#I hope everyone else gets a year of therapy too!! <33 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theuniverseawakens347 · 3 months ago

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Again how do you live with Lee for 33 years / 34? But 23 on record Paula change but Lee herself w station 7 Steve Harvey stache Dunlap … I LITERALLY SHOWERE PHOTOS OF LEE N HOWARD TO YOY GUYS … OFF MY IPAD PHONE N TWITTER.

Crayy_crayy

… I ASKED FOR THERAPY FIRST AND CAME W MARGIE STILL INTACT FROM GILBRIONNA MURDER AT 4 … lost Margie at 14 to liver cancer.. 15 asked for a therapist ( Margie passed at 18 monrovia across from the high school a few blocks from downtown monrovia where they do the big Christmas tree - WHY YOU GOT HER STUFF ANIMALS FROM HER OFFICE ( MY TEDDY BEARA FROM MY BED I THREW OUT FROM EVERY FUCKING CHILDS COURT VISIT I WENT TOO + VINTAGE DOLLS MARGIE GAVE ME - our favorite Toy Story on our walks ) …

Anyways 1st therapist you had me go to was off larchmont after Margie .. I DID ONE OR TWO SESSIONS ( next to the make up beauty pink building - across from the eye doctor on the right going south bound - KAJA EYE STABBING ME 2014 and me getting it checked out ) .. anyways THAT BITCH WAS UR THERAPIST DRUGGIE BUDDY BACK IN THE DAY ( Paula why you got this similar Taylor - Kimberly) … but uncontrolled motion white lady black hair .. like that dyke* from American horror story BOBBY BLUSHAY MOM lookalike … 2 sessions at most and she was bias in favor of Lee being a good mother n me being a brat - told Lee I was uncomfortable and stopped going “why” - BC BITCH THATS UR THERAPIST SHE DONT CARE WHAT I GOTTA SAY YAL FUCKING OR MONEY LAUNDERING THRU THE MEDICAL OFFICE - THATS WEIRD LICK UP INFO RN 9:47 pm left lib….

So you get me Michelle Cayley at 16 I see her she’s black sagaftra building - keep it all in Lee acting insurance huh ucla bob hope … but Michelle at like 16/17 I said I was starting to feel uncomfortable ( living w white lol trying to survive being black and a good little nigger bc me making mistakes of ANY SORTS is extreme tension - Lee” you’re wasting my money on private school if you don’t learn shit ima send you to public school” - drops me off a day at John .. what’s that van ness* off pico ARLINGTON .. middle school … LEFT ME FOR A WHOLE DAY JUST RANDOMLY “we’re going to visit them school” get there then “okay I’ll get you at 3 “ 🫤🖕 - Taylor sr Paula Barton. Regina king .. daisy florez ur oj act like this too huh India Warren “ I wonder why our kids are …” 🫤 why YOU RESTARD DRUGG ADDICTS SEX ALCOHOLICS … anyways

I asked 1st if I was adhd or add - I took Tasha adderal and it helped me focus in class and I was stoked normally I’m WALKING AROUND STANDING UP BORED DOING SOMETHING ELSE TAKING MY SHOES OFF SITTING IN THE BACK OF THE CLASS DOODLING UNTIL UOU TURN THE TV ON SCIENCE CLASS OR HAVE A GOOD BOOK OR DISCUSSION - math was weird I always looked at the posted and counted down time to leave or talked w neighbors - chemistry bitch you really waisted my time - IF I DIDNT KNOW IF I WANTED TO LEARN MORE .. anyways side note took the adderal ( and again in college to get papers done and had 1/2 left over when I works ed equinox FUCKTARD LEAH ALEX OD .. really cause I was taking these myself SO HOW BITCH “oh it’s expired” - THAT DONT MEAN OD SO WHAT YOU DO IN BENS NAME AND ERIC ROTISSERIE SEEN YOU KENDALL RAVE DJ PARTY VANESSA PARIS - who called the cops Ben or Brian my Claudia) … 9:55 pm car …

Asked Michelle and we took a test for both adhd and add 1-6 questions / 1-8 questions ALONE I GOT 4/6 and 6/8 “we should look into further testing apothy and I’ll talk to ur mom “ - cool thank you leaves goes home and tell Lee I scared this and that I think I’ll need another testing - weird cashay bc you did PERFECTLY fine when you were first brought into the house and they wanted to test ur math and reading skills .. - 54th lied and TCS Evelyn “cashay I want you to write the class notes and I photo copy them for everyone” - okay weird why “ur writing is the neatest” - DO WHY I DO SYLVAN LEE AND REPEAT 5 th grade - YA GOT NATEANA TEST SCORES. - I DO MY WORK AND ALWAYS FIRST TO FINISH .. SIGNED NEIGHBOR TO MAE PINK HOUSE MR. HARRIS WHY YA SON BABY MOMA COMING TO MY SCHOOL AND TESTING ME - DONNIE KEYS .. “it’s a special test for you” - 54 didn’t really have testing EXCEPT FOR CAT 9 - MISS. KATZ WHY YOU KNOW LEE LESBO FRIEND DONNA AND CECELIA .. SHE MY 3 rd grade teacher who I cussed out for being all up in my GOTDAMN home business and not doing shit good for me - Janae mother. .. ALSO BITCH WHY YOU TEACH ME MATH WRONG N SPELLING PRETTY WRONG - standards for no fucking reason .. am I writing what the other kids are writing but not talking to no one - oops WHY YOU JUST AINT TALK TO ME AND ASK WTF - MAE CATCHING ME CUSS OUT MISS KATS IN FRONT OF THE CLASS BEFORE A DENTIST APPOINTMENT SAYING HER THOUGHTS. - black teacher w the dreads you falling in the parking lot “ cashay did it she got magic” NO BITCH YOU CLUMSPY FAT WEARING HEELS SANDALS THAT DONT WORK FOR YOU - HI NEW WAY WHY YOU PASS - GRANNY FLORENCE. .. MAE PAYNE. KILLUMINATI…

🫤🖕

But like I said I asked took the test w Michelle told Lee and the next session I have with the three of us michelle changes up bc Lee said “she’s not any of these things “ - how you know Lee !?? - “I WANA DIAGNOSE YOU SCHIZOPHRENIC BC UR SAYING AND WRITING PPL THOUGHTS WITHOUT US TALKING TO YOU” - FUCK YOU IN FULL FROM GOD. - ALL MY OTHER TELEPATHIC FAMILY .. but cashay is different .. BITCH I KNOW THATS WHY YOU KILLING ME AND WORKING OVER FUCKING TIME AND STALKING ME - “she reincarnates too” - Lee seen me flying in my pole and she felt the fear of god and heard the voices and her mom n dad and KNOW ITS BC OF ME AND DONT WANA GO TO THE PSYCHWARD HERSELF HOWARD INCLUDED - STOP FUCKING W ME TIMOTHY WILL BE NICE TO YOU 🙂💋

Anyways then I asked Michelle “okay I’m feeling very angrey and just out of place and “I know my mom had mental illness” ( FUCKING LYING ASS BITCH ASS LEE - me saying her thoughts out loud too bout Darniece- Michelle thoughts too ( you a therapist n not talking straight to me about that - weird. FIRED BITCH) ).. “but is this normal for a teen as in hormones or is this the start of a mental illness?” - NO UR PERFECTLY FINE .. SAID IN FRONT OF LEE .. then me saying “okay i just wna check bc sometimes i just feel so angry and mentally clouded I can’t get my thoughts into full words” - LEES THOUGHTS ( oh so bitch you telepathic huh Howard she say ur thoughts out loud!?? Since when!?? 2021 watching me like YOU SATAN LIECE OF HIDING LYING FUCKING SHIT BITCH ASS CUNT. )

- woosaaah.. anyways I’m not crazy .. I’m just a little Beyoncé telepathic and less Satan and you all know that or else why did you sign ndas of illuminating killing sprees of my godly family for the “free” masons

🤷‍♀️😊

- power puff girls HI MOMMY N COI .. you really Darniece huh - OKAY WEIRDOS YOU WANT ME TO EAT THAT LIE UP FOR YOU OR YOU JUST GOT HER CPN - YA FAT MOM during left eye murder switch em around Darniece a star but Coi growing up looking like her - DNA TEST BENZINO “bitch you is not that cute and we DID NOT SLEEP TOGETHER SOOOOO HOW TF IS COI PUR CHILD” - idk Howard sperm .. lol my Dominican daddy .. how you living off that con Howard

😊

Ronald Tom ( already fixed it Janet) NUGENTS.

- HI BLACK LADIES OUT WHITE IS SLAVE OWNERS THRU BUSINESS SPERMING AND MAD MY MAFIA OUTS THEIRS lalalaalalalalalaalalalalalalalalal

- DONT EVER FUCKING TRY ME AGAIN YOU STUPID FUCKING PIECES OF SHIT. - RESPECTFULLY it’s truly.

FUCK YOU BITCH - DARNIECE LEE she likes you 😉 Howard lololololololololololol

- YOU WANTED A PAYCHOPATH CHILD SOLOLL FUCKING BAD WHERES HARDLEY JOKER.

- split personality Lee I think you need Howard n Charles Manson award FOR DUMMBEST CUNTS ALIVE.

- my period is coming - I SEE BLOOD PPL. 💋💋🖕🖕

10:14 pm lees a whore a liar ass Satan bitch huh Howard peltko so ARE you - split bodies fake Teistan and cashay kingg 🙂🖕

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tripleaxeldiaz · 4 years ago

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you’re my living proof my love is alive

for @eddiediaz HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAY <33

read on ao3

“Did you ever think we’d get here?”

Eddie opens his eyes, the shade of the tree they’re under saving him from an assault of sunlight. He’d been dozing off and on, lulled by the warm day and the soft breeze and Buck’s fingers raking through his hair where his head rested on his lap. But something about Buck’s voice — not a sadness, not an edge, but something — wakes him up fully, and he rolls onto his back to look up at Buck’s face. He follows where Buck’s eyes have landed — on their family, spread out around them, absorbed in their own conversations while kids flit in and around them like over excited butterflies. He’s looking at them wistfully and in some sort of awe, and Eddie waits for him to elaborate.

“To the park?” he asks slowly when it looks like an explanation isn’t coming. “It’s like a 10 minute drive from our house.”

Buck tugs his ear, fighting and losing to the smile spreading on his face. “No, asshole. I mean all of this. Our family. You and me. Did you ever imagine we’d get a life like this?”

The breeze seems to blow a little cooler as Eddie takes that in, because honestly? No. All of this, the joy that he’s found here, is brighter and better than anything he ever let himself dream about.

And it’s not that he never thought he’d be happy or filled with some kind of lightness. It just wasn’t a priority — not when he had a team to lead or a marriage to try and fail to fix or a kid to take care of on his own. Everything and everyone else came first because those were things he could handle, tangible things with some kind of concrete solutions, the direct opposite of the amorphous, unreachable discomfort that always seemed to sit right at the base of his skull. And there were moments of joy, especially with Christopher — his smile, his laugh, the way he lit up at any opportunity to learn something new. Those were good moments, great moments, and Eddie treasured all of them, locking them up tight in his heart because they were sometimes the only things that got him through the day.

But still. No matter what, at the end of the day, he’d find himself in bed, surrounded by silence, fighting off the aching loneliness that grew stronger as the sun went down. Only then would he let himself indulge — he’d imagine a dip in the mattress next to him, warm skin begging for his touch, craving that feeling of being wanted by someone else despite the demons and nightmares that still haunted him.

He doesn’t really know if it made the loneliness better or worse.

Moving to LA helped — a fresh start for both of them, more opportunities, no one hovering over his every move waiting to swoop in the minute he made a mistake. He felt lighter, excited even, like maybe now things would actually turn around for him, like maybe he was ready to fill that space that sat in his heart. Maybe Shannon coming back was a sign that she was supposed to fill it the whole time, just like he thought when they were 19.

But then she left, permanently, just as quickly as she came, and suddenly he wasn’t sure of anything his heart or soul was telling him anymore.

So he threw himself back into what he knew best — being there for everyone else. Whether at work or with Chris, his focus was solely on the outside, ignoring any pangs of longing or indulgences because they didn’t matter. A person could only survive so many broken hearts in their lives, and he’s certain that watching the life fade out of Shannon’s eyes with no way of stopping it was the last one he’d be able to handle. It wasn’t a waste, this focusing on other people, and he wasn’t unhappy — how could he be when he had the best kid, the best friend, the best family that he’d cobbled together for himself, that had saved him time and again without even knowing it?

The loneliness lingered, though. It wrestled with the fear he felt so hard sometimes it blew the breath right out of his lungs. He thought he did an okay job of hiding it until Bobby sat him down and told him it was okay to move on, that it was okay to want to let someone in, to not carry the burdens on his own anymore. And he knew that, rationally, but that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that in the moments when his resolve cracked, his indulgences were no longer faceless. They had broad shoulders and strong arms, a halo of curls and eyes so blue they put the ocean to shame.

The problem was that this person was real and solid, an unshakeable presence in his and Chris’ world who smoothed out creases and stitched up tears in a way that was helpful, not in a way that made Eddie feel guilty for letting things get creased in the first place.

The problem was that the person his stupid, lonely heart had let in, without his consent, without him even noticing, was the person he knew would shatter his heart into a billion, unrepairable pieces if he ever lost him.

So he settled instead.

He found someone who was nice and low maintenance and good with Chris and it was enough. Or almost enough. Or as close to enough as he felt he deserved.

He feels another tug at his ear. “Did I lose you? Pretty sure your eyes just glazed over for like two minutes.”

Nothing he does gets past Buck, that’s for sure, and the knowledge of that warms him better than the sunshine. He reaches up and threads their fingers together, kissing the back of Buck’s hand before resting both on his chest, over his heart. He sighs, eyes slipping closed again. “Sorry. Zoned out for a second.”

“And forgot my question,” Buck says, squeezing his hand. “So did you? Imagine this? Or something like it, I guess.”

He’s better with words than he used to be, can be straightforward with his feelings without breaking out into a cold sweat. But still, these words stick, because years and countless therapy sessions later, he knows exactly how deep the darkness went back then, and he hates thinking about it. Hates remembering the full body ache of loneliness, how dull and bleak it made everything seem.

