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selene-tempest · 3 years

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It’s my birthday and apparently the hubby isn’t going to let me ignore it...

((Author lady is putting this up now to celebrate, but it won’t be uploaded to Ao3 yet because it doesn’t fit the timeline at the moment, so you’ll have to wait.))

“What do you mean she’s not coming home?” Scott asked.

“She’s not coming home,” John replied with a shrug. What else was there to say? How else could he make that simple sentence any clearer?

"Like never again?" Alan whimpered.

John didn't dignify that with an answer.

“But why?” Gordon asked.

“Because she doesn’t want to.”

“Did you try to talk her round?” Scott asked.

“Of course I did, but she’s being stubborn, and you know what she's like when she sets her mind to something.”

“Why? Did we do something wrong? Does she not love us any more?” Alan asked, looking like he was about to cry.

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course she still loves you. Do you honestly think that after four years in this family and all the things we’ve been through, this would be the time she decided she wanted out?” John couldn’t believe how dramatic they were all being about it.

“But it’s her birthday, she should be here with us,” Scott said firmly, like that was all there was to it.

“Yes, her birthday, and she does have a choice in the matter,” John reminded him.

“No, she doesn’t.”

“You can tell her then,” John said. “Because I’m certainly not going to get involved with that.”

“Did she at least say why?” Virgil asked, ever the sane one.

“Yes, she said that she isn’t having a birthday this year, she’s ignoring it because someone,” John paused to glare meaningfully at Scott, “keeps teasing her about getting old because she’s hitting the big Three-O.”

Scott sniggered quietly to himself.

“I wouldn’t be so proud of it if I were you,” John warned him,

“I didn’t even say anything that bad to her,” Scott protested weakly.

“No, but you asked me what it was like being married to a cougar that only wanted me for my youthful body.”

Scott sniggered again, turning it into a cough when John’s glare rached up a notch.

“And yesterday you got up off the couch and asked her if she wanted to sit down,” Virgil added.

“I was being considerate!”

“If that was the case you shouldn’t have said that you were doing it because it’s only polite to give your seat up for the elderly,” Gordon laughed.

“Oh for the…” John dropped his head into his hands in utter despair. Scott was just lucky that he was only there in hologram form or he’d have punched him.

Scott just shrugged. “She needs to come home, it’s her birthday.”

“Well she’s not going to,” John told him, wondering if he should whip out the hand puppets to get him to understand the simple answer of no.

“Go and get her, she’ll do it if you tell her to,” Alan tried.

“Let me think about it...no.”

“Aw, come on, John, please?” Alan was going to pout, John just knew it.

“I’ll try,” John sighed, knowing he was beaten.

-x-

“Come on, love, get out of bed.”

“No,” Selene said, her voice muffled since her head was currently stuffed under a pillow.

“Everyone wants to see you,” John wheedled.

“I don’t care, I’m not moving.”

“You have to celebrate your birthday.”

“Lies! I say the same thing to you every year and every year you tell me you don’t want a fuss. No party, no going anywhere, no nothing. Why can’t I do the same?”

“Because I’m me and you’re you. You’re the sociable part of our couple, you’re the one that forces me to go places I don’t want to by insisting that I'll have a good time when I get there.”

“And you still argue, complain and refuse to go. Maybe I’ve finally started to listen to you and realised you were right all along, birthdays are bad, social is bad, celebrating anything is bad. I get it, you were right.”

“Don’t even try that,” John warned her.

“Try what?” she mumbled innocently.

“Telling me that I’m right so I’ll be so shocked I won’t argue with you any more.”

“It was worth a shot,” she grumbled to herself.

“Enough of this,” John declared, grabbing the edge of the duvet and yanking it off the bed, revealing his darling wife lying flat out on her belly like a dead starfish. “Come on, get up.”

“No! I’m not getting up. If you really loved me and wanted me to celebrate you’d go and get a Chinese and eat it in bed with me.”

John paused for a second, because honestly that did sound very tempting… no, he had a duty as a husband, a duty to give his wife a birthday she wouldn’t forget for such a milestone.

“No, we’re doing something for your birthday and that’s final. You asked me to trust you for my birthday last year-”

“And you didn’t! You bitched and tried to seduce me into staying on Five and ignoring the trouble I and everyone else had gone to.”

“Never happened,” he lied smoothly. “You have two choices, get up and come with me or I’ll call your mother and let her drag you out of this pit.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she hissed.

“Oh, wouldn’t I?”

“No, because then you’d have to talk to her and you know how that would go,” Selene left the threat hanging in the air.

John paused, his brain frantically scurrying to come up with something like a hamster spinning on its wheel. What could he do that would be special for her birthday? He’d used up his one good idea planning a night away for the four year anniversary of the night they met… huh..maybe he could…

He pulled his phone out and sent a quick message to EOS asking her to get to work rearranging the surprise. Selene's birthday was close enough to their anniversary, shifting the two bookings he had made shouldn't be too much trouble.

“Fine, then you have two more choices, get up and pack yourself an overnight bag and be waiting patiently for me to get back so we can go, or I’ll pack for you and throw you over my shoulder and drag you out. Choose wisely.”

“I choose door number three.”

“Stop being dramatic, plus you know that’s not an option. You can see your family tomorrow, for today you’re mine. I would strongly advise you pick the first option as you know my idea of suitable clothes to pack differs wildly from yours, you know I can’t be trusted…”

“Not convinced.”

Huffing he grabbed hold of her legs and yanked her backwards down the bed. She shrieked like a fire alarm. He ignored it. Flipping her over he tugged on her arms, pulling her into a sitting position.

“There’s my beautiful wife,” he lied, taking in the messy hair, mascara smudged around her eyes and the fact she was wearing the hideous nightshirt that he loathed with the fire of a thousand suns.

She snorted, clearly not falling for his line.

He knelt down beside the bed, taking her hands in his.

“Do you trust me?”

“Most of the time.”

“Then trust me now, do as you’re told and stop being obstinate for the sake of it. Think about it, you and me, a whole night away…”

“And no mention of my birthday?” she clarified.

“Not if you don’t want it,” he promised. “I had something arranged for our anniversary but I think you need it a little earlier.”

She still looked suspicious but she reluctantly nodded her agreement. “Alright, I’ll trust you.”

“Good. I’m going to head back to the island to pick up Dad’s plane-”

“Plane? Just where are we going, exactly?”

“That’s on a need to know basis and right now you don’t need to know,” he told her. “Just concentrate on getting yourself ready, have a shower if you want to, dress in something you feel amazing in and be ready in two hours.”

“You’re really not going to tell me anything?”

“Nope, now move your backside,” he ordered, giving her butt a little swipe.

-x-

John had walked straight out of their flat after giving her her orders, leaving her to it. She procrastinated for half an hour, feeling that he would have totally won and she would have lost if she got up and did as she was told straight away. She needed to keep some form of dignity and control over her own dramatic leanings.

She then slowly packed a few essentials, throwing in a nice maxi skirt, some leggings she could wear under it if they were going anywhere cold, a peasants blouse along with underbust corset she could add to jazz it up in case they went anywhere fancy, a thick shawl for chilly weather, a T-shirt to wear in bed, fresh underwear, makeup bag, toiletries and she was done.

She did take a shower, not because he suggested it but because she felt a bit grotty and knew it would make her feel better. She resisted the urge to stare at herself in the mirror and scrutinise her naked body until she wanted nothing more than to hide back in bed again, and got on with the laborious task of hair washing, leg shaving and getting dressed.

She was just about ready in jeans, T-shirt and a hoodie she’d stolen from Alan, comfy travelling clothes, when he texted to demand her presence downstairs.

He had an automated taxi waiting that took them straight out of town to the nearby private airfield that Scott used whenever he was taking a break and leaving One at the island in case of emergencies, although this wasn’t a surprise since he had said he was going to get Jeff’s jet.

The flight time had been relatively short in relation to standard commercial flights, only an hour and a half, but when you were used to being in a family that could zip across the globe in half an hour it was quite long. This comparison did absolutely nothing to tell her where they were at any given moment or where they were going to end up, so she stuck with sitting quietly, letting him get on with the whole flying thing.

“Are you still grumpy at me for making you leave the house?” John asked after half an hour of mostly silence from Selene.

“No,” she sighed, “I just really didn’t feel like doing anything, I’m not sure I’m going to be the best company at the moment.”

“Did I ask for you to be good company? It’s not like I’m a shining example of how to be the life and soul of a party.”

“I know, sorry, I just kinda wanted to forget about it. Everyone wants to make a big deal about my birthday and I don’t. Mum wanted to drag me around to visit people, to which I firmly said no, so she’s not really talking to me at the moment. She did that a lot when I was a kid, kept having parties and events that were loosely based on one of our birthdays, but she’d invite a lot of her friends and family members we didn’t really like. She’d have a great time but we didn’t because it just wasn’t what we wanted to do."

“I can understand that, Grandma was much the same.”

“Plus it’s the first big thing, apart from our wedding, without Dad and I’m just not really in the mood to celebrate, I’d rather just have a quiet night in and get a pizza or something.”

So that was what was really bothering her. Not so much the fact that she was getting older, though he was sure that wasn’t helping, but the fact that her Dad wasn’t going to be there. He could understand her point. Scott had turned thirty while their father had still been missing, presumed dead and it hadn’t been the celebration it should have been. Birthdays without their Mom had been much the same, celebrating milestones without important people was always hard. Maybe they were a little guilty of forgetting what that felt like, since their Father had been recovered after so many years. They were used to him being there again and didn’t let themselves dwell on the past if they could help it.

“I promise you that we don’t even have to think about your birthday,” John assured her. “This is just us, having a night away from the madness that is our lives and tomorrow I’ll send Virgil to pick up Celia and Adam, she loves him so she'll behave, to bring them back to the Island for the night so we can have a quiet family dinner. Will that work for you?”

She thought about it for a moment or two, but could see no other way of getting around it.

“Yep, that’ll do.”

"Good," he smiled, turning away tk check on the course settings.

Watching him fly the plane, knowing he had put in a lot of effort already made her feel like a complete bitch.

“I’m sorry, it’s not that I don’t appreciate you going to all this effort to arrange something, I didn’t mean to be a grumpy cow.”

“I’ll let you off this once, because it’s your birthday,” he teased, earning himself a half hearted glare that turned into a giggle as she finally let go of the tension she had been holding onto.

“I’m gonna smack you, you know that, right?” she warned him.

“Not while I’m flying, and maybe wait until after dinner, I’ll be slower then and easier for you to catch.”

“Noted,” she nodded, reaching over to drop her hand on his knee.

“I hope you’re not planning on distracting me,” he said mildly, acting as if nothing was happening, his eyes on the sky.

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not, or is that another thing best left until after dinner when you’re too full to run away?”

“I could handle a little distraction now, but if you want me to be able to reciprocate with a little distraction technique of my own, you’re going to have to wait.”

“I’ll wait,” she decided, but that didn’t stop her leaning closer to smack a kiss to his neck. “Have I told you today that I love you, husband?”

“No, you were too busy ignoring me, wife. My heart is shattered by the way.”

“Oh, yes, you seem so very heart broken.”

“I’m hiding it well.”

“Sure you are,” she drawled, trying very hard not to laugh. “I do love you though.”

“As you should.”

His tone was so serious that she lost the battle to hold herself together and started to laugh. John smiled to himself, relieved to see that she had perked up. Hopefully she would have loosened up enough to enjoy the activities he’d planned for them both that evening as they were certainly more her thing than his.

John landed the JT1 on what appeared to be a small runway with a barn, in a field, in the middle of nowhere. He had refused to let her see where they were travelling to, insisting she pull down the window blind next to her as they got closer and close her eyes for the last three minutes of their descent and landing.

A local woman was there to meet them, her accent saying she was american, southern by the sound of it, although Selene wasn’t too good at identifying accents. After the woman had opened the barn doors and John had taxied the small jet into it, she introduced herself as Cherise. Hands were shaken and pleasantries exchanged before she led them to the small truck that she had parked nearby. A five minute drive and…

“Is that a river boat?” Selene asked, unable to figure out just what the heck was going on.

“Yep, now get on,” John instructed, guiding her onto the walkway with one hand while grabbing their bags with the other. They waved a goodbye to Cherise who assured John she’d be ready and waiting the next day and to just text when she was needed, and went in search of seats.

The boat was more of a ferry, containing around 150 seats, only half of which were filled.

"Now will you tell me where we're going?"

"No, I don't think I will."

"You would if you loved me."

"Its because I love you that I'm not telling you," he replied cryptically, getting up from his seat and moving to the front where an attendant sat.

“What river is this?” Selene sneakily asked a nearby passenger as John paid their fare, a measly sum of five dollars each.

“Please don’t answer her,” John called over, obviously overhearing.

The man chuckled, having been shamelessly listening in and finding the situation most amusing. “Are you being kidnapped?”

“I don’t know, you'd better ask my husband,” she pouted.

