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trashforhockeyguys · 4 years ago

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Don’t Hold Me -13- Carter Hart

A/N: After a little break I’m back!! All previous parts are linked in my master list, as always! This is also super super fluffy. So enjoy that!!

You held tightly to Carter as you walked into the restaurant. You tried not to think too much about it, even if this wasn’t something you really wanted to do, you knew it had to be done. Ethan was only in town for a few days, and he needed to meet Carter. Carter was your….boyfriend. Which seemed strange to even think about. It all kind of snuck up on you, but here you were.

“Just don’t feel bad if he harasses you about your stats,” You tried to tell him, “He kind of does that to everyone. Comes from years of playing, and growing up with guys that are in the league now.”

“Y/N, it’s fine. I can handle TK when he goes into protective bother mode, I think I can handle your actual brother.”

Your hands started sweating a little bit. You’d never been this nervous for your brother to meet anyone before, but that’s because you hadn’t felt this way about anyone else in a very very long time. It felt strange, the warmth spreading through your chest and the butterflies in your stomach. But these butterflies weren’t a warning, they were a way of telling you that this was a really good decision. Carter was a good thing, not someone to be afraid of.

“You didn’t have to offer to take us to a place this nice either,” you said, trying to smooth down your dress again, “He would’ve been fine with fast food or something.”

Carter nudged you with his shoulder and smiled, “Hey, I wanna show your brother that I can treat you right. Besides, it’s about time I treated you to a nice dinner.”

“But the dress, and the reservations, and all of the-”

“Y/N, I get you aren’t used to this,” he said softly, “But this is what it means to be with someone who cares. You’ve eyed that dress every time we’ve passed that boutique. Just let me take care of you? Please, just this once?”

He wasn’t wrong. You’d been dreaming of getting the dress. It wasn’t anything over the top, simple and classic. The silk wasn’t like anything you currently owned, it felt so unlike you, yet like it was made for you at the same time. So to say that you’d been more than surprised when you found it on your bed after you got back from classes today with a note from Carter had been an understatement.

“Do you trust me?” He smiled, it’d become like a thing between you two, even if it had a much deeper meaning.

“You know I do,” You replied softly.

He smiled and held onto you as the waiter led you to your table. Ethan wasn’t here yet, which you expected. You took a deep breath and sat down. You automatically started playing all the possible outcomes in your head. Maybe Ethan would hate Carter, maybe all of this was a big mistake.

“Do you want some wine?”

Your shoulders sagged, finally letting go of some of the weight that was bearing down on you, “Yeah, wine would be good.”

He laughed and signaled the waiter over before telling him what he wanted. After the waiter was gone, Carter reached over and grabbed your hand, trying to calm you down as much as he could. Your heart seemed to jump as soon as he touched you. You weren’t used to the good feeling that came with being with someone. You only knew the tear, not the pure joy.

Not two minutes later, Ethan came strolling in. You held your breath as he shook Carter’s hand. This felt big...This was going outside of the little bubble you made in Philly. Carter meeting your brother made this all real. There really was no going back now, Carter was officially part of your life.

“Hey you,” Ethan said, giving you a big hug.

“Hey.”

You held your breath as Carter held his hand out to Ethan. This felt too big. Ethan just smiled and did something that you didn’t expect, he hugged Carter. You went rigid for a moment, expecting something to backfire. You could tell that he said something to Carter, but you couldn’t tell what. But they were both smiling when the three of you sat down.

“So, stats are looking pretty good so far Carter.”

“Seriously Ethan? We haven’t even gotten any food yet.”

Ethan cracked a big smile and both boys laughed, “I’m just joking. Don’t worry, sis.”

“You’re going to kill me, Ethan.”

“Would you rather me have brought Kora?”

You eyed him, hoping he’d drop that subject for a moment. Under the table, you felt Carter’s hand brush your’s. You smiled softly. Your body seemed to relax as soon as your hand was in his, like he knew you needed something to calm you. This all felt so big.

“I need to thank you,” Ethan said, looking at Carter, “For taking care of her. She doesn’t like to admit it, but she needs people.”

Carter squeezed your hand. You felt your chest tighten just a little bit, but in a good way. Somehow a lot of your stress melted away in the last few days. You knew he was still out there, waiting, but you didn’t feel like you were being watched anymore. You felt a little safer, somehow. You were still scared to go anywhere alone, you knew he didn’t go anywhere near you as long as someone was with you.

“How are classes?”

“You always ask that, and I always tell you that it’s fine.” You groaned, taking a sip of your wine, “I’m crushing everything.”

He smiled and tipped his glass to you before taking a long swig of his drink. The three of you settled into a sort of rhythm. The conversation flipped between you and Ethan back home, and hockey, and Carter’s life when he wasn’t tied to the Flyers. You felt comfortable and safe with them together. And they seemed to actually enjoy being there. You liked the idea of your brother and your boyfriend getting along. You weren’t sure what you would’ve done if they didn’t.

Carter never let go of your hand. You knew he was doing that so you knew you had someone there. He’d squeeze it every now and again, a soft smile would tug on his lips. You were sure Ethan saw the gentle glaces between you and the young goalie, especially since you looked over at your older brother and saw him smiling just as softly. There was an understanding.

Ethan could see how happy you were, and how safe you felt. He liked the way Carter seemed to be willing to do whatever he had to make sure you were okay. Ethan knew you weren’t one to depend on people, but he often felt horrible that he wasn’t closer Philly. He wanted to be there for you all the time, but stayed thankful for Travis and Nolan who were a phone call away from you. But Carter brought something different to the mix.

“You seem happy,” Ethan said when Carter excused himself to use the bathroom.

“I think I am E.”

“He brings out something different in you,” He almost laughed, “Haven’t seen it in a while.”

“You know, Travis said the same thing last week. I told him he was full of shit.”

He had to choke back a laugh. You almost felt normal again. Eating dinner with your boyfriend and your brother, joking about random things. By the end of the night you felt super relaxed and light. You’d forgotten about all the things you were afraid of, and for a moment you didn’t even care.

You hugged Ethan goodbye and held onto Carter as the two of you walked throught the streets of Philly. You were comfortable with him, you felt like nothing wrong could happen as long as he was by your side.

You didn’t have a reason to doubt that. He’d never given you a reason to doubt him. In fact, he worked hard to prove that he wouldn’t let you down. You could never thank him enough for everything he’d done already. He opened his apartment to you, and now you spent more time there than you did in your dorm. Mostly because you didn’t like being in your dorm room alone when Kora wasn’t there. But even still, he told you that you could bring Kora over anytime you wanted, even when he was on a road trip. Which turned into a sleepover or two while he was gone.

“You’re very smiley,” He nudged you as the two of you turned the corner.

“I’m just happy,” You replied, tucking yourself into his side.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhm, my brother likes you,” You pointed out, “And you don’t hate him. So yeah, I’m happy.”

He let out a little laugh and kissed the top of your head. You hoped this feeling never went away. You didn’t understand what people were talking about when they said being in lobe felt like you were flying, but you understood now.

You didn’t want this feeling to ever go away. You liked being in love with Carter. Because...well you were in love with him. You weren’t sure if you’d ever know what this felt like, but now that you knew you never wanted it to go away.

“You know, I-”

You stopped dead in your tracks. You could feel the blood drain from your face. He was there, not more than a couple of hundred yards in front of you. You tugged Carter’s arm back, so he’d turn back around. It only took him one little glance at your face to tell that something was wrong.

“Y/N?”

“You need to get me out of here,” your throat felt like it was going to close up, “Please.”

“Hey, what’s wrong? Y/N?”

“He’s here.”

Next thing you knew Carter was opening the car door for you. You weren’t even sure how you got back to the car. Your whole body was shaking. The free feeling you were enjoying all night was gone. You could lie to yourself all you wanted, but as long as he was in the city, you wouldn’t be safe. He knew where to find you, and he’d keep coming back time and time again.

Your mind was racing, trying to come up with some type of plan. You couldn’t keep living in fear like this, it wasn’t healthy. You were meant to be living large, that’s what the college years were for. But instead you felt trapped. You couldn’t go home, and there wasn’t a place in this city that felt safe to you, not when he knew were everything was.

Carter’s hand was on your leg, reminding you that you were safe. You knew he wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. But that didn’t mean that you weren’t afraid for him. Being involved with you wasn’t easy anymore. Anything could happen to Carter and it could all be your fault.

“C’mon, let’s get you inside,” His voice was soft and gentle.

Everything with Carter just seemed warm and cozy, like a fire on a cold winter day. You were selfish in the way that you didn’t want to let that go. You never wanted to stop being able to experience it.

“How about a nice bath? I got those bath salt things you mentioned the other week. And those essential oils too. Would that help?”

You looked at him in a dazy kind of shocked way. You mentioned those things in passing just once. You told him they might help him wind down after a tough game or something, and that they always helped you. You were in awe of the man next to you. He had enough to think about with his own career, yet he was surprising you at every turn. Every chance he got, he was doing something to take care of you. Something that was completely unnecessary, yet he seemed to take pride in that.

When the two of you got into his apartment, he led you to the large master bath, which happened to have the very deep bathtub that you had the tendency to spend hours soaking in while he was on a road trip.

Carter had you sit on the closed toilet while he started to run the water for the bath. You watched as he set up a diffuser for the oils you liked, which you didn’t even know that he knew you to do. You realized as you sat there, that you’d never not feel completely at ease with Carter.

There was just something about him that made life easy for you. Despite everything that was happening, he made it easy.

Once the tub was filled, and everything ready for you, Carter turned and gave you a small smile. You wanted to ask what you’d done to deserve him. You couldn’t understand how life decided to bring you two together in such a way as this. But you were more than grateful.

“I’ll just be on the other side of the door if you need me, okay?”

You nodded, wishing there was some way you could ask him to stay. Only because you didn’t want to be alone. You wanted to spend as much time with him as you possibly could. Even though you were more than comfortable with him, you always seemed to have a ticking clock going in the back of your head, just waiting until school was over and the season ended. Who knows what would happen to the two of you once summer hit. You weren’t even sure where you were going, and how you’d manage to keep up with Carter.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Can you stay?” You said it before you could stop yourself, “Sorry….I didn’t mean to say that….I just didn’t want to be alone.”

He stood in the doorway for a second before glancing around the bathroom. His eyes seemed to land on a spot because a small smile tugged on the corner of his lips before he kicked off his shoes and tugged off his dress jacket and tie. He grabbed a spare fluffy towel and put it on the ground next to the end of the tub, where your head would be, and then sat down. From that spot, you knew his back would be to you.

“I’ll stay right here. Unless you don’t want me to.”

“No...staying is good.”

He settled onto his spot on the floor and pulled out his phone, “Do you want music?”

You nodded and waited until he looked away to start taking your dress off. You slid into the warm water around the same time that soft gentle music started playing from Carter’s phone. You settled into the warm water, willing it to somehow melt everything away.

Despite the fact that you were naked, with Carter just inches away from you, there wasn’t a bit of sexual tension. It was almost like this was normal. You couldn’t understand how he managed to make you feel so at ease all of the time. No matter the situation, he was the calm in the storm.

“Thank you.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his hand reach back towards you. You reached over to grab it. The simple touch brought a strange sense of comfort to you. You weren’t sure how you’d allowed yourself to become so attached to him. You swore you wouldn't do this again, yet here you were. You always longed to be with him. No amount of time seemed to be long enough.

The warm water relaxed your muscles, you felt safe. Like nothing could get you inside these walls. You were safe and happy with him. Those two feelings seemed to be a constant. Which was something you were far from used to. You didn’t know what it was like...until now. You wished you could just bottle this moment and keep it forever. Keep the peace, and the happiness.

It wasn’t about falling anymore. Not when you already fell. You couldn’t stop something that already happened. The truth was, you were in love with him. You loved Carter more than you could understand. It snuck up on you, and didn’t give you a chance to defend yourself. But this...this was welcomed. Because somehow, you knew he was worthy of your love.

Because, the truth was... you loved Carter.

#Carter hart imagine #carter hart imagines #carter hart fanfic #carter hart fanfiction #Carter hart #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfic #hockey fanfiction #flyers imagine #flyers imagines #flyers fanfic #flyers fanfiction #Philly Flyers #nicolechats

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lonelypond · 3 years ago

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Parent Trap, Ch. 5

NicoMaki, Love Live, 2.6K, 5/?

Summary: Nico's mom has an opinion on Dia's parenting.

Grandma?

Maki stood, shocked, as Dia slipped free of her grasp and rushed toward a woman who looked EXACTLY like Nico, but taller and with a much more reserved air.

“Maki and Dia, meet Nico’s mama; Mama, meet Maki and Dia, Nico’s two favorite girls.”

“Tsuki!” Dia pushed her rabbit forward.

Nico chuckled, “And meet Tsuki, Dia’s new best friend.”

Nico said everything so easily, gleaming and happy in this open, bright, adorable cottage.

Nico’s mom knelt down as Dia stepped forward with Tsuki, “Hello Dia and Tsuki. It’s nice to meet you.”

Nico was suddenly next to Maki, an arm around her waist and a quick kiss on the cheek, “See, Mama’s not scary.”

Over Dia’s head, Maki suddenly caught the glare of ruby lasers.

“HUG!”

“Dia, don’t yell.” Maki said automatically. “We ask politely for things we want.”

Dia held out both arms, “Hug, please. Pretty.”

Nico’s mom glanced at Maki who nodded. Nico pulled Maki closer, exuding happy, a thrilling sensation, but it made Maki more nervous.

“Auntie Hanayo bad.” Dia announced. She mimicked Hanayo pulling on Tsuki.

Nico’s mom was a sympathetic audience.

“Bad.” Dia continued. “Tsuki sad.”

“And how did you feel?”

“Scared.” Dia shivered and Maki wanted her daughter back in her own arms, but Mrs. Yazawa and Dia seemed to be having a private conversation.

“I’m sure you were very brave. Tsuki too.”