But also, he can’t — won’t — lie to Buck, and he’s warm enough now, surrounded by sunlight and laughter and Buck’s hand on his chest, that he’s not worried about being pulled under again.

“No,” he finally says. “I didn’t let myself think about anything like this for a really long time. But when I finally did, it was never as good as the real thing.”

Buck hums but doesn’t say anything else. He traces carefully over Eddie’s knuckles and the back of his hand, and Eddie almost falls asleep again.

“What changed your mind?” Eddie opens his eyes and Buck’s looking down at him now, an intense curiosity in his eyes, like he was just cycling through everything he knows about Eddie trying to figure out what made him believe in love again.

Knowing Buck, he probably was.

Eddie’s happy to save him the trouble. “I got shot,” he says simply, and Buck’s hand finally stills. Eddie reaches up, cupping Buck’s cheek, relishing in the way he automatically leans into his palm.

“I got shot,” he says again, “and you saved me, in every way you possibly could.”

It’s true — it wasn’t the first time a bullet had found a path through him, or even the first time he’d seen his life flash before his eyes. But as he lay there in the street, hot asphalt underneath him, weaker by the second, the only things running through his head were Chris and Buck and ChrisandBuck, and his only regret was that Buck didn’t know — about his guardianship of Chris, about how he made Eddie feel something like hopeful for the first time in years, any of it.

As his vision blacked out, Buck’s face streaked with blood and panic was the last thing he saw, and he vowed to make sure Buck knew everything if he made it out of this.

Of course, nothing is ever that easy.

After he woke up, with Buck’s name on his lips but Ana’s hand in his, everything became a waiting game.

He waited for Buck to show up at the hospital, out of breath but still so dazzling, his very presence making Eddie feel like he could run a marathon right then.

He waited for them to finally be alone so they could talk, but only got through telling him about the guardianship before Buck got a text from Taylor that made him smile so softly the rest of Eddie’s speech died in his throat.

He waited to break it off with Ana long enough that he didn’t seem like a jackass, waited as Buck and Taylor flew higher and higher before crashing, waited for days and weeks and months, waited, waited, waited.

But it didn’t hurt. All that time, it wasn’t excruciating, it didn't feel like a waste, because he knew from the minute he woke up that he was waiting for something. He could feel the anticipation burning up inside him, and it wasn’t going to be for nothing this time.

Finally, finally, just as naturally as they had fallen into each other’s lives the first time, they fell together again — in the dim light of Eddie’s kitchen, empty beer bottles and raw, unfiltered words between them, reliving the day they hadn’t been able to talk to each other about for the past nine months. Eddie’s hands shook and Buck took them in his and Eddie knew this was his moment.

He looked Buck dead in the eye and said, “You’re the reason I’m sitting here right now, and I’m in love with you.”

The evening air crackled in the silence, and neither of them moved. Eddie was pretty sure even his blood had stopped flowing as he waited, until suddenly everything snapped.

Suddenly they were both leaning in, suddenly they were kissing and whispering I love yous soft and desperate across each other’s skin.

Suddenly everything began.

He shakes his head a bit as he comes back to the present. Buck doesn’t say anything this time, just smiles and kisses the center of Eddie’s palm where it’s still resting on his cheek, tangles their fingers together again before placing them back on Eddie’s chest.

“You saved me too, you know,” Buck says quietly. “I wasn’t the one who got shot, but still, you did. You always do.”

“Always will,” Eddie says, because it’s true, and the easiest promise he’s ever made. Buck is his hope, his light in the dark, every other cheesy cliche, and Eddie will work for the rest of his life to make sure Buck feels safe and loved. It’s the least he could do for all that Buck has given him.

They lapse back into quiet, enjoying the sounds of the park and their family, and Eddie feels something he's been too afraid to name until now, a holdout from years of guarding himself.

He’s happy. Truly, with no caveats or strings attached, unbelievably happy.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #buddie fic #911 fic #9-1-1 #IT'S MY WIFE'S BDAY ALL THE EDDIE EMOTIONS FOR HER #ficcery

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qu1nby · 3 years ago

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every single one but the [insert fic] is ur favorite fic youve ever written

THANK YOU! tbh I don't have a favorite so I'm going to pick a new one each time <33

hopefully the links work because I didn't double-check them all

A: How did you come up with the title to [insert fic]?

How did I come up with the title to I Wasn't Made (to Fall in Love) you ask? Its a song!

I'm very bad at titles.

B: Any of your stories inspired by personal experience?

Not really!

okay well I do project onto Dazai a lot but we don't talk about that

C: What member do you identify with most?

I think this is supposed to be about characters? I tend to lean towards characters that are pining for a certain person but are scared of being with them because they don't want to get hurt

D: Is there a song or a playlist to associate with [insert fic]?

Journey to the Past is very much inspired by the version of Anastasia. There are also Happiest Year and A Slow Dance With Death, which are songfics!

E: If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it be about?

If I wrote a sequel to Would You Catch Me? it would be more of Dazai making everyone worry about him until eventually they sit down and work together to get him some therapy

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

This really isn't anything special but I don't know, there is something about that last line that brings it all together

G: Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

I used to only do start to finish but writing out of order is pretty fun! usually it depends on what I'm writing and how long it is

H: How would you describe your style?

Messy. I like to ignore grammar rules for the sake of aesthetic

I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

Dramatic, spur-of-the-moment confessions

J: Write or describe an alternative ending to [insert fic].

I'm in the stages of rewriting Write to You but an alternate ending would be one where Chuuya manages to convinces Dazai not to rejoin the mafia

K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

HMM, I think maybe killing Chuuya in Inked

L: How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

I edit myself to death. I revise and rewrite until I can't stand to look at it anymore

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

Oh, too many. The biggest one is definitely the Bideou/Ningguang rival business owner AU that I still haven't STARTED. I can't decide what I want the big conflict to be, so there hasn't been much progress. I'm hoping I'll have more time to work on it once it's summer and I've finally moved!

N: Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you?

Nope! as much as I want to read some of my unfinished fics, I also want to be the one to write them

O: How do you begin a story–with the plot, or the characters?

Plot

P: Are you what George R. R. Martin would call an “architect” or a “gardener”? (How much do you plan in advance, versus letting the story unfold as you go?)

I think I'm more of a gardener. I like to start off with a rough outline and then let the story go from there

Q: How do you feel about collaborations?

Love them! The first fics I ever wrote were written with a friend and it was so much fun. I would love to collaborate with someone again

R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?

Too many to count! I have so many mutuals that are writers and they are so, so talented

S: Any fandom tropes you can’t resist?

I love all of the cliché tropes. One bed, enemies to lovers, soulmates, you name it and I have probably read it

T: Any fandom tropes you can’t stand?

I can't think of any right now!

V: If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

honestly I have no idea--

W: Do you like more general prompts, or more specific ones?

The prompts I come up with are almost always general but I prefer to write more specific ones

X: A character you enjoy making suffer.

Dazai, next question

Y: A character you want to protect.

Kaeya. almost all of the Genshin characters, really.

Z: Major character death–do you ever write/read it? Is there a character whose death you can’t tolerate?

I both write and read it, but I won’t read the ones where child character die

#asks #WOO!#this makes me want to write more so I have more to talk about #thank you again!

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bonvoyage-boncourage · 3 years ago

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Jour 33: Emilee, Golsa, and I doodled a bit after our test.

Unsurprising to nobody, I woke up and didn’t feel much better. I shut my blinds and reveled in my own scum, all of my luggage that had yet to be put away and the remainder of my noodles from the night before and my dead flowers leaning limp in their vase. I wax poetic at the worst of times. I ate the noodles.

But I still had to get to class, and that I did. And, again, unsurprisingly, seeing people actually improved my mental state! Imagine that! Emilee and Golsa are genuinely fun to hang out with, and the semi-childish antics of chaotically doodling in 15 colors on the same sheet of paper made me feel like a human being again.

I know these things about myself. I know my depression gets worse when I don’t get up, I know I get better when I shower and eat and see my friends. I know them; I’ve known them for years. But somehow it doesn’t make it any easier to pull myself out of my ruts when I fall into them. And I don’t know if that’s because I haven’t been to therapy in the last 4 years, or because I get stuck in endless cycles of depression, or because I don’t, can’t, have someone monitoring me 24/7 to regulate my mood. I don’t know. I doubt I’ll ever know. And it’s sort of terrifying and yet cathartic to bare this part of myself to the internet, because I know there have to be others out there working through the same struggles. And because one of the reasons I dedicated myself to making this blog as genuine and real as possible is because studyblr, and langblr, and whatever else you want to call it has always seemed like this crystalline, perfect image of what life was supposed to look like in academia. And I know for a fact that nobody on this planet has a life like that all the time, and I wanted to make it known that that was okay. That I love learning a language and traveling abroad and the whole nine yards just as much as everyone else, but I struggle, and I know you all struggle too, and it’s okay to talk about that. There are parts of your life between the sepia-tinted cafés and flower boxes and crisp outfits, and those parts are just as important to be seen and heard as everything that’s infinitely more photogenic.

Sorry for such a tangent. It’s something I’m very passionate about.

I cleaned my room. I made myself dinner. I called Joy and watched Young Royals with her. I got the motivation from seeing my friends, from getting dressed up and taking care of myself. It’s something I don’t do enough.

I hope that you all can work through the ugly parts of your lives, stumbling or dancing, because I’ll believe in you the whole time.

Bon voyage, bon courage !

#studyblr #langblr #study abroad #language learning #france #french #bvbc-daily

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inkykeiji · 3 years ago

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oh my godddddddd I almost cried reading your response, you are the sweetest angel with an incomparably beautiful soul 🥺<33 your genuine, warm and thoughtful reply really helped me so much and made me feel at home(like u always do w ur blog!!) thank u so so much for your advice, I cannot appreciate it enough and it’s going to help me so much every time I come back to read it 🥺 I love u so much!!! also such an honor to be on your mind through the whole september r u kidding me?!?!!! I can’t believe it that makes me melt <333 (+BTW I wanted to apologize for unintentionally sending u a huge rant when u were in semi-hiatus (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀) I didn’t realize it until a while after I sent u the ask and I felt so bad for venting to u when u were on a break :( didn’t mean it at all)

I also wanted to say u are one of my biggest inspirations in many aspects (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) ik I’ve said this before but u inspire me so much in various ways. ur maturity and kindness, passion and enthusiasm w the things u love (such as writing, film and anime), how positive and sweet and thoughtful u are etc etc !!!! there are so much to learn from you. u make me feel truly comforted and safe(which is something that’s NOT easy), be kind to everyone(including myself), keep myself motivated and productive, strive for things I truly love <3 you’ve had such a positive impact in my life and I’m sure this applies to all the other lovely anons of your blog as well hehe

anyways did u drink plenty of water today? how r u feeling lately? what r ur interests/hobbies/favorite little things these days? I’m cuddling in my bed ready to re-binge through all ur bmb series and touya nii series again :D also side question: idk if anyone else asked this but have u decided on what u’re gonna be for halloween? I still got no clue </3 I don’t know if I should dress up as someone meaningful(like audrey hepburn) or just be a thot cuz I’m in college HAHAH I can’t think of a good one at all

sorry that I flooded u w so many questions!! (u don’t have to answer all of em hehe) I hope you’re doing well and having plenty of rest, u are such a beautiful soul <33 mwah mwah -🐰

hehehe hi bunny <333

aw sweetpea i’m super happy to hear it!!!! <33333 it always makes me feel really, really good whenever i hear that my advice helps <3 it’s such a special and rewarding feeling!! i love u too, more than u know!!!! <333 oh my gosh hahaha no, don’t worry about it!!! it just meant that i’d get to it a lil later, that’s all <33 i was literally so happy to hear from you!!

WAAAAAH listen bunny 🥺 this paragraph made me cry!!! it made me so emotional that i took a screenshot and sent it to my mom!!! i’m truly at a loss for words in the very best way, thank you SO much for such beautiful, sweet, thoughtful words <333 this means so very much to me!!! i feel really good inside and really happy when i hear that i inspire someone!! since i was three years old (literally lmao) i’ve always wanted to help others. i wanted to be a doctor until i was 16 years old (first a GP, then i wanted to be a psychiatrist haha), but with the help of a teacher i realized that writing/creating art is what i really loved to do and what i was really, truly good at, and that i could still help people through art, as well. so to receive such a lovely message, and hear that i can inspire and comfort you...well, that just means the whole world to me <3 so thank you, so so so much, for sharing such special thoughts with me <333

i only woke up a few hours ago, but i’ve already drank two glasses!! i’m very good with drinking water hehe <3 AH lately my mood is still really chaotic, it’s up and down and all around hahaha BUT therapy is going well so far, it’s a lot of work but i want to become stable again and reign in my illness a little, and i’m just so so SO grateful to have found a fantastic psychologist after two whole months of searching <3 hmm that’s a good question!!! lately i find myself spending a lot of time with my boyfriend’s family, actually!!! i just watched squid game with him + his brothers like a week or two ago and that was super super fun, and on the weekend we went over to his uncles to watch halloween kills which was also a ton of fun!! the two of us are also trying to establish a new habit of playing stardew valley together a few times a week (we have a multiplayer game started), and we’ve been learning italian together, too!! other than that, i spend the majority of my time writing still hehe <3 OOOOH hehehe i hope u enjoy rereading them!!! i have a bit of touya-nii content coming within the next month! <3 and ofc the last part of bmb in november!!!!

