck it inside your backpack.

“Why did you get me this?”

“I didn’t want to wake up to your dumb messages calling me a poopyhead,” he complains of fake annoyance.

The corners of your lips turn up slightly and you utter a soft “Thank you,” but that’s all until you get to the train station and make your way onto the train.

The lights are bright compared to the dark sky presented behind the dusty window. A few people are scattered along the carriage, a man in formal wear, a few students, an older woman, and some young men.

A stop in you hear a whisper in your ear,

“Actually, I do wear briefs but they’re all in the wash so I had to resort to boxers,” at first it startles you, not expecting the warm breath, but you smile and turn to look at him. Doyoung tries to suppress a smile and look straight ahead but as you continue to stare at him, laughing quietly, he can’t help but let a few noises escape. He then quickly buries his face in his hands and you both melt into a pile of giggles.

“I can still feel the popcorn scratching my chest,” he says in-between snorts, “You deserved it, to be honest,” you counter,

“You always say I deserved it!”

“That’s because you do!”

Your loud laughter gains the attention of the few people in the carriage and you begin shushing each other, it doesn’t make it any better, but you continue regardless.

A few seconds later Doyoung grabs at your hand and pulls you up, “Our stop!” dragging you along and he runs off the train. It takes you a few seconds to realise what’s happening but you’re already off the train, hearing the beeping signifying the doors are closing only moments before you leapt out. Doyoung stops suddenly and you crash into his side, unprepared for it.

“Woah there!” you grab onto his arm for stability, “I can’t believe we almost missed our stop,”

Doyoung laughs and starts walking towards the exit, “See, I’m so reliable. Unlike someone...”

You roll your eyes, “I almost got smushed by those doors, less reliable more lucky!”

He looks at you with fake offence, a hand on his chest in a mock upset, “You’re just rude that's what you are.”

“You’re just rude, that's what you are.” you imitate him with a high pitched voice, and he narrows his eyes at you before shoving your hand off his arm and speeding his walking up.

“Nooo! Doyoung! Don’t be mad!” he continues to walk away silently, and you speed up to match his tempo. You get to the crossing where you go separate ways, he continues without you and so you get his attention the only way you can.

“WE’LL TAKE THE HIGHWAY TO HEAVEN AND I CAN’T WAIT TO LOVE YOU ALL ALONE—” he runs after you and slams his hands over your mouth to stop your screeching, taking a few steps backwards due to the force of colliding. He lowers his hand slightly to your shoulder and places his other hand on your back to stop you both from falling.

You hold onto his jacket and laugh, and his head hangs low in shame, “I can’t believe you I really can’t. You’re insane, you know that right?” you continue to giggle and just nod in response. He shakes his head, but you can see the corners of his lips turning up, “I should’ve left you on that train when I had the chance.”

“Nooo,” you whine, “You can’t leave ME! I’m your BEST FRIEND!” he gives you a dirty look and you shift your attention to the other students passing by in a group, “Guys! I’m his best friend!” they just chuckle, and one yells “That’s nice!”

You turn back to Doyoung, who is groaning and embarrassed, “You’re not my best friend! We’re enemies, remember?” he widens his eyes and shakes his head at you, “That’s not what you were saying last night...” you trail off. He narrows his eyes again, “Last night you called me a poopy head and I told you to go to sleep...”

“Didn’t say I was your enemy though!”

“Didn’t say you were my best friend though!” he offers you another dirty look and you pout in response.

“Hey, Kim Dongyoung, don’t be mean!”

“I’m not! I’m—”

“BABY YOU A BAD GIRL WATCH YOUR MOUTH—” he pulls at your jacket to try and drag you home, “Shut up you’re gonna wake everyone up!”

You let him drag you, reluctantly, “No I won’t, I’m not even that loud!”

“We’ll take the highway to heaven,” you finish with a sulk.

“I swear to god you’re such a child!” he groans.

“Yeah, but I’m your child.” you retort and he looks at you in confusion,

“I’m not your dad?” you wink in response, knowing full well you’re not making any sense, and he lets go of your jacket, shoving you away, the playful atmosphere quickly being replaced by a cold one. You finally feel the cool breeze of the wind and there’s a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Why do you always do this Doyoung?” you’ve both stopped on the side of the road.

“Do what?” he asks, his expression showing irritation.

“We’re having fun messing about and then you get all cold and icy. Just like at the cinema.” you finally spill what’s been on your mind for a while now.

“I don’t! You put popcorn down my shirt, of course I was gonna react like that— if anything you took it too far!”

“That’s just how we play around is it not? You’ve done plenty of similar things. I honestly thought we were friends who joke around that they hate each other, but I guess not. I guess you really do hate me and you’re just not able to tolerate my bullshit anymore.” he furrows his eyebrows and opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t give him the chance.

“Goodbye, Doyoung.” you say before walking away, leaving him standing in the cold.

#doyoung fluff #doyoung comedy #doyoung fanfiction #nct fanfiction #doyoung scenarios #doyoung imagines #doyoung reaction #nct fluff #nct angst #nct smut #nct comedy #doyoung msut #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct series #doyoung series #nct #nct 127 #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 angst #nct 127 smut #nct 127 comedy

[curly-bangtan]

Heatwave Drabble #7: it’s just a date, mate

[Heatwave // Godless // Heatwave Drabbles] <- read first!

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: Date night, and you don’t know what is going on.

Genre: drabble, angst, fwb au, roommate au, f2l

Warnings: u might have severe feels after reading

Word count: 3.3k (short because i saw it more fitting to split this in two)

A/N: It’s the beginning of the end of this series :((. Two parts left after this!

not edited well!

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You’re feeling jittery.

You don’t think you can remember the last time you went on a date. It might have been Josh in highschool. He took you out to a movie, some shitty action film that went through the same heavily manufactured Hollywood recipe. You shared popcorn, but he had eaten most of it. And at the end of the night, he kissed you with too much tongue and asked for a second date.

You told him right then and there that you think he’s a bad kisser and said they shouldn’t see each other again.

Maybe the pattern of singleness in your life is starting to make a lot of sense.

You stare at your own reflection in the mirror, and almost scoff at how ridiculous you are. Seriously? Black dress? As in the black dress you have since named “dick-slayer” because you always slay some dick in it. Not to mention, you’re wearing foundation and lipstick. Foundation and lipstick. Who are you even trying to impress?

It’s just a date. You don’t have to impress anyone.

But you haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. Him. How is he going to react to you like this? What is he going to say? Oh, you think you know what he’s going to say - no - do to you. Especially with that track record of his.

So why is your heart pounding? There is nothing to be nervous about. Since when do you get nervous?

For a moment, you just pause all your thoughts and listen. To the sound of your blood and the gentle pads of his feet. He’s outside, somewhere. Clueless. Probably waiting for you.

Everything’s going to be fine.

With a great sigh, you gather yourself and step out of your room. Heels clanking at your every step, you strut towards the unsuspecting Taehyung perched by the island counter with his back facing you. He turns at the sound of your approach.

And chokes on his evening cereal.

“W- You’re- Where are you going?”

“Out with Junho. I told you.”

There it is. You say it as if you’re dropping a bombshell you know will detonate in seconds. You want to wince, yet you know you cannot cower. You can’t let him see through the cracks.

Taehyung goes completely silent, the kind of silence that signifies more than sound.

“Wh…” His voice ebs into a whisper, facial features falter. His cereal spoon slides out of his hand into the bowl of sugary milk, slowly turning on this bottom to face you completely. Your heart is racing again, out of fear and anticipation of what he is going to say because it will tell you all you need to know.

Tell me to stay.

At the lack of response, more likely due to his brain trying to piece together this situation, you say, “I told you about this on Monday.”

He bristles as if you prodded him with a fork. “I- I know, but you didn’t say it was a date.”

Hearing that word roll off his tongue, d-a-t-e, does something to you. That kernel of regret in your chest is starting to grow with every passing second that he is just staring at you with wide bewildered eyes, cereal forgotten and growing soggy.

You can take it back. You don’t have to go.

Then tell me not to go.

“Yeah, I guess it’s a date then.” You clear your throat.

You watch Taehyung’s jaw tighten, teeth grinding behind that solemn expression. That sour feeling concentrates and diffuses in your gut. You thought you knew what to expect from him but you’re not so sure anymore. He looks like he could explode in fury, yet also like he could just shrug and tell you to enjoy your night.

“Who is this Junho?” His tone is still undecipherable, eyes, though locked on yours, unreadable.

“A random guy from physics.”

You hadn’t really noticed Junho much until he started texting you recently. It was only harmless conversation at first, one that you dismissed as his effort to befriend you; you’re not so big headed as to think that every guy who speaks to you has a thing for you. And when he had asked you to grab a drink on a Friday night, you hadn’t even thought twice before agreeing - you’re a sucker for alcohol, any excuse for you to down a few pints, you’ll take.

It wasn’t until Lotta texted you this morning telling you that Junho, who happens to be quite close to her as well, is absolutely shitting himself about your date. Date? Oh. Date. Of course. You thought to yourself.

So it’s a date.

You get along with Junho, he’s a nice guy with a dimpled smile, maybe lacking the same humour as you, but a cool dude nonetheless. You had instantly told Lotta that you’re not interested in him like that. But when she had shut you down, insisting that this is what you always say about every guy interested in you and that is why you’re forever alone because of your stupid committment issues and stubborn vendetta against romance, you realise that she may have a point.

There’s no harm in giving him a chance, actually. Who knows, maybe you might like him?

But moreso, you agreed to go on this date because you wanted to see Taehyung’s reaction. Lately, it feels like there are unspoken words hanging above your heads, and you’re just walking in circles avoiding them. You’ve been thinking a lot. The two of you fuck, sometime borderline make love, you grocery shop, hit the midnight diner, have chicken and beer night, watch movie marathons. It feels an awful lot like a relationship. Yet everything is utterly undefined. You’re not dating, nor are you exclusive. You just want an answer.

Would he fight for you or not? This isn’t the best way to go about this, sure, but it’s going to give you your answer decisively. Does he want you or would he let you go?

“Just a random guy from physics, huh.” Taehyung swivels back around and picks up his spoon, sloshing disintegrating cereal around in the milk.

Maybe you should have done this a different way after all. You’re getting nothing. You wanted a direct answer and he’s giving you nothing. And it stings.

But you can’t stop your feet from walking towards him, to get closer to him so you can read his face. “He’s… a friend I guess.”

“Oh, cool.” He refuses to look at you. As he stuffs a spoonful into his mouth and chews quietly, you cannot help but feel like utter shit. He is never this cold towards you, he has never been so passive aggressive with his replies. You choke on an apology stuck halfway down your throat, because you know you’re not doing anything fundamentally wrong, yet you know you’re fucking it all up at the same time.

The moment Taehyung goes so cold and quiet like this is the moment you should know to fear. You watch him eat his cereal as if you’re not standing right next to him. One spoonful. Another spoonful. The silence has never been so loud.

But actually, no, what are you doing that’s so wrong? Honestly, nothing. If he’s unhappy about it, he should just fucking say it. You’re giving him the chance to say how he feels and he’s tossing it back to you.

“Oh, cool?” You ask, reigning in the guilt. “Is that all you have to say?” The dress you’re wearing suddenly feels very small, constricting your lungs, exposing your legs to the cold lick of the evening breeze.

“What do you want me to say?” He mutters irritably. The cereal is finished now. Is he still not going to look at you?

What do you want him to say?

Don’t go out. Don’t go on a date with him. Go on a date with me.

I love you.

“You’re just being weird, Taehyung.” You gulp and cross your arms. Tension is rising along with your temper. You don’t want to fight but your anger is taking over. Why can’t he just say it?

Finally, he looks up at you, brows pinched in such animosity that you take a step back. When he speaks, his voice is something you don’t recognise. “You’re going on a date for the first time since we met with some random guy in physics, wearing the dress you always wear when you want to get dicked down. What do you want me to say?”

You flinch.

Not to say you didn’t expect some sort of negative reaction, but hostility of such extent was unforeseen. You thought he would whine and pull you into his arms and ask you to stay with him tonight. Not… this.

“It’s just a date, mate. What’s your problem?” You hiss, feeling your calves tremble with bitterness. He acts like he doesn’t want you to go, yet is doing nothing to stop you except hurling knives of ice your way. Coward.

Pause. He flicks his dishevelled fringe out of his face, lips pursed. “Nothing. I don’t have a problem.”

“Then why are you making me feel like shit? A simple ‘Have fun, enjoy your date.’ would have been nice, it’s good to know that you’re so supportive. Or if you have something else on your mind, then fucking spit it out.”

You want to stop, you want to shut up, apologise. You hate every second of this and you hate yourself. But your defense mechanism has always been to fight back, no matter how much you love the person you are fighting and how much you don’t want to hurt them. You can just end this now, say you’re sorry, make up, before you exacerbate it with your own feisty temper.

Taehyung is glaring at you as if he hadn’t been kissing your neck this morning and whispering about how much he loves the way you smell.

You take it all back.

“I’m s-” You start.

“Well, congratu-fucking-lations, a guy actually asked you out for once.”

Everything stops.

And just like that, something shatters within you. You’ve never been one to be affected by other’s words, never one easily hurt. But when he spat that out to you with such intent to inflict pain and loathing, you feel something pierce your chest. In your nearing three years of friendship, you have never thought Taehyung capable of ever hurting you, especially so spitefully. But now, you see it so clearly. He is the only one in this world capable of hurting you like this. Because he is the only one in this world you care this much about.

Or cared.

Then something shifts in his eyes, an instant regret when it dawns on him what he had just said.

At least he had the guts to ask me out, you wanted to scream at him. Why don’t you ask me out if you want me to be yours so badly?

“Congratu-fucking-lations to you, you’re a Class-A dick. Choke on your fucking cereal milk.” You fasten the strap of your purse around your shoulder and whirl away, ignoring the sting behind your eyes threatening to unleash your emotions in waves of tears.

“W-wait. Sorry, I didn’t mean that.” Taehyung stands so abruptly that the stool almost topples back.