“It’s her birthday and it’s a surprise,” John explained as he returned to his seat next to her. “She’s being impatient and sneaky.”

“You’ll only have to wait five minutes,” the man told her, patting her shoulder. “Surely that’s not too bad?”

“You’d think so,” Selene huffed, crossing her arms as the boat slid out of the dock and out into the open water.

Just as their fellow passenger had promised, just a shade under five minutes later the boat cruised into another dock and they were ushered off.

“Now will you tell me where we are?”

“Nope, not quite yet,” John grinned, enjoying this game immensely. Tucking her hand into his they followed the stream of passengers out of the dockyard and onto the streets beyond.

It wasn’t until she saw the streetcar waiting for the offloading passengers that she figured it out.

“Oh my gods, you didn’t?” she gasped, the pieces of the jigsaw finally sliding into place. The river, which surely had to be the Mississippi, the streetcars and the friendliness of the locals, there was only one place they could be. The city of New Orleans was famous for being one of the only places in the world to still have a working historical streetcar line, something she had heard all about from her friends who had been lucky enough to visit. It was one of the places on her bucket list, her spiritual home for her laidback, chilled out self.

“I did,” he smirked, feeling incredibly pleased with himself at that moment, knowing that his hunch had been correct.

"You are amazing!" she screamed, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Finally you realise it,” he teased, wrapping his arms around her waist for stability as she bounced enthusiastically on the spot, almost knocking him over. “Shall I assume you approve?”

“Hell yes I approve!” she squealed, smacking a kiss to his lips.

“Good, because we’ve got a full evening booked up.”

“And time factored in for a wander?”

“Translation, time to look at some shops?”

“Obviously.”

“Maybe we can find a little time tomorrow morning,” he allowed. She smiled happily, knowing that was a yes.

She squeezed up as close to the window as possible on the streetcar, wanting to see everything, squeaking and pointing like an excited child whenever she saw something she recognised.

When he had been thinking of somewhere to take her for an overnight stay he'd happened to overhear a phone conversation between Selene and another friend. They had been discussing a mutual friend and their shop in New Orleans and had spent ten minutes talking about the area with Selene saying how much she wanted to go, how it was on her list of places to visit before she died. The answer, it seemed, had quite conveniently fallen into his lap.

It had been simple enough to organise, just a hotel booking, pick up from the landing area in St Bernard Parish and tickets for the tour he’d found. He’d planned on surprising her for their anniversary, knowing that it would never be something she would think to plan herself. She knew their busy lives, knew that time off was a rarity that could never be counted on, plans often had to be ditched at the last minute and so she never made them, not wanting him to feel bad if her efforts went to waste because IR were called out and he had to return to Five.

He had thought she would want to do something with family and friends for her birthday so had booked for the week after, but once again she had surprised him with her insistence that she wasn’t going to celebrate. So he’d had to make some quick decisions, adapt, improvise, overcome.

He kept his eye on his phone, watching the little dot moving on the screen that was them and their streetcar, waiting for the right stop to disembark. Seeing the stop for Toulouse Station coming up he grabbed their bags and waited for her to notice. When she didn't, so engrossed was she in the streets going past, he had to catch her hand and tug her out of her seat.

“Come on, we’re walking from here,” he instructed, pushing the bell to indicate to the driver, nothing was automated in New Orleans if they could help it, that they wanted to get off.

The stop wasn’t terribly close to the hotel he’d booked, but he’d thought it would be nice to walk, allowing her to see the sights a little and familiarise themselves with the layout of the area.

They walked hand in hand through Jackson Square and out onto St Ann street. St Ann’s was a pleasant walk past a number of shops, bars and restaurants, the end of which intersected onto Bourbon Street. Selene insisted on dipping into a gift shop and grabbing a few items for the family, just in case they didn’t get a chance to later. It took all his skills in sneaky manipulation, and promises of later distractions, to get her moving again, following the street until they reached their hotel. The whole walk took them less than half an hour but they were already feeling a little damp and sweaty.

The Lafitte Guest House was on the quieter end of Bourbon, something he knew both of them would appreciate. Selene liked her sleep and hated being woken suddenly and, although she suffered it well on the island, he knew for a fact that she would not appreciate it while they were away. He’d debated the wisdom of knowingly booking into a haunted hotel but experience had told him that his wife would find a spirit no matter where they were and at least this way they would be forewarned.

“This place is so nice,” she had cooed, running a hand along the ornate wooden handrail on the staircase.

“It’s a little smaller than some of the fancier hotels, but I thought you’d prefer the atmosphere here.”

“I do, it’s the perfect choice,” Selene agreed as they were shown to their room. And it was, a three storey building that fitted in perfectly with its surroundings, the classic New Orleans French inspired architecture.

“This building was constructed in 1849,” their concierge told them, “by the same man who designed our opera house, Robert Seaton."

He turned down a hallway, beckoning them to follow along.

"I’m afraid, although your original booking was for our most haunted room, room 21, it is already occupied, I do hope that won’t be a problem?”

“Not at all,” John assured him. “Any room you have will be fine, we’re just thankful you could accommodate us at such short notice.”

“No problem at all,” the man said, leading them up a flight of stairs and along a corridor. He opened the room with a flourish, stepping aside to allow them to enter.

The room itself, much like the rest of the hotel, was like stepping back in time, containing period furniture, a lovely large four poster bed and large french door windows that opened out onto a small wrought iron balcony overlooking Bourbon street.

“It’s gorgeous,” Selene sighed, flopping backwards onto the bed with a woop of delight.

“Happy wife, happy life,” John quoted, much to the man’s amusement.

“Will you be requiring anything else, sir?”

“No, thank you, we’re just going to freshen up and then head out to dinner," he said, dropping Selene's bag in a nearby chair." Actually, is there anywhere you can recommend?”

“Many places, but I’d say the best idea is to follow your nose and your stomach, although I would encourage you to try something authentic, the gumbo at SoBou is my favourite.”

“Then we’ll be sure to try there,” John promised. “Sel, are you done messing up the bed?”

“Nope,” she answered, continuing to roll around like a happy puppy, burying her face in the pillow.

“I’ll leave you in peace,” the man laughed, backing out of the room after John shook his hand, discreetly pressing a twenty into the man’s palm.

“I’m going to freshen up with a shower,” John told her. “Try not to fall asleep.”

“I could come with you,” she offered, perking up at the idea, sitting up on the bed expectantly.

“No, I’m far too hungry for that, besides which we have somewhere to be tonight, so your continued attempts to distract me will have to wait,” he told her, grabbing his bag and firmly shutting the bathroom door behind him.

“Unfair,” she pouted, flopping back down again. “It is my birthday you know!”

-x-

“I literally can’t eat another bite,” Selene complained, pushing her bowl aside with half the, admittedly delicious, Jambalaya still in it.

“That’s because you ate four bits of bread before they brought the food out,” John told her, finishing the last bite of his gumbo and wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“I regret nothing,” she insisted, reaching over to swipe the crust of a piece of bread off his side plate, wiping it through the sauce left in his bowl.

“I thought you were too full to eat another bite?” he asked as she popped it in her mouth, chewing hard before swallowing to answer him.

“Of my own food, obviously, yours is fair game,” she sipped her coke and smiled sweetly.

“Of course, how stupid of me not to realise that.”

“It really was,” she agreed, holding in a giggle at the martyred look on his face.

“Dessert?” he eventually asked once she stopped sniggering like an idiot.

“Obviously, do you want to share one?”

“Sure,” John shrugged, at ease with pretty much anything at that moment. He had worried that he might find the whole area overwhelming as it had a reputation as a nonstop party town. He’d been dreading crowds of people getting too close for comfort, being too loud, too boisterous and invasive. But he’d found that, while it was loud it wasn’t unbearable, seeming to consist of a lot of music, laughter and the occasional shout.

Although it was crowded, they weren’t shoving and barging, they were respectful of personal space and friendly enough without being over friendly. It was a pleasant surprise, one that was reflecting in his current mood. Selene, for her part, was so chilled out she was practically horizontal, four witch types had already waved hello and greeted her like a long lost friend even though she didn’t know them at all and she seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the experience, her grumpy mood of earlier completely forgotten.

“What do you fancy?” Selene asked, currently studying the dessert menu on the board.

“Besides my gorgeous wife?”

“Yeah, besides her, wives are not for eating,” Selene snorted.

“I beg to differ.”

Selene tore her eyes away from the menu to look at him. He lifted his bottle of beer and took an innocent sip, his eyes projecting trustworthiness. She wasn't fooled.

“Something chocolatey?” she offered, trying to distract herself away from the thought of his mouth on something other than the neck of the bottle.

He thought about it for a second or two then shook his head. “Maybe something with fruit?”

“ Or possibly Ice Cream?”

“Maybe,” he studied the menu himself. “Bananas Foster?”

“Perfect,” she nodded.

They finished up the last of their meal at a leisurely pace, chatting in between sharing bites of the delicious dessert. Bananas Foster was a favourite of Gordon’s and she snapped a picture to send to him later, wanting to make him jealous.

John paid the bill, leaving a generous tip and reached for her hand, guiding her outside. He took out his phone, checking the time and location for their next activity. Keeping hold of her hand, using it to pull her in closer to his side, he led the way further down Bourbon and onto St Peter’s where the tour guide would hopefully be waiting.

"Hello!" one of their guides greeted them as they closed in on the group of maybe twenty people already waiting there. "Tracy, party of two?"

"That's us," John confirmed and Selene nodded too. She had no reason to, she just wanted to look like she had some kind of clue as to why they were there and what was going on.

"Good, then you're the last ones, let's get started. I'm Delphine, this is Remi, and we'll be your guides on this, the world famous New Orleans Ghost Tour."

Selene squeezed his hand excitedly and he allowed himself to release the breath he had been holding. It was always a bit of a gamble with her when it came to planning anything like this. In most things she was incredibly laid back, but when it was anything that involved the potential for witchcraft, mediumship or ghosts then you were swimming in muddy water. It depended on how respectful the people involved were. He had done his research as best he could, seeing that the tour had been running for more than 80 years in some form or another and that they didn't employ the use of jump scares, people in costumes or sensationalise it in any way. He just hoped it was all it promised to be.

"This is a two hour walking tour, ending with a visit to the beautiful and very haunted St Louis Cemetery No 1," Delphine informed them all. "But we're going to start right here in the heart of the French quarter where murder, mystery and voodoo magic helped shape our history."

The other attendees ooed and ahhed, already impressed by the mere thought of ghosts and ghoulies.

Selene was busily looking around them curiously as they wandered slowly down the street, Delphine and Remi giving them a run down on the architecture, the history, the customs and the people that make up New Orleans. But he could feel that she was already on alert, the hand that held on tightly to his arm seeming to warm against his skin, letting him know that her gifts had already awoken, sitting up to take notice.

As they walked they were told a little about the Le Petite Theatre and the young chorus girl who, falling out of favour with the producer, hung herself above the stage during the opening night's performance. Legend had it that every opening night her shadowy form could be seen hanging against the backdrop of the stage.

The first place they stopped at properly to take pictures and listen to the full history was the Andrew Jackson hotel, somewhere John had looked at as a possible place to stay but had decided against it when he had realised it was on the tour.

“The Andrew Jackson, once a boarding house for boys, fell victim to two major fires at the end of the 1700’s,” Delphine told them. Her voice was pleasant to listen to, loud enough that they didn’t have to strain their ears but soft and lilting in that southern way that put you at ease instantly.

“One of those fires burnt the school to the ground, killing a number of young residents. The spirits of the boys are often seen and heard in the hotel, being described as mischievous spirits who like to play outside people’s rooms at night. One guest reported waking up in the middle of the night to see three small boys sitting on the end of her bed. Of course, she screamed, which the boys copied, screaming back at her in terror before vanishing.”

“Can you sense anything?” John whispered to Selene, making sure to keep his voice low, not wishing to interrupt Delphine or distract the other people listening.

Selene waggled her hand back and forth in a ‘meh’ gesture, indicating it could be something or nothing.

“I can feel energy from there, but nothing is coming forward to say hello,” she whispered back. “If we were inside I’m sure I’d get something more but out here, not being funny but the spirits are probably so used to tourists coming through that we’re boring to them now. That and, where I’m usually one of the only mediumistic people to come in to talk to spirits, there are tons here, you can trip over a witch by accident. So they are probably just keeping themselves to themselves.”

“Fair enough,” John chuckled, he always loved the way she explained things, a mixture of simplistic and colourful language with a hint of ‘I’m the expert’ that he so admired.

They continued walking, Remi pointing out interesting landmarks and telling the odd story of a murder or some other tragedy that had occured until they reached their next proper stop.

“Here we are at the historic, and very popular, Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop Bar, the oldest in the city. History is mixed on whether this building was owned by the famed Lafitte brothers, Jean, or John, and Pierre or just named after them. Some accounts say that they ran the blacksmith shop as a front, others say that they cannot find any actual evidence of their involvement. All we know for sure is that they were nasty pieces of work.” Remi swept a hand out, gesturing towards the bar that was already hopping even though it was still relatively early.