Dia nodded, hugging Tsuki tightly, as Mrs.Yazawa carried her to the couch.

“Why don’t you sit here, Dia and talk to your mother.” The ruby lasers flashed in Maki’s direction again. “I have to talk to my daughter.”

“Mama?” Nico’s hand left Maki’s waist and the nerves surged.

“Kitchen, Nico. Now.”

“All right, Mama.” Nico kissed Maki again, “Nico will be right back. Dia, don’t let your Mama run away.”

###

“Mama?” Dia poked Maki with Tsuki.

“Hi, Dia.” Maki smiled at a frowning Dia.

“Nico?” Dia glanced around.

“She had to talk to her mom.”

Dia started to pull on Maki’s hand, to drag her off the couch where she’d dropped down, legs shaky.

“No, Dia. We have to wait.”

“NICO!” Dia pointed in a random direction, whole face scrunched up with displeasure.

“Dia.” Maki stayed calm, but Dia knew that tone and stopped pulling. “You wouldn’t want anyone interrupting us when we’re having a talk, right?”

Dia shook her head.

“So let’s just wait for Nico. We’re not going to rush off, okay.” Maki patted the couch next to her, “Sit next to me.”

“Pretty.” looking around, Dia pulled herself up, and Maki hugged her.

“Yes, this house is pretty.”

“Nico!”

“Yes, Nico is pretty.”

“Pretty.” Dia hummed mostly to herself.

If Dia was just going to alternate Nico’s name and “pretty” and Mrs. Yazawa assumed that was all Maki had ever said about Nico, this was going to be an uncomfortable afternoon.

###

No wasted time, right to the rapid fire questions. “Is there something you want to tell me, Nico?”

“Maki and I are dating? But Cocoro already spilled that secret.”

“Is it a secret?”

“No, no, Mama.” Nico waved her hands frantically, confused by her mother’s disapproving demeanor. What had Cocoro said about Philadelphia? “It’s just Maki’s family is...conservative and Nico wants to keep the whole thing as much off TWIG as possible.” As far as Nico knew or Cocoro had found, no one had connected Nico’s sexy backstage Philly punk date with the elegant, only seen twice a year at charity balls Dr. Maki Nishikino of the Northshore Nishikinos.

“Is anything else a secret?

That was a very sharp question. Nico paused. Her mother had her backed into the counter.

“What are you talking about, Mama?”

Mrs. Yazawa drew herself up to her full height and Nico flashed back to using her mother’s credit card for an unapproved concert ticket and getting caught sneaking back after curfew. “If you were your brother, I’d think you were introducing me to my grandchild.”

“Huh..what did Cotaro do? He’s not even…”

“Not Cotaro, Nico. You.” Nico’s mother pointed at the door, dropping her voice, “That child acts just like you did at her age, Nico.”

Oh this, this was silly, Mama nagging Nico about grandchildren in a very weird way, “Oh, Nico is just rubbing off on her.”

“No.” Mrs. Yazawa tapped the counter, “I could show you baby pictures…” A sigh, “your father’s eyes were that color.”

Nico had a sudden flash of her Dad, bouncing her on his knee while they both laughed, his green eyes twinkling.

“Everybody...lots of people have…”

“Nico.”

“Mama, I just met Maki. That’s not a thing that could have happened. There’s no way…”

Nico paused, a worried Eli suddenly popping into her memory.

“Nico?”

Nico grinned, broad and fake, “Dia is cute enough to be Nico’s daughter, but Nico is an award winning singer and entertainment executive with barely any time to date.” Nico decided to go with big eyes and whining, “Mama…Nico can’t just....” a slightly crude gesture to put her mother off.

It worked. Mrs. Yazawa raised a hand, “All right. We don’t have to go there, Nico.”

“C’mon, Mama, Maki and Dia are probably hungry and you promised them food.”

“I did.” One more sharp glance, “Nico?”

Both hands raised, look of complete innocence while inside Nico was picturing Eli’s worried face, “Really, Mama. Nico just met Maki. Please don’t make it awkward.”

The huffy noise was no guarantee, but at least the questions had stopped. Until Nico got a minute to drag Eli off somewhere.

###

Mrs. Yazawa and Dia were getting along, Dia offering bits of food on a spoon, while Nico’s mom held Tsuki. Nico seemed to be distracted, watching Dia and her mom, occasionally catching Maki’s eye and smiling. The food was good, a stew with rustic bread, Dia even ate a few bites of bread dipped in stew, which she then placed on a spoon.

“So, Maki.” Nico’s mom’s attention turned to her, Maki stiffened, Nico squeezed her thigh, making the nervousness worse, and Dia spit out bread.

“Ick…” Dia contorted her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Cold.”

Nico laughed, “We can warm the stew up, Dia.”

“No.”

“All right, then you can wait for dessert. Nico made cookies.”

“NO.”

Nico and Maki both stared at Dia, who was pouting.

“Dia? What’s wrong, bun?” Parenting mode on, dating nerves off.

“Mama!!!” Dia reached for Maki, hugging her hard.

“It’s all right, Dia. You’re fine.”

“Does she need a nap? We can put her on the couch? I’ll get a pillow and blanket” Nico offered, standing.

Mrs. Yazawa handed Tsuki to Dia, “Sounds like Tsuki and Dia had a tough day.”

Dia started to cry, clutching Tsuki. Maki didn’t appreciate Mrs. Yazawa’s commentary. Getting Dia to think about something other than the Tsuki related trauma earlier was the best solution.

“I’d better get her home. Where’s her coat, Nico?”

“On it.” Nico hustled. Maki had expected slightly more pushback, but Nico seemed almost eager to end their lunch. What had she and her mother talked about? Was it Maki? Had Mrs. Yazawa said something.

“Nico?” Maki hated how hesitant she sounded as Nico wrapped Dia’s coat around the subdued child.

“Don’t worry, Maki. Nico will see both her best girls later.” Nico made sure she had Dia’s attention, “Hey, Dia, you take care of your Mom and Nico will see you soon. Nico Nico Ni!” Quick hand to the temple, broad grin, Dia suddenly smiling. “See, Nico’s special magic.” Nico winked at Maki. “Text me later.”

“Okay. Thank you for lunch. It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Yazawa.”

Nico’s mom had a...thoughtful look. Her tone was brusque. “You’re welcome. Take good care of Dia.”

Of course, Maki was going to take good care of Dia. What did that mean? As the door closed behind them, Maki heard Nico’s agitated voice, “Mama, that was rude.”

“Nico, once you see this album...”

“MAMA!”

Maki realized she was standing on Nico’s doorstep, eavesdropping, with a one year old who was about to get restless. Time to go home. What album? Was something wrong with Nico’s business?

###

Nico and her mom were at opposite ends of the main room.

“I don’t want to talk about this, Mama.”

Nico’s mom was pacing, remembering past conversations, “This is what Eli does. You said Maki was probably a patient. And you banked some eggs with her, I remember you telling me.”

“Nico also specifically told Eli there weren’t going to be any anonymous little Nicos running around.” Nico sighed, and hugged her mother, “I trust Eli, Mama. We know her.”

“That’s my granddaughter. I can feel it.” Mrs. Yazawa broke the hug, her fingers digging into Nico’s shoulders, “Don’t you care, Nico?”

“Of course, Nico cares. But it didn’t happen.” Nico paused, her mother’s intensity demanding truth, “And even if it did, what can Nico do?”

“Talk to Eli. Talk to Maki.”

Nico whirled away, a blaze of motion, arms flying, “Nico just started dating Maki, who is amazing, but what is Nico supposed to say? What date conversation is that...We just...” Nico suddenly remembered she was talking to her mother, “It’s complicated, Mama. I don’t want to mess it up.”

“If she is your daughter, do you want her raised by a doctor with no time who probably leaves her with a nanny?”

“Maki’s a good mother, Mama. You don’t know her.”

“Neither do you. Not really.”

“Nico is not having this conversation, Mama.”

A pause, “I never thought you were a coward, Nico.”

Anger. “I’m not a coward. I just care about Maki. And Dia. And Nico.”

Longer pause. Nico’s mom sitting near the fireplace, eyes never leaving Nico. “What are you going to do?”

Nico leaned forward, head down, hands gripping the metal railing of the twisting staircase leading to the second floor. “Nico has to think.”

###

Busy day at the office. But Eli was on time and on track to be done early. Breakfast with Nico had been great, but she missed the twins and Nozomi. Family movie night tonight. Eli would bring home takeout from one of Nozomi’s favorite restaurants and they could talk instead of doing dishes after the twins went to bed. Eli was glad to see Nico relaxed in a relationship. Touring and building a career had been a lonely business for her. Maki was lonely too, so that worked out nicely. And Nico had always been great with the twins.

“ELI!!!” Nico’s voice cut through the office. Eli opened her door. Asta, her very competent, very implacable receptionist had been cowed by what looked like a furious Nico, vibrating, hands slammed into the counter.

“Nico? What’s wrong.”

“Cancel her patients,” Nico snapped, and shoved the little half door open to get to Eli.

“Dr. Ayase?”

“When’s the next patient due?”

“Twenty minutes, but they’re running late.”

“See if they want to reschedule. Otherwise, apologize and I’ll…”

“No.” Nico turned to Asta, “Eli won’t be available until Nico is done.”

The roughness of Nico’s shove surprised Eli.

“Nico, you just can’t invade my office. My patients have a lot of stresses.”

“So does Nico.” Nico slammed Eli’s office door. “Mama thinks Dia’s my daughter.”

Eli blinked, not sure she heard Nico right. “uh?”

“Mama met Dia, was rude to Maki, and then gave Nico a lecture on parental responsibiities. Mama thinks Dia is Nico’s daughter. Tell Nico it’s not true.”

“It’s not true….” Eli’s voice trailed off as she remembered Nozomi’s sketchiness.

“Eli?”

“Just let me think.”

Rough handling again, “Nico said no baby Nicos wandering around. It was my ONLY condition, Eli. You agreed, Eli. You promised.” Nico inhaled, the shout blasting Eli’s hair back, “THERE WAS PAPERWORK!!!”

“There was paperwork.” Eli sat at her desk, puzzled.

Nico slumped in the chair, “Eli?”

“You could just marry Maki.” Eli chuckled nervously.

The furious leap almost propelled Nico over Eli’s desk. Eli stared into angry red eyes, Nico’s mouth contorted with disapproval, Nico in a pushup position ready to launch at Eli. “Look something up.” Nico hissed.

“What?”

“Maki’s records maybe, former friend.”

“Nico, I can’t share Maki’s records with you. I can’t even confirm she was a patient. There’s laws.”

Nico sat up, legs pushing Eli’s chair back, Nico slipping in front of Eli’s computer, “Your password’s still the twins’ birthday, right. That’s another dumb thing.”

“Nico, get away from my computer.”

“It’s all numbers.”

“Of course, it’s all numbers, Nico.” Eli picked Nico up and shifted her to the right, “Anonymized. There’s three layers of security. Let me take a look. But I’m looking at your paperwork.”

Nico kicked Eli’s desk, then stomped to kick Eli’s door.

“Nico, stop that, your temper tantrums are worse than the twins.”

“We just started dating Eli. This will make it weird. And Mama won’t shut up. And…” Nico turned, tearing up, “Dia, Eli. How would you feel?”

Eli couldn’t imagine the gut punch of missing first words, first steps, first...or having no guarantee if she’d ever see the twins again…

Eli started typing and swiping faster, zooming in on the scanned in original pages from Nico’s donation. All the information had been digitally entered, but Eli always scanned paperwork before filing it.

“How did that...?” Eli stood, “Wait a minute. I’ll be right back.”

“Nico is going with you.”

Eli decided not to object.

Now Nico was stomping around Eli’s records room, while Eli crouched to get at the end of the alphabet. Folder in hand, Eli spread it across the counter, picking up one page and raising it to eye level. Then she ran a finger over it.

“I remember asking you if you double checked the paperwork and you saying…”

“No one makes a baby with Nico without Nico’s permission, right?”

“Yeah.” Eli was still running a finger over the side of the form, “I think someone erased your answer and filled in “anonymous donor.”

“YOU GAVE AWAY ALL NICO’S EGGS!!!!”

“No, Nico, that’s not how it works. You must have just matched up with the profile Maki made.”

“So Maki swiped right on Nico’s DNA?”

“Personality, physical characteristics. I remember she wanted an extrovert and someone who liked music. And healthy.”

Nico almost flexed with the cabinet, “Nico is a catch. But Nico wasn’t supposed to be on the market.”

“I know Nico, I know, I don’t know what happened.” Eli could hear her voice waver.

“But I bet you have the same idea that Nico does…”

“Nico, you can’t tell Maki.” Eli pulled Nico by the arm, “Let’s go back to my office.”

“I talked the Yeungs into postponing. That’s it for today.” Asta announced as they walked behind the main counter, pretty sure she only had 20 seconds to get Eli’s attention.

“Great. Thanks, Asta. Go home...oh, please call Noz…”

Nico growled.

“Never mind. See you tomorrow.”

And then Eli was behind a door again. She dropped Nico in her office chair and loomed, “You can’t tell Maki. The procedures aren’t technically illegal, but that’s just because no one links them up. What if she sues me?”

“What if Nico kills you?” Nico gritted out, fists clenched.

“At least Nozomi would get the insurance money.”

“Eli, what am I supposed to do?” Nico had hit a wall, Eli could see the stress and confusion on her face.

“I don’t know, Nico. But we’ll figure something out.”

Nico’s phone went off. Maki’s ringtone. Nico glanced at the message.

M: Your house is so cute. Sorry Dia had a rough day. Can I bring dinner by to make up for it?

“Can we figure it out soon, Eli? Please.”

Pleading Nico cut painfully into Eli. The only response that felt right was to pull Nico into a tight hug like she did when Teddy had a nightmare in the dark.

A/N: Howdy! There's a lot going on here and I'm frustrated by having so many stories ongoing, so I've decided to pick one to focus on finishing and then move to the next one(with a little MerMay fun on the side, because still me).