But it’s too late. All you can hear are those words he spat out, looping in your head like a broken cassette. You keep walking until you’re slamming the front door behind you, leaving the wreckage of a delicate fragile love that you should have known better than to fall for.

You almost turn back when you hear his muffled yell, “Fuck!”

But it wasn’t enough.

.

You come home to an empty house. Everything feels cold, barren. You feel exhausted.

The date had gone… exceptionally well. That is perhaps the worst part.

Despite going into the night with an aching heart, Jongho had managed to make you at least try to forget the events that spiralled with Taehyung. He made you laugh, albeit slightly half-heartedly. He paid for the food and drinks despite your protest. He looked at you like he didn’t see anyone else in the room.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to stop thinking about Taehyung for even one second.

A week or two ago, when you had come down with a fever, something changed between you and him. You knew you were giving him a difficult time by refusing to go to the doctor or take the medication, yet it accentuated his endearment towards you. And you had thought, damn, he really cares about me, doesn’t he. During your feverish night, lucid dreaming in between cold sweats, all you could see was him. Flashes of him, rains of him. And you had thought, hmm, maybe I do love him after all.

You think you imagined it, a scene where he crawled into the bed beside you and held you close because you had been shivering all night. He was so gentle with you, more gentle than he usually is and that is saying a lot. He brushed your hair out of your face and rubbed your back. And you had thought, wow, I definitely love him a lot, a lot lot lot. Then, it was as if he could read your mind because you heard him say:

I’m not me without you. And I love you. I entirely belong to you. And I love you.

You think you imagined it. Because they were the exact words you were thinking. And because it was so frightening to hear them from Taehyung.

But when you woke up, he was beside you, still cradling you.

You replay this scene in your mind every night before sleep can grace you, fuzzy, oscillating between a memory and an imagination. And the more you think about it, the more you’re unsure of its reality.

But you knew something for certain.

Taehyung fell ill immediately after you, fell ill entirely because of you. And when he was sniffling, sweating, shivering, and when you were making him soup, carefully drying his sweat, holding him in his sleep, you knew you love him.

You’re so fucking stupid, you’re so stupid.

The house feels colder than usual without him, though a different sort of ice pricks at your heart. You make it into your room before kicking off your heels and flopping onto the bed in defeat.

You’ve fucked it up.

Knowing him, he is out clearing his head in the park right now. You saw the hurt in his eyes, you know he was only saying those things to you in retaliation because he felt betrayed. Screw you and your stubbornness, you should have just taken it all back when you could have. Taehyung doesn’t need to say anything. You know he loves you back.

It was your selfish need for a confirmation, to hear him put away his pride and tell you outright that he loves you and wants to be with you. Just one sentence, that’s all it would’ve taken because you already belong to him.

You rummage through your purse for your phone and dial his number.

Voicemail.

It’s nearing midnight, he’s going to come back soon.

Out of decency and respect, you text Jungho:

hey

thank u for the date tonight I had a rly good time

but i’d just like to let i know since i rly like u as a person that i think i’m emotionally invested in someone else so i don’t want to waste your time

sorry

Sighing, you let your phone slip out of your hands and just stare at the ceiling. Taehyung could come back any second now. And then comes the confrontation.

“Hey, Taehyung, I just want to say that I’m really sorry for everything tonight. It was so fucking stupid and I was just being a bitch because I thought- no, I don’t know.” In the dark, you begin to rehearse to yourself. “We both said or did some hurtful shit but let’s just put that behind us and pretend it didn’t happen. The date was stupid, it only made me release how much I… I love you. So fucking much. I don’t want to be with anyone else but you. I love you, Taehyung.”

You close your eyes, exhale.

.

You don’t exactly know when but you must have drifted off. The rattling of keys at the front door wakes you. You sit up instantly.

Fuck.

This is it, this is all or nothing.

Your heart is racing. Do you wait for him to come to you? No, you dumb bitch, run to him.

With your chest soaring to your throat, you roll off your bed, instantly awake and alert, and stumble to the door of your room, the only thing separating you and your destiny. Come on, deep breaths, just like you practiced. I love you, Taehyung.

Then you hear something that freezes your blood entirely. An unquestionable female giggle. Then the clumsy stagger of feet, two distinguishable pairs of feet.

You can’t move. You can’t scream. You can’t even breathe.

You just stand there by the door, fingers on the knob, completely rigid, as they drunkenly flounder back to his room beside yours. You can hear him kissing her. You can fucking hear Taehyung kissing her.

You close your eyes because it’s too much, the pain is crashing into you all at once and is too much. You close your eyes because you don’t want the tears to fall. But they do nonetheless.

There is a very distinct feeling you get the moment you start to cry. The muscles in your face tug so tight that they finally snap, the stabs of fire behind your eyes finally rip through, the horrible hammering against your throat finally manages to rupture. Then you just crumble.

You never used to quite understand what people mean when they described heartbreak. You would think to yourself, it can’t possibly be that bad, that’s just overly dramatic. How much could it really hurt.

Well. As you slowly pace back and sink down onto your bed, the thin walls of this house doing nothing to mask the sound of their scuffling feet and removal of apparel, you know. You know that it feels like mountains upon mountains suffocating you, tearing at you from all directions. You bury your face into your pillow to muffle your sobs.

Does he know you’re here? Does he even care?

You spent your entire night thinking about him, regretting your mistakes despite having the option of another man. While he drank until he no longer remembered and replaced you with a chick from the bar. Just like that, huh?

And when the creaking of the bed begins, you want to scream, you want to fucking scream. You’re losing your mind like this. But you can’t get out. You can’t let him know you’re home, or if he already knows, you can’t let him know he is breaking you into pieces like this.

How is this the same person who rubbed your stomach when you had cramps? How is this the same person who pretended to be scared during horror films just so he could have an excuse to snuggle with you. How is this the same person who said he would carry you to the hospital on his back if he had to? You had spent all your fucking money on his birthday, you had let yourself be vulnerable with him, and he just…

Yet still - you cannot find it in you to hate him. This is your own doing. You misunderstood every moment you had as something more because you are so used to the world being in love with you. You mistook his kindness for love out of your own delusion because you deep down had wanted it to be true so badly.

Maybe he was close to loving you, but what you did tonight just pushed him away.

You are the fool. You are to blame.

When the moans and grunts echo from his room, you feel your mind disintegrating to ashes. You don’t think you’ve cried in years. And now that you do, the tears just keep flowing like a broken dam, you don’t think you can stop.

Bit by bit, you crack open. You’re losing yourself, but worst of all, you’ve lost him. Your best friend, your almost boyfriend, your unspoken soulmate.

You thought you would cry yourself to sleep. But sleep doesn’t even find you.

Not when his front against your back as been your gentle sweep of lullaby for months, and all you can hear now is him with someone else across the wall.

.

A/N: Hi, don’t hate me. Don’t cry. I almost teared up writing this too. ;-;

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13/02/19

© Copyright 2020

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@taexxxiiaa @shookpreme @taetaeobsessed @tangledsparkles @nonexistentfucks  @evilkookie  @nbiased95  @taehyungmakesmeoof @itscalledgayhoney @tahaing  @deliciouslydisturbed365  @expensive-bangtan-girl  @jwlmnbt  @herakimkim @dnyad  @kaepjjang365 @gingerpeachtae  @spring2787  @askingtheimportantthingshere @casualminiaturetimemachine  @xblackclover13x  @vasysauce @deadinsidebitch2412  @emiyooa  @i-dont-even-know-fck  @chimycthulhu  @taexxxiiaa@hisunshiine  @xtaeyi  @softjellyjimin​  @d-noona​​  @malfeitofeitto​  @bangtanfancamp​  @keopitae​  @out-of-jams​ @bluemooncnblue​  @haechanspudu​  @camilaxpolanco​  @dawnispeace​ @vante-visuals​  @liquanzhe222  @bangtanloverrrrr​  @bs14401​

#heatwave drabble #taehyung #bts #bts taehyung #kim taehyung #bts v #taehyung fanfic #taehyung angst #taehyung oneshot #taehyung drabble #taehyung fic #taehyung imagines #taehyung x reader #taehyung reactions #taehyung scenarios #heatwave #bts fanfic #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #bts fic #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts oneshot #bts imagines #bts reactions #namjoon #jin #yoongi #hoseok

[loulougoingsolo]

It’s about to pop!

Today on GMM, Rhett and Link rank different brands of microwave popcorn in order to determine, which is the best exploded kernel to enjoy while watching the Oscars. I’m not a fan of popcorn in general, and even if I do occasionally eat it, I always opt for the ones that are not butter flavoured. I think my biggest issue with popcorn is getting that “film” (I had to google this, and apparently it’s called a pericarp) that covers the kernel stuck in my teeth.

But hey, as long as I don’t have to eat popcorn, I’m sure to have a jolly good time watching today’s episode. So, let’s get poppin’!

There are altogether six different brands of popcorn ranked today, and right from the start, I feel the jury is a bit biased towards Orville Redenbacher. I’m not sure if knowing that Orville died of a heart-attack in a Jacuzzi (maybe due to decades of eating popcorn with real butter?) increases my appetite, but it does make this brand a little more interesting.

I actually have my birthday today, and just as I was writing the paragraph above, I received an email with a b-day gift of free popcorns for when I go to the movies next time - which is convenient, because my plan is to celebrate the big day with a movie on Friday. Last year I had an actual party and baked a cake with bi pride colours, but I don’t think my guests quite got the hint. Anyway, looks like I’ll be eating popcorn this week.

The only skinny thing I’d be willing to purchase, are jeans, and for me, skinny is not the first thing that comes to mind in terms of snacks - but checking the Skinny pop website, I kind of get it now. I also get why this is the most expensive brand today.  Being gluten-free, GMO-free and artificial flavouring free are, as trivial as they may seem to an average consumer, qualities which all products can’t guarantee. Keeping the production line 100 % gluten free is expensive, and in today’s world, so is keeping the corn GMO-free.

In Europe, GMO products are much more regulated than in the US, and if I’m not entirely mistaken, none of the corn for human consumption is genetically modified. I’m personally quite worried about GMO in general, for many reasons too serious for GMM commentary, but not all corn is genetically modified. Selective breeding is not the same thing as genetic modification. Rhett is wrong, but I’m not going to start a rant.

It’s obvious the biggest difference in these popcorns is in the branding. Act II does not sound like a good brand name. The name might have worked back in the 80s when it was first introduced, but now that it’s been around for 30+ years, it makes absolutely no sense.

Now, I may not be a popcorn lover, but I do love those vintage popcorn makers - just as I love all kinds of vintage gadgets. A little bit of googling produced something that must be similar to the popcorn wagon Link remembered. That looks pretty cool. (I love how Link says they have to get one for Mythical for the parties - I’ve used the same excuse for so many kitchen gadgets that I could start a catering business, and I have parties like once in a decade.)

Am I supposed to believe that one of pop’s secrets is not that he is being payed by Orville? After this “subtle” wink? Or is that a “not a sponsor, but I’d like you to be” wink? Anyway, you don’t need to be payed to have a preference.

Oh, Link. Jolly time sounds a lot like “sugar time with your meat stick”, and with that expression on his face, is even less subtle than Rhett’s wink. I’d love to see how Christy would react if she saw Link call him his woman. In fact, it would be kind of cool to once see Jessie and Christy react on any of the GMM episodes, like Rhett’s Dad did on LTAT.

Oh, I did not know anything about Newman’s Own as a brand, and being curious about how all the profits could possibly go to charity, I did another google search. Paul Newman is behind this? How awesome is it when celebrities use their fame for actual good - and make sure their legacy continues even after they’re gone? And, he was a great actor, too. Turns out, these products are available in Finland, too, so I need to try some. Not the popcorn, but a salad dressing maybe.

Why do I love it when Rhett and Link start tossing food at each other? Catching corn with Grandad is really jolly time! I’m pretty sure it’s more fun than dying in a jacuzzi, even if I got to meet the guys in the corn pasture later.

In GMMore, the guys try to make popcorn with a table-top grill and flat-irons, and the miracle of popping leads to a delightful conversation about human birth. I’m not sure if I’ve told this here before, but when I was a kid (like around 7 years-old), after school, before the parents got home, I used to watch my dad’s medical educational videos (on VHS) with my friend (he was a year older). My dad is a doctor, and at one point, he was sent piles of these tapes for free, and he never watched them. We did. One of them was a very graphic video about giving birth - this was intended for medical professionals, not small kids. We watched the whole thing, afterbirth and all, and to this day, neither of us has children.

In case you didn’t catch the earworm worthy song Link was singing with his altered lyrics (”it takes time to make a thing go pop), here it is. It doesn’t take time for me to get an earworm, but I’ll gladly share it with y’all. And it’s once again proof of how much Link knows about history of hip-hop.

Turns out, with a flat-iron, it doesn’t take that long to make a corn go pop - but the grill is a dud. If you want to pop more than one kernel, you might want to try a kettle, especially since the flat-ironed popcorns come out a little flat. But I think find the popcorn could make a good party game - in fact, it takes only two to make that game fun. Don’t pop in each other’s faces, though. It only takes one corn to make a man go blind. Crap, I’m gonna stop now.

It would actually be an interesting episode of GMM to have the guys react to birth videos - only I think they’d need some help keeping Link’s eyes open (like what they did in Clockwork orange)...

#gmm #gmmore #gmm 1682 #rhett and link #ranking popcorn #making popcorn with a flat-iron #the miracle of popping

[princessjaqulinechess1031]

Christmas in Corona

It's Varian's first Christmas in the palace, and the emotions around the holiday come to light.

{Takes place in the same continuity as my PrinceVarian!AU story 'If You Only Knew Me'}

Characters: Arianna, Frederic, Varian

Triggers: References to child abduction, references to death, mild cursing

Christmas-time in Corona was a strange thing for the royal family, at least it had been for the past five years. On the exterior, it would seem everything was normal; the throne room and halls were all decorated with wreaths of emerald grass and ruby red garlands, in nearly every sitting room there was at least one small Christmas tree to be had, decorated with swirly red and white peppermint sticks and ornaments of red and gold, the national colors of Corona.