“Jean and Pierre, the Pirate Captains, were instrumental in helping to win the battle of New Orleans during the war of 1812 against the British,“ Delphine continued to explain, glancing at Selene and winking at the mention of the British. “Jean was given a pardon for all his misdeeds as reward for their help, but in exchange he was ordered to leave the state of Louisiana.”

“Bit mean,” Selene whispered to John, who nodded in agreement, imagining how it would feel to help save a city only to be thrown out of it.

“It’s said that they left great treasures around the French Quarter and in the Mississippi itself which have never been found. The only other person that knew of their whereabouts was a fellow pirate that Jean made the mistake of trusting. Unfortunately, as is often the way with pirates, he was untrustworthy, returning again and again to the cache's to skim a little off the top, so to speak. When Jean found out he did a little skimming of his own, he killed the pirate and it’s said that his spirit is cursed to guard the treasure forever more.”

“That’s a bit of a rough deal,” Selene muttered. “All eternity guarding something he can’t have? That’s like Virgil dying and hovering over the coffee pot.”

John snorted out a laugh, picturing his brother in ghost form, wailing as Scott took the coffee pot, poured himself a cup and drank it in front of him.

As they wandered on, John and Selene were asked for a few selfies by tourists not in their group and they had to hurry to catch up a few times, finding it impossible to be rude and refuse even though John would have much rather done so.

They were told of the Pharmacy Museum. The building had the dubious honour of being the first licensed pharmacy in the United States but the treatments offered often did more harm than good, verging on barbaric. From drilling holes in skulls to relieve the pressure as a cure for headaches, to chemical concoctions that would have you put in prison were you to use them today.

The second doctor to practice there was known to kidnap pregnant women and perform horrific experiments on them and it was his grizzly spirit that was said to shunt the building still.

They stopped outside a large, three storey building, getting comfortable as their guide started her story.

“The Palace, the Sultan’s house and the murder house,” Remi called out over the increasing noise of the streets and the chatting of the tour attendees. “All names for this building. Originally the second home of a wealthy businessman, he was hardly ever in residence and often rented it out in exchange for some extra cash that he probably didn’t need. Legends differ, one saying that the mysterious young man, a tall, dark and handsome stranger, was the brother of a sultan, hence the name, while others talk of him being some kind of demon or devil.”

“Demon’s aren’t real are they?” John asked Selene in a side whisper. She didn’t answer but her scrunched up nose and avoidance of his eyes told him all he needed to know.

“Do you know any?”

She nodded vaguely, clearly not comfortable talking about such things out in the open as they were so he took the hint and shut up, tuning back into the talk.

“The man was very exotic,” Delphine was saying. “He had an accent that no one could place, he arrived with a full entourage of young and beautiful people, both male and female. Again, here accounts differ, some say that the Sultan actually hired a number of assassins to murder his brother and his entourage but others are far more sensational.”

“How much more sensational could it get?” an older woman whispered to her partner.

“I don’t know,” the other woman whispered back, “maybe an orgy?”

John dropped her chin to Selene’s shoulder, burying his face in her neck as he tried not to laugh. Selene was less composed, out right giggling as he pulled her closer, his arms around her waist so she could lean back against his chest.

“The man and his ‘family’, for that was how he referred to them on the rent agreement, moved in. They immediately closed all the window shutters, hung heavy drapes and weren’t really ever seen again, although the neighbors knew they were in there. They could smell food cooking, they heard music playing at night and the smell of incense often wafted out. But, more disturbingly, the sound of screams would be heard, although it was never known if they were of pain, or pleasure. After a while the house grew quiet, no signs of life were seen and with the silence came a sickening smell. When the police broke down the door they found a scene that they likened to a slaughter house. Dead bodies were everywhere, blood splattered the walls and in the garden they found a freshly dug grave that contained the body of a man, supposedly buried alive. “

“Damn,” the woman who had suggested the orgy, muttered to her partner. "That's definitely not as much fun."

“As I said, accounts vary, some say that it was the sultan’s brother’s harem that had been killed and the brother was the body found in the garden, others say that the family escaped and killed those that either attacked them or that they were demons feeding on the flesh and souls of their victims. We will never know for sure. But rumour has it that the ghost of the sultan’s brother haunts these halls, that passers by still smell the incense and that the echoing screams can still be heard coming from inside.”

“Anything there?” John murmured in her ear, nodding towards the big building.

“There’s definitely an energy of some kind in there,” she answered, keeping her voice low and quiet. “It feels more like residual energy though, not so much an active spirit, but I'd have to be inside to know for sure.”

As they walked Delphine told them of another house, 734 Royal Street where a young black woman had frozen to death on the roof, having been told to disrobe and wait up there by her lover as a joke. He never expected her to do it and was the unlucky person to find her the next morning, naked, frozen, dead on the rooftop. It was said he died soon after from a broken heart.

Some people report to have seen a woman standing on the roof, being concerned enough to call the police. But as soon as the police hear the address they are known to dismiss it as just Julie, still waiting.

Next on their stop was the LaLaurie Mansion. Delphine, their guide, told them the story of Delphine LaLaurie, the beautiful lady of the house who married a man named Louie LaLaurie, a doctor from Europe. They were what was considered an it couple of the time, the height of fashion and threw extravagant parties to show off their wealth and to network.

The only thing of note that anyone found strange about them was the high number of slaves they seemed to own. Delphine LaLaurie would explain it away as nothing if you asked, brushing it off but if you continued to press the issue, or asked anyone else, you would find yourself ousted, shunned, never to be invited back again.

On the tenth of April 1834, whilst hosting another of their elaborate events a fire broke out in the house. The fire brigade were called and soon had the flames under control. Everything seemed fine, the damage seemed to be minimal but they checked the area thoroughly, just to be sure.

The fire looked to have originated in the kitchen and there they found an older enslaved woman, huddled close to an open window, coughing harshly, almost overcome by smoke. They wondered why she had not left through the window to save herself, but they soon found the answer. They discovered that she was chained to the stove by her ankle, unable to even leave the room, let alone the house itself.

They questioned her on the fire and she admitted that she was responsible, she had set the fire. When they asked why she pointed above her head and told them to look in there. In the room above the kitchen, the slaves quarters, they met with the most horrific sight.

The attic room was full of tortured, mutilated slaves. The doors had been locked but they had soon broken it down. As soon as the doors had opened the smell that hit them had made them heave, some of them needing to turn away to vomit. Papers from the time told of at least seven slaves, chained, beaten, tortured. Victims of pain experiments, their muscles and limbs stretched and broken.

Even though the people of time didn’t hold slaves in the same regard as others they were up in arms, calling for the LaLaurie’s blood. A mob gathered outside but they could not find them, the LaLaurie’s had made their escape in a carriage.

“People talk of a dark and depressive atmosphere in the house,” Remi continued, “and many have reported to have seen the ghost of LaLaurie. A young couple once lived here with their baby. One night the man awoke to see a woman standing over the crib. At first he thought it was his wife but she was right there in bed beside him and she didn’t have long, red hair. He yelled out loud and the woman turned to look at him before running away. He made to follow but something told him not to, instead he stopped to check the baby. The baby’s sock had been removed and had been stuffed deep down into the baby's mouth, partially down its throat, choking it.”

“I don’t like this one,” Selene whispered, her eyes fixed on the building in front of them. Even though it was a lovely warm night and she had her shawl around her shoulders, John could feel that she was shivering and wrapped his arms around her tighter.

“There’s a darkness in there, not like at the Sultan’s Palace, different. I feel that this building still has evil inside it. The energy is so...spikey,” she finished, not really knowing how to describe it. “Like it could prick you or hurt you just because you were there. I can’t say if there are any spirits in there, I’d have to go in for that, but the things that happened in there, it’s soaked into the walls, the floor, everything.”

She shuddered again, taking an instinctive step backwards, forcing John to do the same or have her knock him over. He knew what she meant, the house felt strange even to him, like every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to turn around and leave. He was a Tracy, he didn’t back down from anything, even with the fine hairs at the back of his neck standing to attention, but he was more than happy to start walking as the tour moved on.

The last stop on their tour before they moved on to the cemetery was the famous house of Marie Laveau, the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans who, despite being dead for over 250 years, still seemed to hold some sway over the city, still having powers from beyond the grave.

“Born in 1801, to a wealthy white plantation owner and her black mother, Marie was said to be incredibly beautiful,” Delphine told them. “She married and went on to have two children before her husband mysteriously went missing. After this she called herself a widow, though some people believe that this was simply to save face and that he had actually abandoned her and their children.”

“Is this place any better?” John asked, his voice low in her ear, making her shiver for an entirely different reason.

“Much better,” she replied, keeping her voice quiet. “I can feel power here, but it’s neutral, nothing that I would call malevolent or nasty.”

“After her husband’s disappearance she was in need of money with which to take care of herself and her children. With precious little options, she began working in a hair salon, serving wealthy white and Creole women of New Orleans. Just like the salons of today they were a hotbed for gossip and secret spilling. She hoarded the information she was privy to, using to her advantage to rise up the ranks of society.”

“Honestly, I can respect that woman,” Selene muttered. “I gather gossip and use it to my advantage too.”

“Sweetheart, you said that finding Grandma’s old photo album and stealing the picture of Dad’s emo phase was you doing the Gods work.”

“I stand by that,” she sniffed, ignoring the giggle from the young man standing behind them.

“Marie entered into another relationship with a wealthy and powerful man from a prestigious local family,” Remi continued. “And they had a total of fifteen children in quick succession.”

“Sod that!” Selene yelped, crossing her legs in the ultimate act of self defence.

“And you said I have too many brothers,” John teased, hugging her tighter when she attempted to elbow him.

“Obviously, with so many children to look after she found that her time was limited,” Delphine said, ignoring Selene’s outburst. “She quit her job at the hair salon and devoted herself to raising her children. It’s believe that this was the time when she started to pay more attention to her mothers voodoo beliefs and practices.”

The story, which Delphine and Remi continued to tell them as they walked towards their last stop of the night, St Louis Cemetery number one, said that while she had a basic knowledge from her mother she learnt most of her craft from a voodoo doctor known only as Doctor John.

Selene turned her head back to look at John as she walked beside her.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a side hustle in Voodoo? You’ve been making me do all the magical heavy lifting for years.”

“Well, I had to leave you with something to do to make you feel useful,” he retorted, smacking a kiss on her lips when she squeaked a protest.

“Quite Christian based in the prayers used, voodoo combines the use of saints, incense and dance into its practice,” Remi continued as they walked. “She was known for her pet snake which she had named Zombie, and for providing Gri-Gri bags, spiritual readings, spells, fortune telling and mediumship for the wealthy of New Orleans upper class. She was said to have died with a smile on her face in 1881 and, when her death was reported in the newspapers they called her the kindest woman that had ever lived. She was said to have nursed the sick and helped out with all manner of problems that people might have, although many said it wasn’t so much because of her magical abilities that she was so powerful, but the secrets that she kept. Secrets that kept many politicians in her debt.”

They came to stop outside the crumbling white walls that surrounded the cemetery, glowing eerily in the rapidly darkening twilight between dusk and full night. The walls themselves were actually made up of wall tombs, a place for families who couldn’t afford a large above ground one.

“Marie Laveau was laid to rest right here in this very cemetery. It’s said that she still wields a remarkable amount of power even from beyond the grave, so much so that people often petition her spirit in the hopes that she will grant their wishes,” Delphine said as they entered.

She and Remi led the way through a maze of tombs, some old and crumbling, others surrounded by iron railings that tilted at odd angles due to age and decay, some large, some small, some classical, some extravagant while others were just so outlandish that they looked completely out of place.

They stopped beside a rather plain white tomb, relatively small in comparison to some of the others they had already seen. Delphine reached out a hand to touch the side of the tomb, right beside a green X that had been scrawled on the paint.

“The practice has since been banned and is considered a criminal offence, but in the past people would mark her grave with an X, although as you can see some people ignore the law. The ritual stated that you should mark the grave with an X, turn around three times, knock on the tomb and then yell out your wish. If the wish came true you were supposed to return, draw a circle around your X and leave an offering to the lady.”

“I can think of a few wishes I’d like granted,” a lady in their group stated, making a fair few people laugh. “Not much, just a few million in the bank, a nice house and a good looking man on my arm.”

“Well, I can’t help with the millions,” her husband said, “but at least you have the good looking man.”

“Yeah, in my dreams,” she countered, although he didn’t seem too offended by it.

“Marie’s ghost has been spotted in many locations throughout the French quarter where she made her home," Remi told them. "She is most recognizable by the red and white turban tucked around her hair and the bright clothes she wears. People are still drawn to her and often follow her wanting to introduce themselves but she always vanishes, sometimes right in front of them, before they can do so.”

“She doesn’t sound scary,” a man said dismissively.