HEHEHE i am dressing up as a bunny princess, actually!!! i was at the store not too long ago picking up supplies for my halloween treat bags and i came across a cute lil bunny set with ears and a tail, and then grabbed the cutest frilliest pink tutu and was like AH! A COSTUME! hehehe <3 i’m only dressing up to hand out my treat bags, so!!! OMG LMAO WELL LET ME KNOW WHAT U DECIDE AAAAH

don’t apologize, i enjoy talking to you!!! have a fantastic week bunny babie ilysm!!!!! <333

#i hope your monday goes well!!!!#and you better be drinking water too!!!#hehehe <3 #stay safe and keep warm bunny!!!#always sending u all my love <33333333 #🐰.anon #clari gets mail

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brittlebranchesandbossbitches · 4 years ago

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As Retold by Ginger, Episode 33: Family Therapy

Brief summary

It’s April, and Macie’s 13th birthday is coming up. Incidentally, so is Mipsy’s on the same day, and she’s planning a huge bash with karaoke, dry ice machines, and sushi. Macie, on the other hand, thinks her parents are planning a surprise party for her because they stop talking anytime she comes into the room. When Ginger gets her invite to Mipsy’s party in the mail (courtesy of Courtney), she realizes that she hasn’t gotten an invite to the party Macie’s parents are allegedly throwing her.

That day, Ginger and Dodie get the call from a very morose Macie, telling them that there is no party because her parents fucking forgot her birthday. This, naturally, gets Ginger and Dodie real heated, so they drag Macie out of the house and over to the office of the Drs. Lightfoot to confront them. Then, Ginger interrupts their session like she’s storming the damn Bastille, because you can always count on her righteous indignation to get shit done.

Upon realizing their neglectful-ass parenting, the Drs. Lightfoot proceed to overcompensate for basically ignoring their only damn child for years by going for full-speed infantilization. They watch her sleep, put her in onesies, buy her a swing set and jungle gym. Macie’s enjoying it a little too much, though, even letting them plan a make-up birthday party at a petting zoo. On one hand, it’s great that they acknowledge her existence, but it’s also super horrifying to realize what they consider their last save point was.

When Ginger decides to have a come-to-Jesus meeting with Macie about the pre-K of it all, Macie basically tells her to stay in her damn lane and storms off. Ginger, naturally, does no such thing, so even after a talk with the always-wise Lois, she decides that she’s gonna do as much damage control as possible since she can’t stop the party from happening. This, of course, is unnecessary because Courtney and Miranda decide it falls squarely in So Bad It’s Good territory.

Meanwhile, the boys go on a school field trip to see a naked mole rat, live and in-person. When Carl gets the chance to hold one, he drops it, freaking everyone else out. When it crawls up his pant leg, he unexpectedly loses his shit until he manages to fling it across the room. Of course, he plays it off like he wasn’t terrified, but it’s clear that he was shook. Carl won’t admit that to Hoodsey until later on after Blake calls him on it, and from there, things just slide into paranoia. Fortunately, Carl pulls himself out of it when he tries to barricade himself and Hoodsey in the doghouse, and they decide to redeem themselves by catching it.

Spot the Clique

Donna and Dinah are sitting next to each other in the opening scene, and we see Casey in the front row later on with the clique-adjacent Mye Zuckerberg.

Casey, Tracey(not Lefferts), Dinah, and Lonnie are at Mipsy’s party.

Hope is spotted in the hallway as Dodie hands out invites to Macie’s party.

Tracey (again, not Lefferts) is also at Macie’s party.

Courtneyisms

Only Courtney would insist on her and Miranda doing a duet of “It’s Courtney” (the song from her talent show production) at Mipsy’s birthday party. Even on someone else’s birthday, she needs to be the center of attention for at least three minutes.

Gingerisms

(At the office) “Macie, just go ask that nice, pointy woman if you can please speak to your parents.”

One can only hope that Ginger realizes that she treats Macie like a child, but in a different way than the Drs.Lightfoot do. Her unsolicited helpfulness takes the form of overprotection when Macie’s involved. (see also the Little Seal Girl episode)

The Dodie Desperation Index

Dodie is actually behaving herself in this episode, except for when the girls get to the office and she tries to dip out.

Miranda’s Malice

The sheer deadpan of it all when she has to sing is hilarious, because it’s basically a law(that I just made up) that if your voice actor can sing, so can your character. Cree Summer can sing, therefore Miranda can sing. I’ll even take it one step further and say that the Cree Summer version of the OP is how Miranda probably sounds when she sings.

(At Macie’s party) “Oh, it looks like a four-year-old threw up decorations everywhere.”

“Who would have thought Little Miss Adenoids would come up with something so retro that it’s almost cutting edge?”

(Comforting Courtney) “Let’s go make nice with those innocent baby ducks again." *grumbles* “That should take your mind off yourself.”

There’s Something About Macie

“Hearing my name in public ranks right up there with cheese bloat.” Me too, sis. Me too.

Is this the first episode we see Macie’s Asian-themed bedroom? I’m into the sunken, kidney-shaped bed.

Boys and their Toys

Hoodsey: Chaps. Gents. It really gets on my nerves when he’s not consistent.

Hoodsey again: Cripes, Blake, it was a gag. As in “You make me wanna...”

So, in their quest to conquer their fear, the boys track the escaped mole rat. At one point, Carl picks up and examines its poop.

Also, Hoodsey has been so terrified that the mole rat might be in the sewers that he hasn’t pooped in days, if not weeks.

Continuity

April 22nd is on a Sunday.

If you listen to Chet’s birthday announcement dronings at the beginning of the episode, you’ll notice that there are two kids turning 12 in April. This is the first indication that there are 6th graders at Lucky Jr. High.

This is clearly a 7th grade episode that landed in Season 2 for some reason. Chronologically, this would go somewhere near the end of Season 1 before Camp Caprice.

The episode pretty much covers the entire month of April, because we started with the month’s birthday announcements, and ended the weekend after Macie’s birthday, if not the weekend after that.

Trivial Things

Macie and Mipsy share a birthday, April 22nd, making them both Tauruses.

Macie is actually the oldest of the three girls. This tells us that Dodie and Ginger have birthdays between April 23 and October 1(to meet the school cut off date for enrollment)

Ginger wanted to make a cake for Macie’s birthday. Lois said she just bought soy flour, as if they’d just run out. I now want to know why they keep soy flour in their house on the regular. Is Macie gluten-intolerant? FODMAP-intolerant? Does she have Celiac disease? Do they keep it for her or do they use it themselves, too?

The brown girl in the green glasses is named Serena, in case you see her in other episodes.

#as told by ginger #ATBG #family therapy

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tamakiamajikistentacles · 4 years ago

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Disappearance 8: The End {Katsuki Bakugo}

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! Thank you to everyone who has been on this little journey with me! I hope this fic has been enjoyed even half as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Disappearance Masterlist

As his parents they were permitted to take the boy home to the apartment with them, and the boy liked Miki right away. When she wound herself around his shins and stood on her back legs to butt her head against his hand, he was smitten. The quiet giggles as he pet her and played with her and her toys were like music to both Katsuki and Chiasa.

Miki was happy to see Chiasa, licking her hand affectionately after receiving chin scratches in greeting. Chiasa could only marvel at how much she had grown since she last saw her as a tiny kitten pouncing on every dust particle in the apartment. It was a sweet reunion and one Katsuki had always hoped he would be fortunate enough to witness.

That seemed to be a new change in his life, being able to reclaim the peace he once had before Chiasa had disappeared, and now he was fortunate enough to have that with both her and their son.

Watching the reintroduction of mother and son at the hospital was surreal. Chiasa had marveled at the small boy she had once thought to be a hallucination standing in front of her in the flesh. It was obvious when the boy recognized her and spoke with caution that she was hurt just imagining what her voice had said to him without her consent. But she spoke warmly to him and promised that she was real and not the mother he thought he knew before.

The boy would experience the same thing soon when he found out who his real father was too.

Just thinking about the paperwork with the paternity test results tucked away in his bag was enough to have his spine tingling. They hadn’t sat the boy down to tell him that Katsuki was his father quite yet, afraid that too much change and information in one day wouldn’t be good for him as he integrated into the real world. The child psychologist at the hospital had been more than supportive of the decision and offered his services going forward, something they readily accepted.

Another thing they had to deal with was setting up appointments to find out more about the skin condition causing the rashes and itchiness for him. The doctors had attempted a few preliminary tests that came back inconclusive and recommended a dermatologist for further testing and treatment. It seemed unlikely the generic skin cream they sent them home with would do much in the meantime but it was worth a shot.

He pondered all of this as he watched the pot with the beginnings of their miso soup was considering boiling. Down the short hall he could hear murmurs from the bathroom where the boy was finally able to get clean, to take what Katsuki knew was the first bath of his life with his mother. He left the kitchen knowing a watched pot never boils anyway and a glimpse of his son with his mother was much more important.

Quietly walking down the hallway, fingertips dragging against the wall lightly, the voices of his family became more clear.

“We stay here?”

Chiasa hummed an affirmative. “Yeah, this is where Katsuki lives and where I lived a long time ago.”

“Before Toga looked like you?”

A chill went up his spine.

“Yes, honey, before she would look like me,” she replied after a long pause. “I’m sad that she did that because it meant you got to meet me when it was really her and we never actually met at all. I’m sorry about that, but you can know that from now on when you see my face, it’s really me.”

“Really my mom?” he asked.

“I’m really your mom, yes. I’m going to take care of you for the rest of my life to make up for all the time we were apart okay?”

He couldn’t keep himself hidden after that, turning the corner to lean against the doorframe of the bathroom.

“I’m gonna help her too, that good with you?” he asked, both of the brunettes turning to look up at him.

The boy gave a little grin and nodded, a small murmur of, “Yes,” making sure both he and Chiasa smiled too.

“Good, ‘cause I ain’t going anywhere.”

“You should be going to the kitchen to make dinner,” Chiasa teased.

He waved a hand dismissively but started to turn back to the kitchen nonetheless. “Yeah, yeah, water’s probably boiling now anyway.”

It was easy like that, falling back into their old ways. Even with the addition of the boy they had their same rapport and he knew that as a family it could only get better.

Even though he knew it, it felt like it was cemented as soon as the quiet giggles of mother and son entered the kitchen while he plated their meal. Looking over at the two brunettes he couldn’t believe how naturally they fit into this picture of his life.

Now that the boy had been cleaned up his dark hair wasn’t matted and he could see the small spikey tufts sticking out every which way. It looked more like his mother’s slightly longer hair but those were without a doubt definitely from his side of the gene pool. It was overwhelming to realize but even moreso to know that he already loved it and couldn’t imagine a time where he wouldn’t.

His entire being was screaming that it was outrageous for him to feel this way so quickly when he barely knew the boy but it was his son! His son with Chiasa! It was everything he had ever wished for from the time he realized she was the one for him to the present moment.

Katsuki was content to have this first meal as a family and to watch the two of them scamper off to the couch as he cleaned up after them. He was happy to hear the boy speak about the brightly colored cat cartoon they were watching even if they were small remarks. He could absolutely get used this this dynamic.

His thoughts were racing trying to think of everything they would need for the boy as he was brought fully into the fold of their lives. Surely there would also be medical appointments other than to treat the skin condition in addition to the therapy both he and his mother would be attending.

“We’ll have to make the office his bedroom,” he mused aloud as Chiasa laid against him on the couch. The boy sat cross-legged at their feet, entranced with an older cartoon he vaguely recognized.

She hummed. “Should we let him have the bed until then? Assuming you still have the old futon.”

“Yeah, I have it. Kid deserves a good night’s sleep on a nice mattress. You do too, so I’ll take the futon and you two get the bed.”

“No, I wanna stay with you,” she said. “We’ll sleep on the futon in there with him though, just in case.”

“Look at you going into Mom Mode already.”

She playfully elbowed him in the side. “As if you haven’t won Dad of the Year in a day.”

He scoffed but pulled her closer to him. The natural protectiveness over his family blanketed over his paranoia to keep them in his sights as often as he could, even in the apartment.

Even with the League members behind bars, Dabi and Compress for years and now Spinner, Toga, and Shigaraki following, he did feel the fear of losing them again. Deku’s refusal to end Shigaraki irked him knowing what he was capable of but he had said he would leave him to Deku and he had. He couldn’t burn that bridge, flammable as it surely would be.

He shook his head slightly to clear the thoughts from his mind. He had his family here with him now and he would do anything to keep them safe.

Chiasa could remember the victory it was for Dabi to be taken into custody and locked away in Tartarus. Almost the entirety of Class A reunited in celebration of his capture and many a toast was raised that night. But several days later the celebratory mood was dashed as a consultant was brought in to assist in the identification of the uncooperative villain.

The man was called the Biographer, his quirk the same as the moniker. If he made to skin to skin contact with another person he could recite factual information about them such as name, birthdate, parents’ names, quirk, and so much more. It was chilling when he pressed a hand to the unmarred skin of Dabi’s hand and began to speak.

“Touya Todoroki, born January 18th at 9:55pm in the Chūbu region of Honshu, Japan, currently 33 years, 330 days old. Firstborn son of Enji and Rei Todoroki, elder sibling of Fuyumi, Natsu, and Shoto Todoroki. Quirk: Cremation.”

Of course it hit Shoto the hardest as expected but the class was close, a bond having been formed from the horrors of heroics at such a young age that they shared his pain. Even Katsuki had been sympathetic despite the hell that the villain had personally put him through.

The fear of learning something devastating was why when the Biographer stepped into his spacious office he tensed. Paternity tests could be wrong, couldn’t they? What if Chiasa just didn’t remember Shigaraki entering the room and the memories were locked away as a coping mechanism for the trauma? He was terrified that this meeting would create more obstacles for her, potentially even for the little boy—Todoroki himself had been an example of a mother gone mad from the sins of the father.

Kirishima elbowed him in the side, breaking up his thoughts and directing his attention to their guest. He was grateful that he and Kaminari had agreed to come, hoping it put Chiasa at ease just as much as him. She stood by his side, the little boy standing close behind her leg and gripping her hand tightly.

“Hello,” the Biographer greeted kindly. “I understand that there are a few questions about a child that need to be answered?”

Katsuki found his voice as Chiasa’s hand laced with his between them. “The only certainty we have are his parents,”—he hoped he wasn’t wrong in saying so—"everything else we need to know. We want the same basic information as we did with the villain Dabi, like we discussed.”

The Biographer nodded, turning to Chiasa. “And you’re his mother, ma’am?”

“Yes,” she replied, dropping his hand and crouching down to the boy’s level when he shrank under the unknown man’s gaze.