The halls smelled of gingerbread nearly the whole month of December as the kitchen prepared swarms of gingerbread men to pass out amongst the villagers, with the sweet aroma of fruity tarts and sugary confections swirling with it, creating a rich aroma of peppermint, gingerbread, and baked apples.

It seemed to put a special step in the staff of the palace, a glint of joy in their eyes and smiles almost impossible to wash away as they prepared themselves for the on-coming holiday. All in all, it would seem the palace was teeming with warmth and light for the approaching date of December 25th. And for the most part it was.

If you were to look closer, however, you would see the forced smiles of two particular people: King Frederic and Queen Arianna. The holidays were supposed to be a time to come together with loved ones and celebrate; spending chilly nights with family with warm, frothy drinks, laughing and joking as the hours slipped away and the cups were emptied. It was supposed to be the most magical time of the year.

But for them, that magic had been sealed away years ago. It was their fifth Christmas without their Rapunzel, the baby girl they wished and prayed to return for every day, but especially around the holidays as her absence became more and more apparent to them. Any time a little girl or boy came bustling through the snow with their parents, light and love and laughter in their voices and eyes, they would be reminded how that should be them – they should have gotten the chance to spend Christmas with their daughter.

If it were up to Frederic, Christmas would be packed up. Something not to bother with since he saw no point in celebrating if his whole family couldn’t be there. The fact of the matter was that it was not up to him, for a myriad of reasons. The first being that it was technically a religious holiday for a religion both he and Arianna both actively claimed to believe in, so they couldn’t just outright ignore the day set aside to celebrate it. So, Frederic did at least participate in the spiritual aspects of the day – attending church and prayer – but he did not enjoy the more…. pomp and circumstance elements of the holiday.

The decorations and the smells all the things that made the castle more holiday like were pretty much the bane of his existence during this time. He hated to look at them, hated to even him them hanging around where it was near impossible to avoid them, hated to be unable to escape that ever present smell of holiday treats, hated the way that no matter what he tried he couldn’t get Arianna to stop putting up the decorations and asking for more cookies and just refusing to let that part of Christmas die.

Arianna couldn’t help it, not really. The first year it had been out of habit, it was what they always did at Christmas, so why were they to stop? She had planned it all that year with barely even realizing it, the ideas and themes for the decorations slipping onto the paper and into the halls with no thought at all. It had hurt after everything had been put up and she realized what she had done and how Rapunzel couldn’t see it because she was God knows where with a woman that may not even bother to give Rapunzel the magical first Christmas she deserved, but in the moments where she planned it all, where she had strung popcorn and put up trees and tied ribbons on the banisters she had forgotten for a few moments.

So, yes, she put up the decorations and helped make cookies even if Frederic hated it. It helped her forget for a little bit that she was a mother with no daughter, and if took getting lost in yards of ribbon and arranging glass ornaments then she didn’t care. If that was what it took, then that was what it took.

Thus, began the Christmas routine for the royal family of Corona: Frederic locked away somewhere, most likely his study, and Arianna hidden in a sitting room somewhere as she made sure the decorations were just right. None of the staff or guards dared question it, not quite sure how to broach the subject of dealing with the aftermath of a child’s disappearance, so the routine went unchecked for four long Christmas seasons.

Until, that is, came a little boy named Varian.

^^^

Varian snuggled his fluffy cat toy Mitten close to his chest, the pink ribbon tied around the kitten’s neck ticking his nose as it stuck up towards his face. He began playing the ribbon to get it out of his face, flicking the soft and shiny fabric between his fingers. He gave a small laugh at the movement, eyes lit up with wonder at the fact that he was moving the ribbon back and forth between his fingers.

Arianna chuckled once under her breath at her spot next to the one-year-old boy, pulling the next kernel of popcorn onto the needle. It was only five ‘o’clock, but already dark outside and very cold, so Arianna had excused Varian’s governess earlier than normal so that she could get home before it was too dangerous. Snow was rare in Corona, but frigid wind wasn’t, so Arianna was one to take precautions.

Besides, it gave her a little more time with Varian than normal, so it was automatically a win for her.

The fire of the sitting room was crackling softly, casting the painted red room in an orangey glow. It was empty of people save Arianna and Varian, making the only sounds the fire and Varian’s continued awed sounds at the pink ribbon. A mostly bare Christmas tree sat in the corner, only a few red and gold ornaments on its branches as it waited for the addition of Arianna’s popcorn garland.

“Are you having fun playing with Mitten, bluebird?” Arianna asked. Varian looked up from the ribbon at the sound of her voice, letting the edges of the ribbon slip out of his finger and pulling the stuffed toy’s head to rest under his chin. Varian smiled at her, showing off his small collection of four mismatched baby teeth. Arianna hoped the rest of his teeth grew in soon – he had thrown just terrible fits over the pain those four had caused growing in, especially since nothing seemed to work to ease it, so she just hoped they grew in quickly for the benefit of all.

“Ye’h! Ye’h!” Varian said, voice slightly edging up into a squeal. Varian lifted Mitten up towards her now, smiling wide and eyes crinkling. “Mama? M’tty?”

Arianna shook her head and pushed the stuffed animal back towards him.

“I’m sorry bluebird, but I can’t play with Mitten right now,” Arianna said. “Maybe in a bit.”

Varian’s face falls just a little as be brought Mitten back to his chest, but the sadness quickly disappeared from his face as his eyes landed on the string of popcorn in her lap and the bowl of it on her other side. His lip just out as his head turns on it’s side, and Arianna can’t help but find it comical, the face he makes as he tries to figure out what exactly it is, she’s holding.

Varian had seen popcorn before, but Arianna had never let him eat, not quite trusting his four teeth to do a good enough job to make sure he didn’t choke on the popped kernels. Without having ever been officially introduced to it, Arianna could see the wheels turning in Varian’s head as he tried to come up with a word for it.

After a moment, he eventually decided he would not be able to come up with a sufficient name for it apparently, as he looked up to Arianna with a confused and helpless expression. Arianna rolled her eyes and held up the string of popcorn so that he could see it better.

“This is popcorn sweetie,” Arianna explained. Varian’s eyes widened even more with the revelation, reaching out a small, stubby hand to touch it. “Most of the time people eat it, but around Christmas time people will try to hang it up as decoration. Do you understand bluebird?”

Varian blinked once.

“Apparently, you do not.” Arianna sighed once and looked over at the Christmas tree. She gently took his small hand, placing his palm face up in hers, something he watched with a careful and measured response for a one-year-old, keeping one arm tightly locked around Mitten. Arianna reached down to put a single popped kernel in his open palm.

“Do not put this in your mouth,” Arianna said. She did not want to risk him chocking on it and knew without a warning, Varian would try to swallow it whole.

“This is popcorn,” Arianna said, careful to enunciate the word carefully. “Most of the time people eat it, but we’re going to put it on the Christmas tree.”

“Twee?” Varian asked. Arianna nodded and directed his attention over to the pine tree in the corner.

“Yes, bluebird, the tree,” Arianna said. “That’s a special kind of tree, a Christmas tree.”

“Ch-Chi-Ch’st—”

Arianna’s eyes widened. Was Varian trying to say Christmas?

“It’s okay bluebird,” Arianna cheered on quietly. “You can say it. Christmas.”

“Ch-Ch’stm-Ch’s—”

“You almost got it, bluebird,” Arianna said.

“Ch’s—Ch’stmas?”

“That’s great bluebird!” Arianna said. Well, it was close enough for someone with four teeth.

Varian’s eyes lit up at the praise and a laugh began bubbling up from his throat.

“Ch’stmas! Ch’stmas!” he said, giggling between words, excited to know it. “Ch’stmas!” His eyes landed on the Christmas tree and his smile only grew more, an almost kind of sparkle in his few little teeth.

“Ch’stmas!” he said again. Arianna smiled and put the string of popcorn to her side, reaching forward to place Varian in her lap.

“That’s right Varian,” Arianna said, “that’s a Christmas tree.”

“Ch’stmas!” Varian kept babbling off. Arianna chuckled again and just hugged Varian to her chest, tucking his head under her chin and letting him look at the tree while he rattled off the name for a while. Arianna supposed it could be a teachable moment to tell him about why Christmas was, but she was also pretty sure the story of the Virgin Mary and Jesus might go over his head at such a young age. So, for now, she just let him rattle off about learning the word for the moment.

It was a soft quiet moment, and Arianna let it wash over them without complaint. She hadn’t gotten to spend much alone time with her son lately, being busy preparing the castle for Christmas and the various other tasks for the holiday, while also helping run an entire country. That left Varian alone with his governess or other palace staff more often than she would have liked, especially around the holidays. It was supposed to be a time for family and fun and –

Family.

And there it came, the reminder. The inescapable truth that no Christmas decoration or tree could really truly make her forget. It would work in the moment but then it would come rushing back all over again, leaving a tight pang in her heart and a watery, blurry tint to her vision.

That one truth that never went away.

Rapunzel was gone.

There was no Christmas to be had with her. No explaining to her what a Christmas tree was or telling her about stringing popcorn for decoration. No child to hug close by the fire on winter nights. Rapunzel had never gotten the kind of Christmas Arianna wanted her to have, never got to celebrate this time of the year with a family who loved her. Rapunzel never got to know the smell of gingerbread and peppermint wafting through the palace, and she’d never gotten just a taste of a holiday here.

There was nothing, just memories of a jade-eyed little girl with a bubbly laugh that had only spent one day here. No holidays or birthdays or any days really. All Arianna had of Rapunzel was a broken memory of being the mother of a baby girl, but never getting to be one.

“Mama?” Varian’s voice jutted into her thoughts.

Arianna blinked rapidly, becoming acutely aware that she was crying, and looked down into the face of Varian. His face was turned to look up at her, smile gone and now transformed into a concerned expression. Mitten was pulled away from him, only loosely held in his right hand by a single paw.

“Mama sad,” Varian said. Arianna felt her heart clench. She tried so hard to not lose it in front of Varian, so, so hard. He was so young, he couldn’t possibly know why she was sad or even begin to understand it. His best friend was a stuffed cat toy and he only knew a dozen or so words, understanding only a few more. There was no way she could ever make him understand at this age, and she hated falling apart in front of him because he deserved so much more than someone who can just fall apart on a whim like this.

Arianna cleared her throat and reached to wipe away her tears.

“No, no, I’m fine –”

Varian reached up with his free hand, wiping away her tear with his fist in an attempt to clear it away.

“Mama no sad,” Varian said. “Mama no sad.”

Arianna could not help the one laugh that sprang up from her from the action. His voice was soft and pleading, and she so desperately didn’t want to be sad anymore, but it wasn’t something that could just easily be washed away. This was a type of pain and hurt that a plea or look couldn’t take away. It was the kind that could swallow you whole and never think twice and she appreciated Varian wanting her to feel better and he normally helped her do so.

But at Christmas….it was just hard. So hard.

He frowned deeper at her and held Mitten out for her to take.

“Mitten happy,” Varian said. Arianna smiled and took the soft plush toy from him with a soft thank you. Arianna was not sure how much happiness having the stuffed cat toy would make her, but she supposed it made sense to Varian. Mitten made him happy, so it would stand to reason that her having it would make her happy too.

“Mama happy?” Varian said, frown still pulling at him.

“Mama happy,” Arianna said, heart clenching at the lie. But she couldn’t lie to him – she couldn’t tell him why and she had no right to make him feel bad. Arianna knew if she acted sad much longer than Varian would think it was his fault and then he would start crying and it was his first Christmas and he had been so proud of himself for learning the word and –

His first Christmas.

Well, technically it wasn’t his first Christmas. It was January when Varian had been dropped at their door by Quirin, and Varian was a few months old at the time, so he had lived through a Christmas before. But this – this was his first one of them, his first with her.

Arianna had no way of knowing what Varian’s first Christmas was like. Quirin’s note had said they had been hiding and Maria was dead by then, so it was probably a far cry from the holiday here in the Corona castle. No, it had probably been holed up somewhere in the cold, Quirin most likely hoping the day would end quickly so he didn’t have to think that this was Varian’s first holiday season.

Arianna had no way of knowing of her version of that Christmas was true, after all Quirin was gone (dead, she reminded herself, even almost a year later) and Varian had been at most a month old. No memories of that day could ever be told to her.

But-but this was his first Christmas with her. The first one he could spend with a mother who loved him very much. Arianna had no doubt that Maria had loved Varian, even if the time Maria had had with him had probably been countable by minutes, but she too had never gotten to celebrate any type of holiday with her child. Though it had been for different reasons, her and Arianna both never got to see that joy of this particular holiday season overtake their child.

This time – this holiday, however, she had that. She had that chance to spread joy to her child, because Varian was her son now too damn it. It was her and Quirin and Maria and Frederic too, four parents for a child that only got to experience two. But Quirin and Maria weren’t here anymore, they wouldn’t ever get to see that, just like she hadn’t yet got to see Rapunzel like that.

(Arianna refused to believe that she would never get to see that – an unshakable part of her believed that Rapunzel would return.)

Something warm exploded in her chest, something bright and colorful and full of joy so grand that it made her smile. It was a real, true, honest smile, not the fake and watery one she had tried to pass off moments ago. It was a happy warmth and didn’t erase her sadness or pain, and it didn’t try to. It simply took the edge off, made the sharper edges dull as the realization hit her.

This was her first Christmas where her child was with her, and though it wasn’t Rapunzel, it was still her child and she would give him the best Christmas she could.

Her smile, it seemed, was infectious because Varian’s concerned frown was blown away in favor of his normal toothless smile.

“Mama happy?” Varian asked again. Arianna laughed and wiped away the final remnant of her tears.

“Mama happy,” she said. She placed a soft kiss to his cheek before quickly scooping him up in her arms and standing, returning Mitten to him as they swiftly walked out of the room, leaving the popcorn far behind them on the couch.

“Come on bluebird,” she said. Her tone was light and infectious, a real joy seeping through. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“S’prise?”

“Yes, my little bluebird,” Arianna said, “a surprise.”