Also, if I were in Japan, it'd be my birthday, so say hi if you drop by!

#NicoMaki #NozoEli #baby Dia #Nishikino Maki vs. Nico's Mom #love live #nico nico nii #parent trap #Single Parent AU #angst

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thebachelordiaries · 4 years ago

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Clare seeks HIMBO: ‘The Bachelorette’ cast first impressions

The Covid-19 pandemic has been rough for the entire world, but Bachelor Nation faced some dark days too. Going eight months without a single new episode from The Bachelor franchise is something I would really like to not relive.

Fortunately, those dark days are over. Clare’s season has me sucked back in.

The quality of this image is atrocious.

Most of these men—presuming they followed CDC’s social distancing guidelines— haven’t seen a woman in months, are touch deprived, possibly unemployed and contemplating moving back to their hometown while stalking the housing market on Zillow. Everyone’s desperate. That makes for some pretty good TV.

This season features men ranging from ages 26 to 41. We’ve got a boy band manager, a grooming specialist, several men who look like they masturbate in front of full length mirrors and even more who probably want me to join their MLM pyramid scheme.

I’ve never been more ready to roast a bunch of men who have nightmares about going bald. It’s all I’ve wanted to do since March.

Let’s go:

AJ, 28, Software sales

AJ is the kind of guy who writes “Looking for the Pam to my Jim <3″ on his Bumble profile. His bio is generic and probably not reflective of who he is as a person. If I were Clare I’d swipe left.

Ben, 29, Army ranger veteran

“Ben's favorite indulgence is an ice bath.“ Well then.

Alexa, play “Run” by AWOLNATION.

Bennett, 36, Wealth management consultant

Bennett’s profile is the biggest red flag I’ve ever seen. This man says he is the total package but hasn’t always been "this successful and good looking.” But wait, there’s more: “According to Bennett, his high school girlfriend is the only girl he's ever had to work for.“

Can someone tell me what NYC neighborhood he lives in so I can blacklist it?

Blake M1, 31, Male grooming specialist

Blake’s just another stereotypical “29th round draft pick who sat on the bench of the practice team before getting cut, but claims he left the sport due to an injury on his own accord.”

Blake M2, 29, Wildlife manager

This Blake is an outdoorsy Canadian who seems pretty genuine and cool. Unfortunately, he has the face of someone who’d get sent home on night one. I hope I’m wrong.

Brandon, 28, Real Estate Agent

Just another boring hot person. Nothing to see here.

Brendan, 30, Commercial roofer

Brandan, not to be confused for Brandon, “loves some good true crime, working out and hanging out with his friends.” I can’t even make fun of this man. We have the exact same interests.

Chasen, 31, IT account executive

The Winklevoss twins are actually triplets and Chasen is their long lost brother. But more seriously, have you ever seen someone who looks more like their name than this man?

Chris, 27, Landscape design salesman

“Chris hopes to find a woman who is sharp and witty but also easygoing.” Chris, sweetheart, have you met Clare? Easygoing...? There’s still time back out of this before it’s too late.

Dale, 31, Former pro football wide receiver

Dale aggressively screams “Bachelor material.” I’d say he’s auditioning for that role but Matt James already scooped it up. Better luck next year, Daley.

Demar, 26, Spin cycling instructor

Demar is a “very popular spin instructor in Scottsdale and says he can get on that bike and spin to any beat thrown his way.” Imagine how many trophy wives Demar has f*cked?

Eazy, 29, Sports marketing agent

Eazy is very similar to Dale on paper. Except his name is Eazy so he automatically loses that battle.

Ed, 33, Health care salesman

“Ed is looking to find a woman who has natural beauty without looking overly fake.” Ed deserves to die alone.

Garin, 34, Professor of Journalism

Garin’s bio is giving me hubby material vibes. And maybe a little bit of a “gets eliminated on night one” vibe too.

Ivan, 28, Aeronautical Engineer

Ivan, what are you doing here? We’re in a recession. Please go back to your normal job before it’s too late.

Jason, 31, Former pro football linemen

“He is a former NFL offensive lineman who, after suffering too many concussions on the field, decided to prioritize his health and change the direction of his life.” A big, brawny HIMBO with CTE? I feel like he’s Clare’s type.

Jay, 29, Fitness director

There are too many things about Jay that I dislike and I’m trying to keep this brief. Jay says “it's time to take a break from worrying about others and focus on himself instead.” I am willing to bet money that this man has never made a woman c*m.

Jeremy, 40, Banker

Jeremy is the oldest contestant ever to come on "The Bachelorette,” which may seem like a monuments accomplishment but he’s literally only one year older than Clare.

He also “hates Instagram models, both male and female,” so he should have a lot of fun here.

Joe, 36, Anesthesiologist

Before I even saw his profession and location, I thought Joe looked like a doctor I’d find on a NYC dating app...and...uh...I probably did see him on there now that I think about it.

Anyway, this man has apparently been through seven stages of hell while on the front lines fighting Covid-19 in NYC so I definitely think he deserves to find love. Someone marry him please.

Jordan C, 26, Software account executive

I can already tell Jordan is going to get the “I’m young but mature” edit which means he’s probably not going to be good TV.

Too bad someone a tad younger (like Tayshia) wasn’t the Bachelorette. I feel like they’d make a cute couple.

Jordan M., 30, Cyber security engineer

I was going to say something mean but Jordan’s into cyber security and I don’t want my blog to be deactivated, so never mind. Cast photos are historically bad so I’m sure he looks much better in real life.

Kenny, 39, Boy band manager

I could go for the obvious drags regarding this man’s profession (or his sh*tty chest tattoo, or his suspiciously boyish face relative to his age), but I like to think I’m more clever than that.

I’d like to take this time to talk about men, who are obviously difficult people, who rant and rave about how they want an “easygoing” woman. Look into the mirror, bud. No, not the one you use to jerk off to your reflection; the mirror that looks into your soul. Out of respect for the rest of humankind, have some self-awareness. Or maybe just see a therapist.

Mike, 38, Digital media advisor

Mike is seemingly a decent catch, but I can’t help but wonder why he’s still single or how he never (accidentally or on purpose) impregnated a woman in his 38 years of life.

And now that I’m thinking about it, do any of these men have children? I have yet to see any mention of it in their bios. But there are eight men left to review, so there’s still time.

Page, 37, Chef

I spoke too soon. Page is a father! He also hates football! I’m a fan of this man. I was initially going to drag him for his name and say that Page is not a real name. PAIGE is a real name. PAGE is a piece of paper. I’m allowed to say this because we have the same name except mine is spelled the correct way. Based on my (mostly positive) review of his cast bio, I have decided not to hold his name against him.

Riley, 30, Long Island City

Riley, once married with children, would like to go on a family vacation that consists of touring every single MLB stadium in the country. If i were his wife, I would simply never give this man children.

Robby, 30, Insurance broker

No more Robbys on The Bachelorette. Society has evolved past its need for more Robbys.

This Robby described his dream woman as: “Incredibly athletic and able to throw back a few beers with him after a day of hiking. She has a sweet personality and won't mind that he spends his Sundays on the golf course.”

Someone please give this man a sex doll. He just wants a hole.

Tyler C., 27, Lawyer

“Tyler C. is a badass lawyer who says he is a businessman by day and a cowboy by night.” How does that make him a lawyer? Does this mean he’s into cosplay? I’m confused.

Tyler S., 36, Music manager

Tyler makes an honorable living off riding his brother’s dick success as a country singer. “He just LOVES his job!” Uh yeah, I would too if I had a low-show, high-paying job off the merits of nepotism. It’s the American dream.

Yosef, 30, Medical device salesman

Another dad! He’s totally going to pull the “girl dad” narrative. That saying is kind of sexist to me but the masses generally eat it up, so I’m fairly confident Yosef will get the "sweet guy” edit he’s looking for.

Zac C., 36, Addiction specialist

“He loves Philadelphia sports and dreams of sharing a Philly Cheesesteak with his future wife while watching the Eagles win a Super Bowl.” This man is so South Jersey it hurts.

On a more serious note, I don’t think anyone in recent history has spoken openly about their personal struggle with addiction on this show, so I hope Zac gets a chance to tell his story.

Zach J., 37, Cleaning service owner

Zach is seemingly obsessed with Clare already and hopes to introduce her to his mom as his fiancée. Since Zach watched Clare on Juan Pablo’s season, you’d think he’d know that Clare would first meet his mom during the final four hometown dates. Assuming he makes it that far. My prediction is that he won’t.

Final thoughts

After eight long months Bachelor Mondays are back!!!

Uhh....wait.

Actually, we now have the less-exciting Bachelor Tuesdays. Yeah, it definitely doesn’t have the same ring to it. But I’ll take anything at this point.

Here are my final predictions:

First impression rose: Dale. It just looks like he can turn on the bullsh*t charm

Final rose: Jason. Clare wants a HIMBO I just know it.

Bachelor: nobody (Matt James is The Bachelor)

Most likely to get engaged on Bachelor in Paradise: Blake M2

Most likely to get canceled online: Bennett

Most likely to get sent home night one but deserve better: Chris

Who are your favorite men cast on this season?

#The Bachelorette #abc #clare crawley #chris harrison #photo credit: ABC

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pitiless-achilles-wept · 4 years ago

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How to Endure: Cancer in the Time of Pandemic

[Originally posted March 28, 2020]

Hi all, Welcome to a very special birthday post from me in which I mostly think about what it's like to have cancer in the time of a global pandemic. As a way of topping my last year's celebration--where I was just about to start chemo--this year the world is sheltering in place under quarantine orders as an unprecedented public health disaster unfolds around us. (Sorry if my prediliction for dramatic narratives is in any way responsible for this fact...) I've been trying to work up the energy to post and let you know that I'm doing ok in this time of a global emergency...as ok as anyone I guess. I should say right off the bat that I am not, right now, immunocompromised, although I am at risk for it. We can all hope my system keeps bouncing back as it has done to keep me out of the most vulnerable group. (I do also have lung tumors, so a respiratory infection would automatically come with complications.)

Mostly, I spent a lot of the past two weeks wondering not if but how the pandemic was likely to affect my cancer treatment and I finally have enough information to confirm that, as of now, I'm still able to stay on the study and get chemo as planned this coming Thursday (April 2nd). I had been scheduled to get CT scans on Tuesday, March 31st to assess whether the treatment I started at the end of January has worked well enough for me to continue on the clinical trial. Although I get so many that it has perhaps come to seem routine, "scanxiety" is a very real phenomenon because these are how you learn whether things are going well (or well enough) or whether the disease has "progressed" and you have to regroup and try again with a new treatment plan. It had been since October that I had had a positive scan, with November showing a halting of improvement and December and January documenting the reversal of recovery. So obviously I was anxious and wanted them as soon as possible. Hearing reports of "non-essential" treatments being canceled, my Penn oncologist and I decided to try to move my scans up. After many phone calls and the efforts and good will of a number of doctors and hospital staff I was able to get them on the 23rd in Princeton (avoiding both the drive into Philly and the potential for exposure there). I'm glad we did because I learned yesterday that the treatment has been working fine; not great, but well enough that a) some tumors got somewhat smaller, b) no tumors got bigger, and c) no new metastatic sites were observed. Clinically, that's ruled as "stable disease" b/c in order for it to be a "partial response" you have to have your cancer go down by at least 30%. But reversing the trend of growth is still a win, and perhaps more time will see more results. And crucially, I do not have to investigate a new treatment option or try to change in the midst of what is soon to be the crest of the pandemic wave of cases. It's only relatively lucky, but I will take it! I have also seen reports in the cancer community about people having their chemo canceled as non-essential, which was shocking to me. I wrote last year about feeling like cancer should always be a "red ball" case that gets rocketed up the chain for testing, insurance approval, etc. and being shocked that it just wasn't. I understand that in some cases where a cancer patient is immunosuppressed, even attending a treatment at a hospital may pose greater risk than delaying it because the risk of infection is such a threat. But that is an extraordinary statement to make, amidst a daily barrage of extraordinary statements. Not all the stories were that clear-cut, though, so I was glad to hear from my doctor that as a stage 4 patient my scheduled treatments will not be bumped. I cannot have any visitors (and it's a pretty rough thing to do alone), but I can and will get through this. We all will. Because we all have in us more than we know. *** Shortly after my beloved grandma died (suddenly, from complications during surgery) my dad told me that one of the last things she said to him was that she would be ok because, "I'm a warrior." And she was. From a tiny place in the woods of east Texas, as a teenager she ran her family's store during the Great Depression and cared for a mess of brothers. When my daddy was eight years old, she and my grandfather picked up and moved away from a community where they knew everyone and had for generations to Dallas--an unfamiliar big city--because his younger brother had been born deaf and they wanted to send him to a special school. She founded and ran her own school, an income she supplemented with other jobs while my granddaddy was away walking pipeline for an oil company. When I knew her, late in her life, she had lost her sight but continued devouring books on tape and listening to the clues on "Jeopardy!". I was the first and only grandbaby and I was adored (not to say spoiled). The only times she actually saw me, before she was blind, I was just a few months old, chewing clean laundry in the basket in which someone had deposited me. As I grew up, she would feel my face, my hair, my ever-increasing height (and joke each time that "I'm going to have to saw your legs off!"). She would listen to my voice on Sunday phone calls; do crossword puzzles with me, as I read clues while lounging on her velour sofa; offer a "piece of Hershey" or a stick of spearmint gum from the same blue tin on the table in which she kept her cigarettes. She could still piece quilts by feel, even though she couldn't see the fabric, and advised me on the 1ft patchwork square I made for my doll's bed. She was weakened, exhausted, blind, and often in pain (which she tactfully never mentioned with me around). Except when she changed to a polyester pantsuit for visiting the doctor, she wore carpet slippers and housedress with a pack of Marlboros in the pocket that she lit from a gas burner, leaning on her walker by an ancient stove. No one knew quite how old she was when she died--our best guess is eighty-three--because she was also the kind of Southern lady who told no one her real age. She was a warrior in that, despite all that had happened in her life and all that was happening to her body, she kept on going. She endured.