“Can he place his palm in mine for just a few moments?” he asked politely with a small smile. “It’s absolutely painless and he’s free to move his hand at any time.”

“Is that okay, honey?” she asked the wide-eyed child. “You just set your hand in his and we can learn more about you?” When he still looked unsure she added, “I’ll hold your other hand, and we have three strong heroes here to keep us safe.”

The boy nodded, eyes flicking up over her shoulder to meet Katsuki’s. “You stay close?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, walking around her to kneel on his other side. He placed a hand on his back. “I’m right here.”

That seemed to satisfy him enough to look at the Biographer who also crouched down. He extended his upturned palm out to him, patiently waiting until the boy placed his trembling hand atop it.

The Biographer smiled at him reassuringly, glancing at the adults on either side of him and hoping to provide the same comfort. Then he began to speak.

"Born on February 11th at 7:19pm in Nagoya, Japan, currently 3 years, 237 days old. Firstborn child of Katsuki Bakugo and Chiasa Minamino. Quirk currently unknown."

A sob broke past Chiasa’s lips, her free hand coming up to cover her mouth. Startled by the outburst the little boy took his hand away to turn to his mother only to be swept up in a tight hug. He wrapped his small arms around her neck as his bottom lip started to wobble.

Katsuki felt like he could cry too as the weight and fear of uncertainty lifted from his shoulders, and even as he smiled up at his friends he felt the telltale sting in his eyes.

“Come here,” Chiasa said, reaching out to bring him into the embrace. He went willingly and wrapped his arms around them both, his eyes falling closed in happiness as he held his family.

He pressed a kiss to Chiasa’s temple and then to the top of his son’s head, the soft brown tufts tickling his cheek.

Distantly he heard the Biographer excuse himself and Kaminari offer to walk him out. Kirishima followed and glanced back at the little family with a smile. They deserved this. All three of them.

Still sitting on his office floor Chiasa had pulled their son—their son!—into her lap and held him close, the little boy still confused from her crying but happy to be with his mother nonetheless. Katsuki sat close to them, one arm wrapped around her shoulders and a grin still on his face. There were still a lot of things to work out, but this moment deserved to linger.

After a few silent minutes, Chiasa glanced up at Katsuki and smiled softly. She’d known since he told her about the small child while she was in the hospital but to hear it confirmed again was a melody she hoped would stay in her mind forever. But even though she knew he was the little boy’s father the child himself didn’t, and that needed to change.

It felt like there was so much she could say but no words that seemed right. She supposed that didn’t matter though, as long as this little boy knew his parents and knew they loved him.

“Honey,” she murmured, pulling back slightly to look in the boy’s eyes, “did you hear what that man said? Do you know what it means?”

That little pout returned to his face as he considered what she meant. “It was sad. It made you cry.”

“Those were happy tears,” she chuckled. “It wasn’t sad at all. It was really, really good. You know how Katsuki saved us?”

Matching eyes met his as he looked up at him, nodding. “Saved me. Saved you.”

“That’s right, he did. He saved us from Shigaraki and brought us home.”

“Saved us… from dad?”

She bit her lip, glancing at Katsuki briefly to see his jaw set at the false title. “Shigaraki isn’t your dad, honey.”

“No dad?” he asked.

Chiasa shook her head. “You have a dad. You’re the luckiest little boy because your dad is a hero who saves people.”

The boy turned to Katsuki. “Like you?”

“Sort of,” he said with a laugh. “What if I told you it was me? That I’m your dad?”

His eyes widened with what Katsuki hoped was excitement, and he leaned over to place his hand on his knee. He looked back and forth between both him and Chiasa several times, gaze on their eyes and hair respectively, before looking down at his hands where his right was on Katsuki and his left on his mother.

“You’re dad,” he finally said, patting his knee. Then he turned to Chiasa, tapping his fingers on her arm. “You’re mom.”

“That’s right, honey,” Chiasa whispered, one hand combing through his fluffy hair. “And mom and dad aren’t going anywhere, we all get to go home and be a family.”

“Family,” he repeated. “My family.”

He hugged her tightly and she pressed a kiss to his forehead, then he crawled over into Katsuki’s lap, throwing his arms around his neck and hiding his face in his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around him too, every nerve in his body alight knowing that this was his son. He was hugging his son.

“You’re dad,” he heard whispered against him. “My dad.”

“Yeah, your dad,” he said softly. “’M your dad and even… even though we just met, I love you. Me and your mom both do.”

He sighed happily into his shoulder and pressed himself closer. They stayed like that for a long moment, Chiasa’s lashes lined with tears beside them.

Katsuki wanted to stay in that moment forever, but he knew there were still a lot of things to discuss with her. So he pulled back slightly and asked, “Hey little man, you know what you should do?”

Owlish eyes blinked up at him from where his chin rested on his chest.

“You should tell Red Riot and Chargebolt about your family. I don’t think they know yet, and they’ll be real excited,” he said with a nod to the door. It was still open and they could clearly see the two heroes a few meters down the hall.

The boy looked back over his shoulder, considering, before turning back to look between his parents.

“We’ll be right here,” Chiasa promised. “They’re friends, honey.”

With a little smile, the child climbed out of Katsuki’s lap and trotted up to where they stood, greeted excitedly by both of them.

Chiasa took his hand in hers and laid her head on his shoulder. “This is amazing.”

He squeezed her hand. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

“It feels like the sun is finally rising after a long night. Like daybreak is chasing away the darkness.”

Katsuki kissed her cheek, then tilted her chin up towards him with his free hand to kiss her properly. She was right—this was dawn rising after four years and four months of night. Dawn was finding her and their son and being a family after the darkness of the League had shrouded them for so long. It was fresh and new, filled with endless possibility.

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips. “You and our son.”

“I love you too. And so does he.”

He smiled, looking out to where the small boy was speaking to Kirishima and Kaminari who were crouched down to his level and smiling.

“He needs a proper name,” she murmured, her head resting on his shoulder once again.

He hummed. “I think you’re right about the sunrise, so what about Asahi?”

“Daybreak rising,” she said with a smile. “Yeah, that’s our boy, Katsuki. Asahi Bakugo.”

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated!

Disappearance Masterlist

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x-lulu · 4 years ago

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gurl 1-99 I dare you😄

haha no if that's too much just 1, 2, 24, 32, 77, 85, 95

well I finally answered them all babe, took me a week haha 💗

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most? world away by tonight alive, you give love a bad name by bon jovi, amnesia by five seconds of summer, had enough by lower than atlantis, take it out on me by thousand foot krutch, if I could fly by one direction, I just named the first that popped in my head

2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? YOU

3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17? a wind came in off the harbour, bringing the smell of the sea

4: What do you think about most? I’m an overthinker with anxiety so yeah I think about everything a lot, so I wouldn’t know what I think about most

5: What does your latest text message from someone else say? just an okay haha

6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on? with, an oversized shirt and underwear

7: What’s your strangest talent? latin maybe?

8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence) I don’t know rock? I’m not really the kind of person that puts a gender in things

9: Ever had a poem or song written about you? uhm I don’t think so, now I feel unimportant haha

10: When is the last time you played the air guitar? I’m more an using a hairbrush as a microphone kind of girl

11: Do you have any strange phobias? probably, I’m scared of a lot of things

12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose? don’t think so

13: What’s your religion? officially I’m Christian, I’m a bit searching for what I believe in tho, I do believe in jezus but not like walking on water and coming back from the death, I might believe in the Greek gods and nature gods

14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing? enjoying the fresh air, going for a walk/ride and look at cute animals

15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it? behind

16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band? even if you kill me I don’t know what band to say

17: What was the last lie you told? I lied about not being sad

18: Do you believe in karma? I don’t know, sometimes, but like there are people who’ve done terrible things, where is their karma?

19: What does your URL mean? it’s just my nickname, I didn’t want to make it fandom related because I’m a multi fandom and I didn’t want to have to change my url a lot, I also didn’t want to put my real name because I don’t want people to find me who I know in real life haha

20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength? my insecurity is my greatest weakness I think, I don’t know my greatest strength... maybe being a person who people feel loved and welcome by? Idk if people feel that way and idk if it’s a strength. If I’m gonna be poetic I have to say my greatest weakness and strength are both that I love someone with my whole heart, when I start loving you, I love you so much, I would do anything for you, but when someone fucks up, I’ll still love them even tho they don’t deserve it, so that comes with a lot of pain so yeah a weakness and a strength

21: Who is your celebrity crush? rudy pankow and dylan obrien

22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping? yes

23: How do you vent your anger? I keep everything to myself till I explode and start screaming

24: Do you have a collection of anything? music records, stones and just memories from places I’ve been to

25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online? neither? If I’m comfortable I do enjoy video chatting especially in times like these where you can’t speak in real life

26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become? this is hard one, I’ve never been happy with who I am, I do like me better than who I used to be

27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love? sound I love is when you’re walking trough the woods just the birds, can’t think of one I hate, I definitely have some they just don’t come to mind rn

28: What’s your biggest “what if”? what if I keep going through and it doesn’t get better

29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens? yes and yes/maybe

30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm. my laptop and my pillow

31: Smell the air. What do you smell? flowers

32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to? xanten

33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast? uhm west coast? Idk haha

34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender? harry styles is the first one that pops in my head

35: To you, what is the meaning of life? to find love, can be someone something, experience things that make you happy, enjoy it, learn, better the world

36: Define Art. creating something, it can have a meaning but it also can’t, a lot of people give it a deep meaning, which can be it, I just think art doesn’t always have to be deep are spectacular it can be someone making something because they have so much going in their head and they find peace in creating art and get inspired by their own experience, people also can it just do for fun, there are so many different kind of art and artists, I don’t think it can’t be defined

37: Do you believe in luck? I don’t know

38: What’s the weather like right now? rainy

39: What time is it? 9:54 pm

40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed? no licence

41: What was the last book you read? a fanfic on Wattpad fight or flight by ffsumth

42: Do you like the smell of gasoline? yes 🙈

43: Do you have any nicknames? lu and lulu obviously, loesje , samantha, pinguïn, polar bear, you called me lulu bear hehe

44: What was the last film you saw? I don’t remember...

45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had? uhm ive broken a few things, my toes and my arm, but nothing really bad actually

46: Have you ever caught a butterfly? no, I don’t want to, I have seen some really close, they’re beautiful

47: Do you have any obsessions right now? again you haha, but like all the stuff I post on here are my obsessions

48: What’s your sexual orientation? I don’t know, I think straight, but I don’t know for sure

49: Ever had a rumour spread about you? yeah

50: Do you believe in magic? I’m not certain, maybe I do :) I do live by the saying ‘just because you haven’t seen it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist’

51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong? sadly yes, like I won’t be mean to you or anything, but I will never ever trust you again, if I’m hurt I’m hurt and sadly I haven’t found a way yet to leave it behind, so I’m feeling a lot of pain and I’m never gonna forget that pain, so yeah...

52: What is your astrological sign? capricorn

53: Do you save money or spend it? uhm both? depends on how I feel and what time of the year it is, I have the bad habit to save it for a few months and then spend a lot of it

54: What’s the last thing you purchased? a apple pen so I can start trying digital art

55: Love or lust? love

56: In a relationship? with you hehe

57: How many relationships have you had? none official relationships, I’m just not lovable okay leave me alone haha

58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue? no oops

59: Where were you yesterday? home, school, therapy

60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you? a pillow

61: Are you wearing socks right now? no

62: What’s your favourite animal? polar bears

63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you? no idea haha, I don’t have one

64: Where is your best friend? at home, like 20min away

65: Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr. this is hard so I’m just gonna name the first five that come in my head @nxsmss @rafej-cambanks @thegreatestofheck @chrlsgillespie @nedleed

66: What is your heritage? I don’t know 🤷‍♀️

67: What were you doing last night at 12AM? sleeping, I had to get up early today

68: What do you think is Satan’s last name? never thought about it

69: Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off? no

70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend? Is it bad to say yes? I mean I hate myself but I do think I’m a good friend

71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do? save the dog obviously!!!!

72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid? I think I would tell people, I’m not sure, but like so have people got the time to say goodbye the way they want to, I would travel the world I think, do everything on my bucket list, maybe some illegal stuff 🙈 (where no one gets hurt tho obviously), I don’t think I would be afraid... I mean I’m suicidal, I’ve literally been connected to death my whole life, if you understand what I mean

73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love. uhm trust I think? If I would have love but don’t have trust I wouldn’t really feel loved anyway, I do really want to experience how it feels like to be loved tho...

74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it? the first song that came to mind is love my life by Robbie Williams, I rarely listen to it, but the lyrics really gives a boost of happiness and confidence

75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number? 51 54

76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship? loyalty and trust, you don’t have to agree on everything or be interested in the same things, you do have to be there for each other

77: How can I win your heart? YOU ALREADY HAVE

78: Can insanity bring on more creativity? yes I think so

79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far? to get dogs

80: What size shoes do you wear? uhm 38 eu, 4,5 uk and 7 us

81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone? a loving ... I hope to be a loving daughter, friend, wife and mother, someone who was always there for others

82: What is your favourite word? fuck haha, no idk but that is definitely a word I use a lot

83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart. pain....

84: What is a saying you say a lot? enjoy the little things

85: What’s the last song you listened to? ignorance by paramore

86: Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours? uhm I do love black, I also like pastels and like a turquoise kind of colour

87: What is your current desktop picture? me and my friend

88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be? no one, there are a lot of people who did wrong, the need to be in jail, but I’m not saying someone deserves to die

89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on? what goes on in my head, how I’m feeling

90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do? scream probably haha

91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power? teleportation, I would travel the world haha

92: You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again? when I was in Ireland by the cliffs of moher

93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? uhm this is a hard one, maybe seeing my father almost dying? (he is okay btw, we were lucky), I’ve had nightmares and anxiety ever since

94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be? I find this so weird to say for some reason... if I have to give a name it would be harry styles I think, because damn look at that man, but I don’t know, I would rather be friends with him than sleep with him tbh, I know you can do both haha, but idk I’m not like yes I want to sleep with him haha, I think I’ve read too many fanfics about him that I would find it awkward

95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go? ice land or canada

96: Do you have any relatives in jail? don’t think so, not close ones anyway

97: Have you ever thrown up in the car? no, I got out in time haha

98: Ever been on a plane? yes, when I went on a trip to georgia in west asia

99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say? you’re all ignorant assholes haha, no idk what I would say, there are a lot of good people on this world I know, but man there is some fucked up shit, so maybe I would educate some people or it would have something to do with mental health, maybe about loving yourself or that it’s not a sign of weakness and that we should be treated as equals to physical pain, we should be taken seriously... I don’t really know, there are so many things haha

#asks #lara #games

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make-it-mavis · 4 years ago

Text

Homesick (Entry #33)

(cw: discussion of addiction) ----------

01/21/88 3:30 PM

Hey.