Arianna figured it was time for Varian to try a candy cane.

^^^

Frederic would admit that the courtyard was quite extraordinary this year. In the center of the cobbles was a tall Christmas tree done up in the Corona colors, the red and gold banners weaving around the baubles with almost artistic precision. Even if Frederic was not one for such outlandish decorations, this year Arianna had really outdone herself.

Frederic watched off to the side as some of the villagers filed in; it was a Christmas tradition here in Corona that on Christmas Eve a party for all of Corona would be held in the palace courtyard. As a young boy he had found it most exciting, with all the new people and other kids to play with for hours on end. When he came back from the Protectors, it had been jarring but still pleasant, a time to enjoy himself and talk amongst his people, even if he was still getting used to being around people not trying to actively kill him.

And now? He wouldn’t say he hated it, but he most definitely severely disliked it. It was filled with happy and loving families that were laughing and having fun. That was but a desperate wish for him, something he never got.

So, after the customary speech him and Arianna were supposed to give – being the technical hosts on behalf of all of Corona – he usually just kept to himself before slinking back off somewhere else perhaps far earlier than he should. He was just waiting for Arianna to arrive, so he could speak and then be done with this whole affair.

He watched idly as a family came by, a pair of identical twin girls pulling their grinning parents over to the center Christmas tree. Frederic looked away from them at down at his feet, feeling the familiar seed of envy planting in his stomach.

How come other families got that? How come other families didn’t have to have their happiness stolen by others? How come it was him that had to have his child stolen? Those were questions that Frederic couldn’t get an answer too no matter how much he thought and cried and prayed over them, but no answer would ever reveal itself to him.

“Dada!”

A pressure hitched itself onto his leg and he looked to see Varian hugging his leg, a bright smile painting his face. He seemed to be bundled in at least two coats, a hat pulled over his head to cover his ears.

“Dada!” Varian said again, cuddling his cheek into Frederic’s knee.

“Oh, uh, hello Varian,” Frederic said.

“Varian!” Arianna arrived at their side, an annoyed frown on her face and a flush. “Don’t run off like that! You could have gotten lost!”

Varian frowned and let go of Frederic’s leg, biting his thumb nervously.

“Sorry Mama,” Varian said softly. Arianna sighed and reached down to pick up Varian, settling him on her hip.

“It’s okay, I know you were just excited,” Arianna said. “Just don’t do it again, okay bluebird?”

Varian nodded in understanding before looking up at the large Christmas tree and giving an awed gasp. He had never seen it before most likely, at least not this close. Arianna had quickly tried to keep Varian out of the cold for as much as possible, so his time outside had been limited once winter had descended upon Corona. He hadn’t even been allowed to attend the Winter Solstice celebration at the start of the week due to the lateness of the event and the cold weather.

“Mama! Ch’stmas!” Varian pointed at the tree with a proud laugh, happy to know the word.

Frederic rose a brow. When had Varian learned how to say Christmas? Or associate it with the tree? This question was pushed out of his head by Varian speaking again.

“Dada!” Varian’s head whipped around to him, making sure that he was looking at the tree. “Dada! Ch’stmas!”

“Yes, Varian, I see the tree,” Frederic said. Varian, pleased with the knowledge that Frederic was aware of the tree, turned his attention back towards the tree. Arianna, however, did not turn towards the tree, but kept her gaze on Frederic, her eyes narrowed just a little and with a ghost of a frown. This stare happened for several moments and Frederic could feel the scrutiny under the gaze, Arianna was not happy with something he had said, and he had feeling it was not about to be let go anytime soon.

Eventually, she had to look away, and turned back towards Varian.

“Varian?” Arianna said. “How would you like a candy cane?”

Varian’s eyes lit up and he clapped his hands together in excitement. Frederic felt another surprise. Had Varian had a candy cane before? Since when was he old enough to have one?

“That’s a lot of sugar,” Frederic said. Arianna’s head whipped around to face him, and the narrowed eyes were back, but she didn’t drop the smile.

“It’s Christmas,” Arianna said simply. Then her head turned again, leaving whatever argument that may have caused beyond.

“Nigel?” Arianna called out to the nearby man, who quickly came to attention at the call. Nigel rushed over, an air of worry about him, as always.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” Nigel asked. “Is something the matter?”

“No, no, nothing is wrong,” Arianna said. “I was just wondering if you could take Varian to get a candy cane? I have something I need to discuss with the king.”

Nigel gave Varian an uneasy look but agreed none the less, quickly taking Varian into his arms.

“’Igel!” Varian shouted, hugging the skinny man around the neck. The greeting wasn’t well received, only getting a smile out of Nigel, but that appeared to be enough for Varian who just kept grinning like it was the only expression he could ever make.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment, if you’ll just take him to the candy,” Arianna said. Nigel nodded once and then left, Varian waving over his shoulder to them.

“Bye Mama! Bye Dada!”

Arianna just smiled and waved until Varian and Nigel disappeared into the crowd before dropping her smile and rounding on him, hands on her hips stubbornly.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked. Frederic blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“What is wrong with you?” Arianna said. “It’s Christmas, he can have a little more sugar than usual.”

“Is that what this is about? Arianna, I was just making a statement, I never said he couldn’t have one.”

“This isn’t about a candy cane!” Arianna said, voice rising with anger. This attracted the stares of some of the closer villagers, something Arianna seemed to catch onto because she schooled herself down to a calmer tone. She cleared her throat and gave him a hard glare.

“This is about you…. just being…. a…ugh…. buzzkill!”

“A buzzkill?”

“Yes, a buzzkill!” Arianna said. “All Varian wanted to do was show you a tree and you had to be all boring and like ‘I know what it is’.”

“Well, I did know what it was.”

“That’s not the point!” she hissed. “Varian wanted to show you he knew what a Christmas tree was – you couldn’t have been a least bit excited? At least pretended to be?”

Arianna sighed again and ran a hand through her hair.

“I know I’m making a big deal out of nothing and I know the holidays are hard for you – they’re hard for me too.” Arianna gave a shaky breath in the cold. “But this is the first one we get to share it with someone else. It’s not the way we always imagined, but it’s the way it is. So, you can either start at least pretending to be happy or you can just keep doing what your doing. I don’t care. Just – just don’t. For once, I’m going to try and have a happy Christmas. You can be a part of it, or you can not be. It’s up to you.”

And then she was gone too, slipping amongst the throngs of people, leaving him in a stunned silence.

What-what had he done to provoke that? All he had done was say two things to Varian and then she was sending the boy off to blow up in Frederic’s face.

Frederic wasn’t exactly the most warm or welcoming, he would give her that, but it wasn’t like he was going out of his way to be overtly malicious or mean to Varian or anyone else really. He just didn’t like the holidays all that much and he wasn’t going to put up a pretense about it, because once it was pulled back it would make the days more torturous.

Acting like everything was fine when it wasn’t was not going to make him feel better, so he wasn’t going to make himself act a certain way if it wasn’t how he felt. Part of being king meant he had to lie or act a certain way to keep a manner of collective calm and keep peace, but this, this was the one thing that he let himself have with no mask to cover it.

He was allowed to be sad and upset that his daughter was gone, and he was not going to simply pretend he wasn’t feeling that way.

So, with that thought in mind, Frederic went off to go find Arianna, so he could say the stupid speech and be done with the whole thing.

(And if when he got there a small grin appeared at Varian trying to bite a candy cane with his four teeth, he wasn’t going to hide that either, even if it put a wriggling feeling in him that maybe he was wrong.)

^^^

Christmas dawned bright and beautiful, the sun rising over a thin blanket of snow that arrived overnight. Arianna smiled when she saw the white, powdery substance outside. It had been a mild winter, as it almost always was in Corona, but Arianna had hoped that Varian’s first Christmas here could be a white one.

Arianna silently made her way towards Varian room, where she knew he would be waking very soon. Varian was a very particular baby when it came to sleep; he nearly always woke up around seven in the morning, regardless of what time they finally managed to wrestle him down for sleep the night before.

The castle was quieter than normal this morning, as Arianna had expected, the only sounds she could hear was the patter of her shoes against the floor. All except essential staff had been excused for the day, and those that were here had their hours greatly reduced to be with their families. Arianna was sure only a dozen or so servants were here as opposed to the usual hundreds, which made the usual hustle and bustle of the castle seem to disappear completely.

She found herself at Varian’s door with no interruptions, and she softly pushed the door open, so she didn’t wake him suddenly. Sure enough, he was still asleep in his crib, Mitten next to him with a loose hold across the stuffed toy’s body.

Arianna carefully made her way to Varian’s crib in the corner, careful not to run into any of the tables or chests. Varian’s room had been quickly been together, at least in comparison to Rapunzel’s had been. Rapunzel’s had been planned from the moment Arianna had found out she was pregnant, while Varian had had his room quickly renovated and decorated in just under two months. Arianna had been proud of the staff that had put it together so quickly – it had been a little unsettling having Varian in Rapunzel’s room even though nowhere else in the palace could accommodate a baby, so having Varian moved into his own nursery had made the transition to suddenly having a baby around easier.

Arianna peeked over the edge of the crib for a silent moment to watch Varian sleep. He always looked so innocent and helpless when he slept, reminding her every time of the baby she hadn’t quite adopted a year ago. Had it really been less than a year? It felt like so much longer. Not in a bad way, but, still, it was unfathomable to her that Varian had been her son for so little a time.

Eventually the moment had to break, the quietness shattering with a gentle snore and the rustle of sheets as Varian rolled over. His blue eyes began to peak open as he yawned again, Mitten falling out of his arms completely next to him in the crib.

“Good morning Varian,” she gently coed. Varian yawned again but smiled up at her tiredly.

“Mama?”

“Yes, bluebird, it’s me, Mama,” Arianna said. She scoped him up from inside the crib, snugly fitting him onto her hip and giving him a quick kiss to his cheek.

“It’s Christmas, Varian!”

“Ch’stmas?” Varian began looking around wildly, searching for a decorated tree in the nursery. Arianna shook her head with a laugh, bouncing Varian on her hip.

“No Varian, there isn’t a tree in here,” Arianna said. Varian’s face fell just a little bit – he really did like Christmas trees a lot. “Christmas is a holiday too, and we’re going to celebrate it!”

Varian seemed confused by this, jutting out his bottom list in a nervous pout. Arianna just smiled and reached to grab Mitten too, knowing that if the stuffed toy was left behind than Varian would erupt into a crying fit when he remembered he didn’t have it.

She quickly swept them out of the room and down the hall to one of the sitting rooms, where she had put the gifts to Varian. She had contemplated going for one of the larger trees like in the ballroom or throne room, but in the end decided something more private might be better, given that it was a special, first Christmas after all.

Of course, at the time, she had thought it would be a three-person Christmas, but Frederic hadn’t yet to make an appearance today, already awake and gone by time Arianna woke up to fetch Varian.

But that was unimportant. He could show up if he wanted to.

The sitting room already was warm with a fire by time Arianna and Varian arrived, and Arianna made a mental note to personally thank the staff that stayed on Christmas, as Arianna had been dreading starting a fire on her own.

Varian caught a glimpse of the tree and his eyes just lit up at the sight, madly pointing at it.

“Ch’stmas! Ch’stmas!” he shouted. Arianna nodded and set him gently down in front of the tree, where underneath sat a small collection of wrapped presents that Varian had yet to take notice of.

“Yes, honey, it’s our Christmas tree,” Arianna said. She moved to sit next to him on the floor, quickly gathering her skirt around her. She pointed down to the presents, which forced the red and green and gold wrapped items to Varian’s attention.

“These are Christmas presents,” Arianna said. Arianna picked one up and put it into Varian’s lap, who looked down at the wrapped box with a bit of curiosity and wonder. “They’re for you.”

“Me present?” Varian asked, looking up at her. He toyed with the silver ribbon for a moment, Mitten forgotten on the ground next to him.

“Yes, it’s a Varian present.”

Varian smiled widely, a gratefulness in it that communicated gratitude despite that he couldn’t say thank you yet. Arianna decided that probably should be the next thing they teach him to say. Arianna had to reach down and undo the ribbon, but once that was gone, Varian was off to the races, ripping off the shining gold paper with infectious excitement.

He let out a small gasp when he saw what it was revealed to be – a very colorful picture book about plants. Within seconds he was flipping through the pages with intensity, pointing out to her all the pretty pictures and colors that caught his eye. Arianna’s own eyes lit up with wonder at the excitement Varian was exhibiting.

Soon enough, Varian was descending on all the gifts, pulling them into a steady routine for the next half hour – Arianna would pull away the ribbon, Varian would unwrap the present, and then show it to Arianna with excited baubles and giggles as he took in what all of them were. And Arianna just went along with it, because seeing that smile on Varian’s face was worth a thousand presents.

Eventually the presents ran out, but that was no matter to Varian as he just quickly moved to figuring the smaller facets of each thing that he hadn’t seen when he first unwrapped them. In the end, all his presents amounted to five picture books, two stuffed animals (one a pretty black cat that Varian had quickly dubbed ‘Cassie’, most likely after the Captain’s daughter Cassandra), a finger painting set, and a rather nice matching doll set with two ballerinas.

Arianna watched him play for a little bit, sometimes taking toys and books when handed them and giving occasional comments when prompted by Varian but was otherwise content to just remain here for a bit. After a little bit, she felt a familiar pang that someone was missing, that it should two kids in front of her not just one, but she pushed that away for the moment.

This was a happy moment, and she was going to keep that way. She could be sad later, but for now, she wouldn’t let herself be sad.

Their quiet but content moment is cut short by a clearing of the throat. Arianna is unsurprised to see Frederic in the doorway, dressed in clothes one would wear to church, his face looking stoic but nervous at the same time.

“Arianna,” Frederic said simply.

“Frederic.”

The tone is icy. Arianna’s anger from last night might have been a bit more than what it should have been, but it was still a justifiable one. His thoughts about Christmas aside, this holiday was one for family and this man had a son now and he needed to start acting like it.