“Oh, she’s seen as very friendly,” Delphine answered, “until you cross her. She’s been seen many times in this cemetery, walking between and sometimes through the tombs. Usually she leaves you be but, if you do anything that she deems disrespectful, such as disregarding or insulting her beliefs or religion she has been known to scratch, pinch and shove people to the ground. Voices have been heard coming from inside her tomb and some people that get too close have reported feeling sick.”

“She’s not too bad,” a voice beside Selene and John said in a conversational tone.

“Have you seen her?” Selene asked, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb Delphine and Remi as they told of the cities other famous inhabitants of the cemetery such as Bernard de Marigny and Barthelemy Lafon.

“Seen who?” John asked, dragging his attention away from the talk and back to her.

“Sorry, wasn’t talking to you,” she whispered.

“Do you happen to know where the Vignes tomb is?” the man asked, changing the subject from ghost talk to something more mundane.

“No, sorry, we’re just on a tour here, we don’t know the area,” Selene admitted.

“Who were you talking to?”

“This guy,” she said, nodding towards the blond man who had begun to wander closer to the front of the tour group, obviously wanting to take advantage of listening to the information without having to pay for the privilege like the rest of them had.

“Who?”

“Him,” she replied, waving in his direction. "That new guy, he definitely wasn't with us at the start. He must have joined in along the way."

“There’s no one there, Sel,” John said quietly. She looked at him, studying his face to make sure he wasn't messing with her, but he seemed serious enough. She sighed, for someone so observant John certainly seemed to be missing the obvious.

“Yes there is, he’s right there,” she insisted. Praying for patience she grabbed his hand to drag him closer. “See? He's right there.”

“Yes,” John gulped, eyes widening, “I actually do see him.”

“Right, so he was saying that Marie Laveau isn’t as bad as everyone says she is, I assume he meant that her spirit isn’t that menacing, I was asking him if he’d seen her but then you interrupted and-”

“Sel,” John interrupted, his eyes locked on the man who was meandering back their way, “I don't think he joined the tour, he just walked straight through that tomb.”

“Damn, then he’s got some serious energy in him,” she breathed, catching John’s meaning. “He must have if I didn’t sense it straight away.”

“Sorry, I had to listen to make sure they told my story right,” the ghost said, reaching her side. John’s eyes almost fell out of his head, confirming that he could now hear him as well as see him.

“Oh, are you a famous one?” Selene asked as the tour moved on, affording them a little more privacy to talk.

“My name is Henry,” he told them, dipping in a courtly little bow. “Oh, that's my cue, if you’ll excuse me…”

Henry vanished and reappeared nearer the front of the tour. Making a face of pure boredom he stepped into a gap between two tombs and moaned in a low, quiet voice. “I need to rest.”

Several people in the tour jumped and an older lady stumbled. John, actinb on instinct, reached out to steady her, letting go of Selene’s hand in the process.

“Where did he go?” John asked, returning to her side after assuring himself that the lady was unharmed.

“No where, he’s still right there,” she answered, giving Henry a small wave.

“No, he’s not.”

“He is,” she insisted, “come on, we’ll go talk to him again.”

“As we were saying,” Remi could be heard above the mutterings of the other attendees. “The story of Henry Vignes is a sad one. A sailor who trusted the wrong person, Henry died having no place to be laid to rest, his tomb sold by the lady he had entrusted with his most important papers.”

Henry nodded sadly, leaning casually against the side of a tomb.

“He has been seen by many people, usually so clearly that they do not realise that he is even a ghost,” Delphine told them. Henry preened a little at that.

“He often strolls right up to tourists and asks them where the Vignes tomb is located as he’s having trouble finding it himself. He’s even been known to appear at funerals and ask if there is any room left in there for him.”

Selene giggled, she couldn’t help it and Henry winked at her, tipping his hat before fading away.

“Are you sure he was still there?” John asked later that night as the tour returned to the french quarter meeting place.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she sighed. “I don’t know what happened there, you seemed to see-”

“And hear,” John added.

“And hear him just fine. Then all of a sudden you couldn’t anymore.”

“I couldn’t at first either,” he reminded her, “I thought you were talking to yourself.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she grumbled. “Sometimes I’m the only person that will listen to me.”

“Was there anything you did that might have allowed me to see him?” John asked, ignoring her insinuation that he never listened to her. He listened to her all the time, he was just selective with what he chose to reply to, knowing she needed very little encouragement with some of her more ridiculous ideas.

“No, I didn’t do anything at all,” she promised him. “All I did was move you closer so I could point him out.”

“You took hold of my hand,” he said, mentally rerunning the moment in his head. “And kept hold of it the whole time.”

“Not the whole time,” she reminded him. “When Henry did his haunting voice that lady stumbled and you caught her before she hit the deck.”

“And I didn’t hold your hand again until we were walking back,” he finished.

“Nah, it can’t be that simple,” she scoffed. “I hold your hand all the time.”

“But have you ever done it while there was a spirit around?” he asked, guiding her around a group of drunken young ladies all carrying brightly coloured cocktails in yard long plastic containers with straws sticking out of them, most of which were being eagerly slurped from as they walked.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, thinking about it. “I don’t think so now that you mention it.”

“Do you think that could be another side effect of that little bonding mistake we made?”

“I guess anything is possible,” she mused. “Tanzi did say that we might keep noticing new things for a while after.”

“I guess there’s only one way to know for sure,” he shrugged, “you’ll just have to make sure you tell me next time you see one.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she promised him. He smiled at that, knowing how just a few years ago she would never have dared to even agree to try, let alone have any intention of doing so. Her ex, Nathaniel was responsible for messing up many things in her life, her confidence in herself and her abilities being one of them, but John was determined that, no matter how long it took, he was going to prove to her that she never needed to be wary again.

Bourbon street at night was like no place they had ever been before. They heard it before they even got close, the neon lights glowing from a distance. The lights reminded Selene of London but that was where the similarities ended.

The entire street was a wall of noise, music of all kinds seeming to spill out of every single bar on the strip on either side. She felt John tense beside her, knowing that it wasn’t somewhere he would be at all comfortable.

“Do you want to try and avoid it?” she asked and he nodded gratefully. A quick word with Remi and they had secured directions and a suggestion to head down Dauphine St instead of continuing onto Bourbon. They could follow it until they reached St Phillip’s St which would lead them to the intersection where their hotel was located.

They thanked him and Delphine for a fun and informative tour and struck out on their own. Dauphine street was much quieter than Bourbon appeared to be, there were still small crowds milling around outside but not enough to send John into flight mode, so they took that as a win.

“Want to grab a drink?” John offered but Selene shook her head.

“No thanks, I’m not really feeling it today, maybe it’s the crowds or all the walking but I think I’d rather wait until we get closer to the hotel, that way we can find a quieter one to try before we head to bed.”

“Good plan,” he agreed, pulling her in closer. It was only eleven at night, relatively early for them, but they had had a long day and the thought of the comfy bed awaiting them was a very pleasant one.

They located the intersection where Dauphine met St Paul's and soon hit the tail end of Bourbon. From there the music was far more bearable, seeming to be a mixture of classic rock, Selene could hear Smoke on the Water playing from a bar, and some kind of Jazz.

With Virgil, Scott and Jeff being fans of old fashioned Jazz music they decided to move a little further in that direction, meaning to take a video or two to show the others when they got home. That was their first mistake.

“No, no way,” John protested as a woman separated herself from the crowd outside the bar where a band was playing and grabbed his hand.

“Come on, honey, you have to dance,” she insisted, swirling on the spot and dragging him with her.

“Help!” he yelped as his arm was pulled this way and that by the enthusiastic woman.

“Little busy,” Selene laughed, having been swept up into the arms of a man who was trying to lead her in some kind of 1920’s era Jazz hop dance that involved a lot of quick footwork and much arm waving.

John managed to escape as the band paused before launching into their next number and stole Selene back. She took full advantage, holding on to his hand as the music began to play again.

A couple near them started something that looked vaguely like a charleston mixed with a waltz that Selene was determined to try to copy. Neither she nor John were very good, not knowing the steps or the music enough to actually follow along and ended up finding their own rhythm, not caring that they didn’t match the others, not caring that they were slower and less energetic. It was nice, it was simple and it was very much them.

“Thank you for forcing me to celebrate my birthday,” she said, pulling him in closer to steal a quick kiss.

“My pleasure,” he grinned, twirling her on the spot then dipping her in his arms. “Anything for the birthday girl.”

-x-

“It was so nice to see Myst again,” Selene sighed, relaxing deeper into the passenger seat of Jeff’s jet as they cruised over the Pacific, on course for Tracy Island.

“I haven’t seen her in two years, not since she last visited Tanzi, I can’t believe how great the shop looked, they’ve run it for years but don’t get to spend much time there.”

“Well, with what we spent they'll still be open for at least another ten,” he teased, not in the least concerned by her shopping spree. You only turned thirty once and if she wanted to buy up half of the shop that was her choice.

“I didn’t buy that much,” she pouted, but couldn’t hold it for too long when, with a no doubt on purpose twitch of the controls, the little plane rolled sideways, sending a number of bags cascading to the floor.

“You were saying?”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” she huffed, trying not to laugh. "You said they were birthday presents.”

“So I did,” he agreed, lifting his hand off her knee to poke the console, bringing up a comm line to the island, announcing their impending arrival.

Virgil had messaged earlier that morning to say that he was picking up Celia and Adam in time for their return, so all they had to worry about was enjoying a leisurely breakfast.

They took him at his word and shared a delicious three egg omelette, an order of beignets and the best coffee she had tasted in forever. Bellies full and suitably rested after an uneventful nights sleep in the hotel, the resident ghosts declining to visit, they had wandered around Jackson Square and the shops of the French quarter.

John had insisted that he was hungry again and craving something special for lunch, that something special had turned out to be oysters. Selene had watched in morbid fascination mixed with horror as he had proceeded to devour a dozen oysters speckled with hot sauce, which she refused to try, while she munched her seafood salad. She was still undecided if watching him swallow them down whole so easily was hot or disturbing, the jury was still out.

Cherise had been as good as her word, waiting for them to dock from the ferry and taxing them to the bar where the jet waited for them. They had waved a happy goodbye after awkwardly stuffing their shopping (the pieces they hadn’t arranged to have delivered) and overnight bags into the back and taken off for home.

“I hope mum doesn’t make dinner awkward,” Selene sighed, knowing that with her family anything was possible. “I know she’s going to be a bit disappointed that I didn’t want to spend the actual day with her.”

“Then let her, you can always blame it on me.”

“My hero,” she smiled, lifting his hand to her lips to kiss it. “What would I do without you?”

“Marry Scott?” he joked, ducking out of the way of the smack she aimed at his shoulder.

“I think Cat would have something to say about that,” she huffed. “Besides, you know you’re the only man for me.”

“I know, but it’s nice to be reminded now and then.”

She was still giggling, feeling relaxed and happily clinging to his arm, as the lift from the hangars completed its ascent, the doors opening to spill them out into the hall just beyond the lounge.

“Why do I hear music?” Selene asked suspiciously.

“I have no idea,” John admitted as they rounded the corner into the lounge.

Selene stopped dead in the doorway, as did John, unable to believe what they were seeing with their own two eyes.

“Am I that old now that I need glasses,” she whispered, “or am I actually seeing this?”

“Unfortunately it’s very real,” he whispered back, wrapping his arm around her protectively.

The lounge lights were flickering to the beat of the music, someone had laid out food on the coffee table, including a plate of mini sausages that Armstrong was steadily working his way through and someone had opened the concealed drinks cabinet.

It wasn’t the fact that there was quite clearly a party in full swing, a party that she had said on no uncertain terms wasn’t to happen, it wasn’t the fact that the entire family , plus her mother, Adam, Cat, Penelope, Parker, Bandon, Conrad and Moffie were all there.

No, it was the fact that each and every one of them was sporting a wig in various shades and stripes of purple and black. Wigs they had apparently teamed with half the contents of her wardrobe and every band T-shirt Jeff had ever collected.

“What the ever loving fu-”

The music quietened as the party animals realised they were no longer alone. They looked at John and Selene rather guiltily, not saying a word.

Scott, who had somehow squeezed his chest back into her favourite corset, was tossed under the bus and shoved forward to greet her.

“I’m going to kill you,” she hissed, trying to back away as he advanced on her, arms open in anticipation of a hug.

The world's most annoying best friend simply grinned at her, flashing those dimples that he knew she could never resist.

She tried to duck behind John but Scott was too quick for her, herding her directly into the path of the oncoming Virgil.

She was swept up into a bone crushing bear hug, vanishing under the tide of Tracys that descended to join in.

-x-

“Admit it, it wasn’t that bad,” John said, catching up with her beside the pool and handing her another can of her favourite cherry coke.

“I didn’t want a party,” she argued.

“But…”

“But I guess it wasn’t that bad,” she admitted, moving over on the padded bench seat to make room for him to sit next to her.

“They only did it because they love you.”

“I know, but they are all idiots.”