So… therapy.

Therapy, therapy, therapy.

If you were here, you’d no doubt want to hear how it went. Or how it didn’t go. How much I botched it, or what garbage mumbo jumbo it was. I wouldn’t blame you. Me, going to counselling? Group counselling? No way.

But I would also tell you to hold your horses, because before therapy came detox. Oh, yes. Me and my good friend, withdrawals. Not fun to hear about, I know. Less fun to experience.

I won’t get into the nitty gritty of how sick I was. I’ve described it enough times by now. Let’s just say that it was twice as bad as the worst withdrawals I had ever had before. It had all the usual intense illness, but peppered with little blackouts. I also practically went insane over the need for GC. But, being confined to my game, there was no way to get any. Fix-it endured a whole lot of my screaming and breakdowns… again. At some point he took away my brush for my own good, and as outraged as I was, I think that mostly snapped me out of it from then on out. I could have my brush as long as I stayed calm. I was being treated like a freakin’ child, but I had to just roll with it. I was too weak to fight him, and I couldn’t be without buffs and without my brush.

As I started to come to my senses, I began to remember and understand the memory that I saw in my trip more and more. But what was strange to me was that I could hardly manage to feel anything over it. I knew for sure that those memories were packed full of emotions that could have wrecked me. But at the time, I felt numb to them. As if they just weren’t a priority compared to all else I’d been dealing with. The whole concept of counselling was taking up a whole lot of space in my brain, and I guess I could only feel so much at once. I suppose I ought to have felt thankful for that, but honestly, I felt kind of guilty.

Why? I don’t know. Maybe I felt like you deserved to have someone hurting over you, even though I’d already offered up so much pain. And even though I knew I still had more to give.

Still, slowly but surely, I recovered. It took the full two weeks for me to fully detox. Even then, I wasn’t at 100%. I was, maybe, 85%. I wasn’t shivering and throwing up anymore, but I still felt like a damp, moldy rag.

It was around that point that I finally told Fix-it that I would try counselling.

I think he tried his best to play it cool so that I wouldn’t be embarrassed out of my decision by his enthusiasm, but I could tell he was overjoyed. Not disappointing him for once felt… different.

He went to tell Surge as promised, and he came back with a little pamphlet about the program for me to look over leading up to the first session. Just looking at the thing nearly turned me off from the idea, and actually opening it up and reading it was… so much worse.

The program seemed to be built upon twelve ‘steps’ (hurdles, more like): Honesty, Hope, Surrender, Courage, Integrity, Willingness, Humility, Love, Responsibility, Discipline, Awareness, and Service.

Yeah. That’s a lot of gross words.

As if that wasn’t enough on its own, so many descriptions for these supposed steps were so explicitly Devout, like my faith in the Devs would be what pulled me through this whole thing. Reading it, I almost wondered if I was being tricked into some kind of cult, or enlisted in some kind of military conditioning. Everything about it screamed that I would not fit in. At all. It wouldn’t work, I’d just humiliate myself, and I’d be locked up for two years anyway.

I wanted to quit. Really badly.

But one thought of Tapper was all it would take to guilt me back into it.

When I was ready as I’d ever be, I met Surge in our cord station, and he let me know just how things were going to work. Sessions were on Tuesdays and Fridays from 10:30 PM ‘til midnight, and they would be held in the center of Pac-Man. Yeah, Pac-Man, where some of the best GC is, and where I had my last hit that had been so devastating. I pointed out the bad decision to Surge, and he assured me that he was aware of the risks. He had a few volunteer guards attending all the meetings, making sure no one slipped into the maze to get high. Besides, the whole thing was run by that little orange ghost, Clyde. Why? I don’t know. I guess he’s a philanthropist or something. But keeping him in his own game seemed like the safest option on his part, which seemed fair.

I still think it was stupid.

Surge would escort me to and from the meetings, but I would go in alone. He has too much work to do to sit in on a group therapy session for an hour and a half. But then he told me the worst part -- I could not bring my brush and paint can to the meetings. My tools were to remain in my game. They were considered weapons, which, in the right context, they can be. That much was fair. Less fair was the fact that when too much distance is put between me and my tools, my code gets stretched out. I glitch, I get very, very uncomfortable, and am definitely put in a far less receptive state to counselling that I already don’t want to attend. I explained as much to Surge, including the fact that my brush didn’t even have its full spectrum at the time, but it was no use. Defective or not, I’m too powerful with my brush.

It would have been flattering if it didn’t suck so damn much.

But, I agreed to it. I just wanted to get it all over with. It felt so humiliating and futile. I’ve never been the sort to tolerate being locked in with a bunch of losers blubbering about their feelings, or whatever the hell. I automatically reject pretty much any and all advice, just by reflex. I could not imagine having someone tell me what to do about deeply personal, painful feelings and having it help literally anything. Knowing me, it might have just made it worse.

Yet, despite all that, there was a very real, very conscious part of me that was willing to give it a real shot. I was almost at the end of my rope, just holding onto fraying strands. I wanted to get better, I really did.

So I went into this experience holding onto that will like a lifeline.

Surge escorted me to Pac-Man that night, and, obviously, I went in alone. Inside, right off the train, there were these two big army guys from Front Line waiting at the entrance of the maze. Seemed like a good choice for guards, with how beefy they are. They walked with me into the dark maze, and as we wove through the bends and corners, I just kept thinking about how easily I could drop both of them and run off for a sweet hit of GC if I had my brush. Which just validated Surge’s decision to ban my tools, I guess.

We arrived at the conference room, and my burly chaperones opened the doors to show me in. When I entered, I jumped. Everyone was already there. A group of around nine or ten sat in a circle, and all eyes among them were fixed on me. Along with the eyes of that little orange ghost himself.

“Make-it Mavis,” he called calmly. “Welcome.”

I did not feel particularly welcome, not with the nervous looks and spiteful glares pointed my way. I just stood there, waiting to be told what to do. I was not interested in pleasantries. I just wanted to do the work and go.

Sensing that, Clyde nodded to an empty chair next to him. “Come, sit. Don’t be shy.”

I wanted to throw a retort at him, but I just went with it. Every time I got the urge to screw it all up, I remembered Tapper, and hot shame in my belly put me back in line. I had to do everything I could to ensure that I would never do something like what I did to his game again. I had already spent too long thinking your blood was on my hands. I did not need to throw someone else’s into the mix.

I walked into the fluorescent-lit meeting room and took my seat, and noted immediately that the space around it was far more generous than anyone else was getting, like even the chairs were scared of me. I felt so low, so hot, so embarrassed. I was in a massive hole that I’d tunneled my own way into, putting me on the same level as all those other miserable suckers. I was only there because I had been too weak to stop myself from taking my last buff. I couldn’t stop berating myself over it all. I was lethargic, sweating, ashamed, with my code stretched clear across the arcade. At least the cold metal chair felt pretty good on my feverish ass. I had that going for me.

“Alright, everybody,” Clyde addressed the group in a non-threatening voice, “let’s open up this evening by welcoming our newest member, Make-it Mavis.”

Silence. There were a few hesitant murmurs, so quiet that I definitely would not have heard them if the room was not already silent as the grave.

“Come on now,” Clyde prompted gently. “Say hello, everyone.”

I folded my arms and sighed. “They all knew I was coming,” I grumbled to Clyde, before saying to the group, “Yeah, I know. I’m here. And you don’t like it. Well, TS, ‘cause neither do I. Better learn to deal with it.”

“Actually,” Clyde responded, “there is some truth in what you’re saying, Mavis. None of us wanted to find ourselves in these situations, but everyone in this group did. And maybe we don’t understand each other as well as we could, but that’s just because we don’t know each other’s stories. That’s why we share them here, so we can recognize that addiction arises from a feeling that all living beings share -- pain. We are stronger against pain when we are united, rather than divided.”

There were a few appreciative claps. I wanted to blow my brains out.

“Everyone did know you were coming,” he told me. “But why don’t you give us an introduction in your own words? Maybe let us know why you’re here?”

He was already placing way too much trust in me. Still, I sighed loudly and stood, looking out over the group. Some were big, some were small, most I’d seen in passing, but all were looking at me with full understanding of who I was. An introduction felt superfluous and quite daunting at that point.

"You…" I said slowly, leading into a sigh. "You all know. Or you think you know. There's no point. Just-- just forget it and get this rollin', okay?"

I sat down.

There was no applause, not even awkward and scattered. There was only silence, while some glared at me and others squirmed anxiously. Even Clyde was silent for a moment, but I could see him studying me out of my peripheral.

He then spoke as pleasantly as ever, “You’re not feeling ready to share. That’s alright. Everyone’s expected to participate, but we go at our own pace. Remember that there are no judgments here, and nothing leaves this room.” He then addressed the group, “Why don’t we welcome our newest member with our own introductions? We’ll go clockwise from my left.”

The introductions began, and I made a painful effort to listen. For the most part, they seemed to be the same basic sob story. The unplugging on the 7th put the fear of Litwak in them, and buffs were the only way to escape the existential horrors they had been plunged into. It was supposed to make me feel welcome, but it seemed to just piss me off. It felt like a punishment. I was supposed to sit in a room with a bunch of random losers and pretend we were going through the same thing. All of them could go home after the meeting and have a life waiting for them in the morning. They had roles. They had purpose. They probably still had plenty of sprites who loved them. I didn’t see how I could stand to benefit from the same treatment as sprites who had not gone through the hell I did. Sprites who could walk down Game Central free from harassment or attempts on their life. Who were not being blamed for a tragedy they had nothing to do with. Whose dead best friend was not being remembered as the most hated, corrupt, murderous sprite in history, while they barely had the space to mourn.

But as they carried on, I began to hear things I didn't understand. There was grief in their voices. Some said that buffs were their only escape from how much they missed someone. They talked about loved ones and game mates being lost to the 'Roadblasters incident,' and at the time, it made no sense to me. Up until that point, I thought that you, the twins, and all of Roadblasters were the only casualties. But according to these sprites, some were 'mowed down,' 'caught in the blast,' or even 'burned to death.' Apparently, you'd killed a handful of innocent bystanders somehow, which is… I mean, I’m not gonna lie to you.

That’s horrible.

Obviously, I remembered none of it. Well, I thought I didn’t. But there were things buried in my brain that burned like coals with every story that came. My mind didn't feel right, like it was suddenly struggling against the hold of reality, desperate to fly into another time. I felt so distressed by what I was hearing, so physically ill, that my sensitive, stretched-out code glitched slightly. Not enough for anyone to notice, but enough for my hand to clip into the seat of my chair where I was gripping.

That was just what I needed. Another way to humiliate myself. It kept me distracted from the harrowing stories, at least, as I tried to find a subtle way to tug my hand out of the pixels of the chair.

Then... she spoke.

The sound of one of the group member's voices startled me so deeply that my hand glitched free again. Her voice was not abrupt or loud or frightening -- in fact, it was fairly low, just a smoky, raspy mutter. But I felt it wriggle down into the crevices of my brain, trying to connect with a memory.

I looked at her, but it did not help much at first. I had never seen her before, as far as I could recall. She was a bipedal insect creature, modestly bigger than me, with a dull, lavender carapace and yellow wings folded behind her. She had huge red eyes that took up most of her head, but her tiny slit pupils never seemed to look my way. I still remember exactly what she said.

"My name's Worluk, and I'm an addict," she said, as if she had said it many times before. "Senseless violence killed a sprite I considered a sister. I can't just accept a reality where that's allowed to happen. Where someone so innocent can just die and there's nothing I can do about it. Everything's wrong. There's nothing I wouldn't do to make it right. Buffs took the edge off, but… they didn’t end up righting any wrongs."

As she spoke, I watched her serrated teeth and mandibles move, and stared at her weird spindly fingers that gave me some disembodied, distant ache. I knew her voice, I swore I did. But it sounded off-key. Out of context.

She finished her speech, "Committing crimes alone is one thing, but, then I got my friends involved and, y’know… that’s on me."

Then it hit me. It hit me like an ice-cold tidal wave made of everything I'd been through, everything that had led me to that moment. The nightmares. The trips. The echoing voice in my head that blamed me for your death. I should have recognized that voice the second I heard it.

It was hers.

My attacker, the ringleader of the attempt on my life in Dragon's Lair, that sick, disgusting psychopath who broke my brush and carved your name into my skin, was sitting just across the room from me.

The blood in my veins froze. My heart clenched. I could feel every sick, weak muscle in my body tighten with intent to spring, like an animal with prey in its sights. I stared at her, and she finally met my gaze coolly.

I thought getting through counselling was going to be hard before. I had no idea.

#fanfiction #fanfic #wreck it ralph #make it mavis #original character #homesick

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let-it-raines · 5 years ago

Text

Catch Me If You Can (36/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: Whaaaat? Two chapters in two days? What kind of alternate universe are we living in?? 😉 This is totally to make up for the last few chapters taking forever even though they’re literally just sitting on my computer!

Thanks to @imagnifika for her awesome art, @resident-of-storybrooke for reading these words and so many other words of mine (it’s a lot), and to @wellhellotragic who prompted me with the idea that inspired this whole thing all the way back in June!

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35| 36 |

-/-

Killian fucking hates Boston.