When I search for inspiration to continue with treatments that make me feel worse than the disease, to fight so hard to save a body that's betraying me, to stay in an increasingly terrifying world that's betraying all of us, I think of her last words. I'm a warrior. I will endure. Believe it or not, you are also and you will too. In our struggles to continue with our lives in the face of monumental uncertainty and paralyzing anxiety, our greatest achievement is to keep on going. We fight (each of us different things) so that we may endure. It is not pleasant. It will reduce you to tears. You will exhaust all your emotional resources. But you will triumph. I have been fighting, existing in crisis mode, for 14 months and that is how I know that you can do it. You must grieve (and allow yourself time for it) for what you have lost, including a sense of safety or normalcy. But as you press on, you will find that inner strength or resiliency. I'm sorry that this is being demanded of you. It is not fair. But that will not change it. You may grieve, cry, fight, and struggle but, ultimately, you will accept that your way forward, your treatment, is to endure. I've reflected a lot on social media about how living with stage 4 cancer accidentally prepared me for the experience of the pandemic. I wrote a coda to an essay that will be published--likely this May--about the "Body as Data." Since the coda itself will probably change by then, the situating evolving as rapidly as it is, I thought I would share it here. Thank you for being with me and providing that community that has been the saving grace of treatment. Love, Bex *** As of writing this essay, it’s been 14 months since my diagnosis. I have tried three different treatments, two of which were clinical trials, one of which I am still enrolled in. It is approaching my thirty-sixth birthday [it's actually today - March 29th] and everyone is sheltering in place because of the coronavirus. I have lived more than a year now tolerating the same kind of existential uncertainty and fear of an alien invader in the body that the world as a whole is now experiencing. I have played my own doctor, watching my body for signs that a treatment is working, or that it is not, in much the same way. I have tried to anticipate what will happen if I become immunocompromised (as I currently am not, but am at risk for) and given up many of the pleasures that made my life better before (traveling, going out with friends) in the name of my health. I have offered my body up as data to research scientists with the goal of furthering not just my own treatment but the survival prospects of future patients. I did not know that throughout this year I was in training for a time when we would all of necessity be regarded as bodies with the potential to produce valuable data about the spread and effects of COVID-19. We are starved for numbers, for data on infections and recoveries and for statistical models that may relieve us of the uncertainty we feel about the future. I cannot provide that. But I can tell you to be cautious readers of data and statistics that speak with any pretense to authority right now, even though I crave them too. Cancer is invisible and so are viruses. This particular virus can inhabit the body but produce no symptom and live for days on surfaces. It may be in us. It may be in those we love. We are in the middle of the data. We are the data. Susan Sontag wrote in Illness as Metaphor that “Everyone who is born holds dual citizenship, in the kingdom of the well and in the kingdom of the sick. Although we all prefer to use only the good passport, sooner or later each of us is obliged, at least for a spell, to identify ourselves as citizens of that other place” (3). A pandemic transcends borders but does not do away with the kingdom of the sick. As someone already resident, I can say to you: welcome. The hardest thing about being here is the grief for what we have lost, including a sense of normalcy. The best thing, though, is what we may find: community in a time of crisis.

#my life as a cancer patient #clinical trials #covid and cancer #quarantine life #mbc #metastatic breast cancer #stage 4 #my family

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theawkwardterrier · 6 years ago

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things left behind and the things that are ahead

Summary: Steve goes back. Some things are the same. Some are different.

AO3 link here.

The problem with deciding not to come back from returning the stones is that he has no one to consult about what exactly that means. Bucky, the only one who knows, the only one who guessed, has no expertise in quantum physics or advice about what exactly he’ll be doing to the timeline.

“You’re taking all the stupid with you,” he’d said, and part of what he meant was this: going off half-cocked as always, Rogers. Seat of your goddamn pants. He isn’t wrong about that part. For a strategist, Steve spends a lot of his time winging it.

(He tries not to miss Sam. He misses Sam.)

Even once he’s taken the leap, used the Pym particles to land himself so far back that he’ll only make it to the twenty-first century again by living through until then, he doesn’t precisely know what to do about it all. He spends a week alone, and then another. He does odd jobs to make money for food and a room to sleep in. He’s forgotten how different something like finding work had been, in the days before resumes and networking and the necessary google of someone’s name and background. People look at his eyes and assume he’s a vet, they look at his arms and assume that he can lift and carry things; they’re right on both counts, and that’s enough.

He already took the chance, just coming back here, but he worries about what he might do to Peggy’s future - her amazing, groundbreaking future - if he tries to slip back into her life. But he is also so tired, so encompassingly tired. He has helped to hold the world up for what feels a lifetime: Atlas with arms exhausted and shaking. He imagines how sweet it will feel to rest with her beside him. He knows he has to try.

(He must have known it all along. He brought himself to Washington D.C. in 1949. Peggy’s lived here for just over two years.)

He knows her address. He can remember the exact pattern of the heart monitor, the precise places where she laughed as she told him about the K Street apartment that had first been rented for her.

“Ghastly place,” she had said, smiling even as she did. “Everything dark wood, with barely a window for a bit of sunlight. And practically on top of scandal: I couldn’t go out my front door without thinking of Teapot Dome! So I had the housing stipend rerouted to a lovely little place on 11th Street and things worked out rather nicely. I didn’t feel quite so miserable about coming home, and there was a grocery and a café right across the street.”

He waits for her in the café, tucked in the back. Peggy comes in promptly at seven in the morning. She speaks to the woman behind the counter, a young black woman with a wide, sweet smile, and carries a cup of tea over while her breakfast is being prepared in the kitchen. She sits down at one of the tables entirely automatically, picking up a newspaper and not even looking as she slides into the booth seat facing toward the door. Her regular spot, then.

(Nat always said he made a terrible spy, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be observant.)

He means to come sit on the seat opposite from her. He pictures it minutely, down to the way the vinyl will rub and give as he slides across, but he finds that he cannot picture how she will look at him, what she will say. In the moment, he freezes. He ends up looming awkwardly over her for long enough that she looks up at him, a polite smile on her face as if she expects to be handed a plate of bacon and eggs, or perhaps to need to turn down a request for a date.

But then she takes in what she’s seeing.

She breathes in a sob. Her teacup is already sitting on the tabletop, but she sets down her folded paper as carefully as if it were made of porcelain too.

“Steve?” He feels the echo of the fragile word through decades. He thought he knew, when he saw her for the first time barely able to lift her head from her hospital bed, when he found the photograph that she kept so boldly on her SHIELD desk twenty-five years after he'd been gone, that they would be like this in any time. Apparently he didn’t truly know until he hears it. He is shaking.

She stands abruptly, pushing herself out of the booth and catching his hands in hers. She is so very close to him.

“Am I going to have to murder Howard for keeping secrets?” she asks quietly. He shakes his head. She traces over the skin of his forehead, no longer as smooth as it had been. She runs fingers through the front curve of his hair, strange to her, with such perfect delicacy that he almost flinches away.

“No,” she agrees quietly, and takes her handbag from the table. “Come with me. I have to set a terrible example for my employees.”

Later, after Peggy calls in pretending to be sick to a Howard simultaneously suspicious (when was the last time Peggy was ill?) and totally heedless, probably already thinking of what kinds of explosions he’s going to be taking on today, she makes them fresh tea. He can tell that it’s just a distraction. The kettle is whistling for nearly a minute before she breaks their gaze and goes to pour the water.

When they are across from each other at her small kitchen table, she says, “Tell me,” and he does, a bit.

When he has finished his brief sketch of things, she takes a sip of tea. “So, the future,” she says, her voice musing rather than judging.

“You seem to be taking this pretty well,” he tells her.

“Yes, well, I’m not entirely sure that this is real, you see,” she explains.

He looks out her nice little window for a moment; when he leaves, he’ll have no memory of the kind of view she has. “If I’d showed up and said that I’d been dug out of the ice and came to find you, would you have believed it more?”

“Perhaps,” she admits. She looks into his eyes, though, and adds quietly, “But perhaps not.”

“I understand. Even where I’ve been, time travel is a pretty new development.” He pushes back from the table, carefully so as not to rattle Peggy’s pretty blue-edged china. He looks down at her, and she looks back, a bit of tilting evaluation in her eyes. “The Dodgers are going to lose the Series to the Yankees, four games to one. It’ll all be over Sunday night. The score of the last game will be ten to six.”

She swallows. “Then I suppose I shall see you Monday morning?” Her hands, with their neatly manicured nails, rest solidly on the table in front of her. Her knuckles are pressed tightly together.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” he says, nodding slightly to her, and sees himself out.

She is already waiting when he enters the café on Monday morning. The only clue to how she’s feeling is the way her head pops quickly up whenever the door swings open.

“I’m sorry about your Dodgers,” she says as he sits down across from her.

He shakes his head. “The Yanks will do even worse to the Phillies next year,” he says, and she covers her mouth with a trembling hand.

When she speaks again, it is aching. “Let’s go home,” she says.

“Don’t you have work?”

“I planned ahead this time. As far as anyone knows, I’m scheduled to be out of the office in meetings all day.” She examines him again. He understands the urge; he thinks at this point he could describe where each of her curls lies against her shoulders, and if he couldn’t, he’ll just need to take her in a while longer.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Of course I am.” Humor, just the most hidden hint of tears. “It seems that you’re still a bit hopeless, I see, even after all this time.”

(Tony would have said the same thing. Tony.)

“Probably.” He gets to his feet, offers her his hand. She takes it, lightly, more formality than anything else, and stands beside him. “I’ll work on it.”

“I’m sure you will.” She leads him out again, toward her apartment. “And I’ll certainly be happy to assist.”

They settle into something. It’s so easy that Steve catches his breath from it sometimes, exultation with a bold edge of fear. She goes to work, and he stays in their neighborhood. He does the shopping at the corner market and learns, after a fashion and several borrowed library books, how to cook. He does the laundry, and learns the hard way which of Peggy's suits need special care. He walks around getting to know the area.

He overhears two of Peggy’s neighbors whispering about him as he helps a little boy fix his bike chain on the street corner.

“I always thought she must have a man somewhere,” one says to the other.

“Well, he’s lucky she took him back. She’s been here two years, nice, polite girl with a good job and that wonderful smile, and he turns up now? Where has he been?”

“I’m not much sure it matters, looking at him.”

Steve tucks his head and grins.

He stops by the newsstand for a paper enough times that the owner, an older guy named Al, eventually asks if he’d like to do a bit of work. Steve knows it’s mostly pity, but he’s restless. He takes Al up on it, working pasted together hours so Al can take breaks during the day and get home a bit earlier in the evenings. He hangs around and chats other times. They talk baseball (Al’s a Chicago transplant, a heart and soul Cubs fan) and world events and dabble a bit into politics (Steve has to read the papers closely to try to keep his stories straight). Al had a son who never came home from Guadalcanal, and maybe that’s why, when he sees Steve sketching between customers, he asks him to fix up the sign above the stand, just a little refresh on the paint and maybe a nice little drawing.

Steve guesses that he does a good enough job, because the owner of the cafe and the drugstore ask for him to come over to their places, to do bigger murals inside. He starts to get asked to do all sorts of things, from house painting to pretty watercolor cards. He’s still home in time to make supper and talk to Peggy every evening.

He knows, now, that Peggy has a thick quilted dressing gown that looks like something a grandmother would wear, and doesn’t make him feel like a grandmother’s wearing it at all. He knows how she takes her tea and that she likes a square or two of chocolate at the end of the day. He knows how it feels for her to rest her feet in his lap as they read on lazy Saturday afternoons, and what it’s like to walk arm in arm back home talking about the film they’ve seen on a Sunday. He knows the giddiness of automatically calling her “sweetheart” as he asks her to pass the salt. He knows what she looks like when she first gets up, and the careful, precise order in which she applies her makeup and styles her hair. He knows what it’s like to kiss her on waking and as she leaves for work, as she arrives back home and before they go to bed. He knows what it is to fall asleep beside her, smiling.

He wakes himself up, shuddering, at least three times a week. Sometimes he is gasping. Sometimes he is crying. Most times he wakes Peggy too.

Early one Saturday morning, she switches on the light as he tries to calm himself. She rubs his arm for a moment before standing from the bed and putting on her dressing gown. He can hear the sound of her preparing tea in the kitchen, but when she doesn’t come back, he follows her.

“Sit,” she tells him, gesturing to the chair across from her at the table, and when he does, “Drink,” her voice firm and compassionate. He listens to her, taking a sip and then staring into the depths of his cup. She’s put in just the right amount of sugar.

After a moment, she says, “I haven’t asked you very much about where you’ve come from, but I think we both know how untenable that is. You need to talk. I’d like to hear it.”

He takes another sip, then a third. Finally, he hoarsely, “I don’t know if I can tell you. I’ve already changed your life just by coming here. I don’t know how much I can do without ruining things.”

“Steve.” She leans across the table, touches his arm, his face. Her disheveled hair falls forward a little, framing the warmth of her eyes. “You are the best man I have ever known, and perhaps the strongest. And I don’t think you need to go through this alone. Let me help you.”

He almost laughs. How many times did he say something like that to people grieving a disaster that won’t happen for decades? How many times did he ignore his own advice? He thinks, again, of Sam. “Some stuff you leave there, other stuff you bring back. It's our job to figure out how to carry it.”

He thinks that Sam also meant that sometimes you find someone to carry it with you.

They don’t get out of their pajamas until well into the afternoon. Once Steve starts talking, he finds that he can’t stop. He tells her about Hydra (“Get up with bloody fleas, I told them”) and about Bucky. He tells her about Korea and McCarthy and Vietnam and the civil rights movement, about Betty Friedan and President Kennedy and President Nixon, about AIDS and global warming. He was in the twenty-first century for over a decade. He reads fast and doesn’t sleep much, and his memory is excellent.

He tells her about the snap. He tells her about his friends.