“Dada!” Varian’s tone is a complete departure from their tones, one filled with such joy at Frederic’s appearance. He stood and ran, or rather, quickly waddled to Frederic and held up the stuffed cat toy now christened Cassie for Frederic to take. “Dada! Cassie!”

“I see Varian,” Frederic said, but made no motion to take the stuffed cat from the boy. Varian blinked up at him and continued to hold the cat toy, adamant that Frederic would take Cassie so that he would play with the toy. The moment went on for a bit longer, Varian just staring up at him with the toy, just long enough for it to become longer.

Arianna cleared her throat. “Fred.”

The take the damn cat toy was implied, but he seemed to get the message anyway because Frederic finally reached down to take the toy from Varian’s grasp.

“Thank you, Varian,” Frederic said, very aware of Arianna’s gaze on him. Varian smiled wide again and raced back over to his collection of new presents to play with them again, deciding next on one of the picture books and beginning to flip through it.

Frederic began a nervous walk over to them, Cassie clutched under his arm.

“I saw where you and Varian weren’t at the morning service,” Frederic said. Arianna pursed her lips.

“I was going to take him to the evening one,” Arianna said. “That way he could open presents.”

Frederic gave a slight hum. It wasn’t disapproval, but it wasn’t support of her decision either.

“Dada! Book!”

Varian held up the picture book, the second one he opened, the one about ducks, and turned to Frederic again. The meaning was clear, Varian wanted Frederic to read him the story. Frederic was Varian’s favorite to hear stories from, even if Varian didn’t get it all that often, and Arianna could see why. Frederic had the kind of voice that could make the most boring thing sound interesting, it was a booming voice when it needed to be but soft at other times. It was the prefect voice for storytelling.

“Well?” Arianna said. “Aren’t you going to read?”

Frederic gave a nervous laugh but took the book from Varian and sat the boy next to him. It seemed that Frederic wasn’t going to try and get out of reading to Varian today, as he so usually did. Arianna watched as Frederic opened the book, Varian leaning against Frederic’s side to get a better look. At first, the older man flinched at the contact before softening as he began the opening of the story.

“Once there was a duck named Mister Germany….,” Frederic began, and slowly the story began in that booming voice of his. Arianna simply watched the two of them, slowly noting as Frederic’s stand became less stiff the farther they got in the story, the hand not keeping the book open slowly and unconsciously beginning to wrap around Varian protectively.

By time the book ended, Varian’s had stars in his eyes and Frederic looked slightly less aggravated than before. Frederic gave a mild complaint that one book was enough when Varian started with asking for the one about flowers before starting after a frown from Varian.

When it came time to read the third book, Frederic made no complaint.

And for every day and Christmas after, Frederic made no complaint to read to his son. Especially on Christmas.

Because Christmas was a day for family.

"For a child is born to us, A son is given to us; And the government Is upon His shoulder; And His name will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace." (Isaiah 9:6) All glory be to God, and we thank Him for sending His only son to die for our sins.

A/N: K so, I should not have been writing this but I'm coming down off of heavy stress and two research papers that kicked my butt and this really helped me get back in a fiction writing mood.

What did y'all think? I loved baby Varian so much and I was so glad to get to write for him again! I had plans for a young Cass, but I could never fit her in. I wanted to do something with Raps, but it never came to be.

I hope y'all are having a great holiday season! Thanks for taking the time to read and I hope y'all have a blessed day! -- Princess Chess

#tangled #tangled au #tts #tangled the series #tts varian #tts arianna #tts frederic #Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure #PrinceVarianAU #christmas fic #christmas #fluff #angst #Disney #disney fanfic

[spooky-ghostwriter]

Dressed to Kill - Chapter Eleven

<– Previous Chapter

Next Chapter –>

“Hey, you're not using this, right?”

The stagehand, a short bald man with muscles more than making up for his stature, looked to the source of the voice. He had to stifle a laugh.

What stood before him looked like a pile of food, but in truth, it was an architectural marvel. An enormous tub of popcorn formed the base. These mere kernels worked together to support the handles of a cotton candy, corn dog and caramel apple. Interspersed, the man counted two hotdogs, a smoothie, and several empty wrappers representing food that hadn't made it this far.

The carrier of the mobile buffet had her entire torso and head hidden behind her feast. Still, the man recognized her white gloves, coattails shaped like bat wings and, most of all, her infamous appetite.

“No, Tsukiko,” said the stagehand. “That's an old, broken wheel. You can use it as a table if you need to.”

With the dexterity that could only be practiced from years in her art, Tsukiko placed her foodstuffs onto the six-foot wooden circle. To the stagehand's surprise, she'd been holding a second candy apple in her teeth. She took a seat on the wheel beside her bounty, let her legs dangle playfully off the side and continued devouring the apple.

“How did you speak so clearly with that in your mouth?” The stagehand asked.

Tsukiko grinned.

“Wait, no," said the stagehand. “Dumb question. A magician – “

“Never reveals her secrets,” Tsukiko finished for the man, pointing in his direction with the now-empty candy apple stick. “I love it when people give me the chance to say that.”

She spied a garbage can a few feet away and tossed the stick. It bounced neatly off the rim and onto the grass below it. Tsukiko drowned her failure with a handful of popcorn.

“Why are you back here, anyway?” The stagehand wondered. "And in full costume...?”

Tsukiko raised the index finger of her left hand – the one of her two hands not cramming cotton candy into her mouth. They listened to the performers speak.

“Introducing my special guest,” said one of them. “The Alesia Circus' very own stage magician, Tsukiko.”

“That's why,” Tsukiko said, swallowing half of her smoothie. She hopped off her table. “Make sure no one touches my food.”

“There's barely any left to touch!”

“Brilliant scheme, isn't it?” Tsukiko clapped food detritus off her gloves. Hearing applause, she ran up onto the stage.

The stage's lights shone brightly; Tsukiko could almost have believed they were aimed directly into her eyes. She held a hand up for shade, then remembered her place and turned it into a wave.

With her on stage right stood Stiletto. Though she had welcomed Tsukiko onto the stage, it was clear that the show belonged to her. On paper, Tsukiko and Stiletto were around the same height, but Stiletto had changed that. Her stance, footwear and sheer presence made Tsukiko feel positively tiny.

Far on stage left, was a large, wooden crate. Oddly, for a prop owned by Stiletto, it had no weapons sticking out of it.

Stiletto addressed the crowd. “Before we begin the show proper, I want to clear up a rumour that I heard recently. I've heard that there are some people out there who believe knife throwing is simply an act.”

Tsukiko stood silently, respecting Stiletto's speech.

“There are two ways to perform knife throwing," Stiletto continued. “The first I'd like to show you is the stage magician's way.”

The belt tied around Stiletto's leg, visible via a long slit in her dress, held countless decorative daggers. She withdrew one, spun it around her fingers, and pointed the handle to Tsukiko.

“I'm no stage magician," Stiletto said. “So Tsukiko will be the one demonstrating this method.”

“Gladly.” Tsukiko took the knife. “I'm throwing it at the crate, right?”

“Correct.”

Tsukiko took aim at the wooden box. She raised the knife. Swung her arm down. Her weapon vanished in a blur. With a loud thunk, a dagger embedded itself in the crate.

The crowd applauded again, and Tsukiko took an over-exaggerated bow.

“That,” said Stiletto, “Is the stage magician's method.”

She strode over to the box. Stiletto tried to retrieve the knife, but it remained stuck in place. Even with one hand on the crate, the other on the knife's handle and her entire weight against it, the knife didn't budge.

“You see, audience, I can't pull the knife out of this crate. And that's because this isn't the knife Tsukiko threw.”

Stiletto tapped the top face. A man backed his way out of the right side; a face of the cube that the audience had merely assumed was there.

“This is Galen,” Stiletto introduced.

“Hi.” Galen waved to the crowd.

“Inside this crate are a few spring-loaded fake knife handles,” said Stiletto. She reached an arm inside the box. In an instant, a thunk signalled another knife embedded into the left face. Two more followed suit, with no one on stage even pretending to throw a dagger.

“Now you may be thinking, what happened to the knife Tsukiko threw?” Stiletto asked. She gestured to the magician.

Tsukiko pulled the dagger out of her sleeve.

“A bit of sleight of hand, a bit of misdirection, and a fairly expensive set of spring-loaded knife handles,” Stiletto concluded. "A lot of knife throwing relies on this sort of trick. A lovely assistant tied to a wheel makes a perfect distraction, and with a pin on the handle, you can have the knives pop balloons that are dangerously close to your assistant.”

As she spoke, two stagehands emerged from stage left carrying a simple wooden bullseye, standing about six feet in diameter just like the older prop Tsukiko had used as a table. The workers took the crate with them as they departed.

“I don't have sleeves, ladies and gentlemen,” Stiletto said. She walked back to Tsukiko and brandished a dagger. “And that target can't possibly have anyone hiding behind it. But most of all, I will prove my knives fly through the air.”

Galen took a piece of paper out of his pocket, rolled up like a scroll. He walked between Stiletto and her target, holding the paper. The instant his walk was complete, a flash of silver whipped through his scroll. The dagger stuck into the dead center of the bullseye; the top half of Galen's paper fluttered to the floor.

“Voila," said Stiletto. “But just in case you still think there's some trickery involved, have a quick look at Tsukiko."

With a hundred pairs of eyes looking in her direction, Tsukiko suddenly realized what Stiletto meant. Her hands were clenched, her eyes wide, and her mouth showed a grimace of terror. Tsukiko carefully returned to a normal stance, but her heart still beat a few times faster than she preferred it to.

“That... that was really close to Galen's hand,” Tsukiko stammered.

“You are not wrong,” Stiletto agreed. “Now that I hope we've settled these silly rumours, Galen, would you like to stand against the target?”

“Like to?” Galen repeated. “Well – ”

“Save the backtalk for Tsukiko's show. The faster you stand there, the more knives I get to throw before the show ends.”

Galen walked over to the target, but made sure to give the audience a glance that said more than he could have done in words.

He pressed his back against the target and spread his arms, grabbing two metal handles equidistant from his head. He noted Tsukiko, still behind Stiletto, giving him an anxious expression and a violent shaking of her head. Galen would have laughed, but he didn't have time. A flash of silver flew past his peripheral vision; a knife sank into the wood beside his ear.

“Number one,” said Stiletto. She flourished a dagger in each hand, then threw them simultaneously. They contacted the target; each an inch from one side of Galen's ribcage. “Two and three.”

Tsukiko looked on in increasing, undisguised terror as knives four through eight proved to be near misses as well.

“Say, Tsukiko,” said Stiletto. “Would you be so kind as to bring me the red box on the table just off-stage?”

“Does it have more knives?” Tsukiko squeaked.

“Not at all. I'm completely out of knives.”

Relieved, Tsukiko left the stage. The stagehand she'd left guarding her snacks passed her a box of red wood. It was about the height of her hand and several times wider. She brought it back to the stage and presented it to Stiletto.

“Ah, yes, perfect. Thank you,” said Stiletto. With the box still in Tsukiko's hands, Stiletto unlatched the clasps. The lid blocked Tsukiko's vision of the inside of the box, but it quickly occurred to her that she should have checked what was inside.

Stiletto withdrew ten six-pointed metal stars.

“Shuriken aren't knives,” Stiletto said.

Tsukiko made a sort of whimpering noise.

“Now which one of these was off-balance...?” Stiletto asked herself. “I think I put it first.”

She flung it into the target. Tsukiko was sure that Galen lost a hair or two.

“Nope, it wasn't that one,” Stiletto thought aloud. “Oh well, I'll find it.”

“Are you serious?” Tsukiko hissed. “This is crazy!”

Stiletto nodded. “You're right, Tsukiko. I've forgotten something tremendously important. It's inexcusable of me to continue this show without – ”

Tsukiko breathed a sigh of relief.

“Spinning the wheel!” Stiletto concluded. The audience roared with excitement.

“No!”

Galen hooked his toes underneath two more handles. The wheel began to spin. It picked up speed fairly quickly, reaching a pace of about half a rotation per second.

In lieu of biting her nails, Tsukiko held the finger tips of her gloves in her teeth.

“If you're nervous about me hitting your friend, I'm sure we can find another option,” Stiletto said devilishly, flinging a shuriken.

“We can? Please!”

“How about you get on the wheel yourself?” Stiletto asked, reading another star.

“I – ”

“Come on, I don't miss.”

Her third star struck the wood by Galen's neck.

“But – ”

“Well, how about this?” Stiletto asked. She threw another star into the wheel, then turned to the crowd. “My dear audience... our stage magician doesn't want me risking her favourite assistant. And she doesn't want to get up on the wheel herself.”

As she spoke, the wheel's spin slowed to a halt, letting Galen step off. He dashed behind Stiletto to stand with Tsukiko.

“It's okay, Tsuki,” Galen said quietly. “I'm fine.”

“You shouldn't have to take this kind of risk!” Tsukiko protested.

“So, audience,” Stiletto continued. “Might I ask for a volunteer? All you need to do is hold the handles and stay still.”

As the audience members raised their hands, Tsukiko's heart skipped a beat. Stiletto looked back to Tsukiko and smiled.

Tsukiko's fists clenched. Her mind flew back to the Halloween show. The razor-sharp fangs of the pumpkin monsters gleamed so clearly in her memory. The moment that the first pumpkin had leapt at the boy in the audience, it felt like time had stopped. Now, seeing the six points of the shuriken in Stiletto's fingertips, that feeling starting to return.

It was as though Stiletto held a whole bandoleer's worth of fangs.

“Fine!” Tsukiko cried. “I'll – ”

“Let's stop wasting time!” Galen interjected. “Let me back on that wheel already.”

To Tsukiko alone, he added, “You're too jumpy. It's safer if you can stay still – and I've already practiced this with Stiletto.” He clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Don't worry!”

With that, he hopped back onto the wheel, to the disappointed groans of the audience.

“About time,” Stiletto muttered. “I'll make this show go a little late to compensate for the...” She rolled her eyes back towards Tsukiko. “Interruption.”

Tsukiko grated her teeth.