“I know, but it was a special birthday and they wanted to celebrate with you.”

“I know,” she said, leaning against his side with a contented sigh.

"I've got a present for you," he announced, jiggling his shoulder to get her to move and shifting so he could dig into his hoodie pocket.

"Really? Why?"

"Because it's your birthday."

"You really didn't have to, New Orleans was more than enough."

"The trip was supposed to have been for our anniversary, I just moved it forward," he reminded her. "Besides, I'd be a pretty lousy husband if I didn't get you something special to mark the occasion."

He offered her a bright green velvet pouch which looked to contain something rectangular and hard.

"Open it," he instructed.

"OK." She did as he bid, noticing that he was watching her very closely. Did he think she wouldn't like it?

She loosened the draw strings and tipped the pouch up, catching the bundle of cards that slid out.

"Tarot cards? What are they…" she paused, turning them over, her eyes widening as she realised exactly what they depicted.

"Oh my gods," she gasped then burst out laughing. "These are amazing!"

She flicked through them quickly, laughing even more at some of the pictures, each matching perfectly with the subject.

"Where the hell did you find Muppets Tarot cards?" Kermit was the Emperor, Miss Piggy his Empress, Fozzy the Fool, Sam the Eagle as Justice, Animal as the Devil and most perfect of all, Statler and Waldorf as Judgement.

"Tanzi put me in touch with someone who makes one of a kind sets to order," he replied, breathing a little easier now that he saw she liked them.

"They're perfect, absolutely perfect. I love them so much."

"Good," he smiled, slipping his arm back around her waist and pulling her in closer. "I wasn't sure if it was something you would like or I should actually buy for you and didn't want to do the wrong thing. But Tanzi said that tarot cards are often gifted to people so it was OK."

"Why would you think I wouldn't like them?" she asked softly.

"I know how important your tools are to you and how Nathaniel never respected them. I guess I wanted to show you that I care too, that I'll always respect you and your beliefs."

"You are the best husband in the world," she assured him, pulling him closer for a kiss. "I love that you did this and I love that you know me so well that you could commission the most perfect set of cards just for me. Thank you, I love them."

"You're very welcome. I'm glad you like them."

"You always surprise me, just when I think you couldn't be any more amazing you pull something like this out of the bag, literally," she laughed, holding up the green pouch.

"So, does this mean that you enjoyed turning thirty?"

“I guess, as birthdays go, it wasn’t too awful.”

“Not too awful?” he mock gasped, clutching his heart.

“Not awful,” she repeated, tipping her head back for another kiss. “Did you know they were planning all that?”

“Not all of it,” he admitted, “I suspected that they might not stick to a quiet meal but the rest was as much of a surprise to me as it was you.”

She let out an elegant snort in response, clearly not convinced.

“Honestly it was,” he promised, making the rescue scout sign. "Scouts honour."

“OK, I believe you, even though you weren't the scout, Scott was.”

“Thank you,” he grinned, draping his arm around her shoulders, his head tipped back to look up at the night sky above their heads. “All over for another year, how do you feel?”

“Better than I did yesterday morning,” she answered.

“Good, then my work here is done.”

She nodded, resting her head against his shoulder, just enjoying the peace of the late night,

“You’re quiet,” he said softly a few minutes later. “Everything alright?”

“Yep,” she promised. "I'm just thinking.”

“Care to share what you’re thinking so hard about?”

“Yep,” she repeated, grinning evilly. “I was thinking that mine isn't the only special birthday this year.”

Realisation dawned on him, a feeling of dread skittering up his spine.

“No, absolutely not.”

“But you said it yourself, you only turn thirty once.”

“No.”

“You forced me to celebrate, so it’s your turn next.”

“No, listen to me very carefully. I, as your husband, forbid it.”

“I’m thinking of a nice, relaxing trip somewhere quiet. I’ve heard that Finland does an amazing range of glass igloos to stay in to watch the sky, it's supposed to be beautiful that time of year.”

That didn't sound too bad, he had to admit.

“OK, that wouldn’t be too terrible,” he agreed, breathing a sigh of relief. “For a second I thought you were going to say you were planning a party.”

“Would I do that?” she asked innocently, sliding out of his arms and off the bench. "I'm just going to show these to Mum, she'll have a fit."

“No, you aren't. Get back here. I forbid you to even think about planning a party."

"I'm not planning anything," she said, deftly avoiding his attempts to catch her and pull her back down.

"Promise me you won't plan a party," he pleaded.

"I promise," she vowed, dancing around the side of the pool towards the kitchen.

John's eyes narrowed, she looked entirely too suspicious…

“I’m going to leave that to Scott.”

She dropped her bombshell, turned tail and ran like her life depended on it.

#selene tempest #John Tracy #birthday girl #birthday trip #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirdsarego #thunderbirds 2015 #healthy relationships #relationship goals

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boyy-wonder-grayson · 4 years

Text

Forever Yours

Summary: Dick and reader had a bad break up but things work out at the end.

Request: yes, thanks to @wintercapilson !!

Pairings: Dick Grayson x Reader

Warnings: lil angst but nothing bad, swearing and fluff.

Word count: 1807

A/n:hopefully this is as good as i think it is lmao. I really really liked the way this turned out! so feedback and rb’s are always welcomed :)

Based on prompts from this list!

*pics mine*

51. “He’s no good for you”

57. "Days without you are my reminder that there's something wrong"

58." I'm forever yours whether you have me or not"

-----

Dick watched as you laughed at something Brad said. He scoffed thinking what could have been so funny that had you laughing that hard. He drowned the rest of his whiskey before asking the bartender for a refill; he knew he was staring too much, but it was impossible for him to look away when you were having a good time in someone else's arms. He knew he shouldn't be upset about it, after all it was his fault that you two were no longer together, and boy he regretted that every single day.

"You're staring" Donna said sitting in the stool next to his best friend. She asked for another beer while awaiting Dick's answer. She thanked the bartender and took a sip of the beer while rolling her eyes. "You know, it's getting kind of creepy."

"Shut up" Dick said not tearing his gaze from the happy -disgusting- couple.

"You do know she still loves you right? But at least she had the guts so move on, unlike someone else" Donna mumbled the last part but loud enough for him to hear.

"Look, Donna. I love you, you're my best friend,but shut up.i know I fucked up okay? I know" Dick said drinking the whiskey, liking the burning sensation the liquid left on his throat. "And I know i don't deserve her, or her forgiveness. But seriously, that guy?" He asked looking back at how Brad.

"You really are stupid aren't you?" Donna asked in a serious tone.

Dick looked back at her not understanding what she's trying to convey.

"Jesus Christ, I mean what can I expect you're a man after all" she mocked him "do you really think that Y/n Is not waiting for you to make another move? Yes, she's with Brad now but it's because you're not with her! She loves you and even though you screw your chances with her, she's still waiting for you to come back. How blind you have to be not to see that?" Donna got up and went back to the group of friends that, unlike Dick, was actually having a good time.

Dick was astonished to hear her friend say that. He actually thought that after what he did, Y/n would hate him. But hearing Donna say that gave him hope. He couldn't stand seeing the girl he loved being touched and loved by someone else. He needed to do something. All the alcohol he consumed was not helping him think straight so instead of waiting to sober up a little he went looking for his girl.

Y/n was glued to Brad's side when Dick approached the group stumbling his way to the group, bumping into anyone that stood on his way to get you. When he finally reached the table he smile at Y/n which looked at him with confusion in her eyes.

"Heyy Y/n can I talk to you?" He slurred his words a little bit "in private" he added the last part quickly.

"Umm, sure" the girl said getting out of Brad's grip and followed the dark haired boy outside.

She rubbed her arms trying to preserve the heat from leaving her body, but San Francisco nights were cold as ice. They stood outside for a few minutes in silence before Dick spat the words to her.

"He's no good for you,you know?"

"What?" Y/n asked unsure of what he had said.

"Bryan, he's not good for you. You deserve better" he said not looking at her.

"It's Brad, and what do you know what's good for me?" Y/n scoffed. She was tired of Dick's entitlement.

"Because I know you Y/n! And I know you'd never go for someone like Brad" Dick answered quickly. "I know you're only doing this to make me jealous!"

Y/n laughed bitterly, trying to control herself, she really wanted to punch Dick, "Wow, so everything is always about you Grayson huh?"

"That's not what I meant" the boy tried to get closer to her buck she took a step back instead getting away from him.

"No, that's exactly what you mean. Drunk minds speak sober thoughts and all that bullshit right?" Y/n turned around to go back inside the bar, she stopped in her tracks without looking at Dick "Go home Dick, get some sleep and then maybe we can talk."

Dick cursed under his breath, tugging at his hair. He knew he screw up yet another opportunity to talk with you about what happened; the alcohol running through his veins evaporated when he saw the look on your face after he said those words to you. He sobered up immediately and even though you didn't shut him down completely,he still feel so stupid for trying to get you back while intoxicated. He was going to have to wait till tomorrow when, hopefully, his head would be in the right place.

---

Dick woke up when he hear Donna's - loud - voice; he groaned in response and hissed when the light hit his half open eyes.

"Rise and shine sweetheart" Donna said in a sing-song voice. "Ready to fuck things up again with Y/n? Or did you manage to grow some balls overnight that would help you talk to her,you know, like a normal person?" She said smirking at the hungover boy.

"Fuck off" he said grabbing a pillow and hiding his face on it, only for the object to be taken away by none other than his best friend.

"Oh I will fuck off, when you go and apologize to her. Seriously what were you thinking Dick? As if things weren't bad enough you managed to make them even worst" she said sitting next to him.

"I know okay, I will talk to her. Just...give me some time" he replied rubbing his throbbing temple.

"Not gonna happen. You're going to take a shower, have some coffee and you gonna get your ass in line and go talk to her, you hear me? I'm sick and tired of seeing you mope around because you're 'oh so sad because you can't be with her'.

You need to go and fix this, now."

Donna was right and Dick knew this, but he was afraid that you may not be willing to give a relationship another shot, and that terrified him.

He followed his friends advice and within an hour he was ready,and determined to get you back.

---

Ever since her and Dick broke up, Y/n decided that it was best to get her own place. Living in the tower was easy and y/n really enjoyed it,but waking up every day to see your ex boyfriend was not something she looked forward too.

So she decided to look for a place not too far from the tower in case of an emergency.

She cleaning some dishes that were in the sink from the night before when she heard a knock on the door. She wiped her hands with a towel and went to open the door. When she saw it was Dick she moved aside so he could get inside and sighed preparing herself for yet another argument.

"I'm sorry" he said first not wanting to beat around the bush any longer. "I was drunk last night and I know that's not an excuse for what I said but I'm really sorry Y/n"

The girl looked at his appearance and noticed the bags under his eyes and how dull his eyes were;it was weird seeing him so defeated, she hated to see him like this.

"I know Dick, but we've been having this type of conversation for weeks now. And I- I'm just tired of it ending in a fight where one of us always gets hurt" she said looking down, finding the rug under her feet quite interesting.

Dick took a step forward and when she didn't backed away, he smiled a little.

"Look at me" he said softly, lifting her face with a finger under her chin, looking over at her glossy eyes. "You deserved better than this, than me" he said.

"Don't you think I have some say in that?" She asked him grabbing his hand and caressing it with her thumb. "I know you want the best for me now and back then too,but you were, you are what's best for me Dick. I know it"

Dick realized he was crying when he wiped the tears with her fingers. He wasn't really the type to cry, but he felt so vulnerable under her gaze.

"I miss you, so much. And all those days without you were my reminder that there was something wrong" he said pulling her closer to his body so she could rest her head in his chest.

They stood there embracing each other, reminiscing about when they were in the exact same position but in a different situation, a much happier one.

"I love you Y/n. I have loved you ever since you set a foot in the tower. From the first time I have loved you and it scares the shit out of me how much you mean to me. I know I was unfair to leave you without explaining the reason, but I just couldn't keep lying to myself, so I needed to let you go, because alone was safer than with you. I needed to keep you away from me so I could keep you safe, and i know it's a bullshit reasoning but I have never loved anyone as much I love you. But I promise I'll be better if you take me again. I'm forever yours, whether you have me or not"

Y/n didn't answer instead she just hugged him. She was crying too. When she pulled away to dry her puffy eyes she smiled at the brown haired boy in front of her.

"I love you too Dick, so much" she bit her lip "i- i also told Brad that we would have never worked out" she said laughing a little "it was unfair for him to keep leading him on when I knew it was not going to work, so I won't be seeing him again."

"I'm sorry It didn't work" he said with honesty.

"No, you're not" she laughed a little louder this time making him laugh too.

"You're right" he looked down biting his lip not wanting to ruin the moment.

"So...do you think we could try again?"

Y/n smiled sweetly at the boy and brought a hand up to caress his face, dick leaned into her touch.

"I think we can,yes. But I'm gonna need some time,okay?"