Finally, with darkness outside their windows, he says to her, “I keep thinking about Maya Lin. She’ll be an architect and a designer. She becomes famous for making the memorial for the war in Vietnam. I know it’s right to do what we can to avoid that war, to minimize that damage. Making that choice could be wrong for Maya Lin. It will change her life. How do we know which strings we can pull without letting everything fall apart?”

Peggy looks down at the notes she has started taking. She flips over one page, then another. “Well, we shall think and strategize and try our best to do the best for the most people.” She taps a finger on one paragraph. “I think that this is one string we should start tying up as quickly as we can.”

"If I see a situation pointed south, I can't ignore it," he told Tony once, and that was true. It still is. It's just harder when south isn't a clear direction on the compass, when trying to fix things could only make things worse. This is why Steve could tell her, why he had to. Because he believes in her mind, in her ruthlessness and her clearheadedness, but in her goodness too. He doesn't think he could have done any of this alone.

(He must have known he would do this all along. He brought himself to Washington D.C. in 1949. Zola was brought here just over two months ago.)

They tell Howard. Partly because they need him, to provide documentation for Steve, for resources, for cover. Partly because Peggy says that he’s a friend and he’s trustworthy, and Steve trusts Peggy. For his own part, though, Steve needs to work to remember how much hasn’t happened with Howard. He hasn’t become who he’ll become yet.

Steve sleeps better knowing that they’re doing something. He doesn’t sleep well until they have Bucky back.

“Any idea what he’ll be like after rise and shine?” asks Howard, checking once again the pulse of the man lying unconscious on one of his many guest beds. To everyone else, Bucky’s hair is long, unkempt. For Steve, it’s shorter than he’s used to now. The arm, high tech for this time, looks especially ugly and primitive.

Steve thinks back to all the information they gained after the fall of the Triskelion. Nazi records have always been blessed and cursed. “He hasn’t been under for too long. It won’t be pretty at first, but we’ll be able to get him back.”

In bed that night, Peggy holds his hand beneath the blanket and whispers, “Hopefully we’ll get him back back without you trying to sacrifice yourself,” and he doesn’t know whether she’s talking about Azzano or the helicarrier, and he likes that she has the option for either.

They count on the minimization of Hydra’s influence to help stabilize things, and they’ll prove to be right. Peggy also cultivates herself a reputation for sound, nearly prescient, advice to other agencies. It will help them influence things they need to in the future, but it’s already believable, based on a solid foundation. No one suspects the man who’s occasionally seen on her arm at functions or visiting her office - bearded, older, bearing only a passing resemblance to the lost Captain America - of having anything to do with it. He barely talks shop with the guys, usually ends up recommending recipes to the wives.

“I do prefer you in an apron and pearls,” Peggy says as Steve rubs her feet after one such night out, her heels discarded beneath the kitchen table.

“It’s the natural order of things,” Steve tells her solemnly.

“Too right, pal,” Bucky calls from the bathroom. (He heard from Al at the newsstand that they were having trouble with their sink and came over to help rather than let Steve take care of it. “Flood the whole place, more like.”)

Neither of them quite knows who proposed to whom. Steve claims he did it, Peggy attests with equal vehemence that she took the initiative. Neither of them much cares when it comes down to it.

They invite the Commandos to the wedding. Or, rather, Peggy invites them, and then when they all show up with faltering, incomplete smiles, Steve comes over to say hello.

“If it was anyone else but the two of you, I don’t know that I could believe it,” Monty says, dazed.

Dugan wants horse racing tips. Morita wants to know if he ever makes it with Ava Gardner. “Already tried asking that one, pal,” says Howard sourly.

“Sometimes you just have to live it,” says Steve, and goes to take another turn on the floor with his wife.

They move to Jersey in ‘52. Steve’s afraid that Bucky’s going to have an aneurysm over the betrayal, but the commute’s easier on Peggy now that SHIELD’s working out of Camp Lehigh most of the time.

(Buck ends up living in Brooklyn near his folks and goes back to school to get his engineering degree. Howard says he doesn’t care, he knew how much schooling Bucky had when he offered him the job, but Bucky wants to earn it, and he likes to learn.)

Somehow, it takes three days to pack up the apartment in DC and three weeks to unpack in their cozy little house in New Jersey. Peggy’s pulling late nights all the time as she gets things put together, but she refuses to let Steve do much during the day: they both have extremely strong opinions about every little thing, and she wants to be there to decide which cupboard the glasses will go in, or how far the sofa will be placed from the window and how far the armchair from the sofa.

They finally get things sorted one Saturday when it’s nearly autumn. They leave the door open to let in the air, still warm with just the beginnings of a chill. Peggy stands with her hands on her hips in the middle of their living room. Steve watches from the doorway, loving the way the light filters over her hair, loving the way he already knows exactly how it will.

He steps into the room with her, selects a record and sets the needle carefully. He holds out a hand to her.

They’re practiced at this now. They’ve been to the Stork Club and danced at their wedding and done a thousand other things in between. Peggy jokes that Steve only breaks her foot once a month now, twice if she’s very lucky. But there’s no showing off today. He holds her in his arms and they sway, turning in slow circles, the music washing over them as they stand in their new home.

“The war's over, Steve. We can go home. Imagine it,” she had once said to him in a vision that had taken his breath, a vision that might never exist.

He doesn’t have to imagine it anymore.

#Endgame #Endgame spoilers #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #Steggy #Steggy fic #things left behind fic #If Markus/McFeely and the Russos can have entirely different understandings of their whack time travel notions #I can do whatever the hell I want with it #(To be clear I'm siding with the Russos and their delightfully chaotic multiverse/alternate timeline.)#There might be another chapter to this but my relationship to fic these days is so extremely fraught that it's all entirely ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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talix18 · 5 years ago

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November 3

Today begins with the time change back to EST, a Fleetwood Mac concert two hours away in Philly, and a head cold. I went to bed at ?? o'clock, woke up at 5:something AM, ate some leftover Halloween sugar, and put myself back to sleep. It's now 10:30 and I've finally made my way out of bed. My intentions are to pace myself and nap so that I'm still awake for the drive home from Philly, but this day's start is not encouraging. I've eaten some pizza for breakfast, so I'm thinking of taking some Excedrin or cold medicine, which will add yet another variable to this consciousness management equation.

I'm saying it's a head cold, but really it's just congestion and a headache. I'll see what's in the medicine cabinet when the cat gets off my lap.

Yes, I've become that sad middle-aged lady in the office with no husband, no kids, and two cats. I know that there are pros and cons in all of these choices, and I know just about the same number of people who are happy with their families as people who are either struggling as single parents with young kids or in unhappy relationships and really, there are no guarantees anywhere. The goal, as Sinead O'Connor put it back in the 80s, is to not want what I haven't got. But that has never been my MO.

Almost every decision I've ever made (or failed to make) has been about giving myself the maximum possible outs. I've never been good at commitment – I've always wanted room to move and now that I have it, I have absolutely no idea what to do with it. I've got all the freedom and independence to make grand gestures and absolutely no idea what to do next.

There's this saying in my specific 12-Step program that says something like “working this thing will give you a life beyond your wildest dreams” and I have a lot of issues with that. (Of course, because I am a philosophizer and an addict, justifying and rationalizing all the livelong day.) My wildest dreams include being in a loving relationship and being Stevie Nicks, so clearly I'm falling short.

So I think, well, maybe that “life beyond your wildest dreams” stuff means living like a productive member of society instead of sleeping in abandominiums. Having a job and a bank account and paying bills. Maybe my bottom wasn't low enough to make the life I have now seem remarkable. I've seen how using addicts live – when every decision is literally about getting and using and finding ways and means to get more. I got clean at 27 and I had very little to lose because I didn't have anything of my own. I was just about to start making some incredibly bad decisions when I got a DWI and a year's suspended jail sentence and was scared straight. I was still living at Mom's and going to grad school.

Maybe my dreams are too outrageous. I have a friend who celebrated 25 years recently and realized that she is living her best life. She has a job that she worked hard for and cares about, is married to a man who adores her, has two rescued dogs, and has a good relationship with her grown daughter. Why are my dreams on such a different scale? I have no ability to want things in any correct proportion. I can't play a damn instrument and haven't sung with anyone in public since I got clean – maybe touring with Fleetwood Mac is aiming a little high. How about I start with taking guitar lessons that don't cause me sleep-disrupting pain? That seems like a reasonable place to start.

Then there are my world travel dreams, many of which I've been lucky enough to live out. I went to India, for gods' sake. Not that long ago. That was amazing and surreal. And one of those things that really is a gift from the Universe, like my job and my house. I got the job I have because my father took my resume in to work and back then, the government had an Outstanding Scholar Program. Because I had excellent grades (despite having graduated from college ten+ years earlier), I was hired at one grade and automatically promoted several more within my first three years, where I've leveled off and received modest within-grade step increases at regular intervals since. I make more money than I ever though I would working a nine-to-five job; enough to put some away for retirement and still have enough to have a life now (like seeing Fleetwood Mac twice in one year or international travel). That alone puts me at a higher standard of living than most of the damn world.

My house also sort of fell in my lap. I had just moved back to Mom's after moving out of a friend's house – she had recently gotten engaged and he had moved in. They got a new puppy, so I took the cat and moved back into the basement. One of my friends' mom's is a real estate agent and told her to see if I was thinking about buying. I wasn't, but I was in my 30s and my cat did not get along with my mom's cats, so it was time to consider a living situation. I had been gifted stock in a utility by my mother's second husband's parents when I was a kid; that money was more than enough for a down payment on this tiny house next to the state park. I was about to get one of those automatic grade increases at work and could afford the mortgage and utilities: voila! Home ownership. Only some of the factors that came together to make that happen were within my control. I've seen people stuck in relationships because they can't afford to support themselves. I've seen people move from spare room to spare room because they can't afford a place on their own. I always wanted a place to live where I'd have enough room for all my stuff and no one could kick me out. (Except the bank, obvs.) I have that and have had it for damn near 15 years.

Maybe my life has been so good for so long that I don't even notice it anymore. There are very few things I have to if I don't want to do them. Just that is a huge freedom.

India happened because I had recently gotten back in touch with a women I'd met when she did PT on my first bad shoulder. She was also a yoga teacher and I'd taken some classes with her, but our schedules stopped syncing and we hadn't seen each other in a while. I responded to one of her emails offering a new class and about a week later, she asked if I wanted to join her for an evening of kirtan. I said sure, and on our way to Annapolis, as we caught each other up on our lives, she mentioned that she might be going to India with the founder of the yoga tradition she practices. “I want to go to India!” I said before even realizing it was true, and she said “Come with us!”

Now I am not a person of spontaneity. I'm not a compulsive researcher, either, but finding out in October about a possible trip to India in January is not way out of my comfort zone. For one thing, I'm a terrible flier. I'm not sure if it's the stress of airport security or being trapped in a steel tube in the sky with strangers, but anytime air travel is involved, my anxiety levels start off near the top of the chart. And this meant flying halfway around the world to a completely foreign country, although with a group that would handle all of the hotel and travel arrangements. It was the best opportunity to go somewhere I'd probably never go on my own.

And to my surprise, my reaction wasn't “I can't do that!” It was “What would stop me from being able to do that?” I had just enough vacation saved, just enough money saved, and a mom willing to take care of my cats while I was gone. I applied for a visa and got the recommended vaccinations and found myself in Mumbai in January of '18. That was a dream I didn't even know I had until it happened.

And it was almost everything I wanted it to be. My own personal eat, meditate, and have sex for the first time in two years. All that was missing was meeting an elephant. (I'll make sure the pictures of me on a camel and of a monkey on me are included at some point.) It wasn't included on our tour (which took us from Vrindivan to Rishikesh), but we added a few days on to the end and went to the Taj Mahal. I still can't believe that happened and I have pictures to prove it did. I know there are many tourist attractions that don't live up to the hype, but trust me when I tell you that the Taj Mahal is worth going out of your way for. Our first views of it were from a distance and looked exactly life every picture you've ever seen, but as I walked toward it and the perspective changed as we got closer...it was overwhelming. The white marble of the building is inlaid with stone of every color and...the artistry is literally breath-taking. We went to a workshop where, according to our travel guide, the descendants of the craftspeople who built the mausoleum still worked creating marble pieces today, several of which made their way home with me. Those Indian people see us white folk coming and I was happy to leave several hundred of my American dollars behind with them.

And that is just sliding onto the edge of today's word count. I wonder how long it will be before I see this taking any kind of shape. I know the whole point of this exercise is just to get the words out, but I'm not sure how long I can do this without repeating myself. Would I be easier if I made something up? You'd think I could wring 10K words out of each decade I've been alive, but even I know that most of them just aren't that interesting.

#f**k fifty #nanowrimo

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madelinecoffee · 6 years ago

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Is This Seat Taken? Ch. 1

Summary: Rucas Senior Year AU. Riley’s a loner who doesn’t really have any friends, besides her twin brother Josh but she keeps to herself in school. Something happened the year before where she missed the 2nd half of the year but she’s back for senior year and Lucas’ heart is ready. He’s had a crush on her since he moved to Philly in 3rd grade and he’s convinced this is the year they’ll move up from the class-friends label and into something more. This is not a completely fluffy fic, I’m going to be diving into some deep shit so if that’s not your cup of tea please leave *this does include some serious depression if it goes beyond that I will trigger warn it*

A/N: Hi friends! I finally wrote something!!! Not sure where it’s going to take us but lets see! Tagging: (if you don’t want to be tagged let me know or if you do let me know, I'm just trying to tag my usual suspects) @iwantyoutochooseme @celluloiddreams @imaginarybird Words: 1,687

It was the first day of senior year and overall Lucas was feeling good about this year. He had a few solid friends and his sister, well stepsister, Maya to keep out of trouble this year but he felt up to the task. The only issue was that he couldn’t get a certain brunette out of his. Riley Matthews had been on his mind since he moved to Philly in the 3rd grade. They always been in the same class and when they got to middle school they always had at least once class together. They weren’t quite friends, but they talked in class and she smiled at him when she saw him in the hallway. Riley didn’t have friends really, everyone thought she was a great person and no one complained when they were parried up with her in class for a project. But she ate lunch alone in the library and mostly kept to herself. Lucas had been trying to get himself closer to friends with her since they got to high school but she always dodged his invitations to each lunch with him and his friends. He never really got why they weren’t anything special, just him, Zay, Josh, who was in fact her twin brother, and Maya. She knew all of them from school, and her and Maya had been friends in elementary school. But for some reason she always refused.