It’s a great city full of good food, and in another lifetime, he’d mostly likely enjoy living here. Right now, the air is crisp with the scent of fall, and trees are in the middle of losing their leaves, the ones remaining a myriad of oranges and reds that remind Killian of sitting in a park in Cincinnati with his mother raking up leaves and then jumping into the piles before cleaning them up for the city. He had to have been four or five then, but that’s one of the first memories that he has. Looking out the window of his hotel room to a park that looks almost identical reminds him of that.

He should be happy, more than happy really, but when you’re trying to get to the World Series next week and are currently tied 2-2 in the AL Championship Series against the Red Sox on the way to getting there, happiness isn’t exactly the most common feeling.

And they’re playing in Boston tonight, and despite the fact that they won last night, beating both the team and the deafening roar of the crowd, Killian is not entirely convinced that they’re going to win again tonight. They could still come back from it by winning the next two games at home, but he’d really rather win here and then win the sixth game at home when he’s pitching and not have to deal with the nastiness of going to a seventh and deciding game.

Who in the hell wants to play sports for a living? It’s too damn stressful.

Losing won’t kill him, not at all. The fact that he’s having the season he’s having, especially with all of the ups and downs and lay-offs, is incredible and a full-credit to his team. But he got the taste of being the last team standing last year, and he wants it back.

Some players never get their hands on the trophy, and Killian is greedy enough to want it twice both for himself, his teammates, and his family.

And Emma. He wants it for Emma.

So, Killian really hates Boston and the fact that they keep putting them in close situations like this. Close games are often the best ones, the ones that have everyone on the edge of their seat, but Killian would kill for an easy night.

“The city isn’t going to implode just because you’re staring out at it with evil in your eyes.”

“One can hope though.”

“That’s entirely sadistic.”

He huffs and turns from the window to look at where Emma is sitting in bed (they’ve stopped bothering to get different hotel rooms now) with her knees pulled up so that she can rest her laptop there. He woke up this morning to her typing away. Apparently, she didn’t finish her work last night, so she had to wake up early this morning to send in a report before the deadline. Walsh’s firing has ended up having Emma needing to write more on top of her regular work, and even though she says she doesn’t mind – “I like writing,” she keeps saying – he knows that it’s kind of a kick in the teeth for her to have to do some of Walsh’s work.

The man is never fully going to go away, obviously. He and Brennan are like a bug that won’t die no matter how much you squash it.

“Are you almost finished with your report, love?”

“Yep,” she says. “I’m finished with it and have moved onto doing my prep work for today’s game as well as a little bit of online shopping because there are these boots that I really want but can’t decide if I’m going to buy.”

“That’s the hardest decision you’ve ever made.”

“Says the man who spends hours trying to decide which identical blue button-down shirt he wants to buy to ‘update’ his wardrobe.”

Killian scoffs and walks forward to flop down on the bed next to her, shaking the mattress with his movement, until he’s flipping over on his back and spreading out so that he takes up most of the space. Emma always hates when he does that.

“My clothes may not be as varied as yours, my darling, but it does take effort to look as good as I do on a regular basis.”

He turns his head to the side to look at her, a smile on his face, and she simply rakes her eyes up and down his body, very obviously perusing him. “You are currently wearing a pair of sweatpants that have a hole in the ass and a hoodie that I’m pretty sure has a permanent stain from some kind of baking accident. Your fashion sense is amazing.”

“You are literally in a pair of pajama pants with Snoopy’s face on them.”

“You wear the same two uniforms all the time.”

“Sometimes we wear the black ones.”

Emma hums. “Those are my favorite. I’ll stop making fun of you for things if you can convince the owners to let you guys wear the all black uniforms more often.”

“You were particularly fond of those on Players’ Weekend.”

“I’m a fan of a man in all black.”

Killian shifts on the mattress, propping himself up on the pillows until he’s mostly resting against the headboard. He can see Emma’s computer screen now, half of it covered with statistics and the other covered with Nordstrom’s website and a pair of boots. If there’s one thing Emma will splurge on, it’s boots.

“Buy the boots, Swan. Live a little bit.”

Emma arches a brow. “Am I made of money?”

“No,” he sighs, leaning over to kiss her shoulder. “That would be very convenient if you were. I’d never work again.”

“If you’re living off of my salary, you’re screwed because I’m definitely going to buy these super expensive boots. I think they would look really cute with the black suede skirt.”

“Ah, yes, I know the one,” he says sarcastically.

“Shut up,” Emma laughs, half-heartedly reaching over to slap his shoulder. “You do! I wore it when we went to dinner last week, and your eyes practically fell out of your head.”

Killian tries to think of what Emma wore last week, his mind blanking on everything at the moment, but then he’s brought back to a memory of the two of them going to eat at Palma on Cornelia Street last week. She’d looked gorgeous that night, her legs going on for miles aided by the heels, and they’d been late for their reservation because the street one block over was Jones Street and Emma insisted that he take a picture underneath the sign for her to send to Liam and Elsa.

He had not been amused, but in his defense, he really wanted to eat.

“Hmm, I think I do recall that one now that I think about it. You should definitely get those boots to wear with that.”

“I didn’t need your permission, but thank you for the approval. Do we need to be getting ready to go have breakfast with everyone?”

“I’m pretty sure breakfast is over down in the lobby.”

“No,” Emma sighs, clicking a few buttons on her laptop until he sees that she did indeed buy the boots. “We’re meeting everyone for breakfast at the café at the end of the block at ten.”

Killian groans and throws his arm over his eyes like the dramatic ass that he is. “That means I have to get dressed.”

“Well, I would prefer it that way. Your pants show off what you’ve got going on in both the front and the back, and I think you might get arrested for public indecency. That’d put a damper in the whole trying to get to the World Series thing.”

“Would you bail me out?”

Emma shrugs her shoulders and closes her laptop. “Eh, maybe. I might not have the money with the boots I just bought.”

-/-

They win that night.

It’s close, far closer than Killian would like watching from the sidelines, and he chews more gum than he thinks he’s ever chewed during a game. Rum would be preferable, but that’s not exactly the best solution when he’s got two nights until he’s got to pitch in the game that could bring them to the World Series.

Al really has far too much confidence in Killian for putting him in position in the line-up.

-/-

Killian fucking loves New York.

Sure, it’s hot and crowded and sometimes smells absolutely horrendous, but he loves it. He’s lived here for seven years, had his family live here for more than that, and he can’t imagine having to ever live anywhere else.

This is his home.

For awhile, he didn’t have one, not really. Everything changed when his mom died, the house feeling far emptier than any lived-in house should feel, and it only continued to empty as the years went on and Brennan became more and more of a distant figure. And as much as Killian loved Vanderbilt, that was simply a temporary home.

Manhattan? This is home.

One day he may like to move a little outside of the city to a place with a big yard and less traffic, but right now, everything he loves is here.

Everyone.

“Uncle Killian,” Lucy whispers, tugging on the hem of his shirt, “is it time to eat dinner yet?”

“Not quite yet, Luce. We can go ask Anna about it, though, yeah?”

He bends down and picks Lucy up, resting her on his hip while she wraps her arms around his neck so that she doesn’t fall. He’s picked her up thousands of times, had her little head nestled onto his shoulder twice that many times, but there’s something peaceful about it now as they stand in one of the sitting rooms at Liam’s house looking out onto the street in front of them as cars occasionally pass by and the leaves keep falling from the few trees that line the street.

They got in from Boston this morning, immediately went to practice, and then most everyone came to Liam and Elsa’s house for dinner as some kind of pre-game Friday night dinner to get everyone’s minds off of things.

There are more people in this townhome than it has seen in years, and he doesn’t think anyone is complaining.

Killian is a little bit, if only because his mind is very much focused on tomorrow and not screwing up to let everyone he loves down, and that’s why he’d walked away from the crowd in the kitchen and living room and wandered upstairs to the sitting room that no one ever wanders into.

Except for Lucy apparently.

Kids seem to foil all kinds of plans, and Lucy is not going to be having a fun day tomorrow since she’s most definitely up far past her bedtime.

He is officially an old man.

“What are we eating?”

“I think it’s lasagna. You know, like big spaghetti all moved together.”

“I know what lasagogona is.”

Wow, that was a butchering of the word lasagna if he’s ever heard it.

“You certainly don’t know how to pronounce it.”

Lucy scoffs, like she has never been so offended in her very short life, but she doesn’t say anything else as he walks down the staircase with the wood boards groaning beneath him. Immediately, he’s bombarded by people. Will, Belle, and Elsa are sitting on the ground with diagrams of seating charts spread out between them. Killian would have at least twenty-five questions about why they’re doing seating chart arrangements for the wedding tonight, but he already knows that it’s because they’re using Elsa to help figure out where to sit some of the more difficult people.

(He assumes he and Emma don’t count as those difficult people, but it really depends on how Will feels about him that day.)

Robin, Kris, Liam, Roland, and Addison are sitting on the couch in the living watching what Killian knows is Trolls because he’s been forced to watch it exactly seventeen times, and Eric and Ariel are standing in the kitchen with Anna cooking.

And, well, apparently Emma too.

“Are we sure we trust the blonde to cook for us?” Killian teases, putting Lucy down on the barstool. “Because I’ve had her cooking before, and I’m not sure we should allow her to feed so many people at once.”

“I’m blonde,” Lucy interjects.

“Yes, yes you are. Can you cook, little love?”

“Mommy doesn’t let me.”

“Funny,” Emma huffs, her eyes pointedly staring him down, “your uncle doesn’t seem to think I can cook either even though I’m only tossing the salad and am perfectly capable of that.”

“SoSo, we’re just going to forget the entire cucumber you dropped on the ground earlier?” Anna asks as she lays rolls out on a pan.

“What about the nearly slicing your finger open?” Ariel adds.

“What happens in the kitchen is supposed to stay in the kitchen.”

“Technically,” Eric sighs, “it hasn’t left the kitchen.”

“You guys are fu – fun,” Emma stops herself and changes the word, her eyes blowing wide when she remembers Lucy is in the room. “Luce, sweetie, do you want me to get you some carrots so you can take them in the other room to watch the movie with Addy and Roland?”

“Yes please.”

Emma turns around and opens the fridge, quickly grabbing a bag of sliced carrots, and hands them over to him for him to hand to Lucy. She takes them, mumbles a “thank you,” and then is sprinting to the adjoining living room to watch the movie.

“So you’re just bribing children now, Swan?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs, “but with carrots so it’s healthy. Babe, can you check my phone and see where everyone else is? Ruby said they would be here by now, but I haven’t heard anything from them. Or David and Mary Margaret. I guess they’re all in traffic or something, but it’s radio silence on their end.”

Killian bites the inside of his cheek to keep from giving anything away, hoping that his tan keeps his cheeks from flaming red. “Where’s your phone?”

“In my purse on the table.”

He nods his head and turns around, thankful that it’s a little bit out of sight of Emma, before he’s shuffling through her small purse to find her phone hidden behind every small object known to men. There is a string of texts from Ruby about Graham taking forever to get home and her almost leaving without him, and Killian sincerely hopes that Ruby didn’t actually leave without Graham. That would go against the plan.

Mary Margaret and David, though, are legitimately stuck in Friday night traffic, so at least he doesn’t have to lie about that.

“They’re on their way, love,” he tells Emma, putting her phone back in her purse and walking back to the island so that he can prop his forearms against the cool countertop. “Anna, you realize a few of us have to play a game tomorrow, right? I don’t think we can eat all of this.”

She waves a wooden spoon in the air, little bits of sauce splattering on the ground. “It’s called portion control. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

“Killian has. I haven’t,” Eric laughs. “Though, I’m more of a seafood man myself.”

“There’s only so much seafood that you can eat, though, before you become a fish.”

“You only say that because you don’t like it as much as I do.”

Ariel pats her husband’s chest. “Exactly.”

“Oh my God,” Will groans out, and everyone in the kitchen turns to look at him laying out on the floor. “This is impossible. Why do people get married?”

“I think you mean why do people have weddings,” Belle corrects him.

“I’m kind of questioning both at this point.”

Belle flicks a little name card at Will, and Elsa immediately snatches it back and puts it at the little diagrammed table where it’s supposed to be sitting.

“Why have a seating chart in the first place?” Emma asks. “Why not just let people sit where they want to sit?”

“My mother,” Belle sighs, this discussion obviously a frequent one, “is very traditional and specific about how things should be. She grew up in high society, cotillions and things like that, and even though Will and I mostly want this to be one big party, she has opinions. This is a compromise to make her back off until there’s something else she sets her sights on.”

“Huh,” Emma huffs. “Well, as long as I don’t have to sit next to Killian the entire time, I think it’ll be fine.”

“Shit,” Elsa mumbles under her breath even though the words echo throughout the room. “We don’t have cards for Emma and Killian.”

Laughter rumbles through Killian’s stomach as he walks back over to Emma to place his hand on the small of her back over her sweater before taking the strawberries and putting them on the cutting board to slice up. “Swan, it looks like you won’t have to sit with me because we’re apparently been uninvited from the wedding.”

“Damn. I guess we’ll just have to be wedding crashers.”

“I was thinking we could stay home and not wear uncomfortable clothes but still eat incredible food. We could probably dance a little too.”

“He means the horizontal tango, if you know what I mean.”

“We all know what you mean, Will,” Ariel sighs with a shake of her head but laughter on her lips. “But there are people here related to Killian who probably aren’t too inclined to hear about his sex life.”

“I’m not particularly inclined to hear about Emma’s,” David says, and Killian whips his head around to see he, Mary Margaret, and Leo walking thoughthrough the open garage door. “Or Killian’s. Though I hope they’re one and the same.”

“Okay,” Emma hums, dragging out the word, “we need a change in conversation, something like everyone greeting my brother and nixing this conversation entirely.”

“I mean, I’m kind of curious, but Leo is right here.”

“Mary Margaret,” Emma gasps, and Killian misses what has to be an absolutely priceless look on her face in favor of putting his knife down and walking over to Leo so that they can do their secret handshake that seems to change every time they see each other.

“I like you hat, bud,” Killian compliments. He tugs on the bill, and Leo blushes underneath it. “I think there are some other guys here tonight who would sign it for you if you want.”

Leo’s brows furrow together and the smile on his face completely goes away. Shit. What did Killian do wrong?