"As much as you need" he said quickly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Good, cause neither am I"

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagines #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson #nightwing x reader #nightwing #titans imagines #netflixs titans #titans #fanfic #dcu #dc

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featherypromises · 5 years

Text

Seokjin wasn't going to come out of this unscathed. Featuring sickie Namjoon, a smidgen of Jungkook, and Seokjin. Caretaking with Hoseok, Yoongi, and Seokjin. Minor mess warning!

For the prequel, click the link below.

Do as I say, not as I do (2):

A good hyung

Seokjin woke up. Not in his bed; laying down, but sitting in a rolling desk chair with his upper body stretched out face-down on top of Namjoon's comforter. He must have fallen asleep after putting Joonah to bed.

The leader of BTS was still fast asleep. His mouth hung open, allowing quiet, congested snores to escape. He was also blissfully unaware of his audience of one.

Remembering why he had been in the room in the first place, the older man reached over to gently place the back of his hand against Namjoon's forehead. The sleeping boy was still a bit warm, but definitely not as bad as he had been last night. The oldest member sighed tiredly and stretched. His back ached from the awkward way he had slept, but as long as Joon was okay, it was worth it.

Getting up quietly to avoid waking his dongsaeng, the taller man left the room, closing the door behind him. He could hear voices and commotion downstairs, so the others were probably up. He tried in vain to flatten and smooth his flyaway hair as he headed towards the kitchen.

Hobi was in the kitchen, preparing vegetables and chattering away at Yoongi, who, in his hyung's absence had started breakfast… Or lunch? Was it really 11:30 already?

The maknae line was in a row on the sofa, looking like living representations of "see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil" and they were oblivious to how cute it looked. Tae was holding the sides of his head, being aegyo. He had just trounced Jimin thoroughly in a video game and the defeated Jimin was covering his eyes in utter disbelief at the upset of his victory. Poor Kookie, looking only half-awake, held a tissue over his nose and mouth with both hands, blowing his much abused nose softly. Seokjin watched them, entertained, as the younger members teased each other and squabbled amongst themselves.

The oldest rapper turned to place the cooking pot into the sink and saw his hyung and what he was looking at. Immediately, Yoongi poked Hoseok and jerked his thumb towards the young vocalists. They shared a smile before turning to Seokjin.

"Morning Hyung!" Said Hobi brightly.

"Barely…" Yoongi added, "Where's Joonah?"

"Sick…" admitted the older man with a sigh, "I think he caught it from Kookie, but… well, you know Namjoonah never does anything halfway."

Yoongi muttered a curse,

"Aiisssh, that kid! Seriously…If he would just slow down for a minute…" Hoseok quieted his friend by placing a kindly hand on his arm and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Is he doing okay? How can we help?

Seokjin smiled at the dance leader and shook his head,

"I gotta handle this one, Hobiyah. It's not bad enough for him to go to the hospital, but he had a fever last night and this morning. I stayed with him overnight to make sure he would be alright." The oldest member rubbed his sore neck and looked at the counter in front of him rather than meet the eyes of either of the younger men.

Hobi sucked in a breath through his teeth, making a disapproving cluck,

"Hyung! I could have stayed with him, or Yoongi,... You realize you are probably going to get it too now right?"

Min Yoongi put two and two together in his head and swore again,

"Damnit Hyung! You are just as bad as Joonie! You catch everything these punks bring in here!" He pointed at the three youngest on the couch, drawing their attention. He continued,

"How long did you lecture Namjoon on his health yesterday, or today? I know you did! Don't shake your head at me hyung. You should apply some of your "wisdom" to your own life! Any of us, except maybe Jimin, (the exception to this statement objected with a loud "Yaaah!" and was ignored) would have had a better chance of not catching this than you. It's a miracle that you didn't catch it from Jungkookie!" Yoongi glared at the taller man, who glanced up when the rapper paused for breath.

"I know. It was dumb, but I couldn't just stand by and watch. He hid how sick he was until I found him out and demanded that he take today off. I know I'm going to get it, if I don't have it already, Yoongiyah. But Joon wasn't going to rest or tell anyone, because he felt that would be wrong for a leader to do that when we were all working so hard." Seokjin could feel the youngest three members' eyes on him and he turned towards them,

" You three need to stay away from Namjoon's room for at least a few days. This bug is a lot worse than what Kookie had..." Jungkook blew his nose again, and Seokjin corrected himself, "well, has… This isn't personal, it's being sure that we all don't end up getting sick. Okay?" The young trio nodded, and Seokjin continued, "I'll be with Joon until his fever's gone, but after that, if I start feeling even a little bit sick, I will be in my room, so steer clear until I let you know it's okay to go in again."

He got more nods, and "Yes, Hyung"s from the maknaes. The eldest member turned back to Hoseok and Yoongi, who was still glowering at him.

"I'm going to need a few things: tissues, cough sweets, cold medicine that fix congestion and coughing, and some of the juices from the refrigerator. Food will be harder to figure out… Yoongiyah, Can you take the soup I froze last week out? Joon can eat that for a while. If I only come to the kitchen to heat up the food and we sanitize well, we should be able to reduce the chances that anyone else gets this."

Hobi began collecting the requested items as he spoke, leaving his hyungs to sort out the rest. Min Yoongi put his pointer finger up in a warning gesture,

"Hyung, you are going to tell me when you start to feel even a little off… I will bring food to you and to Joon. We really can't afford to have another member get sick or the recording next week is going to be delayed." Seokjin nodded reluctantly. He hated being fussed over, but the rapper was right.

"I will." The oldest hyung gathered up the supplies and returned to Namjoon's bedroom. The door creaked a bit as he opened it, announcing his reentry. Namjoon groaned as he turned over and opened his eyes slowly. Putting the care items down on the desk, the older boy went over and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Hey Jooniyah, how are you feeling?"

The younger man looked up at his hyung blearily,

"Dot good, Hyug. I'b so stuffed ub, I cadt breathe." Seokjin cringed as the younger man coughed harshly into his hands. His body shook with the effort and the struggle to stop the coughs seemed to drain the little energy the rapper had.

"Let's get some medicine in you, Joonah." The older man helped him sit up against the pillows and measured out the red, gloppy medicine. Handing the tiny cup to Namjoon, Seokjin opened a berry-flavored juice and set it beside the sick man on his nightstand. The leader swallowed the stuff with a grimace and immediately chased it with a big gulp of juice. He licked his lips reflexively and winced. They were so badly chapped that the bottom lip was bleeding slightly.

"Are the others okay?" asked the not-so-off-duty leader, as he pulled a tube of lip balm out from under the pile of books on his nightstand and applied it generously.

"Worried about you, but fine otherwise." The older man replied honestly. Namjoon dropped his gaze to his lap and his fingers began toying with the bottle lid. Seokjin sighed,

" They would have found out sooner or later… besides they have to let the managers know that you are not well enough for the photoshoot tomorrow."

That made the leader look up sharply. When he started to protest, Seokjin held up his hand,

"Even if you feel 100% better tomorrow, you might still pass this on to the others. Nobody wants that, Jooniyah."

The rapline's maknae looked like he still had objections for a moment, but his body had other ideas.

"Hh...Hiih-Hxxgt! Hhxxntch! Hiiphissh! Hektshuh!! Hhh...huhhh…ugh."

As the sneezes ripped their way out of the younger man's nose and throat, he struggled to squash them into his elbow as Seokjin watched helplessly. The oldest member grabbed the tissue box, pulled out a few and handed them to his Dongsaeng. Namjoon hitched for a moment more before groaning in frustration, as the last sneeze eluded him. He took the tissues and blew his nose cautiously, not wanting to trigger another fit. The sound made Seokjin's hair stand on end and he shuddered. It sounded similar to someone popping small bubbles on bubble wrap as the viscous liquid was forced out little by little.

"Poor Joonie… I'm sorry you are feeling so bad." The older man smoothed Namjoon's hair away from his forehead, checking for a fever. The findings gave Seokjin a little comfort. Joon might still be under the weather, but the fever was gone. The vocalist cleared his throat, as he quickly removed his hand, trying to regain his composure and hide his relief. This small action had an unexpected consequence, however. The ailing rapper looked at his hyung with confusion, which quickly evolved into anxious concern, then a guilt-induced panic:

"Hyug, you're dnot… Oh no, did I ged you sig?!? Shit! I'b so stupid! How could I have let you do all those things for be yesterday?!? I shouldn't have let you dnear be! And you were here all last dnight too? I'b so sorry, hyug!"

Seokjin's utter shock at this sudden reaction, shaped his mouth into a small dumbfounded "o". Recovering himself, he tried to calm the unwell man, who was still berating himself with a thoroughness that showed that this was not the first time that he had thought these insults at himself.

"Joonah! JOON! STOP! Just stop it now! You are not stupid at all! Never say anything like that again! If I get this cold, so what? I've had colds before. It's my job to look after myself, and if I don't, then the consequences are my fault. Mine. Not yours." Seokjin drew the anxiously trembling man to him, embracing him tightly, " I took my vitamins and got plenty of sleep, so that should give me a fighting chance. Yoongi said it was weird that I hadn't already caught this from Jungkook, maybe I'm building up some resistance."

The older man felt the other man's congested breathing calm as he held him. Seokjin released the slightly smaller man slowly, guiding him back to lean against the pillows again.

"You don't have to worry about anything except feeling better, okay?" The vocalist ruffled Namjoon's hair gently. The younger man nodded slowly, then blushed as his stomach grumbled its impatience for food loudly. Seokjin laughed,

"Sounds like you're hungry! I'll check with Yoongi and see if lunch is ready." A few text messages and minutes later, Min Yoongi entered carrying two bowls of chicken and vegetable soup.

"Seokjin-hyung said you weren't feeling well, so your hyungs thought soup would help you get better faster. Hoseokie will come check on you later." Yoongi held out one bowl to the younger rapper and gave the other to Seokjin. The normally taciturn man seemed to struggle for a moment before saying,

"You worried us, Joonah… Next time you aren't 100%, just tell us. We won't think badly of you for something you can't control."

Namjoon responded with a sheepish smile,

"I will, Yoongi-hyung… sorry."

Min Yoongi brushed the apology away with a flap of his hand,

"Quit with your sorries and eat before it gets cold." Namjoon obeyed and ate with obvious enjoyment. Seokjin would have been content just to watch the younger man eat. He was happiest when he could cook good food for the other members, but at the moment he had more pressing issues. An alarm bell was going off in his head, signaling him to do something about a tickle that was growing in the back of his nose. He fought for control as his nose twitched and scrunched with irritation. He had only a few seconds to act. He stood abruptly,

"HH- I'm going to use the-hhh bathroom. I-I'll be back." He left quickly, his breath already hitching. He dashed down the hall, out of earshot and sneezed desperately,

"Heh-hephBrrrsshuh! Ahh-Brreshooo!" The sneezes bent him at the waist, forcing him to try to catch them in his cupped hands. His eyes stung as his sinuses burned and his nose wasn't through with him yet, "Hhh-H'Ressshuh! Ah-GRSShooo! BRESSHUH!"

Seokjin's hands were covered in a mess of liquid and his face twisted in disgust. He sniffled fruitlessly and turned into the bathroom, leaning his back against the door until it closed behind him. He used his elbows to turn on the faucet and scrubbed his hands until they were bright pink. He sniffled again, trying to prevent the fluid from running over his upper lip.

The cold had finally caught up with him as Hoseok and Yoongi had said it would. He wasn't congested like Joonie was yet, but Seokjin knew it was only a matter of hours. He was just glad he had been able to leave before Yoongi, or worse, Namjoon had seen or heard that fit. The normally quiet Yoongi would have dragged his hyung by his ear back to the vocalist's bedroom and superglued the taller man to his bed. A small smile played across Seokjin's face at the mental image that accompanied that thought. But that picture was quickly warped until he could only see Joonah's panic-stricken face and hear the younger man verbally beating himself to a pulp over Seokjin getting sick. With a herculean effort, the oldest member pushed the gut-wrenching nightmare image away and splashed water onto his face to help clear his head. He would have to keep this development from Joon. If he didn't, the younger man would just make himself sicker worrying about things that he couldn't fix or change.

The vocalist dried his face and hands before grabbing some tissues and blowing his nose. The man knew how pointless blowing his nose was at this point. It was like kicking at a wave rolling onto the shore: you couldn't stop it, but trying made him feel like he wasn't giving in to the illness yet. He shoved extra tissues into his pocket, just in case.

Steeling himself, he returned to the youngest rapper's bedroom. Yoongi gave him a suspicious look as he entered, but said nothing. Instead the younger man put his pointer finger close to his lips in a pantomime of "Shush". Seokjin relaxed as he saw that their leader was asleep again, his bedspread lovingly tucked in around him and a box of tissues within easy reach.

Silently the older men collected the bowls, flatware, and empty bottle of juice and left the room like shadows, closing the door behind them. They moved down the hall towards the stairs, when Seokjin felt a tap on his shoulder from behind. When he turned to see what the rapper needed, the older man was instantly subjected to a long, deft finger poking him in the nose. Seokjin stumbled back and gasped as his now sensitized nose objected, and launched him into an itchy flurry of sneezes.