Last year Lucas and Riley had almost all of their classes together. As a result Riley seemed to be more comfortable with Lucas, they never hung out. But he did get her number and they talked over text often. While, it was often about school but it was talking nonetheless. He had a crush on her for what felt like forever and had been working on asking her out right before they went on winter break, but she was absent that day and she didn’t return for the reminder of the year. He asked Josh about it once and Josh got really quiet which was unusual for him. It took him a few minuets to answer Lucas but he just told him,

“Riley’s working through some stuff so she’s doing online school for now.”

“Okay? But why don’t I ever see her when I’m over? I’d really like to catch up with her” Lucas had tried to probe for more information but Josh had once again brushed him off saying,

“She’s been staying with my Uncles Eric and Jack for a while, so that’s probably why you haven’t seen her.”

After that Lucas just dropped it not wanting to upset his friend, but he always kept a look out for the brunette. And today seemed to be his lucky day, on his way into his first class he spotted her. She sat by the window near the middle with an empty seat next to her though she looked a little different. Her hair was shorter and the tips of it were purple, she had on some overalls with a floral undershirt. Lucas thought she looked beautiful he plopped down next to her and with his most charming smile asked,

“Is this seat taken?” Riley jumped a bit being taken out of her thoughts

“Oomph! Oh hi!” She tried to sound cheerful but Lucas could tell something was off, “Yeah, I mean no.” Riley shook her head, “No it’s not taken, yeah you can sit there Lucas”

Lucas beamed and Riley gave him a small smile in return, “Where have you been? I missed you last year” Lucas inquired as he pulled out his notebook noticing Riley already had hers open with a purple pen next to it

Riley looked out the window for a moment before turning back to him, “Oh yeah, um. I was dealing with some stuff so I just did online school.”

Lucas nodded, “Yeah that’s what Josh said when I asked him about you.”

Riley gave him a curious look, “You asked about me?”

Lucas chucked again and nudged her, “Of course”

Before Riley could ask another question class had started

As they were packing up Lucas turned to Riley, “Where you going next?” In reply she just handed him her schedule, “No fucking way”

“What!” Riley asked a twinge of panic in her voice

“We literally have the same schedule, what a world.” Lucas smiled at her brightly and he noticed she looked slightly relived

“Do you…do you want to sit next to me for our classes?” Riley asked shyly fidgeting with the rings on her fingers

“I would love nothing more, and that way when we have to partner up for stuff we can just be partners!” Lucas smiled as the tension in Riley’s form eased out and her face broke into a mega-watt grin. Ooop and there’s the reason I haven’t dated anyone else, Riley Matthews still has my heart.

“Thanks Lucas”

Most of their classes had consisted of syllabus and then getting to know those around you so Lucas and Riley had talked and talked. He teased her slightly about not being in school but when he saw how tense she became about it, he stopped. She asked him about Maya and his parents. They talked and it seemed to Lucas they were having a great time, until it was time for lunch.

“Hey Riley, do you want to uh eat lunch with me and the gang?” Lucas asked rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Riley gave him a soft thoughtful look, “Not today, cafeteria is way to crazy the first couple of days. But ask me again next week and I might say yes.”

Lucas smiled, happy to be given even a bit of hope. “Where are you going to go?”

“Oh, the photo-lab I have some film I want to develop” Riley pulled out five film canisters as Lucas chuckled

“But you’re not even in photo this year?”

Riley nodded, “That’s because I’ve taken all the photo classes they have, but Mrs. M loves me so she lets me come in whenever.”

Lucas nodded, he wanted to hug her before they parted but he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, he knew his own feelings but I didn’t want to force them on the poor girl. So he held out his fist for fist bump, which Riley chuckled at as she bumped it and they went their separate ways.

As soon as Lucas plopped down for lunch he started filling the gang in on his day.

“Guys, and Maya. You’ll never believe who I have all my classes with this year!” Lucas explained looking a lot like an over-excited puppy

Josh smirked, “Would that be my womb-mate?”

Zay gave a look, “Huh?”

Maya rolled her eyes and she chuckled at Josh’s joke, “Riley, you doofus.”

“Oh…OH!” Zay’s eyes perked up as he wiggled his eyebrows at Lucas, “So this is your year man? Going to finally get the girl you’ve been pinning at since you moved here?”

Lucas’ face and ears grew red, “I have not been pinning.” The entire group gave him a look. “Okay fine maybe I have, but this is our year man! We sit next to each other in all of our classes and I told her that if we have to partner up for anything that we’d be automatic partners.”

Lucas saw Josh give a sigh of relief, “That man is awesome, I mean for you because I know you love my sister-“ Lucas tried to cut him off but Josh just kept talking, “But Riley was worried about that especially after missing the last half of the year.”

Zay nodded, “Yeah you never did tell us where she went?” Zay asked with a mouth full of food

Josh stiffened, and Lucas got a flash of Riley having the same reaction eelier, “Because its Riley’s business not mine. If she wants me to tell you, which I doubt she does, I will. But until then y’all can fuck off.”

Maya laughed, “Y’all? You’ve been spending to much time with Lucas”

“Hey!” Lucas whined, “Sorry I lived in Texas until 3rd grade. You all have weird accents to they just seem normal because of where we live.”

Maya chuckled, “Okay Bucky-McBoing-Boing”

In the darkness of the photo lab Riley worked to roll her film into the canisters and took a moment to breathe deeply. This was going to be a good year she was determined. It had already started off well because Lucas was in all her classes. She felt herself smile as she thought of him; he had always made her heart warm ever since he moved here in 3rd grade. And he somehow wanted to be her automatic partner, now that was a dream come-true, no worrying about who she would pair up with in classes or who she would sit next to. It would always be Lucas. As she finished rolling the last one and closed the container the bell rang and she headed back out into the light and onto the rest of her classes for the day

The rest of the day went smoothly for Lucas and Riley, they were laughing and smiling and Riley felt comfortable talking with him. When they were walking to the parking lot Lucas started to fidget with his pack-back as he asked Riley, “Would you like a ride home? It’s just me and Maya in the Jeep and I’m sure she’d love to see you again.”

Riley gave him a soft smile, “Thanks but Josh and me are driving together, I um have an appointment to get to. But I’ll see you tomorrow!” She started to walk away but as soon as she got a few steps she turned back around and gave him a hug.

With both their heights her face laid gently in the crook of his neck and her breathe tickled him as she whispered, “Thanks for making today less scary”

And like that she was gone, he stood there for a moment dumb-founded until Maya smacked him lightly on the back of the head.

“Boy, you got it bad.”

#rucas fic #my writing #is this seat taken

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chasemehoes · 6 years ago

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72 random things and facts about me. I’ll get to 101 but I couldn’t think of anymore

1. I’m a Pisces (March 2nd).

2. I’m afraid of Sharks

3. I’ve fell in love twice.

4. My favorite colors gray.

5. I’m from New York.

6. I was raised basically in Philly

7. Being in the middle of the ocean makes me uncomfortable.

8. Frozen yogurt is the one thing that automatically makes me happy, no matter my mood.!

9. I like long drives

10. I don’t eat fried chicken with bones or any chicken with bones. Boneless only.

11. I’m the only boy, I have 3 sisters.

12. I’m a bioengineering major.

13. I play piano.

14. I play guitar.

15. I can sing.

16. I’m TERRIFIED of spiders.

17. My favorite movies are beyond the lights, Burning Sands, Adduction and The Great Gatsby.

18. Traveling is one of my favorite things to do.

19. Wanderlust is tattooed on my arm as a self reminder to always travel and never stay in one place since we spend their entire lives living somewhere without exploring the world.

20. My skin routine is drinking coconut water and dove soap with a good moisturizer.

21. I’m allergic to bananas and apple skin if I eat it.

22. One of my all time favorite songs is “I can’t make you love me - Adele or Bonnie Raitt or James Author versions.

23. I have ADHD & struggle with social anxiety sometimes.

24. I’ve been in more than 25 fist fights.

25. My Ideal date is A long car ride with the person I love in like 70-75 degree weather with a good breeze driving really far with a good play list. Headed to somewhere beautiful like a beach or the mountains with a view stopping at every city we drive through to take pictures and stuff.

26. I have happy personality but a sad soul.

27. I’m a suicide survivor.

28. There 3 things I’ll never mention to anyone and I just mentioned one.

29. Me and my ex’s I was in love with are very close still.

30. I don’t wear big jackets when it’s cold.

31. I’m super spontaneous.

32. My favorite sneaker to wear are yeezys.

33. I was labeled as an gifted kid.

34. I don’t like when it’s completely silent.

35. I wanna learn to fly a plane.

36. My blood type is O- ( which is rare).

37. I never received anything for Christmas from a friend or something I was in a relationship with or in love with.

38. I have the only child syndrome at times.

39. I wasn’t raised with my other siblings.

40. My grandpa is a famous painter in Philadelphia.

41. I was there in New York when 9/11 happened.

42. I’m originally born in Binghamton New York but moved to Brooklyn at a young age.

43. I seen a angel before.

44. I don’t like Cardi B that much I thinks she’s overrated.

45. I plan on opening organizations for (At Risk Teens & Kids). Everyone needs a push sometimes.

46. My favorite quote is “Without struggle, can be no progress.” - Fredrick Douglass

47. My favorite bible verse is “ The one who has knowledge uses words with restraint, and whoever has understanding is even-tempered.” - Proverbs 17:27

48. I speak French and English.

49. I don’t know what my nationality is really.

50. I almost drowned in a pool when I was a younger.

51. I pray everyday in the shower.

52. If any of you ever need a prayer or need someone to talk to I’m always here “don’t be scared to reach out to me.”

53. I’ve been cheated on a lot in my life but I wouldn’t cheat on someone still.

54. I used to have sex to try and get over emotions and feelings for my past loves.

55. I’m actually shy.

56. Traveling, clothes and food makes me happy.

57. I really like dark sweet red wine.

58. Stank breath is my pet peeve

59. I’m a big advocate of self love.

60. I don’t see what’s other see in me but act like I do just so I don’t get bother about not seeing everything I should in myself.

61. I don’t have a certain career I want.

62. I want to move and live in Seattle for like 3 years.

63. I want to travel and stop In everyday state.

64. I want to go on a road trip.

65. I can’t fall out of love with someone.

66. I don’t smoke.

67. I don’t have rhythm.

68. I know every lyric of all Jessie J, Miguel, Bruno Mars and Tamar & Toni Braxton songs.

69. I have wanderlust tattooed on my arm as a self reminder never to stay in one city or place became people spend their whole life in one place.

70. My favorite food is a cheeseburger.

71. I don’t eat ketchup,mayo or yellow mustard.

72. I’m bad with time. Always late.

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trashforhockeyguys · 4 years ago

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Don’t Hold Me -10- Carter Hart

A/N: Whoops. My fingers slipped. Don’t hate me. It’s not all that long either. Sorry.

Mentions of abuse.

There was a strange feeling in your gut as you watched Carter on the ice. Like you were being watched. But you’d been having that feeling for a few weeks now. Every time you left your dorm room, or simply walked anywhere, it was like someone was lurking just behind the corner of a building. You tried to credit it to you just being paranoid, he was still in the city. Ethan hadn’t seen him back home, no one had. As far as anyone knew, he was in Philly for business.

The crowd roared as Carter made a save, dumping the puck to Travis. You tried to watch, but you just couldn’t focus. You felt like sinking down again and making yourself as small as possible, maybe that way no one could see you. You honestly felt like you could just throw up. So much about being here just didn’t feel right.

Your hands shook as the time slowly ran down on the clock. As soon as time ran out, you couldn’t get out of there as fast as you could. You’d already texted your roommate to come get you. You didn’t want to wait for Carter, or Travis. You needed to get out of there.

“You okay?” She asked when you got into her car.

“I don’t know,” You replied, “I just...I don’t know.”

“Alright, we’ll, let’s get you home,” She put the car in drive, “Do you want me to drop you off at Carter’s?”

You shook your head, “No...I’ll text him and tell him I don’t feel well. I just want to go back to the dorm.”

It took no less than an hour for Travis to call you and ask if you were okay. Carter was unsure what to do, but Travis… he wanted to know automatically. You lied and told him you just ate something at lunch that didn’t settle well with you. You didn’t want to tell him how you felt, or how paranoid you were.

You caught yourself looking over your shoulder all the time. You tried to hide it and act normal around Carter. You’d gotten really good at it too. He didn’t question anything, no matter how uncomfortable you felt. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, because he cared more than you thought he could.

A lot of days, while he was home from practice, he’d watch you work on your homework, and ask questions about your art projects and your family. He wanted to know everything he could, all while knowing he could only push so far.

Days turned into weeks, and somehow you found a new normal. But life with Carter wasn’t what you’d expected. You trusted him, and you cared for him deeply….you probably even loved him. But you weren’t sure if you were really ready for something like this. And then there was the constant fear.

“Hey, earth to Y/N,” Travis snapped his fingers in front of your face, “Are you going to come or not?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Summer? I asked if you were still coming to Canada to the farm?”

Spending the off season with Travis was something you’d talked about since the start of the semester. You weren’t yet ready to go back home, and now it seemed like an even better idea.You didn’t even want to think about being home. You loved your family, but the idea of being back in that town made you want to be sick.

“Uh...yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Hey, you okay?” Travis sat down next to you, worry flooding his face.

“I think I saw him again.”