“Maybe another hat. I don’t want this one to get messed up.”

“Why not?”

“You signed this one,” he whispers, even if it’s not quiet at all, “and you’re my favorite player.”

“I thought it was your favorite because I gave it to you, kid,” Emma protests as she steps around him and leans down to wrap Leo up in a hug, squeezing him too tightly out of some kind of silent protest.

“I only asked for it because Killian is my favorite player.”

“You’re my favorite nephew.”

Leo rolls his eyes, and while he and Emma may not be related, Killian knows that he got that from her. “I’m your only nephew.”

“Which makes me your favorite.” She kisses his cheek, which makes Leo’s cheeks turn as red as the strawberries. “All the other kids are in that room right over there if you want to go hang out with them until dinner is ready.”

Leo runs off, and David and Mary Margaret take his place by stepping in and greeting everyone with a wave or a hug. It’s so many people, all of them from different social circles, and yet it’s amazing how well they’ve all managed to blend together. Killian knows that he started off with more people than Emma simply by the nature of his job, that most of the people in this house would technically be considered “his,” but he likes to think that they’re Emma’s too.

His phone buzzes in his back pocket, and he pulls it out to see a message from Graham just as Emma sits down and picks up a glass of wine.

Graham Humbert: We just pulled up outside. Can you send Emma out? Say something about needing help with the dessert. I think Ruby would like to tell her before she tells everyone inside.

Killian: Yeah, I’ll send her out. Congrats, mate! I’m happy for the two of you!

“Love?”

“Yeah?”

“I think Ruby and Graham just got here. Do you want to go out and see if they need any help?”

“Why don’t you do it?”

Of course she’s going to be stubborn about.

“I’m finishing this salad,” he lies, even though he really should finish the salad since he took it over from Emma. Will lets out another curse having to do with the seating chart, and there’s a reassurance from Mary Margaret that it will all be okay. “Just go help them. They have the dessert. You love dessert.”

Emma’s brows bunch together and her lips snarl, but she puts the glass of wine that she’s drinking down and stands from the barstool she’s sitting on to go walk out of the garage door and down the stairs. She’s going to be pissed at him for the entire walk out there, but he knows that it won’t be long. And curious as Killian is, he leaves the kitchen to walk over to the bay window so that he can look down at the street where Ruby and Graham are getting out of Graham’s squad car with boxes of pies in their hands. Emma quickly appears, her hands moving as she talks, and then Ruby puts her set of boxes on the hood of the car.

And while Killian can’t hear any screaming or squealing – Emma isn’t really the type – he knows that some kind of inhuman noise just came out of her before she launched herself forward to hug Ruby, squeezing so tightly that he imagined Ruby can’t breathe. And then Graham nearly drops all of the pies when Emma hugs him too. Killian chuckles to himself, a smile stretching across his lips, and then David comes up behind him.

“What’s all that about?”

“You’ll find out in a minute, I’m sure.”

“Secrets don’t make friends.”

“Yeah, yeah they do,” Killian laughs, smiling at David. “And I love how casually you’re referring to me as your friend. It really touches a man’s heart, Dave.”

“Watch it, or I’ll take it back.”

By the time Killian looks back out the window, Graham is gone, leaving Emma and Ruby out to talk. Killian is sure that they’ll be out there for awhile, probably far later than they intend to, and he knows he’ll have to go with them when the food gets here. The door opens then to Graham walking inside with the boxes. Ariel immediately rushes to help him, mostly likely because she likes to talk his ear off about all of the cases he can talk about (she’s very into True Crimes oddly enough), but Killian walks over to save him, grabbing Graham’s hand in greeting before pulling him into a hug and patting his back.

“Congratulations, mate.”

“Thank you,” Graham beams, his smile infectious. “I still can’t believe it.” “What can’t you believe?” Ariel asks as she swipes a finger through the whipped cream on a pie only for Eric to slap her hand away.

Killian looks over at Graham, silently asking if he wants to say something, and he nods, that smile still on his face. “I’ve asked Ruby to marry me today, and she said yes.”

“Congratulations!”

“You did what now?”

“How could you not tell me this?”

“This is so exciting!”

“Whatever you do, don’t do a fucking seating chart for the reception.”

It’s this big, loud chorus of voices and conversations, and it pulls in everyone from the living room too so that it gets so loud that Killian is sure the neighbors can hear. Killian isn’t even entirely sure which legs belong to who for how much movement there is, hugs being exchanged between people who didn’t even get engaged tonight, and it all starts to calm down a bit only for Ruby and Emma walk in the door.

Obviously, things never calm down again.

Ruby and Graham don’t even get to spend much time with this group of people, especially Graham since his schedule never seems to match up with any of theirs, so it’s nice to see the overwhelming joy that’s there for the two of them.

“Congratulations, lass,” he sighs into Ruby’s ear when she finally makes her way to him at the edge of the room, her arms wrapped around her shoulders. “Were you surprised?”

“Yes,” she sighs, her laughter moving through him. “I can’t believe you knew about it.”

Killian rubs his hand up and down her back. “I had to make sure Emma was out of the apartment when it happened because Graham just knew that she would somehow find a way to show up if left to her own devices.”

“I think I could kiss you for doing that.”

��I don’t think that’s very becoming of a newly engaged woman.”

Ruby pulls back and winks at him before leaning forward and kissing his cheek. “You know that I don’t like following the rules.”

“What is this I hear about you knowing about this before it happened?” Emma questions as she saunters up to him, a soft smile on her face and the slightest bit of mascara smudged under her eyes. “I thought we had an agreement about lying to each other, twenty-nine.”

Killian hums and wraps his arms around her back, pulling her closer to him while her arms lazily hang over his neck. “Yeah, well, I was under strict instructions that you weren’t to know because Graham didn’t want you to tell Ruby.”

“I can keep a secret.”

“It wasn’t my secret to tell.”

Her lip quirks to the side before she presses up on her toes and gently guides her mouth over his. “I’m glad you didn’t tell me. I like that Ruby was the one who got to tell me.”

“Me too, love.”

“All of our friends have to stop getting married. This is getting expensive.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have blown all your money on those damn boots.”

Emma slaps the back of his head even as she kisses him, and he wonders exactly where along the way did he do something right to get to have this be his life.

“Okay,” Anna yells over all of the noise, and Killian looks to see her standing on a barstool as if she needs any help commanding attention, “I know everyone is super excited right now, but let’s all be super excited over dinner. It’s time to eat.”

“Thank goodness,” Lucy breathes out. “I thought I was going to perish.”

“Where’d she learn that word?” Emma wonders as everyone starts laughing.

“I don’t even know.”

The conversation and laughter never diesdie down, not when there’s that many people around, and Killian’s stomach hurts from it all, his face a little too. His nerves about the game tomorrow and all that’s on the line haven’t disappeared, but they’re not at the forefront of his mind either. He has other things to focus on even if his mind is getting a little dizzy at the thought of keeping track of it all, but it becomes easier as the night passes, the light outside fading away into darkness, and as children move off to go to sleep, Addy and Lucy to their rooms and Leo and Roland stretched out in a guest room until their parents are ready to go home, everyone else settles into the living room with a replay of last night’s game in Boston on so that they can all watch some more footage in preparation.

He’s sitting on the floor in between Emma’s legs, and her hands are lulling him to sleep from the way that she keeps playing with his hair.

It’s like magic, her touch, and he’s utterly under her spell.

“I’m freaking the hell out about tomorrow,” Will whispers quietly as they watch him stumble over a catch in yesterday’s game.

“Me too,” Robin adds in. “Honestly, the only thing that’s keeping me calm, especially since I’m not playing, is knowing that not only did we make it to the Series last year, we won the whole damn thing.”

“Here’s the thing, though,” Killian starts as he leans her head further into Emma’s lap so that she can scratch his scalp. Damn, that might be the best feeling in the world. “No one gives a fuck about what happened last year. That trophy on our shelf from last year? It’s old news. All anyone cares about is what’s happening this year. All we should care about is what’s happening this year. Everyone always complains about those guys who can only seem to live in the glory days when the glory days are long since gone, and we’re not going to be those men. We’re not resting on our laurels. We’re going to win tomorrow, and then we’re going to win the next four games to win the whole damn thing.”

“What if we don’t?” Will questions, and for once, Killian can tell that Will is legitimately nervous.

“We’re going to, Scarlet. I won’t take another option.”

“Look at my little brother being all motivating,” Liam teases.

Killian does raise his hand and his middle finger at that. “Younger, you ass.”

“You’ll always be my little brother. I’ll stop calling you that when you’ve got three World Series championships to your name, yeah?”

“Oi, I know that I’m good, but I don’t know if I can rely on these guys to not only win this year’s but also another one after that?” Emma slaps the back of his head, and he leans back to look up at her. “I’m obviously kidding, my love.”

“Yeah, but that’s not a great way to motivate the guys for tomorrow when you had a pretty good speech going there.”

Robin coughs, something exaggerated and totally on purpose. “Killian saves his best speeches for right before a the game starts. Probably because he doesn’t have his brother and his girlfriend distracting him by making fun of him. Not that I’m complaining or anything. I’m all for taking that piss out of Killian.”

“Someone hand me a pillow,” Killian demands, looking around. “I want to knock the smirk off of Rob’s face.”

“That’s an impossible task,” Ariel starts, a bright, happy smile on her face. “Let’s go back to loving each other and watching game footage. I don’t know about you guys, but I want that trophy back. I get a bonus from both Eric and Killian’s contract for it.”

“I always knew that I liked you,” Ruby adds in, and everyone starts laughing, the long day and late night probably getting to everyone a little bit. “Do you share the bonus with your husband since he earned it? I’m asking the important questions here as someone who is about to get married?”

“Rubes.” Emma curls her fingers in his hair and shakes her head. “Are you about to be one of those people who works in that you’re engaged all the time?”

“For the next two weeks, you bet your ass I am. It would normally only be a week, but since I think all we’re about to talk about now is baseball, I’m asking for two.”

“I would expect nothing less than you.”

Everyone leaves eventually with sleepy smiles on their faces and leftovers in hand, and as nervous as Killian still is, he finds yet again that it’s not at all like last year when he was going through this all. He’s got Emma curled up next to him in bed and a happy life outside of work, and at the end of the day, his life won’t be over if they lose.

He simply doesn’t like losing.

-/-

Killian’s arm feels fine.

Good. Great even. It’s the best it’s felt in months, even if he’s still a little timid with how much he’s using it and the fear of it screwing up again since there is such a risk for that, but he feels good standing out here under the heat of the sun with thousands of people milling in the stands and thousands more sitting at home watching on their television just wondering if today is going to be the day that the Yankees officially cement their spot in the World Series with the Dodgers already waiting there.

It could be a repeat of last year, just like everyone thought it would be, and Killian damn well intends to make those thoughts come true. They’re not resting on the laurelsrelying on what happened of last year. They’re doing it for themselves once more like it’s all brand new and they don’t know the high of being at the top of the world.

Sweat trickles down Killian’s forehead past his cap, and he reaches up to remove his hat for a second while he wipes the sweat away with his forehead. It’s not hot out today, only around sixty degrees, but Killian’s skin is on fire with the rapid beating of his heart that hasn’t calmed down since this morning.

One. Two. Three.

Strike.

One. Two. Three.

Ball.

One. Two. Three.

Strike.

One. Two. Three.

Strike, he’s out.

Travis is out, the top of the fourth inning is over, Killian has thrown some damn good pitches in tight situations to keep the Sox from scoring, and the Yankees are up 4-0.

There’s still a long game to go, though.

Not for Killian, though. He’s out for the day. He knew going in that Al wouldn’t keep him in for longer than this. Honestly, he’s surprised that he allowed it for this long, but this is all so they’ll stay in the correct pitching order if they make it to the Series.

When.

Not if.

Killian wants to stay in the dugout and watch from out here, but he knows that he has to go inside and get massaged and do his cool-down exercises. He can watch from one of the televisions with everyone else who’s inside and make his way back out toward the end of the game.

It’s like all at once these games are five minutes and then suddenlysuddenly, they’re five hours.

But the time does pass as Killian goes through his routines to make sure that he’s healthy and that his arm is healthy, and by the time that he’s back out in the dugout changed into a pair of clean joggers and a pullover, his hat from earlier long gone, it’s the top of the ninth with two outs, only one man on base, and the score highly in their favor.

If they blow a 9-2 lead, they deserve to have to play it all out in a deciding game tomorrow.

“Come on, Lance,” Killian shouts out, banging his hands against the railing. “Just one more throw. One more strike, and you’re done.”

“He’s going to mess up if you keep yelling at him like that,” Al spits out as he chews on the gum he’s always chewing.

“No, no he’s not. He’s got this. We’ve got this.”

“You have far more optimism than any sideline coach should have.”

Killian turns his head to look at Al, a smile stretching across his lips. “It’s a damn good thing I’m not a coach then.”

And then there’s the sound of Lance’s ball hitting Will’s glove, the yell of the word “strike,” and the roar of the New York crowd as the game finishes.

They’re going to the World Series.

Killian’s heart pounds in his chest, emotion welling up in his throat, and all of the sounds become muted. Every single one of them except for his heart and the blood running through his veins. People yell and shout and scream, but he can’t hear any of it as he rushes out into the field to join his teammates where they’re jumping up and down, arms wrapped around each other as they become a mesh of one instead of twenty different men, those who played today and those who didn’t.

Someone pats his back, and the noises come back, cheers of celebration and curses and familiar voices of the people who he spends his life with.

They’re not resting on their laurels of last year, he thinks to himself once more. They’re achieving new things.

“Jones,” Lance calls out as the pile disperses and everyone starts moving around the field, “your girlfriend wants an interview with us.”

Killian arches a brow, spinning on his heel to try to find Emma, and he sees her standing with a microphone in her hand and Jeff standing with the camera behind her. She’s wearing the damn boots, the ones she just ordered, and if there wasn’t already a smile on his face, that would cause his lips to reach his ears.

He has no idea why Emma wants to interview him when there were five innings played without him, when Lance and Eric and Will are the guys who deserve the attention and the praise, but he knows that a lot of the time Emma isn’t in charge of who she interviews. That’s left up to the people behind the scenes.