"Wh-what the Hehhhl! H-Heh-Hahrresshoo! HehGrresshhoo!! Hat'shuuh! Ghessshoo! Heh-HAH-HEKT'SHOOO!!! ASH-CHOO!!!"

Unable to cover with full hands, Seokjin sneezed openly, twisting away from the younger man. At the end of the fit, the older man was a sniffling, drippy wreck. He wiped his runny nose on the forearm of his sleeve. Through teary eyes, he saw Yoongi glaring at him, arms crossed; the dishes he'd been carrying on the floor, forgotten.

Defeated, the older man made a face at the younger man before continuing down the stairs with the dishes. He put them into the sink and used a paper towel to clean himself up, as Yoongi caught up with him. The rapper deposited the remaining dishes into the sink and said,

"I could hear you from down the hall."

Seokjin went white as a sheet. Had Namjoon heard too? The shorter man shook his head, in response to the unasked question.

"Joon was too busy to hear… his nose was causing him problems too. He was so tired after that much sneezing that he almost fell asleep sitting up."

The singer sighed in relief. He nodded and turned to head upstairs to get some rest himself. It would be a long couple of days. Passing Yoongi, he rested one large hand on the smaller man's shoulder.

"Don't tell him… Joonie would just be upset."

"Fine, but you have to promise me, Hyung, that you will text either me or Hobi if you need anything or if you start feeling really bad. Any sign of fever or…anything…" Yoongi didn't meet his hyung's eyes, but Seokjin knew that was just the rapper trying to hide his concern. Six years of friendship had given the oldest member at least that much insight into Min Yoongi's mind. He smiled at the younger man,

"I promise, Yoongiyah." His tender moment with the younger member was interrupted by another sneeze. This time he was able to fish a tissue from his pocket to catch it.

"Huh-HUH-HEH-GHSSSHH!" The younger man rolled his eyes at his hyung,

"Yeah-yeah, let's get you back upstairs. I'll check on Joonie once you are settled and I'll have Hoseokie check on you later."

The oldest member snuffled into the tissue and nodded, following the smaller man up the stairs and into his bedroom. Seokjin wasn't really surprised when the rapper turned down the bed coverlet and sheets or when he pulled the shades on the windows to darken the room for sleep. What surprised him was that once he had laid down, Yoongi with practiced hands began to tuck him in, in the same way he had obviously done for Namjoon, not long ago. Seokjin hadn't experienced this in years, it felt strangely comforting.

"Sleep well, Hyung. I will bring you some medicine in a few minutes." The older man smiled at the rapper, showing a mixture of pride and gratitude, and said just loud enough for Yoongi to hear as he turned to leave,

"You are a good hyung, Yoongiyah."

"You too."

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chocolatemin · 5 years

Text

TIME (ONEUS FANTASY AU)

Amber's POV

We set foot onto the forest without any fear lingering in my body as Hwanwoong guided the way. The forest is dark but the moon is shining brightly even if it is in waxing cresent form only. The sound of the crickets, our quiet footsteps and humming of the owls are making the atmosphere calm and serene. However, there are two things we still need to overcome— sleepiness and exhaustion. Too bad I wasn't able to fully see the beauty of this forest since we arrived at night.

Once we arrived at his house, I immediately dropped Hwanwoong off on the couch in his living room. He looked really tired and worn out.

"Amber, can you prepare a cup of water on the kitchen while I get something on the room?"

"Of course." He pointed to the cabinet near the kitchen sink, signaling that the cups and other dinnerwares are inside it. I went to the kitchen to do the task he asked me. Hwanwoong's house is not that large but the interior looks like a mansion, it is spacious and has two to three rooms. Maybe he isn't living alone. I carefully put down the cup of water on the dining table and sat down to one of the chairs while waiting for Hwanwoong.

"Amber, I think you should stay the night. It's too late, besides, we've been walking for almost a day. You should rest too." Hwanwoong came back with a pair of clothes on his hand. I noticed that he had also changed his clothes into comfortables ones for sleeping. I wanted to argue but before I can speak, a yawn is making its way out so I quickly covered my face and tilted my head down. Hwanwoong chuckled at the sight.

"Hah, sure it was funny." I shook my head and he rolled his eyes, "Pfft, you can't object anymore, I've seen the proof."

"Can't argue with that." I smiled at him as he stepped closer and offered the clothes while I threw him a confused look, "Oh, you're wondering why I have these. I have a sister, an older one, who visits me everytime the spring comes. She's with my mom, so sometimes I visit them too. I don't know if these will fit you since she's taller than you, and oh, I forgot to mention that she likes to pick the herbs I've had a hard time growing."

"She must be cool then!" I accepted the clothes with a wide smile. "You actually have a similarity with her!" He smiled back and lightly chuckled, "Really? What is it?" I asked with hopeful eyes.

"You're both annoying." He said mockingly in which I dramatically put my hand on my chest and pretended to be shocked and hurt earning a disgusted look from him. "How dare you-" "Whatever, get changed already, that is the bathroom." He rolled his eyes to the direction where the bathroom is and I just replied with a nod.

—

"Amber, come here." My ears perked up as Hwanwoong spoke loudly from the basement, mixing peculiar liquids from glass bottles, herbs in which I wasn't familiar with into a cauldron and stirring it non-stop, "You're wounded right? Drink this and it will heal your wounds overnight." I got up from my seat on the top of the stairs and descended the stairs.

"Hwanwoong, will you tell me what are you really?"

"Even if I tell you, you wouldn't understand... I'm sorry."

"Was it really that complicated?"

"Yes, just think of me as a kind and friendly wanderer with a bit magic." I chuckled at the way he spoke, it seemed like he was sure yet awkward at the same time, "I see. It's okay that you didn't tell me what exactly are you since you introduced yourself cutely."

"Cutely?"

"Oh, sorry. I mean the way you introduced yourself was adorable."

"Oh, so that's what it means. Thanks for the new knowledge." He looked amazed by it, and he looked really cute! I want to pinch his cheeks. He's very much unlike my brother, my brother isn't cute and very annoying at times. What was his name again?

"My pleasure." I smiled and slightly bowed to him which made the both of us laugh. He transferred the viscous liquid into a tea cup. "Let's wait for it to cool a bit before you drink it."

"What about you? Your cuts are deeper and bigger than mine."

"Don't worry about me, it will heal by itself overnight. It's just that I was very weak so I wouldn't be able to use my magic."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, and you should go to bed immediately after you drink this. Alright? I'll tell you the things I know tomorrow, so you can return to your home too. No buts!" I sighed before nodding. I slowly drank the liquid and it tasted like strawberry milk. I finished the cup before I head to the room Hwanwoong told me to stay the night and left him by the basement. As soon as I plopped myself comfortably, everything went black.

» T I M E «

Hwanwoong's POV

I am afraid to tell her what I really am. Humans aren't supposed to know that healers exist. It's written in the laws and it is forbidden. If I tell her that I am one of them, either, she shall forget everything and a spell will restrict us from meeting each other again or she'll lose her sight and be a healer like me, which I can't afford to risk anything. It has been a long time since I made friends. I don't want to lose another one.

What a terrible life.

I sighed. Oh and I shouldn't forget that Amber's looking for the way back to her home. She'll be leaving me soon. I hope to meet her someday again.

"I'm sorry, Amber. After you saved my life, I wasn't able to heal your wounds using my magic," I quitely said to myself, after all that blood I lost, I wouldn't be able to use my healing abilities, "that is all I can do for now." I shook my head along with the sad and guilty feeling lingering my heart.

I cleaned up the kitchen in the underground floor before going to my room. I washed my hands and dried them slowly as I think of the friends I used to have. My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the bathroom's window, I saw my sister's cat along with a letter tied on his neck.

Why? What do you want now?

I opened the window and took the letter before patting the cat's head and sending him off. I opened the letter and it reads:

"Woongie!! Don't forget to bring the herbs mother has asked you when you come tomorrow, alright? See you!

~Hwayoung."

Right, I had forgotten already. I chuckled to myself and went to bed, putting the letter in the nightstand.

"Good night to me!"

» T I M E «

Amber's POV

Series of knocks on the door awakened me from my deep slumber. The morning came quickly than I expected. I tried recalling the happenings last night, oh right, I drank the liquid that tastes like strawberry milk and immediately fell asleep as soon as I got here. I went to the bathroom to fix myself and change into my clothes again. I left the night dress neatly folded onto the table in the bathroom.

I exited the bathroom and found Hwanwoong setting the bowls on tne table. He smiled at me when he saw me got out of the bathroom and I returned the gesture, "Good morning, Woong! What are we having for breakfast?" He poured the soup in the bowl carefully and spoke, "Hwanwoong's secret dish soup! It's very healthy and delicious. Come, let's eat!"

—

"Hwanwoong, what is it you're going to tell me? The one you said last night."

"Oh, the gateway to Hell. Sure!" Hwanwoong smiled to me wickedly as if he's going to chop my head off causing me to shiver and stood up from my seat shocked. "What are you saying gateway to Hell?!"

"I thought I told you last night?" He took a step towards me and just like a reflex, I took a step back.

"You didn't say anything about gateway to hell!"

Hwanwoong bursted into laughter after I panicked, "What are you laughing at?" I glared at him which caused him to laugh again. "Your face looks so funny, you should have seen it!" I sighed and shook my head.

"I thought you're going insane, I was about to hit your head, just so you know." I smiled at him but he just rolled his eyes, "Whatever, Amber." He chuckled but I kept a straight face. "See what I did there?"

"Yes, so please don't do it again." He again laughed at my comment before speaking, "Okay, enough of laughing. So, I was speaking about the gateway but not the one's for hell. There's this tree called "The Gate of Memor", it is somewhere here in the forest." I nodded and he continued, "my grandma used to bring me with her there when I was young every morning. She was always picking flowers and uses it as an ingredient to elix- you know, like drink I gave you last night."

"I see, I bet it was fun."

"Indeed, it was."

"What about that gate? How am I going to enter a tree?"

"I've heard that the keeper will take you to the other side of the gate. But– the keeper only appears at the time between daylight and darkness– the twilight. If you manage to catch him, he'll take you but if not, then wait for the next day. That is all." I looked at him confused but he just shrugged, "I'm puzzled just like you, I haven't actually seen the keeper. Whether it is an animal, a witch, a hybrid, a ghost or what. But I think that it is real."

"Then maybe, you could guide me to where that tree is?"

"Anything for you, Madame." He slightly bowed and we both laughed at his actions. Being with Hwanwoong is never boring, he sure knows how to make a person laugh. However, I cannot stay here for too long, I need to prepare the things I need to bring and make sure that Hwanwoong wouldn't notice that I left something for him once we are ready to leave.

"My deepest gratitudes to you and your kindness, peasant." I took his hand and shook it while he looked shock pretended to look hurt. Ha! After all those teasing, I finally made my revenge.

"Wow, Amber, I can't believe you. Is that actually how you thank the person who let you stay the night, made you breakfast and now, will help you go home?"

"Well, I just made my revenge after you made fun of me. It is now equal." We both laughed and he replied, "You really should have seen your face earlier! It was and will always be amusing." I sighed in defeat, knowing I wouldn't win in a teasing fight with him.

"You won, but I think I need to get ready."

"Thank you for the acknowledgement and yes, I think so too. I also need to get ready, I will be heading to my sister's after I send you on your way."

"Alright, let's start moving, I do not want your sister to wait for a long time."

"It's okay, I'll be staying at theirs tonight. It won't hurt her to wait a bit." We smiled at each other before heading to our rooms to prepare. This is now my chance to find my way back home. I'm more willing to risk anything, but I think I'm going to miss the friends I made here...