He cursed and tugged his hair, “Where?”

“At the last game,” you replied.

Your body started to shake. You hated that this was your life. You wanted to say that you were just imaging him, and it wasn’t actually the human being that made your life a living hell. But you knew it was, you saw him scanning the face of everyone that walked by him, just waiting for one of them to be you. You knew he was here for you.

“Damnit. Fuck.”

“He didn’t see me.”

It was a lie. He saw you the second you rounded the corner. But you were with a group of the girls. You had the families with you. He couldn’t get to you as long as you were in a group. You’d gotten a couple of them to agree to go back to the seats with you. You’d be safe as long as you stayed with them, you knew that. But you didn’t want Travis to know any of that. You didn’t want him to think that the arena wasn’t safe for you anymore. You didn’t want him to tell you that you needed to stay hidden.

“Jesus Christ,” He stood and started to pace his living room, “Dammit. He was supposed to be banned from the fucking building.”

Nolan seemed to pick that exact time to walk into the apartment, carrying lunch. Carter was meant to come over once he got off the phone with his agent. The plan was the four of us were going to have a movie night, since we hadn’t had the time to do something like this in awhile.

“What’s going on?” Nolan asked.

“He was at the fucking arena,” Travis looked like he was about to punch right through the wall in his living room.

“What? How the hell?”

“Can you two stop please!” You suddenly begged.

You pulled your legs up to your chest, forming a tight ball with your body. The need to be small was back. You wanted to just disappear. The walls felt like they were closing in on you. He knew where to find you. You were sure he was lurking on campus, just waiting for you to be alone.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me? Damnit, I have to call Ethan.”

“I didn’t tell you because you’d do this!” You yelled, getting up from your spot on the couch, “You’d want to lock me up in this stupid apartment, or my dorm. Or hell, you’d want me to go home.”

“Damn right I want you to stay! Does Carter know?”

“No! Travis! He doesn’t, and you aren’t going to tell him a damn word!” You yelled, ignoring the fact that Nolan was just watching all of this unfold, “We’re finally settling into whatever the hell this is. He’ll want me to stay hidden too! I’m done letting him control my life Travis!”

“He almost killed you Y/N!”

You flinched. The scars and ghosts of where bruises once were seemed to burn. You were suddenly aware of every spot his hands had once been. Every time you lied to cover for him. You took a step away from Travis. Any anger that you held melted away. He seemed to realize what he’d done, because his face slowly changed.

It was almost like he could see you slowly starting to relive every memory. Every single moment that you spent with him. He could see it all over your face. Suddenly Nolan was right by your side, carefully putting a hand on your shoulder. Even though you knew it was him, you still flinched and shied away from him.

“Y/N, I’m sorry..”

“I know exactly what he did to me Travis,” Your voice was small, quiet. Any bit of fury and fight you had was gone, “I see it every time I close my eyes. I remember all of it.”

“Carter is outside, I told him you weren’t feeling well,” Nolan told you softly, “He said he’d take you back to his place.”

You nodded, but didn’t take your eyes off of Travis. You felt crushed in a way. He was your best friend, he should know not to mention things like that. He’d been there through it all, he knew how you felt about it. He knew that things like this were off limits for you, yet he did it anyway. He did it to try to prove a point.

“Y/N...Please.”

“Not now TK,” Nolan told him, grabbing your bag for you, “Just leave her alone.”

He led you outside and towards Carter, who was waiting for you outside. He was leaned against the hood of his car, hands shoved into the pockets of his pants. He looked worried at the way that Nolan was having to lead you towards him.

You knew that he instantly knew something was wrong. You wondered if Nolan gave him any sort of heads up, or if he was just going in blind. But Carter reached for you the second you were close enough. He wrapped you in his arms, making you feel safe and warm.

“You got her?” Nolan asked, knowing full well Carter would do whatever he had to in order to make you feel safe.

“Yeah, I got her.”

The sound of his voice was so soft and loving. He was gentle and calm. So unlike what you’d once been used to. He made you feel safe, instead of afraid of your own shadow. But as much as you...as much as you loved the way he made you feel...you couldn’t help but wonder if you could really do this to him. Could you really drag him into your life?

“Can you take me home?”

You weren’t sure which home you were asking for. Did you really even have a home anymore? You didn’t feel safe in the town that you’d grown up in. He was everywhere. Reminders of what happened were everywhere. Philadelphia didn’t feel safe now, because he was here. You felt him watching you everywhere. Where was it that you were asking Carter to take you?

“Do you want some coffee? Or tea? I can make you something when we get back?”

You shook your head, not trusting words. You didn’t know what you wanted. But as much as you hated yourself for it, you knew that you wanted to stay close to him. Because above all else, he made you feel safe. Somehow, he made all of it just go away for a few seconds. And everything just seemed to be okay.

“Alright.”

“I just want you to hold me.”

He reached over to hold your hand. You didn’t fight him, or shy away. You wanted to feel him, you wanted him to ground you for just a moment. You loved the man sitting next to you. But you weren’t sure how long you could love him before you ended up dragging him down with you.

#Carter hart imagine #carter hart imagines #carter hart fanfic #carter hart fanfiction #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfic #hockey fanfiction #flyers imagine #flyers imagines #Philly flyers #Carter hart #nicolewritesthings

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loudlooks · 6 years ago

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No Survivors

Thanks @ttiva for replying to my request with the prompts “i died when she did” & “maybe we could’ve been, in another world.”

I realize people might expect a Family First related fic with those prompts, but considering I’m six feet deep in denial about anything post season ten, my brain automatically jumped to the Damocles.

I should’ve stopped trying to rewrite and edit this four hours ago, and I definitely shouldn’t be posting this in the dead of night, yet here we are...

Tiva angst, though really just Tony angst seeing as Ziva’s dead as far as he knows, takes place during the flashbacks in Truth or Consequences. Lots of self-flagellation on Tony’s part. There’s no happiness here, -3/10 recommend reading.

Also on FanFiction and AO3

Word count: 1137

No survivors.

Another swig of bourbon.

No survivors.

The smooth, oaky liquor leaves an unexpected foul taste in his mouth.

No survivors.

The last words he remembers leaving Gibbs’ mouth. The last words that registered, period.

No survivors.

He remembers uttering those words once, back in Philly, a lifetime ago; the mother sinking to the ground sobbing, the father staring straight through him, straight through the mangled wreck of their son’s car behind him, as the light faded from his eyes.

He wonders if anyone saw the light fade from his eyes, down in Abby’s lab.

The bottle tips back against his lips, the bourbon burns down his throat, anger suddenly burns and spreads inside of him.

No survivors.

His inebriated mind plays tricks on him; the smell of bourbon mingles with that of saw dust. The combination used to bring him comfort, a sense of stability. All it brings him now is anger.

If it wasn’t for Gibbs she’d still be here.

Muscles quiver as his pulse races, the urge to throw the bottle against the wall is strong. The urge to scream his lungs out, his heart out, at Gibbs is stronger. To blame him for everything. To blame him for a rule that offered the perfect excuse to hide from the woman that held his heart.

Even in his intoxicated state he knows he has no one to blame but himself. The what-ifs always come too late. And “no survivors” is so much past too late he’s not sure if he ever wants to be sober again.

Another gulp of bourbon, the bottom now clearly in sight.

A knock on the door.

Glaring silently is ineffective; McGee threatens to pick the lock. His chest tightens and he takes another drink. Ziva could pick locks like a pro.

In another world he might have arrested her for burglary.

In another world they might have never met.

In another world she might not be dead.

McGee walking in and sitting down beside him barely registers; he’s halfway across the world, bobbing in the ocean like flotsam. There are no survivors.

“Tony.”

Judging by the look on Tim’s face this wasn’t the first time he tried to get his attention.

McGee opens and closes his mouth, before his eyes focus on the almost empty bottle of bourbon. “That won’t bring her back.”

Tony scoffs, the last thing he needs right now is McGoody Two-Shoes stating the obvious. “But it will make me forget her.”

“Is that what you want, to forget her?”

Does he?

No, not really. He does want to forget the words “no survivors”.

Another swig of bourbon, another glance at McGee. Flashes of Ziva encouraging him to make tough decisions float through his mind. He places the bottle on the coffee table and leans his head back on the couch.

Closing his eyes at the onslaught of memories and emotions, he runs both hands over his face, and says, “Nothing is inevitable.” He presses the heel of his hands into his eyes, swirly lines blurring his vision like whitecaps on the water surface. If she had truly believed that then why was she dead.

“Ziva’s kind of hard to forget, Tony.”

Startled, he drops his hands and glances around aimlessly, wondering how he went from wanting to get drunk with her in autopsy a year ago, to being drunk and mourning her in his apartment.

He stares at McGee, his stomach clenches. Maybe it’s the bourbon, or maybe it’s the memory of how easily Tim and Ziva had become good friends.

Maybe if he hadn’t been so angry and hurt by Kate’s death and Mossad’s indirect involvement, maybe if he had put all of that beside him, accepted her as his new partner from the get-go, maybe he wouldn’t be sitting here, drunk off his ass, wishing he’d never heard those two words.

McGee’s brows draw closer and he looks down briefly before looking him square in the eye. “This will be a lot harder on you, won’t it?”

The alcohol is doing a fine job of clouding his mind, and it takes him a full five seconds before he scoffs and strings together the words, “What are you talking about?”

He knows what he doesn’t want to talk about. What he doesn’t want to think about. He also knows that if McGee pushes, the alcohol will make him say things he doesn’t want to say out loud. Saying words out loud makes them real, like...

No survivors.

“I just thought…the two of you seemed…close.”

While his mind considers kicking his unwanted guest out, his mouth betrays him. “Maybe we could’ve been, in another world.”

Hands ball into fists, resentment mingles with regret. Regret for admitting his feelings to Tim, for not admitting them to Ziva.

Would that have made a difference?

The bottle beckons him once more and he wonders if regret is what Gibbs tastes every time he downs a mason jar of the brown liquor.

“How much was in that bottle when you started drinking?”

The concern in the probie’s voice makes his blood boil.

He doesn’t require sympathy, and he certainly doesn’t deserve it. She’s dead because of him, because of what he did and didn’t do, because he waited too long, because Rivkin died and he didn’t.

No survivors.“None of your business.”

“Drinking yourself to death isn’t going to bring her back.”

He scoffs, empties the bottle and slams it on the coffee table. Tripping over his discarded shoes on the way to the get more liquor, he mutters, “I died when she did.”

The bottle of tequila seems to mock him, so he heads for the freezer instead. The cold, wet droplets forming on the vodka bottle chill the memory of Ziva’s laughter after she beat him in a tequila drinking contest.

“Tony.”

McGee’s voice, full of empathy, yet tinged with reproach, drifts through the fog.

It dawns on him, then; he’ll never hear her say his name again. His hand tightens around the bottle, the cold spreads to his very core.

He looks at McGee blankly, places the vodka back in its cold, wet grave—no, that wasn’t right—and closes the freezer. No amount of drinking will thaw him now.

He puts his game face on as best as possible, a skill that had been second nature since childhood. A skill Ziva could see through with far too much ease. He clenches his jaw, thanks McGee for stopping by with minimal slurring and a tight-lipped smile, before showing him out and locking the door.

The leather of his couch somehow feels colder than usual as he stretches out on his back, and stares at the ceiling in the moonlit room. Everything would be cold and dark from now on, like the deep blue sea.

There really were no survivors.

#tiva fanfiction #ncis fanfiction #tony dinozzo #my fanfiction #ttiva

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pettyappreciation · 6 years ago

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“Once In A Lifetime Gig With The Heartbreakers --

January 5, 2009 | By John Siebenthaler

(updated October 4, 2017) The day I met Tom Petty and his band, April 21, 1985, is a wink of an eye in terms of time passing. About the same age, I was a different person then. I don’t think he was. Unassuming, approachable, personable. Genuine comes to mind, 30-plus years later.

I was a student at the University of Florida when he was taking his first steps on a road that didn’t come with any guarantee. We had Gainesville in common.

There wasn’t any pretense, no vulgarity, no need to act out in order to compound who he was — celebrity aside, he was a good ol’ boy indeed. A life well lived. A life cut short.

(ST. PETE BEACH, FL) I wasn’t a huge Tom Petty fan in ’85, with the major exception of his trademark hit, ‘American Girl.’ I tapped my toes because of its track back to Gainesville and for me a connection to Dubs rock ’n roll go-go girl hangout on 441, out on the the outskirts of town, a spectacular backbeat, and of course that whacked out intro. Toss in the slightly out-of-synch harmonies and you’ve got a not-so-instant classic.

When I got a call to shoot a gig at the Don CeSar hotel in St. Pete Beach I thought, ‘Yeah, ok, no big deal.’ In all the years before and since, I’d only been there once — to shoot a friend’s wedding (his third but not last) just the month before.

Bulldozing The Don

I showed up at the Don on time, nonchalantly headed to the desk, pointed to my equipment, and asked where I could find The Band. Yeah, right. No, seriously. Uh, here’s my driver’s license? Okay then just call the room. Turns out, they did. And just like that I was in.

The deal was, Tom had broken his famous hand a few months before and this was the first time since his surgery anyone would have any idea of whether or not he’d still be able to play. Hard to believe now, but before round-the-clock cable blabbermouths hooked mostly on self-adoration and stupidity, it was possible to embargo news to either prevent or spur speculation.

So there I was to record the moment of truth, shooting stock on a referral from Tampa buddy and ace studio shooter Terry Drymon. (Terry had an infamous art collection of model’s other lips on the wall of his studio dressing room. First timers there couldn’t quite figure out how the lipstick impressions on cocktail napkins were created.)

Just me, and MTV in full music video production mode. Which obviously was a huge clue if you were wondering whether or not there was any doubt about whether or not Tom still had a career. I wasn’t that sharp.

The Way It Was, Then

In 1985, there weren’t any automated digital point and shoots, no desktop publishing, no built-in templates and, for purposes of this little tale, no Photoshop.