Killian wants to kiss Emma and the smile on her face, wants to wrap her up in a hug, but he holds back, stepping up to her with Lance next to him as Frank Sinatra begins to play over the speakers. He’d think that he’d get tired of this song, but it never gets old.

“Congratulations,” Emma starts, her hand reaching up to adjust her earpiece. “That was just an incredible game. How does it feel to be going to the World Series for the second year in a row?”

She holds the microphone out to Lance. “No, no. Let Jones answer first. He usually takes the words right out of my mouth.”

“You sure?”

He nods his head, and Emma moves the microphone over to him. “Well, what do you say twenty-nine? How does it feel?”

Killian reaches up to scratch behind his ear. “I can’t curse, can I?”

“Only if you want to pay a fine.”

“Right then,” he laughs, smiling down at Emma and completely ignoring the camera. “It feels good. Better than good. This season has obviously had its ups and downs, especially for me, and I’m happy that I didn’t let this team down when they deserve so much. I’m – ”

Killian stops talking when all of the sudden Emma starts darting in the other direction, and by the time that he realizes what’s going on, the cool feel of Gatorade is being poured down on top of him so that chill bumps rise on his arms and his clothes cling to his skin. Killian sees Lance first and sees him shaking out the sticky liquid from his uniform, and then he sees Will and Eric running away with the orange container where the Gatorade once was. But then he sees Emma a few feet away absolutely laughing her ass off, and even if it goes against their agreement about how they’re going to act when working, he can’t stop himself from running toward her and immediately wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her to him as her hands push at his chest and laughter passes through her lips.

“You’re covered in Gatorade,” she laughs, still pushing at him even if he knows it’s not a true effort. “It’s sticky.” “And you ran way and let it happen.”

“Which was obviously useless considering I’m going to be covered in it now.”

“Exactly the point,” he chuckles while Emma stops squirming against him and casually wraps her arms around his neck, obviously having accepted that she’s going to be covered in Gatorade too. “We’re going to the World Series, Swan.”

“I know.” And then she kisses him.

-/-

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#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs fanfic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic

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god-save-the-keen · 5 years ago

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Rory Gilmore time!

1. "Nothing excites me before 11:00."

2. "I really do hate everyone today, including myself."

3. "I just got hit by a deer!"

4. "I think I may have loved you, but I need to just let it go."

8. "Like, ‘Stop eating the paste’ special?"

5. "I love you, you idiot."

6. "The dress is fine. The person in it, however…"

7. "One of those moments when everything is so perfect and so wonderful that… you almost feel sad because nothing could ever be this good again."

8. "I should hate you, not miss you. Make me hate you."

9. "Says the woman/man with a Hello Kitty waffle iron."

10. "Name, I promise, the only way you could be more important to me is if you had a Kit-Kat bar growing out of your head."

11. "No, he/she’s not, we broke up. No, oh no, I’m sorry, he/she broke up, I thought we were just taking some time, but apparently, I’m a moron!"

12. "I can take running into him every day in the halls, and in the paper and the coffee cart… Oh my god! I'm gonna have to quit drinking coffee! And I love coffee!"

13. "I think I may have loved you, but I just need to let it go. So, that's it, I guess. Um, I hope you're good. I want you to be good, and, um, okay, so, goodbye."

14. "Did you do something slutty?"

15. "I'll eat to that."

16. "Oh my god, he kissed me."

17. "Are you ever gonna ask me out? You flirt with me. You act like you like me."

18. "That okay, there's nothing to see. Name1's in a Speedo, Name2's in a skirt, Name3's in assless chaps." "Oh my God, stop! I'm never gonna be able to close my eyes again."

19. "Hey, I have an idea! Why don't you just pretend we did and go around acting really immature. Oh wait..."

20. "We need perspective." "We need therapy."

21. "What do you mean what am I doing? I'm ranting! You should recognize it, I learned it from you."

22. "You'll find someone else." "What if there is no one else?" "Then you'll get some cats."

23. "So you mean someone broke into our house, went past our TV, our stereo and our jewelry, then headed straight for the booster club cashbox, took $18 and left the rest?"

24. "They haven't had any cocktails yet." "Really?" "Oh yeah, when they start having cocktails we're gonna have to hide you."

25. "Hey, I haven't been dressed by a bird since I was two."

26. "Oh my God, just eat the burger already!"

27. "You need to start napping in the afternoons."

28. "Would you really feel guilty?"

29. "Which means you lied about why you came over."

30. "You're squirming. I've never seen you squirm. It's entertaining."

31. "But then you guys talked and eventually, time went by, and now you love him."

32. "Please, don't walk away like that!"

33. "Name, how much do you like this girl/boy?" "Do what you gotta do, Name."

34. "Hey, I got your note." "Yeah, well, putting it in the mallomars was a pretty safe bet."

35.*Rory, holding burger with two hands, puts her pinky up.* "Being a lady is hard."

36. "There's more of them!" "Name, the flowers on the wallpaper are not growing or reproducing."

37. "Okay, our house is burning down, and you can save the cake or me. What do you choose?"

38. "I need you to be serious here." "You're wearing a newspaper on your head and you want me to be serious?"

39. "I have multiple personalities, it might be one of me."

40. "My sister recognized you from the pictures in my box." "In what box?" "The box of stuff I have of us. Pictures and letters and everything I got from you." "You have a Name box?"

41. "Don't take this the wrong way, but get out."

42. "Just making an observation." "Great. We'll build a dome over you and jam a telescope in your head."

43. "You can't just say a normal sentence right? Just 'Hey, lets talk' is too dull for you?"

44. "So, what time does the judgmental express arrive?" "Grandma gets here at noon."

45. "You whine, you complain, you act like a child." "I do not." "I had to pay you five bucks once so you wouldn't go in sweats."

46. "Ladies and gentlemen, the drama king and queen of *Place*."

47. "What, are you afraid?" "Of going into a strange city with two guys I don't know? Yeah!"

48. "I want a pet." "You have me!"

49. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

50. "Do you have any idea how many people you've hurt? What is wrong with you? Forget it, I wouldn't expect you to understand."

51. "How many languages can you say "none of your business" in?"

52. "You did not." "I did too!" "You did not, because you are not stupid! Slimey and weasily yes, but stupid no."

53. "Nothing happened! We fell asleep!"

54. "I got kissed! And I shoplifted!"

55. "The cops shut down an eight year old's birthday party?" "And arrested the clown."

56. "Name! Who's your friend?" "I don't know, but this is Name."

57. "And just what is wrong with you? You already have everything! What the hell is wrong with you that you have this constant need to be the biggest jerk in the entire world?"

58. "Would you like me to drive so you can continue your diatribe?"

59. "It's not that bad." "Do you want a mirror?" "I'm taking it off."

60. "You're feeling pretty good about yourself right now, aren't you?"

61. "You're happy." "Yeah." "Did you do something slutty?"

62. "A little nervous breakdown can really work wonders for a girl/boy."

63. "Did you hear what she called us? 'Adorable.' She called us an adorable couple."

64. "God! You are like a pop-up book from hell!"

65. "Why doesn't he like me?" *Crying on the floor.*

66. "Can't you shut up for five seconds? Thank you."

67. "I cannot do this alone."

68. "I'm madly in love with you." "Well, good luck with that."

69. "Why did you come here?" "Because you didn't say goodbye."

70. *Hangover.* "Ugh, I need a taco."

Use them, reblog them, quote them, make request, whatever you like!❤️

#rory gilmore #gilmore girls #writing prompt #prompt list #prompt #dialogue prompts #fanfic writing #writing #fanfic #fanfiction

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angel-emmerson · 5 years ago

Text

Rage | Self - Para

violence and domestic violence mention tw,

brief racism and homophobia mention tw

Ángel was 6 the first time he understood that his anger could get him attention. He was so used to being pushed aside, used to being forgotten about that when a bully on the playground pushed him over and his rage surged enough for him to fight back, it was the first time all the adults around actually took an interest. Granted it was mostly to scold him but they were at least paying attention, they saw him, labeled him a problem child but at least there was a label to hold onto. It was his biggest concern when he met Jan and Dawn Emmerson, that they might not be able to love such an angry boy but they could and they did. They helped him become a happier boy, a loved boy.

Still that rage never settled.

At 13, he learned that sports were a good way to handle the rage, to put it all into pushing other people down on the field on his way to the goal, to learn about how to protect his teammates so that they could win. In this way he learned that his rage could be productive, specific and used in a way that didn’t create worse consequences. But off the field that rage never quite settled, it led to slammed doors and loud music blasting from his room, it led to sneaking out and showing up back home with a black eye or bruised lip, always looking for a fight and always finding someone who wasn’t afraid to give it to him.

At 15, his rage almost ruined his life, when an opposing team member shouted a racial slur at him and a homophobic one at his mothers and he was sure that he would kill the guy, sure that if his teammates hadn’t interfered that he might. A threat of charges being pressed, a threat of a juvenile detention center and instead he found himself sitting in a group of people almost twice his age openly talking about how anger had taken over their lives.

The meetings persisted and he was able to find a balance, able to understand that the anger didn’t have to define him. He didn’t want it to, he wasn’t a mean person, he loved the people around him, his family and friends, his boys, his community. But when the anger started it seemed to be never ending, like a grenade; no one could stop him. But college was a time for reinvention, a time for forgiving his past, forgiving his biological parents, a new chapter, a new him.

At 20 he learned how damaging it could be when that rage was turned against him, when his girlfriend got so angry she threw a glass bottle at his back, the glass shattering and cutting at his skin, the slap to his face afterwards shaking him to his core, making him feel like that six year old on the playground again, making him realize once again that he was not the only one with anger. He could still remember that night, the way she had so quickly apologized, the way she told him she’d never do that to him again but he knew better, he knew that once that rage was there it would never disappear and it was what he said to himself as he packed his things and left, spending the night on his RA’s futon, wondering when he had become a person so willing to accept such a twisted version of love.

So he pushed himself to get better, pushed himself to be the best at his sport, pushed himself to take things less seriously, to focus on himself, to pull away from the serious and commit to not attaching himself, commit to being a man of the people. It was why he ended up turning down his pro offers to go home, why he turned down his boyfriend when he asked him to move away because he was terrified of what it would do, terrified that if he wasn’t near his family the rage would take over and swallow him whole, that he’d go back to being a boy that everyone could ignore.

So at 21 he started again, returning home with nothing but good stories and love, with an appreciation for the life he had, with a gratitude for the people who would always lift him up, who would always remind him of why happiness was so beautiful to hold onto, why he had to work hard to keep that rage away, why it would never be worth it to let it go. Therapy, a steady job, a house and two dogs, no partner but enough of a romantic life that he never had to feel too alone, at least it was what he told his mom’s when they asked. It wasn’t that he didn’t get close to people, he just failed to feel that trust, failed to be able to look them in the eyes and believe that they wouldn’t hurt him. So he focused on all the things that wouldn’t hurt and even in the lowest moments he was able to keep pushing, able to find a way to let the little bits of rage peek through without causing much disruption.

But at 32 he stood in front of his biological father, their eyes meeting for the first time in his life and the rage broke free, snapped and ripped through him. He felt it in the punches he swung, felt it when his biological brother tried to tackle him down, felt it when they slammed him against the police cruiser, felt it as he pressed his back against the cold concrete of the cell. It had taken over and he knew in that moment that it would take absolutely everything for it to go away. He felt it as he sat there waiting for his parents to get him out, feeling like he had never run far enough away from that kid on the playground, that he would always be the problem child, no matter how much he laughed or dance or joked, it would never change that he was broken, never change that he had been given up for a reason. That he had been abandoned so carelessly.

Now, at 33, he sat in the same building Quinn had his meetings in, his hands wrapped around a shitty cup off coffee as he mostly stared at the ground, ashamed, tired, wishing he had just stayed in that cell and been sent away forever. A selfish thought, a pathetic one but he had been so sure he was over everything, so sure that he had grown and in one moment, he had seen the same fear in his mother’s eyes, seen the way people looked at him as the party ended and he had become the thing he feared, become the type of man that people looked at and found a reason to be afraid.

When the group turned to him to see if he wanted to share, he took a deep breath, running a hand over his face as he gathered himself. “For the past..5, 10 years I felt like..I felt like I had things under control, you know? Like I had my routine and there was always shit that was unexpected but nothing crazy, you know? Like...like everything was something I could handle, even if it happened to someone I loved, we could handle it. But lately I-I feel like I have no control, you know? No certainty and I thought it would be exciting but it’s scary and I just get..angry,” he sighed out, “So fucking angry and it..terrifies me. Like, like I look in the mirror and I’m like who is this motherfucker staring back at me? I mean I thought I knew myself, I’m so fucking..in tune with myself but I can’t stop being so sad, it’s like..it’s like I get these moments of feeling fine and pushing through and as soon as my feet settle, as soon as I’m reading to breathe another fucking wave crashes in and reminds me I ain’t shit. Just a little fucking useless dude who after 30 years can’t stop being fucking angry. And it’s like, all the meetings, all the therapy and yet I don’t...I don’t feel like I’m being strong, I feel weak as shit and it’s like all the anger I feel feeds on that and there’s no turning back.” He sighed and pressed his hand to his face, “You just..ever get tired of being a person? Like...fuck, man.”

He ended it there and sat back, managing a slight smile as someone next to him reached out to give his shoulder a squeeze and people around him nodded in affirmation. It was always a comfort to know he wasn’t alone but it never made it easier once he walked out of those doors and had to face the consequences for his actions. He listened through everyone else, actually listened, forced himself to engage and make space for other people’s pain, hoping to level out his own. He lingered around afterwards, caught up with some old friends, made some new ones, put some numbers in his phone with he promise to reach out, especially in the lowest moments.

He walked outside, his heart still feeling heavy, the rage no longer lingering underneath but fully spread throughout, waiting for a chance to jump, waiting for any moment. But for now he could breath and so he did the one thing he always did when he felt lost, when he felt like he had no fight in him left.

He went to see his moms.

#self para #violence tw #domestic violence tw #racism tw #homophobia tw

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