When the show was finally complete, Tsukiko found herself pacing angrily around a field. The guests had mostly departed by this time of night. The stagehands were focusing entirely on their tasks. This left Tsukiko with only other performers to hear her venting, and she chose the only one who she knew wouldn't say anything to make her more upset.

“It's bullshit!” Tsukiko yelled, making Henry the Combat Mime flinch. “The circus is supposed to be the safe part of working here!”

Henry raised an index finger as if to say something, but did not.

“We fight plant monsters day in and day out. We risk getting injured, we risk dying, and then what does Stiletto do when we're back safe and sound? She throws knives at Galen!”

Henry caught Tsukiko's attention with a wave of his hand, then tapped his shoes.

“I know I have the High Heals,” Tsukiko said. “But what do we really know about these Religalia? What if they can only work a certain number of times? I shouldn't have to waste one of those uses just because Stiletto missed.”

Henry cut Tsukiko off by holding his hand in front of her face. He pretended to throw something off into the distance. Then he put his hands in front of his mouth and widened his eyes. Tsukiko took this as Henry missing a target.

Next, Henry held one of his hands on his head in a fist, the exact size and shape of Stiletto's hair bun. He used his other hand to imitate the ever-dangling curl of hair above her nose. Finally, he shook his head emphatically from side to side.

“It's not that Stiletto never misses!” Tsukiko argued. “She's just never missed yet.”

Henry turned Tsukiko's attention once more to himself. He shook his head, acted out throwing a knife, then made one last emphatic gesture – holding up a single index finger.

“You're saying...” Tsukiko processed the man's actions. “She's missed once before?”

Henry nodded, wearing a solemn look that did not suit the expressive features painted on his face.

“That's it,” said Tsukiko. “I'm getting Galen out of her shows.”

Henry stepped around Tsukiko. He held up his palms. Tsukiko tapped on the glass he outlined, and she felt the wall's pressure, despite all logic.

“I'm not going to mess with the show going on right now,” Tsukiko said in exasperation. “I just want to talk to Vercy. Is that so wrong?”

Henry crossed his arms and looked pensive. He stroked his chin in an exaggerate motion, looking up and to a side. Finally, he shrugged and made the motions of lifting the wall he'd placed above his head.

“Thank you,” Tsukiko snapped, storming off.

After interrogating the first stagehand she could find, Tsukiko made her way towards Vercingetorix. He stood leaning against a fence, muttering something in a walkie-talkie. Tsukiko approached, inhaling sharply, but Vercingetorix held up a hand and continued speaking in his device. After a few minutes of further exchange, he put the walkie-talkie back on his belt.

“I'm in the middle of something, Tsukiko,” He said. “Is this a matter of life and death?”

The reasonable part of Tsukiko's mind knew that Vercingetorix was probably dealing with some sort of dryad-related business. It was likely to be very important and, realistically, her concern was that Galen would be in danger eventually, not within minutes.

The less reasonable part of Tsukiko's mind told her that Vercingetorix should have chosen different wording.

“Yes,” She said. “It is.”

“I see.” Vercingetorix nodded. “Go on.”

“I want Galen taken out of Stiletto's shows.”

Tsukiko expected some exasperation, but thought Vercingetorix would stop short of rolling his eyes. She was wrong, and he punctuated the action with a sharp exhale. Still, Tsukiko stood her ground, waiting for Vercingetorix's reply.

“Galen is in no more danger during Stiletto's shows than he is during your shows,” He said. “Let alone the danger you're in during your shows.”

“That's a load of crap and you know it.”

“What I know,” Vercingetorix said, his voice no longer able to hide his irritation, “is that the two of you both do everything you can to make something that could be dangerous look as dangerous as possible, yet be as safe as possible.”

He held up his walkie-talkie again.

“Now. We've learned there's a dryad in the area. If there's nothing else to discuss – ”

“Tell me about the time Stiletto missed.”

Tsukiko crossed her arms. Vercingetorix fell silent. In a different situation, she may have had a victorious smile on her face, but here she wore only a scowl.

“Miss Isle, stand by,” Vercingetorix said into the walkie-talkie.

“Who told you about that?” He asked Tsukiko.

“Henry.”

“Ah. That man has annoyingly loose lips,” Vercingetorix muttered. “Strange, all things considered.”

“Don't change the subject.”

“Yes, yes,” Vercingetorix pinched the bridge of his nose. “It was several years ago. It was a bit more extravagant of a performance than perhaps she should have done, but I thought Stiletto was capable of it. However, something went wrong – just by enough to make a difference. Perhaps a dagger had enough of a dent in it to throw off Stiletto's aim. Perhaps the target fidgeted. Perhaps – ”

“Perhaps Stiletto screwed up.”

“I refuse to believe that,” Vercingetorix said. “Stiletto has had tens of thousands chances to hit someone, and has only once.”

“Once is enough!” Tsukiko cried. “What's wrong with you?! How can you let her do her act after it killed someone?”

“What? Stiletto never killed anyone!” Vercingetorix took on a more upbeat tone, as though all of Tsukiko's seriousness would fade away in an instant.

“So then what happened to the guy? Or girl?”

“Minor cut,” Vercingetorix held his thumb and index finger up, the two barely apart. “A little bit of bleeding.”

He clapped Tsukiko on the shoulder.

“I'm sure you understand that there's nothing to be afraid of,” He said. “I assure you, Galen will be just fine.”

Tsukiko knocked his arm off her.

“A minor cut and a little bit of bleeding...” Tsukiko repeated. “Not sure I want to trust the guy who thinks kidnapping is a job offering on what a 'minor cut' is.”

“In all fairness, you did take the job I offered.”

Before Tsukiko could argue – or admit he had a point – Vercingetorix's walkie-talkie crackled once again.

“What is it, Miss Isle?”

Vercingetorix paused.

“Faster than you expected?!” He demanded. “How close is it?”

Vercingetorix clenched his empty hand into a fist. His grip on the walkie-talkie tightened.

“Tsukiko,” He said. “Find Stiletto. We have an apple tree coming our way.”

#dressed to kill #original fiction #tsukiko

[vvatyrvvitch]

Edmond Marriage and Family Counseling

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You should let your toothbrush air dry out before using it again so bacteria won't build up. Store your toothbrush upright away from other objects to allow air to circulate. http://www.newvisioncounseling.org

There are toothpastes out there specially formulated for sensitive teeth.If you have sensitive teeth, you probably suffer from sensitive teeth.

To maintain proper dental health, regular dentist visits are very important.

You can make your teeth with fluoride supplements. Fluoride can really help your teeth and gums stay healthier. Yellow spots appear on your teeth if you take too much fluoride. If you see this happening, stop taking supplements and eliminate other sources of fluoride in your diet.

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It is critical that you perform the right oral care each day. Brush when you get up each morning and again right before going to bed. While sleeping the saliva in your mouth will dry up, your bacteria fighting saliva dries up.

Brush your teeth from your mouth.This makes sure you can pull out all of the debris and gets it away from your gums so they are cleaned completely. It is okay to scrub sideways starting out, but remember to brush up and down next.

You need to see a dentist if your gums bleed from brushing your teeth. 

Are you a fan of ice chewer? You need to eliminate this habit right away. Chew on sugar-free gum instead of ice.Avoid using ice in your drinks until you are no longer tempted.

A lot of people who do not take in enough of the right minerals and minerals in their diet get dental problems. Take multivitamins and get some help from your doctor if they can find out what's going on with your diet.

Brush your teeth three times daily for two minutes each time. Regular brushing reduces problems caused by gum disease and maintain healthy gums. It is much less expensive and painful to brush your teeth than to get dental problems down the road.

Calcium is a necessary component of your bones and teeth.

Before you even go to interview a prospective dentist, confirm that he accepts your dental insurance. If the insurance is a match, review your insurance policy to determine which services are covered under your plan. This will prevent you avoid any payment surprises.

Smoking should be avoided if you wish to have great teeth. Quitting smoking impacts your overall health and your teeth. There are several options to help you stop.

You should always floss before brushing teeth. Most issues tend to arise between the teeth, which is why you must clean there. If you think floss is too troublesome, a flossing tool may be your new best friend. These tools help you can regularly throw out your floss.

How long should you bought a new toothbrush? You should get a new toothbrush ever few months so that can hinder proper cleaning.

Don't brush teeth too often or to vigorously. Brushing your teeth about 3 times each day will be enough to keep a healthy smile.

You shouldn't take your own dental care regimen seriously. You should be sure to brush your teeth at least two times each and every day. This helps to remove the debris that sticks to your teeth after you eat. It also removes bacteria that corrode your teeth.

Always allow your toothbrush to dry in between uses.

These foods could damage partials and other types of dental work. Popcorn kernels can also cause damage to your gums if they get stuck.

Wear the necessary mouth guards if you practice sports. A proper mouth guard is vital if you would like to care for your teeth and still enjoy what you're doing. Football should never be played without a proper mouth guard being worn. You should always pay attention to protecting your teeth into consideration.

What toothpaste do you use? You should check the label of your toothpaste you purchase to see if it has any fluoride in it. Fluoride can help avoid tooth decay. Your dentist should give you some useful recommendations if you don't know which toothpaste recommendation.

If you don't trust your dentist or feel uncomfortable with him, you won't want to visit them in the future. Remember that you're the customer. This is why you are happy with how things turn out. http://www.newvisioncounseling.org/marriage-family-therapists-edmond/

Learning how to properly care for your teeth can be difficult. Spending some time studying on the various options and differences you have available can help you find a great service provider for the future, too. Have this advice handy to be more successful.

[turner54roberts-blog]

Can Dogs Eat Popcorn Info?

If you are questioning whether your pooch can eat popcorn, there are some things to bear in mind. To begin with, popcorn is a popular snack that many can dogs eat popcorn love to chew on. If you've got ever watched your pup graze in your popcorn, you recognize that he'll be looking out for any dropped kernels. So, earlier than you give your dog a spoonful, it is a good suggestion to learn the labels and make sure your pup doesn't get an excessive amount of.

To ensure your canine doesn't get a foul response to popcorn, you need to consider the kind. If you have the sort that has dehydrated butter, do not give it to your dog. One other factor to bear in mind is that your dog may not be in a position to tell apart between regular popcorn and the one that has added seasoning. In any case, it's best to consult together with your vet immediately if you see these symptoms.

It is also important to keep in mind that popcorn should be eaten in moderation. It is tremendous to feed your canine the occasional handful of popcorn, however try to be very cautious not to feed them an excessive quantity of it. In addition, you shouldn't give your dog the type that has been popped with artificial flavors. Such flavors may be toxic to your pet's system and should cause digestive issues and even heart problems. Subsequently, it is best to limit the amount of popcorn that your pooch is exposed to.

So long as you give your dog only small amounts, popcorn is safe for your pet to eat. However, it should be plain and unflavored. And make sure you check the hulls before giving your canine any popcorn. You may as well separate out the husks so that your canine won't get stuck with the kernels. So, don't be concerned! The meals is secure in your pooch. If you are not sure, talk to your vet about it before feeding your pet popcorn.

With regards to snacks, popcorn is a superb selection for canine. If you are preparing a meal for your self, you possibly can supply your pooch a bit of popcorn for snack. The popcorn you are serving generally is a snack for him or her, nevertheless it needs to be cooked correctly to prevent it from making your dog sick. While the pop is not dangerous to your pet, it's best to watch out to not overfeed him.

Although popcorn is protected for people to eat, it isn't safe for canines. As with all food, it may be dangerous to your pet. Candy popcorn can be toxic to your canine. It may also be made with synthetic sweeteners that are toxic to canine. Additionally, the sugar present in candy popcorn is not good on your dog's teeth, so you must keep away from it until you're sure it's secure in your canine.

#can dogs eat popcorn

[robekitt]

Six Foods That Aren't Denture-Friendly

After having gum disease, tooth pain, extensive cavities and just overall wear and tear, you might find yourself having to get a denture. This non-permanent solution is used to replace multiple teeth in the same row all in one go. One of the major adjustments you'll have to make is to change the food you eat after having dentures.

Here are the six foods you shouldn't eat with dentures.

Popcorn

This salty delight can be quite painful to eat if you wear dentures. It is challenging to get those pesky little kernels out when they get stuck between your teeth. Well, a much similar situation can happen with dentures; the result is much worse. The kernels can get accumulated underneath your new set of teeth! Try swapping out the popcorn for veggie chips when you need to satisfy that salty craving.

Nuts This protein-rich snack has earned a great reputation over the years for the health benefits it provides. Unfortunately, nuts typically come in a tough form, making them a food to avoid for people who wear dentures. Denture wearers have to Chew food they consume evenly on both sides of their mouth to halt their dentures from popping off on one side. This is nearly impossible to accomplish with nuts, usually chewed on the back of one side of the mouth.

Steak Sometimes you can't say no to a nice, juicy steak, and there's nothing that'll bang the spot quite like it. What isn't so good about a steak is its chewiness. The amount of chewing that is needed can destabilize the teeth in your dentures, cause sore gums, and in extreme cases, may even dislodge the teeth altogether. If you don't think you can go without steak, cut your meat into much smaller pieces not to put your dentures in a precarious situation.

Bread and crackers with seed You might love the nutty flavor of poppy seeds, but if you wear dentures, seeds tend to get trap under your dentures, causing gum irritation. Also, bread has the tendency to accumulate in your teeth and under your dentures, causing irritation.

Sticky Candy Brittles, toffees and other sour candies are a dentist's worst nightmare. These sweet candies are great for your taste buds but terrible for your teeth. If you've ever had trouble getting sticky candy out of your natural teeth, you should know that it's even more challenging to get those sticky bits out when you have dentures.

Coffee Last but least, the most essential food item to omit is the coffee. There's nothing quite like having a good cup of hot coffee when you're getting your day started. Unfortunately, coffee is a tremendously lousy beverage to drink if you want to keep your enamel white. Over time, this dark drink can stain your teeth, even if they are natural. For denture wearers, the stains will become visible much quicker since your teeth aren't entirely natural.