-END OF CHAPTER-

[A/N: We're at the end of this short series... the next chapter will be the epilogue! thank you for reading! xoxo]

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ed-hale · 6 years

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Talking to a friend last night about how split/fractured the U.S. is at this point in time, how genuinely divisive and disturbing it's become for many of us. Uncomfortable. For both sides. (Especially for those of us who are Independents I would add...). He made several very intriguing comments. (Mind you he's more "left" than most Democrats. So he's no democrat. And I'm obviously not that. I lean both right and left, depending on what we're talking about. But we're okay with that. We don't let it come between us.) We were discussing the obvious mistake in judgement (besides a heinous disregard for basic ethics) that the democratic party made, and the subsequent harm this mistake has inflicted on its party members (AND everyone else in America) by not allowing their party to naturally go in the direction it wanted to, i.e. in support of an outsider, in their case Bernie Sanders, and instead just insisted that their candidate be Hilary Clinton, despite what their members were seeming to call for. Michael Moore called it weeks before the election. Trump would win. Truth be told my opinion is that Trump would have won against Bernie too. BUT many Americans would at least still be part of the system. They'd vote. They'd care. After the shenanigans (that's a very kind label for the crimes and corruption we witnessed) that the democratic party pulled to pretend Hilary was "the legitimate candidate", millions of people, especially the young, went back to their old MO -- "screw both of those parties, they both suck, screw this whole system. I'm out." And of course, many just didn't bother to vote. They stopped caring. But now here we are. Half the people happy with the outcome. And half the people very unhappy. Just like in the Obama years. Totally split. Which has compelled me to start thinking the same thought I think whenever I contemplate the "civil war" or as some people call it "Lincoln's war of aggression". (Their label.... Let's not digress to that yet. There'll be time for it later.) If people in red states are really happy with how things are and the direction they claim to want to go in, why not let them? And why not let blue staters go in the direction THEY want to go? Loads of people are anti-abortion. I get it. I'm pro-life myself. But also pro-choice. Hell, I'll even admit that abortion is murder in my humble opinion. But I just can't bring myself to believe that I have the right to dictate what another person should or shouldn't do in/with their own life. I believe that's a human right. So in that, I am liberal. I get it. It's upsetting to some. Makes sense to others. And frankly I'm okay with that. I'm also okay if half the population of the country wants to ban abortion. Totally fine with it. That should be their choice. Their decision. As my friend said last night, "If the federal government banned abortion tomorrow through all this supreme court stuff about to go down, ten states would hold emergency sessions overnight and pass a law to legalize abortion in their states. That's how it works. So it shouldn't even be an issue." He believes democrats have gotten lost in ideologies that distract them from real issues. He's entitled to his opinion. Just as democrats are. And he's right about abortion. Just like marijuana or gay marriage, abortion will become legal again in at least ten states overnight. Without question. So let's not quibble over it. Truth is, America IS split. Ideologically morally politically split. And it has been for a long time. What many don't quite understand about the ambassador is that I felt bad for republicans during the Obama years. Mind you, I was both a fan of certain aspects of the man -- he was a great orator, patient and thoughtful in his decision making and more liberally minded than the alternative, but I was also NOT a fan of many aspects of him and his agenda. (That's just me and it's not important.) The point is, oftentimes I personally felt empathy for republicans during Obama's years in office because I felt like the country was being pushed too far progressive too quickly for the comfort of many folks who leaned "conservative". And one could feel their pain. It was disquieting and upsetting for them. It wasn't the "America" they were accustomed to. Now I know that a lot of my friends who are democrat would immediately respond "too bad". Which is hilarious. Because that's just what republicans are saying to democrats NOW. But as my friend said last night, "You can't force people to acquiesce to your position. All you can do is make a convincing argument and hope they eventually evolve to your point of view." Totally agree. America was forcing an extremely progressive agenda on a large portion of the population and it was doing so quickly. Hence Trump. Safety. Comfort. Back to "normal" for them. Life feels good again. I get it. I really do. So why not let's just face facts and get real AND do something about this. Rather than all the arguing. We live in TWO Americas now. Maybe we always have. We may be united in our desire to be protected by our military against foreign invasion. And we both want to use the U.S. dollar as our primary currency. And heck most of us probably would all want to stay a democratic republic and primarily capitalist. (My aforementioned friend is the exception. He doesn't like capitalism. And i not only respect his viewpoint, but I can understand it to a certain degree.) But most of us can probably all agree that we are UNITED on those issues. Everything else, we're split. Totally completely split. No wiggle room. So why don't we just make it official and split? Many people may not readily remember that we split India up into two countries, a Hindu one and a Muslim one. It's called Pakistan. It's possible. It's doable. Yes geographically it will pose a few challenges. For the most part, those of who tend to lean more blue live on the coasts. WA to CA and MA down to VA, with a few blue states in the middle, SOMEtimes... Not only do we know WHO we are, we know what we want and what we don't want. And it's about time we stopped trying to convince each other that WE are right and YOU are wrong, and instead just make the split. Two countries. Dictated democratically by the people who LIVE in those countries. Think about it for a minute. Don't shut down. Red staters will ban abortion in their country. And they'll get NO argument or fuss from blue staters. Let them do it. Perhaps they'll close their borders off to immigrants of all shapes and sizes for a while. Let them. We have a labor shortage in America right now. (Maybe they don't get that? But who cares? That's the point. We need to stop trying to convince each other that the other side is "right".) So the blue states will take the immigrants. Red staters want to keep the healthcare system how it is. In fact they want to roll it back to "how it used to be before Obama messed it up". Cool. Blue staters want universal health care. They consider it a basic human right. Who are we to try to convince red staters they're wrong? Let them have monopolistic for-profit companies running their healthcare system and bankrupting them everytime they get sick. Seriously. Just let them. And blue states will switch to a single payer universal healthcare system. Consider "the welfare state" collection of issues. That's a BIG one. But it doesn't have to be. Imagine we just let the red states get rid of all the social welfare programs they want to in "their country". Welfare, gone. Food stamps, gone. Medicare and Medicaid probably reduced or minimized. Cool. We'll keep it in the blue state country. And from what we can tell, a lot of the wealthiest people in blue states don't mind paying a little more in taxes in order to secure a more humane safety net for their neighbors. So yay for them. Let them stay in blue state country. And if they don't like it, they can always move to red state country. They're rich. They can afford it. In the case of religion and religious imagery, let's face it, red staters have been getting the short end of the stick on these issues for years. They're being forced to take down religious symbols in their own hometowns. Forced to not be allowed to pray in their own schools. That just doesn't seem fair. I myself practice a religion. But I just happen to believe in religious freedom AND separation of church and state, and because I recognize that a lot of blue staters are Atheists and though they don't know it, that too is a religion, I don't mind their banning religion from most public things and from government. It makes sense from a strategic logical point of view. For blue staters. Maybe just not for red staters... As long as they let me keep my church and practice freely, I'm cool. And truth be told most atheists and blue staters aren't trying to rip down churches. But do they go too far sometimes? Yes, in my opinion, for the comfort of many red staters they do. So let the red state nation be rid of atheist liberals. We'll deal with them in blue state country. We don't mind. We'll take them. And red states can have whole public schools or towns even named after Jesus or Mary or Christ if they want to. LET THEM. It's their country. Dig? Now, we could go on and on. And what's interesting is that a lot of people are probably reading this and thinking that THEIR country sounds AWESOME. The country they most align with that is... And that's the point. Their country WILL BE awesome. For THEM. No more arguing on social media. No more protests and marches and screaming and shouting in the media 24/7. No more insane tweets from the president. Hell, most blue staters won't even read tweets from the red state president. And why should they? He's not their president. They'll read tweets from their own president. And let the red staters consider FOX News an actual media outlet. As outlandish as that may sound to some, it's their sovereign right as a nation. Just as it is the right of blue staters to consider the New York Times a media outlet (not that I'm equating one with the other. But many red staters do.... Let them.) Of course the blue state country needs to grow the hell up and recognize that MSNBC is NOT a media outlet. Call it what it is, political propaganda or entertainment. But that ain't objective journalism. Chances are it will be easy to get most blue staters to acknowledge that if they got FOX News the hell off of their TV -- except for entertainment purposes, like say you want to just chill and have a laugh after a long day at work. FOX News can be hilarious at times. It's perfect for that. But it just won't be called "news". More like the Stephen Colbert show. It's satire. It's funny. So let's get to the heart of the matter. The REAL heart of the matter. The red states will never allow the blue states to create their own country. And if they were smart, they wouldn't. Because the majority of the economic power of the U.S. presently is in blue states. The big dogs are all in blue state nation. Sound familiar? Yep. Now we're back to "Lincoln's War of Aggression" due to fear of economic collapse, where he ordered the entire force and might of U.S. military to attack the Southern States and force them to NOT secede. Even though they wanted to. Now I'm no Southerner. Nor a confederacy lover. Honestly the site of that flag creeps me out. But I respect other people's rights. And state sovereignty. And if southern states wanted to keep on truckin as they were and leave the Union to do so, so be it. The North was just too scared of what would become of them without the economic powerhouse that the South was at that time. That's the cold hard truth of it. And I just bet that the same exact people who wanted to secede 150 years ago would be demanding that president Trump NOT allow the blue states to secede and start their own country NOW. Think about it for a second. Regardless of which party you tend to side with. Will red staters really allow WA, CA, NY, NJ, CT, VT, NH etc start their own country and separate from the U.S.? Probably not. But not because they don't like the idea... Hell they'll love the idea once they get how awesome their country is going to be. Peace at last. Peace at last. But what would they do economically? Where's THEIR Wall Street? Where's THEIR Amazon and Microsoft and Intel and Apple and Google and Facebook and Twitter etc? That's the real issue, just as it was 150 years ago. Well, I'll tell you what they'd do. First off, a lot of republicans are smart and wealthy people who work on Wall Street. So they're not going to be without brains. Despite what snobby democrats think or say. Red State Nation can either start their own big tech companies. OR the blue state nation can easily draft up a bilateral free trade deal with the red state nation. Trump loves bilateral trade deals. He'll have a field day. Of course, he'll have to move. New York is just about as true blue liberal as they come. (But wasn't Trump a democrat for most of his adult life? Oh yeah, but sssshhhhhh. We pretend that didn't happen. I'm joking of course. Most know I sincerely believe that president Trump has noble intentions for America, is one hell of a hard working machine AND he's WINNING. Big time winning on a lot of fronts. I may not happen to agree with every direction he's going in or wants to go in, nor with his unorthodox methods, but unlike democrats (which I'm not), I don't mind admitting the above. And that's the problem with many democrats. They refuse to even entertain the possibility that Trump loves America and has good intentions. And that's just close minded and wrong. So... LET THEM LEAVE. See? Again and again we arrive at the same place. Screw the democrats and their progressive anti-Trump bs. Let them start their own country. Easier.) (Yes, I know, by now one might be thinking, "well where the hell are YOU going to live mr. ambassador?" Honestly I'd probably go Big Blue. I may not like democrats, especially now. But I do tend to just feel more comfortable in as liberal of an environment as possible. My motto, "if it's not hurting anyone, let us do it." And that goes both ways. Which also makes me align with the republicans a lot. Because in some ways republicans are very "let us do what we have the rights to do". And that's the problem with the country right now as it stands. We just have two very different groups of people who want very different things. So if red staters want guns in every room of every house and now in every classroom of every school, heck, let them have it. In that aspect, I may occasionally be more of a libertarian. Who knows? Maybe we end up with three or four countries. A little Europe. It could be very cool.) Of course there will be some discomfort in the process at the beginning. There always is. As many people will want to move. We have to remember that the red and blue demographics are symbolic. Most states are more purplish... But generalities do exist. Alabama, Louisiana, Florida, South Carolina etc. aren't about to go blue anytime soon. And why should they? Truth be told, they shouldn't be forced to. Not when we have a simple solution right in front of us. Imagine a world where all the bickering and arguing and right versus wrong is just gone. No more "f*ck trump" signs and social media posts. They're gone. All that is over. For lack of a better way of putting it, we have our paradise and they have their's. And if you suddenly wake up one day and you realize that you don't like the country you live in, you can always apply for a visa to move to the other country. Heck it's just one state over in some cases. And we're still in "the United States". Sort of. And that's really what it comes down to: We'll still be united in many many ways. We'll share the military. We'll share the same currency. We'll share the same financial markets. But socially and politically and perhaps even fiscally we'll just be very different nations. And THAT would be a very good thing for everyone. We'll be less stressed. We'll be happier. We'll be healthier. And best of all we can finally make our own laws and stop this constant see-sawing with the laws every 4 to 8 years. It's maddening for all of us, no? Instead we let it go. We stop the madness. We accept that we are sincerely two very different groups of people at this point. So the question I pose to you on this eve of Independence Day, is not whether you agree with this or not. I've already made up my mind. We either head there and start implementing it now, or we continue to tear ourselves to pieces on a daily basis and keep feeling angry hostile upset sad and stressed. I know which I've chosen. No sense in trying to talk me out of it. And that's the point of this post. Those days are gone. It's a dumb game anyway. And a complete waste of time. My question is this: How do we start the process? How does it work? Where do we start? How did the South start? Where did they go wrong? How can we avoid the same fate? What's the strategy? Are there any legal grounds for states to do this? Or has the federal government gotten so damn big and bloated and fascist that it's made it impossible? (See? I told you I'm hard to peg down... But see, I'd rather try to respectfully convince my Blue State Nation citizens of the importance of smaller government than argue with red staters over gun control or immigration or social welfare programs or universal healthcare or abortion. There are just some issues that neither group is ever going to budge on. But there are SOME that we'll both be able to massage a little bit to make most people in each of our two countries happy. And that's really what it comes down to.) It's time to vote for happiness and health my friends. It's past time. Let's just accept our differences, stop the arguing and create two independent nations that are united on many or at least several fronts. And don't worry... We'll both still have Twitter and Facebook and Insta and Skype and Facetime. So we won't even miss each other. But we sure won't be bickering all the time anymore. Paradise I tell you. Absolute paradise is ours for the taking. All we have to do is take that first step.

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