#dentures #food

[sherdental]

How to Handle a Dental Emergency

You can get a dental injury from several situations like sports or fall injury. At that instant, it may look painful and frightening as well. To prevent further damage to your teeth, you should visit the dentist immediately following the accident or injury. It will restore your dental health and prevent any negative consequences.

Sometimes it is difficult to understand whether it is a serious dental emergency or can be treated later on. Dental problems like a small chip in tooth, dull toothache, lost filling or crown, food stuck in between teeth may not be considered dental emergencies but you still need to visit the dentist as soon as possible. Let us tell you some of the dental problems which are considered as dental emergencies

Injured jaw

Extreme tooth sensitivity

Continuous bleeding of gums

Broken or knocked-out tooth

Swollen face in combination with a toothache

Painful swelling

Toothache which will not subsidize

If you are facing any of the above-mentioned problems, you should immediately call emergency dental services in your area. However, you need to stay calm and follow certain things before you reach the clinic or dental hospital. Below is the list of suggested things that you can follow in case of a dental emergency.

Act quickly on broken teeth

Injuries can partially or completely dislodge your teeth or leave you with broken or chipped teeth. You may completely lose your teeth or left with some other options like dental implants if you do not seek emergency dental services immediately. Also, do not forget to collect any broken pieces and take them to the doctor while visiting. You can soak the broken teeth in milk or saltwater before rushing the dental clinic. These steps can increase the chances of saving your teeth.

Alleviate your pain with cold therapy

If your tooth is not completely broken after the injury, you may experience a lot of bleeding and pain. In such instances, the first step is to collect all the broken pieces and then rinse your mouth to clean and then try to stop the bleeding. Apply the cold compress around your mouth to alleviate the pain until you reach any emergency dental clinic.

Never use sharp objects to retrieve stuck objects in your teeth

If something like a popcorn kernel or any seed gets stuck in between your teeth, never use sharp objects like nail filer or hairpin to dislodge the stuck item. This can cause bleeding or infection. The infection can even spread to other parts of the body causing more damage. Always contact the dentist for assistance or use dental floss.

Sher Dental located in North Miami. Florida is one of the best emergency dental clinics which provide you a wide range of dental services. If you are located in Miami, check out the emergency dental care near me in Google and you will find our website and other resources. It is always advised to check with the dentist instead of waiting and making the situation worse.

#emergency dental services #emergency dental clinic #emergency dental clinics #emergency dental care near me

[doctor-paprika]

Heroin sucks.

I have no followers, so I guess I am using this as a diary entry that no one will see but can help me vent a bit.

I am learning how to tumblr so have been randomly searching any interests that come to mind. Of course, one of the first I could think of was heroin/addiction recovery, but very few results came up. After that, I stupidly just searched the word “heroin” and the results really brought me down (lower than I already was, which was surprising.)

A few accounts were splattered with pictures of Kurt Cobain, which didn’t surprise me. Soon I saw several accounts with videos of people shooting up, people talking about how much they love heroin and other drugs, and of course, people talking of how they may be addicts, but they aren’t dirty junkies!

When I was 14 I began eating pills. Benzos were fun, but opiates were my favourite. I took them from medicine cabinets and kept myself in steady supply that way. Years passed, I graduated high school, fell in and out of a few relationships, and eventually began seeing someone who had been using heroin for a while. They would leave the room to shoot up, but one night I told them to stay, and I asked them to share.

I was 19, had a good job, a reliable car, over $4k in the bank I had earned every penny of on my own, a good relationship with my parents, and a few people I called friends.

I don’t want to sit here and put down my partner at the time because it is counterproductive. All I will say is that they were 26, had never had a job, a driver’s license, a high school diploma, but got lots of money given to them without question by their mother.

I say this just to give you (the person who is not reading this) an idea of my situation at the time.

I loved my first shot. There was no mark left on my arm, which shocked me. Before this, I had needed four nurses to hold me down to get a tetanus shot, but suddenly the fear was gone. I didn’t want to bring up doing it again, so was very excited when my partner asked a few days later if I would like to join them in shooting up again. The second time was even better than the first.

The lies came quickly. Calls to my job, claiming my car was broken down. Calls to my parents coming up with various reasons as to why I wouldn’t be home that night. The few friends I had became unimportant, I had new “friends” that I met through my partner, and they either sold, used, or both.

A few months after I turned 20 I quit my job, officially moved in with my partner, and had begun to spend almost every moment of every day coming up with ways to get heroin. I felt like a cool adult, able to make my own decisions and get high whenever I wanted! What fun!

Without having to pay for food, rent, or anything but heroin, I ran out of my $4k in less than a year. I had been saving all of my money from age 15-19 and it was gone in just a few months. I also got my car taken from me by my parents. My partners mom knew that we used, she sobbed about it, yelled about it, and acted like it was the worst thing that could have ever happened to her… but would still give us $100-300 a day so we wouldn’t get sick, and provided a nice, new car for us.

I was lucky to live in the Bay Area, because all it took was a fifteen minute drive to Oakland and I had access to dozens of dealers. There were also many needle exchanges around the city in which each person could get 400 free, new clean needles and all the ties, cooks, cottons, and anything else a heroin addict could need, including a limited supply of Narcan - which I always kept on me after having OD’d myself once and watching another friend OD, and having us both be saved by the opioid antagonist.

Oh, and I began smoking crack. Lots of crack. Crack was great! And heroin was a perfect comedown! I was awake most hours of every day, and spent almost every second of those hours worrying about how the next hour would go.

By the time my parents found out about my use, I was 22. They had been my best friends and now we were completely out of contact. My mom would occasionally stop by the apartment my partner and I shared with their mom, but by then I had begun living in the car we had, because being in Oakland all the time was easier than having to drive there every day.

My partners mom would occasionally go through periods where she decided to cut us off. She was married to an alcoholic whose health was declining so had to tend to his addiction more than ours at that point. I had never imagined myself having to fly a sign for money, but now I was doing it all day, every day, and most of the time was stuck standing out there sick. Lots of homeless people live on the streets of Oakland, so to get a good spot to stand you needed to get out early, and find some confidence to fight others who wanted your spot. I had shit thrown at me, usually open drink containers, I got yelled at to get a job, to get the fuck off the median, to kill myself. I didn’t understand what I was doing to offend these people so bad. My least favorite part was the men who would hold out a dollar, just to pull it in once I got close and show me their dick before laughing and driving off - and the worst of that was one who actually came on my hand, he could have at least gave me the dollar after!

Once my partners mom was at the hospital daily with her rapidly declining husband, waiting for him to get a liver transplant that eventually came too late, we began staying at the apartment more. Every wall became covered in blood spatter, shot from rigs that had become blocked with coagulated blood. You could not see one inch of the floor, as it was covered in used rigs and bloody rags. Surprisingly, we didn’t get the security deposit back! I will always feel terrible that I let my cat live in that fucked up place.

I joined a methadone clinic a few times to try to avoid going through withdrawal, but I would always stop going because the drive there took away time I could have spent flying my sign, smoking crack, or shooting dope.

I was 23, my job was flying a sign, my car was in three accidents that left it barely functioning, had no money for longer than a few minutes (more usually a few hours because dealers were generally slow movers), was out of contact with my parents for thirteen months, and I didn’t have one friend. I had also gotten below 90lbs, which didn’t go well with my 5'8" body - inside or out. You know you’re at rock bottom when you have old crack dealers with no teeth telling you how unhealthy you look.

You know what my most commonly used phrases during those years were? • “I’m not a junkie, I’m a functioning addict!” • “I’m not a dirty crackhead, I take showers, brush my teeth, and wash my face (in the bathroom at Safeway.)” • “My parents/friends are so stupid, they don’t get that I’m totally fine. I’m better than fine, this stuff makes me feel great! If they tried it, they’d know!” • “I know *drug dealers name* takes a long time to meet up, but we’re friends! Not like how it is for them with all the junkies out here!” • “I’ve never had to whore myself out, I’ve never been to jail, I’m not like these nasty junkies out here..”

You know what kind of things I did that I thought were totally normal and definitely didn’t make me a mentally ill drug abuser? • searched the floor of my car for lost crack rocks for hours, tearing apart any parts of it I could - one time even thinking I had found a big chunk of crack and immediately smoked it, but it was a popcorn kernel! Worst thing I’ve ever smelled or tasted. • gone through every inch of my partners mom’s room to find any loose change or gold jewelery I could sell. • sold every book, videogame, DVD, CD, and any item I owned that I could get even a dollar for, including things I had had since my childhood that had incredible sentimental value. • sold every Safeway giftcard my partners mother would give us for 75% of its value, knowing it meant my partner and I would have no food for the foreseeable future. ¹ • then spent the money we got for the giftcard on crack, knowing that without food in our system we would throw up bile after each hit. • had to shit so badly after taking a hit of crack that I went on a curb where others could see, in the middle of the day, and then taken another hit right when I was done. • taken suboxone sooner than I knew I should have, and proceeded to vomit non-stop while driving, followed my shitting my pants three times, selling a PS4 that belonged to my partners friend, and driving to meet a dealer while still vomiting and wearing my shit filled pants.

Too much information? Gross? It’s weird for me to talk about it, because I have incredibly bad anxiety and don’t like to be open about more than I have to be, but drug addiction is gross and people need to realize that. There are people out there buying clothes and accessories with “Xanax” and “Percoset” labeled on them! Alcohol is glamourized in the media all the time! And the worst part is, I get it. I get that feeling that of independence, that feeling of being cooler than others, that feeling of finally having found something to calm down my brain even a little bit and falling head over heels for it, that feeling of doing something illegal and scary and the adrenaline rush from it.

When I was in middle school there was an assembly where a man talked about his drug use. It ended with him saying quitting cigarettes was harder than quitting heroin. Once I got addicted to heroin, I knew that was complete bullshit. I wish there was a way to tell kids, adults, anyone who might be considering using that they should do anything else, that their lives can so easily be ruined for who knows how long, but unfortunately most will only learn from experience.

Addicts are demonized, we are looked at as scum, as monsters, as those you should stay far from. Addicts are people. Many addicts are brilliant minds that suffer from mental illnesses, some known and some not. I knew I was mentally ill, but the therapy groups gave me anxiety and the meds didn’t work quick enough so I took the route I felt would be easier, which proved to be the opposite. Addiction is a disease, whether people choose to believe it or not. The biggest argument I have heard against this is that addicts choose what has happened to them. Do you put down a diabetic, even if they are only dealing with that disease because they ate tons of pies and cakes every day? Do you put down a person with cancer, even if they are only dealing with that disease because they tanned themselves in the sun or under tanning booths every day? I chose to use heroin, I chose to use crack, I chose to eat pills, I chose to drink, but I did not choose to be an addict. Long before I did any of those drugs I was addicted to picking at my skin, addicted to cleaning, addicted to exercising and watching my diet very closely, but no on has ever put me down for having dermatillomania, for having OCD, or for having anorexia.

Those with mental illness are looked at as lesser beings, as being incompetent, as needing to be pushed aside and stepped on. But we are strong, we are bright, and we deserve love and acceptance.

I have been off of heroin since early 2014, but I will be celebrating my one year date of being completely clean and sober in eleven days. I never think about drugs anymore, until I see videos of others shooting up, text or images promoting the addict lifestyle, and unfortunately for me those are all too common and too easily found.

If you are an addict, ask for help. If you suffer from, or even think you may suffer from, any mental illness, ask for help. Even if it is hard to find at first, it is out there. Therapy, medications, rehabilitation and the like are out there.

But, you’re not reading this are you? Like I said, this is just a way for a rambling, ex-junkie to vent.

#heroin #addiction #substance abuse #mental illness #sobriety #recovery #mental health #support

[poop4u]

Can Dogs Eat Corn? The Answer Isn’t As Simple As You Might Think

#poop4u #dogs

The post Can Dogs Eat Corn? The Answer Isn’t As Simple As You Might Think by Elizabeth Vecsi appeared first on Dogster. Copying over entire articles infringes on copyright laws. You may not be aware of it, but all of these articles were assigned, contracted and paid for, so they aren't considered public domain. However, we appreciate that you like the article and would love it if you continued sharing just the first paragraph of an article, then linking out to the rest of the piece on Dogster.com.

Now that summer is starting up, you may have thought, “Can dogs eat corn?” According to veterinary nutritionists, it’s perfectly fine for dogs to eat corn in moderation. In fact, because corn is one of the most popular and inexpensive grains in the world, you’ll find it in a variety of dog foods. But there are some other things to consider when wondering, “Can dogs eat corn?” Let’s take a closer look here.

Dogs, corn and food allergies

Can dogs eat corn — and should they? There are a few things to keep in mind. Photography © vgajic | E+ / Getty Images.

In recent years, some consumers have been led to believe that corn is an undesirable ingredient and part of the “food allergies maze” that can be hard to navigate.

“In truth, true food allergies are relatively uncommon in dogs (and cats),” says Cailin R. Heinze, VMD, DACVN, assistant professor of nutrition at the Cummings School of Veterinary Medicine at Tufts University. “Corn in and of itself is not a problem and can be part of a well-balanced and nutritious diet.”

Can dogs eat corn off your plate?

Corn is more than just filler; it is also a good source of protein, carbohydrates, fat, fiber, vitamins, linoleic acids and antioxidants. So, can dogs eat corn in the same forms as their human friends? If you want to share some corn off your own plate, feel free to do so, provided the corn you’re giving to your dog is free of unhealthy butter, sodium, oil and other seasonings.

Can dogs eat corn on the cob?

One important exception to avoid when thinking, “Can dogs eat corn?” is corn on the cob. It may seem like a good idea to keep your dog busy by allowing him to gnaw on a corn cob underneath a picnic table, but this can get dangerous if he bites off chunks of said cob and ingests them. Dogs run the risk of choking on the corn cob, and the cob could also cause a serious intestinal blockage.

While pieces of corn cob can sometimes pass uneventfully in large dogs, medium and small dogs especially are at a bigger risk for an obstruction. If you suspect your dog gobbled up a cob (or you caught him in the act), watch for signs of distress such as vomiting, straining during defecation, loss of appetite, stomach pain, whimpering and restlessness. Don’t delay in seeking veterinary advice.

Can dogs eat corn in popcorn form?

Popcorn can be a fun and occasional treat for your dog, but keep it unsalted and unbuttered. Plain, air-popped popcorn is high in fiber, and its carbohydrates can provide extra energy. If you make the popcorn yourself, make sure all of the kernels that you’re feeding to your dog are popped. In most batches of popcorn, there are going to be a handful of pieces that don’t completely pop. For a dog, those are the pieces that aren’t digestible and can cause gastrointestinal upset.

Popcorn that gets stuck between a dog’s teeth can cause problems, such as tooth decay and gum disease. Avoid feeding your dog the pre-packaged and flavored popcorns, which contain a lot of sodium, oils and artificial flavors that can wreak havoc on your dog’s digestive system.

Thumbnail: Photography by Budimir Jevtic / Shutterstock. 

About the author

Writer Elizabeth Vecsi lives in the Hudson Valley with her five cats. Over the past two decades, she has been an editor and writer for various pet publications, including Cornell’s Dogwatch.

Read more about what dogs can — and can’t! — eat on Dogster.com:

Can dogs eat …

Nuts? Find Out Which Nuts Are Safe — And Which Aren’t

Carrots? If So, Are Carrots Good for Dogs?

Onions? If Your Dog Ate Onions, What Do You Do?

  The post Can Dogs Eat Corn? The Answer Isn’t As Simple As You Might Think by Elizabeth Vecsi appeared first on Dogster. Copying over entire articles infringes on copyright laws. You may not be aware of it, but all of these articles were assigned, contracted and paid for, so they aren't considered public domain. However, we appreciate that you like the article and would love it if you continued sharing just the first paragraph of an article, then linking out to the rest of the piece on Dogster.com.

via www.Poop4U.com Trippy.Tube, Poop4U

#poop4u #cute #dogs #puppies #petlove #cute pets #funny pets #funny #doggo #doggrooming #p

[usee-right-thrume-blog]

Kentucky Plastic Surgeon

Tips For Keeping Your Natural Teeth

Many health problems are the result of poor oral hygiene. You can avoid these problems by knowing how to properly practice dental care and do the right thing for your gums and teeth. Read on to learn more about properly caring for your teeth.

If you are 50 or older, use mouthwashes that do not contain alcohol. The best mouthwash without alcohol that contains fluoride.Use this twice daily for best results.

Visiting the dentist can be a scary experience for small children. Ease those fears and explain to them that a dentist just wants to help them. Your child will be far more comfortable with a pediatric dentist if you choose one that has kid-friendly waiting and a friendly exam rooms.

Follow the directions to chew (or swish) the product. Plaque build-up will show as a bright blue or pink. Only use these types of products if you have sufficient time to get rid of the traces. This isn't something you want to use when you have nowhere to go.

Flossing at least once a day is something you should do for your dental hygiene routine. Flossing correctly makes all the overall health of your mouth. Carefully slide the floss down near the gums between two teeth. Use a motion that goes back and forth motion. Avoid forcing the floss down under your gums.

Always look at the labels on the toothpaste you're going to buy. The toothpaste you use should definitely contain a good amount of fluoride. Most toothpastes also contain abrasive ingredients to clean and whiten your teeth whiter. If toothpaste is overly harsh, try to find one that is labeled as "gentle."

Don't take pain in your teeth lightly! Pain that's severe and has been going on for a sign of something dire. Call your dentist to set up an appointment promptly; infections located in the teeth can travel to the brain if they are untreated.

Avoid the acids of citrus; they can harm tooth enamel. Brush your teeth well after you drink citrus foods and drinks.Doing this will help keep carbonic acids from eroding the enamel of your teeth enamel.

Avoid cigarette smoking if you want to keep your teeth. Smoking stains your teeth and causes tartar and excessive plaque to accumulate on them as well. Cigarettes can also increase your risk for gum disease as well as oral cancer. Quit smoking to make sure that you have the healthiest teeth and gums remain healthy.

Do you brush your teeth immediately after eating lemon or other citrus foods? Brushing shortly after consuming these acidic foods means you are brushing softened enamel that is more susceptible to damage. Instead of doing this, rinse with water and have a piece of sugarless gum.

There is only one way to maintain lifelong dental health. You have to see the dentist at least two times a year. These visits will allow you to get check-ups and perform check ups. Your dentist may have.

Before meeting your new dentist, verify that he or she accepts your insurance plan. If he does, check with your provider to be certain of the services and procedures your policy will cover. This step helps you to avoid excessive expenses later.

Stay away from soda to keep your teeth. Soda contains no nutrients and has lots of sugar. There is one cup or more of sugar in a two-liter bottle of soda. You can keep your teeth strong and healthy by staying away from these drinks.

These tables help eliminate plaque and show you an idea of how efficient your brushing is being neglected. Using these products will help you greatly reduce plaque and prevent gingivitis.

You should always floss prior to brushing your teeth. Many dental woes begin in the problematic area between teeth, so you must clean in those areas. If you don't like flossing, consider using a flossing tool you can buy at the drug store for help. These hygienic and can be trashed after each use.

Brush twice a day to avoid cavities. It's especially crucial after a meal and an essential right before bed time. Neglecting to brush could allow bacteria on the teeth that can lead to the development of cavities.

Electronic toothbrushes are awesome because they can perform more strokes every minute; that makes a minute than regular toothbrushes. Electric toothbrushes can brush your teeth ten to twenty times faster than manual brushing only delivers about 300 strokes per minute. Electric toothbrushes are better for getting more brushing in less time.

Replace your toothbrush on a regular basis to take good care of your mouth and teeth healthy. Regular tooth brushes and the heads should be replaced about every three months. This is how you will ensure that your toothbrush always gets the best tools to succeed.

There are some snacks that are actually good for the teeth. An apple is a teeth cleaner when you are eating it. Raw vegetables are the perfect snack. These crunchy foods help clean the teeth while eating.

Rinse with some apple cider vinegar as part of your daily routine. You will want to do this out every morning before you brush as normal.

These foods could damage partials and other types of dental work. Popcorn kernels can also cause inflammation in your gums because they can get stuck.

Ask loved ones for recommendations when choosing a dentist recommendation. A lot of people have a dentist that they feel confident about. They would no longer visit them if they did not feel this way. Ask people you trust and come up with a list of great dentists. http://www.luftmanplasticsurgery.com

Plastic flossers are fun and easy for children to use when learning proper dental care. However, the truth is that using floss the old-fashioned way, wrapping around the fingers and sliding between the teeth, provides extra pressure and removes more debris from your teeth.

If you neglect your teeth, it can substantially cost money. Neglecting your oral hygiene can cause damage to your overall health. This risk ought to have been alleviated having read this discussion.

[pettrainingtip-blog]

Healthy Snacks for Dogs That You Probably Already Have in Your Kitchen

Believe it or not, dogs actually can have certain foods that us, humans, enjoy as well! You don’t always have to venture out to the pet store to find healthy snacks for dogs; you can look right in your pantry because chances are you already have at least one of them!

Top Healthy Snacks for Dogs

#1 - Salmon If you’re planning on cooking salmon for dinner anytime soon, remember to count your dog in too. Salmon is very beneficial to your dogs' health, and here’s how! Salmon is rich in omega-3 fatty acids, and just in case you didn’t know, salmon is typically the type of fish used to produce fish oil capsules for our pets. Salmon also adds a sufficient amount of protein to your pets’ diet that lasts them longer, so they feel full for a longer period of time. There are just a couple of easy rules to follow if you decide to feed your pooch a sliver of salmon; never feed it to them raw, and always feed it to them plain (unseasoned.) #2 - Vegetables Various types of vegetables make great healthy snacks for dogs! Raw carrots, celery, cucumber, zucchini, and bell peppers are all excellent examples of vegetables that you can chop up and throw right in their food bowl, or package and serve later as treats. You can also try steaming green beans, broccoli, asparagus, and cauliflower! However, you must keep in mind that dogs are just like humans and probably won’t always enjoy every type of vegetable you give to them, so try some new foods on and off and see what your pup thinks is tasty to them! Vegetables are low in calories as well, so they make for the perfect treats if you are trying to help your dog lose a bit of weight. #3 - Popcorn You probably wouldn’t think that popcorn is one of the top healthy snacks for dogs, and you’re right, if you add butter and salt to it, but, as long as you keep it plain and simple, it’ll be safe for your pooch to consume. If you do add salt and butter to the mix and feed it to your dog, it may cause serious complications such as pancreatitis. Popcorn is an excellent treat that is easy to make (and probably sitting in your cupboard right now), but the biggest key for serving it to your dog in the safest way possible, is to air-pop the kernels. Unpopped kernels become a choking hazard or may get stuck in your dog’s teeth, and nobody wants that. So, if this is something you are willing to try, be sure to cover all of the bases and serve it in the safest way as possible. #4 - Watermelon On a hot summer day, who doesn’t love a nice, juicy slice of watermelon after being out in the sun all day? Watermelon is a great (and healthy) treat to hand over to your pup, as long as it doesn’t contain seeds or the rind, your dog will be sure to love it! Watermelon is naturally low in calories, and sweet at the same time, so your pooch can enjoy themselves a little bit without adding the extra calories and weight! Watermelon is packed with vitamin A and vitamin C which adds a slight bonus of nutrients to this summertime snack. #5 - Most Berries Most berries such as strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, and raspberries, are all incredible examples of healthy snacks for dogs, and can be given to them in moderation! Berries include antioxidants that help support your pup while providing them with nutrients, and a yummy treat in the mix. Keep in mind that you probably don’t want to fill an entire bowl up with berries and then feed it to your dog, because that would more than likely make them sick. But, what you can do is add some berries to their regular food or give your dog berries as treats when you’re training them a new trick or they’re being a good pup altogether. Berries are low in calories, so you can feed them to your pup guilt-free, and they won’t gain any extra weight. The only thing to look out for with sweet fruits is monitoring the sugar content that your dog is consuming. If they overeat sugar, it could upset their stomach. #6 - Peanut Butter Most people already know that peanut butter is a satisfying treat for most dogs, but we’re going to tell you why. Peanut butter is naturally packed with protein which makes it long lasting and helps your dog feel full for a longer amount of time. Peanut butter is one of the top healthy snack for dogs not only because of its’ nutritional benefits, but because it’s sweet and creamy, which ensures that your dog will get a kick out of it. It is not recommended to feed copious amounts of peanut butter to your pup at one time because it could make them severely ill. Also, be aware that dogs have allergies just as humans do, so watch out for allergic reactions to peanuts from your pooch. It is a good idea to have them taste test it before you go ahead and feed them more, just to be sure they can tolerate it in their system. The Bottom Line There are endless possibilities of different grains, fruits, vegetables, proteins, and meats that could benefit your dog(s) (in some ways better than just plain kibble) and as long as you do your research to make sure that the foods you want to serve your canine aren’t poisonous, you’ll probably be okay. However, NEVER assume that every type of food humans eat, dogs can eat too, because that is not the case and if your dog gets ahold of the wrong food they could end up in the animal hospital with severe complications! That is why it is essential to educate yourself about what your pooch can and can not eat and make sure that you prepare each of their food items correctly. Read the full article

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To follow on from the article listing 10 great foods for your Cockapoo, let’s have a look at what we should not be giving them. ‘Tis the season. Lovely tasting treats are everywhere. Your crafty Cockapoos may plead. They may look desperate. They may lay the biggest guilt trip on you, but don’t be tempted to feed them the following things. They will thank you for it in the long run!

This probably common knowledge by now, but worth repeating. Chocolate is toxic to dogs because of two chemicals. Caffeine and theobromine. It is interesting to note that the darker the chocolate, the worse it is for dogs as a rule, but best to avoid chcolate in any form. Watch out for chunks in cookies and cakes. Make sure the kids are not leaving a trail of chocolate behind them.

Nuts. Generally speaking, your Cockapoo’s digestive system is not made to handle nuts. Different nuts have varying effects. They can lead to mild tummy upsets right up to vomiting and diarrhea with the accompanying abdominal pain. Best not to guess which nuts are better than others. Simply avoid them.

It may take a lot of onions to cause problems, but it is worth knowing that too many can cause damage to your Cockapoo’s red blood cells. The ASPCA confirms this. Avoid significant amounts.

Garlic. This one should be taken ore seriously. All members of the onion family are not good for dogs, but garlic is much stronger and thus much more toxic. It is worth noting how much garlic you have used in any food you may treat your dog with. Soup? Sauces? Watch the levels.

An interesting one. Many dogs have enjoyed grapes on a regular basis with no issues. Some people have used them as training treats. However, they have recently been associated with canine kidney failure. Worth mentioning to a vet if issues arise and grapes have been eaten.

Pomegranate. Another interesting item. Great for humans with many benefits. The fruit is not actually bad for your Cockapoo but the number of seeds are what cause the problems. These are tough to digest. Currants and raisins are similar. Stomach pain could be a result.

Avocado. Dogs do not usually get a serious reaction to eating avocado, but some animals do. A chemical called Persin can ooze from the pit and be absorbed into the flesh of the fruit. Birds and Horses can suffer badly. Also, maybe stating the obvious. The pit is not a Cockapoo toy to be chased and eaten!

Obvious you might say. Yes, but it is everywhere. Where do your kids put their chewed gum. How much is on the sidewalk when you walk around the block. Hard to digest plus it carries a calorie-free sweetener called Xylitol which can cause disorientation or even a seizure due to the blood sugar crash this induces in dogs. Be aware!

Beer. Not funny! The alcohol and hops are both toxic to your dog.

Popcorn. Finally, an honourable mention to popcorn. Not really a big problem to dogs but the uncooked seeds and kernels that we pick out can cause problems for your cockapoo. Hard to digest and easy to get stuck in their teeth. Dental issues and a tummy ache are not fun.

There are probably a lot of items on this list that we enjoy. Many a Cockapoo right now is salivating while their owner enjoys chocolate, nuts and beer. Don’t give in. Read the ‘healthy’ list and spoil them the right way.

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