Neither were there personal computers, damn few cell phone bricks, and fax machines were a status symbol that weighed a ton and cost a fortune.

Photoshoots were covered the old-fashioned way: load up on film, make sure you had backup metering, check your automatic lenses to make sure they would, in fact, automatically stop down to the set aperture when the shutter banged across and then reopen, load everything up and haul the assorted luggage around, through, up and down whatever obstacles popped up.

What I remember is, as metering — first analog, then digital — became more precise, so too did the fanatic obsessive-compulsive behavior to constantly check the reflected light. Not like anything would be changing if, for instance, the assignment would take place on a penthouse patio underneath a brilliant and beautifully beachy Florida spring day.

Lets just say for the sake of discussion we’d be shooting Ektachrome 200, which in this instance would come out to something around f8-11 at 1/500th. More or less, with no bounce off the Astroturf, as it was then referred to, covering the patio.

You With the Band?

I met Wish, who starred as Alice in “Don’t Come Around Here No More,” in the elevator. I didn’t know. This being my first, and last, exclusive assignment shooting a genuine superstar rock group I was more than a little apprehensive. It was only when we both got off on the top floor, me rolling my case dolly, that I figured out she was with the band and proceeded to follow her to the room.

There wasn’t any pretense about the group. The atmosphere was relaxed, the mood laid back, and I was silently praying to the Kodak gods that my putting off overdue lens overhauls wouldn’t catch up with me today. Please, let me capture something worth smiling about.

We mostly waited while the video crew finished laying track and setting lights. When they were satisfied, the band and one way out-of-water photographer headed out onto the patio and in the next few moments I was introduced to the difference between top of their game professional musicians and club bands playing covers. Bang! Straight into ‘American Girl’ and immediately everyone was grinning like Santa came early and the tooth fairy left Travelers Cheques. One word describes the sound — tight. Yeah, these guys really are that good.

Like rock, don’t like rock, it was infectious. Here we were on a beautiful sunny spring day in Florida, on top of a four-star hotel looking out on the intercoastal in one direction and the Gulf of Mexico in the other. About three or four songs into a set that would last nearly two hours, the guests gathered around the pool were trying to figure out what the hell was going on. They knew the music was pouring down from the heavens, but how? Time passed and soon boaters who’d been chased down by their pals began rafting up on the beach and before long you could definitely say…it was a concert.

I kept shooting throughout, even though about the only thing that changed was when Orlando’s Channel 9 chopper dropped in out of the clouds, adding their whap-whap-whap to the band’s output. And then it was over. Hotel security finally decided they’d had enough of the complaints and called the show. Late that same afternoon I shoved however many rolls through the film drop at the lab over in Tampa.

A few weeks later I’d watch along with 60 or 70 million other close friends as the Heartbreakers kicked it in Philly for the American finale to the Live Aid session that started in London.

At the time I was riding a 92-inch Harley Shovel “Blue Pearl” chop, featuring full frontal Frazetta-style airbrushed nudity on the tanks with drag bars and pipes to match the attitude. Riding home from the bar that night all I could hear was a song about an American girl, out on 441. And I sorta’ understood what it was all about.” - http://siebenthalercreative.com/

#Tom Petty #Tom Petty and the Hearbreakers #photo by John Siebenthaler #1985 #John Siebenthaler #Mike Campbell #Benmont Tench #Stan Lynch #Howie Epstein #gonna queue you instead

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spookyjuicefiction · 6 years ago

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Serendipitous - Chapter Three

MASTER LIST

His hand clamped hard down on my wrist on the table, and I felt metal under the glove clunking against the wood.

“Don’t panic. Keep your voice down. I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered tersely, casting paranoid glances around the mangy pub. No one was paying us any attention, but inside my brain was screaming.

“I’m not… I don’t do that anymore,” he murmured to me urgently, still holding my wrist in place. “I’m not going to hurt you, or anyone. I’m just trying to figure out what happened to me. I’m just trying to figure out who I am.”

“Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes,” I recited back to him automatically. The whiskey was roiling in my otherwise empty stomach now, and heat crawled up the back of my neck, making me feel dizzy. “HYDRA’s most elite assassin and the government’s number one Most Wanted.” He did not look so much like a deadly assassin at this moment, though. The skin on his face was papery and drawn, and his clothes looked tattered. With a heavy sigh he withdrew his hand, releasing my wrist, and the eyes that met mine were full of misery and despair.

“Yeah, that’s right. Look, just give me a 30 minute head start before you call the cops and you can consider your debt repaid. Go home and for the love of God stay out of this neighborhood from now on.”

He started to get up. “Wait,” I said reaching out and catching his sleeve, “just… sit down a minute. I… I won’t call the cops.” He raised an eyebrow, and I swallowed. A reckless idea had sprung unbidden to my mind, a product of panic and whiskey, no doubt. I took a deep breath and began again. “You said you needed help. Kliment is dead, which means we’re both screwed right now. But maybe we can help each other out. Your insight into HYDRA’s inner workings are invaluable, a prime source, exactly what I would need to expose the truth. I’m an expert in brain trauma.” Sort of, I thought. Not a doctor, but I know what I’m doing. I hope. “I can help you figure out the truth. I know techniques for unlocking memories.” He looked concerned, as though he thought perhaps I had suffered brain trauma for proposing an arrangement with the Winter Soldier. Maybe I had. Did I bang my head in that alley?

He scrubbed his hand over his eyes, suddenly looking exhausted. “I’m leaving Philly tonight. I’ve been here too long already. Kliment was my last ditch effort before I go. It’s a nice idea, but I’m afraid this is the last time you’ll see me.”

A new jolt of panic flashed through me, my thesis Holy Grail and my future flashing before my eyes. “You can’t,” I said, a little hysterical. This night had really frayed my nerves. “I need your help. And it sounds like you need mine.” I tried to be confident with that last phrase, straightening my back, trying to match his height.

Giving a humorless snort, he retorted, “Not gonna happen, doll. Have a nice life.”

He was up and heading for the door before I had a chance to take in his words and I scrambled out of the booth after him. He pushed out the door and into the street, walking briskly. I nearly had to run to keep up.

“Wait!” I panted. I was certainly no super soldier. “Wait, let’s at least talk about this for a second. You saved my life, I know you’re not a bad guy, I can help you! You don’t have to be alone!”

Stopping in his tracks, the Winter Soldier rounded on me and I shrank back, afraid.

“Yes, I do. I’m a criminal on the run. Alone is the only way I survive. Alone, and as far away as I can get. Being around me only puts us both in danger, and it seems to me you’ve had enough of that for one night.” I flinched at the memory of the men in the alley, but I was determined now.

“Danger I can handle, but failure is not an option.” I took a step towards him. “I’ll go with you.”

His eyebrows went up and he let out another snort, but no smile touched his lips.

“Oh will you? Have a lot of experience in international criminal espionage, do you?

I stayed calm, although my blood was boiling. “No, but you have more than enough for the both of us. Every criminal needs a partner. I can make you look less suspicious; people get nervous when they see a man alone, but everyone trusts a couple. And more importantly, I can help you find out who you are. I can get your memories back. That’s a promise.”

He frowned at me silently. After a moment, he simply asked, “why?”

I took a measured breath, and said slowly, “I want to be the one to expose the real truths about HYDRA. For once and for all. When I publish this thesis, not only is it going to get me my Master’s, but put me at the forefront of cutting edge psychological thinking. And more importantly, bring justice to those bastards who hurt you and so many others. This is my future, and the future of criminal psychology in the age of powered people. But I can’t do it without your help.” I shifted on my feet, and then added more quietly, “Please, James.”

He studied me for a long minute before pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing exhasperatedly. “I hope you’re a quick packer. The boat leaves in 2 hours.” He dropped his hand and gave me an icy look. “And my name is Bucky.”

#serendipitous fic #spookyjuice #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes fic #winter soldier #james barnes #mcu fic #marvel fic

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that-thing-that-feeling · 3 years ago

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Not trying to start anything, I’ve just seen some ppl talking abt how the premise of the movie sounds like it could v easily play into the “slutty bi” trope. The movie is about “a recent graduate who becomes unexpectedly entangled in a relationship with a man and a woman during an aimless summer after college”. A lot of ppl who define themselves as bisexual, especially women, are stereotyped as being unable to make up their minds between the two genders. No one is judging the movie or saying the movie is decidedly biphobic, just acknowledging that the story has the potential to play into some harmful stereotypes abt bisexual people. I hope it doesn’t, but I don’t see anything wrong with admitting that it’s a possibility. Yes we should give films the benefit of the doubt, but we should be aware of what we’re walking into, that’s all. And the director is a lesbian, but that doesn’t automatically give her the capacity to perfectly tell stories about the whole LGBT spectrum. Straight ppl aren’t the only ones who ever stereotype others.

AYA isn’t a perfect movie about sexuality struggles by any count (I agree the way he died was a bit unnecessary), but in their defense that movie took place in a small town in the 90s. It’s supposed to be messy and blurry, bc being gay/bisexual was still p much seen as a social death sentence back then. In comparison Chestnut takes place in modern times in a liberal city, it’s even named after a gay neighborhood in Philly. If the story is about a woman struggling with her sexuality, the setting just strikes me as an odd choice. Anyways, I rlly do hope the movie avoids all the potential pitfalls, I rlly want Nat to finally have a movie do well!! 😭

Natalia has had a movie do really well—YGY won an acting award at SXSW (which was primarily for her great acting in it), got her amazing reviews, she put in the work by doing a lot of really good press for it, and I think it was in the most watched on Netflix for awhile when it went on there. I think it should have lead to more big roles for her, but then ST took so long to film so we’re still seeing what effect it had (her filming something right after ST was a good sign tho). And Re: Chestnut I disagree with having that be the initial reaction to it before even seeing it bc we don’t know what the deal is with the character. maybe she’s poly. Maybe she’s bi. Maybe she realizes she’s lesbian. Idk how much it’s also supposed to follow the director’s story as well. I honestly have no idea from that plot description what’s going to happen. Anyway v curious to see it and reviews from the fest. I do agree on AYA being set in the 90s in a small town that it was trying to do something with that, whether it succeeds or not anyone can judge, but I obvs think it’s a great film and love Charlie’s performance in it sm.

0 notes

nycrunning · 6 years ago

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well, August is always a good month because of SUMMER STREETS, literally, I should be hired by the Summer Streets People because I feel like a community evangelizer. That is all I talk about to anyone all year long. You know it. Anyway, to recap: I like Summer Streets. A bit. If you just met me or this is the first time you read this blog, Summer Streets happens 3 weekends in August, on Saturdays: they close traffic on Park Avenue in the Upper East Side all the way to the Brooklyn Bridge, for 5 hours. It’s MAGIC.

If you missed it, shame on you (and, how are we friends???). If you never heard of it, pen it in for next year and don’t make vacation plans or don’t say yes to weddings. If you don’t live in NYC, get tickets now.

So, Summer Streets was awesome, even though it RAINED ALL THREE SATURDAYS as you can see in the pictures (ugh) and we have to chop one run short because there was lightning, thunderstorm and flash flooding (but mostly because with all that water I couldn’t keep my contacts inside my eyes…!). It was still awesome.

The day after the first Summer Streets, July something, a Sunday, I run the NYRR Manhattan Mile, a new race and a distance I’ve never run. So, automatic PR you say? Meh I don’t count those, but I WILL COUNT THE NEXT TIME I RUN THIS DISTANCE because I run it as slow AF. So, here we go: I have a bum knee. It’s not chondromalacia patellae, it’s not ITBS, I’ve ruled out a lot of things but it’s just weird because it hurts VERY randomly. AND, if I take time off, it hurts more. Go figure that one out. Good luck. Anyway, that day my knee was hurting so I struggled to finish. It was also like one hundred million degrees celsius/fahrenheit.

Luckily I had Jackie, Michael and Brian to not only keep me company but throw power boosts at me during the last mile where they all decided to pick it up and I was just not into it. Aw, friends that throw stuff at you while you want to curl and cry are the BEST! ❤ I guess.

HA.

The next weekend was another combo of Summer Streets and a race. This time I attempted to do two races on Sunday and it didn’t work out AT ALL. I wanted to do the France Run, a 5 miler in Central Park at 8, and then scoot out to Williamsburg (in Brooklyn, for all my international readers! This Wsburg is in BK, not Colonial Pennsylvania, as I had to be told a few times in my first years in NYC coming from Philly!!!) (where was I?) then scoot out to Williamsburg to race the Brooklyn Mile. My heat was at 9:30 am. Possible?? Not really. What was I thinking? Not only David and I run France Run as slow as we possibly could without bursting into a walk spider-crawl, BUT we then proceeded to be extra stooopid fun after we finished and pretend talk in French and rename everything. We then also decided, while it rained, to taste and eat all the French things they had… chocolate, financiers, it was good… oooops, it’s 9:30! CRAP. And the truth is, I wasn’t in any shape to race a mile. My knee agreed (probably).

The last weekend of August (am I missing one???) it was a doubleheader. I did the Percy Sutton 5K in Harlem on Saturday and the Henry Isola 4 Mile XC in Van Cortlandt, Bronx, on Sunday. Who knew I could handle it? The knee was stoopid all week so I run to the 5K with Kettia and David SUPER slow, like 11 pace and was thinking to maybe cheer. I felt 100% pain-free so I decided to race. It was slow (23:06 It think, 7:24 pace) well, yes, I haven’t done anything hard in 2 months so I couldn’t expect much more but I felt good and that is all I cared about. Plus it was fun. We met lots of people, Frankie run me in, we had an hour-long stop on the run back… it was all shit and giggles, the way a race morning should be (to me, don’t judge!).

We run back. I ended up with like 10 miles… then… the next day, cause I felt ok… (who feels ok the day after a 5k?) I decided to run to the Bronx to run the Henry Isola 4 miler. It’s in the trails and it’s cross country. Ummmmmmm I was an XC virgin and had NO IDEA what I was doing. I didn’t even know why my age and gender was on my bib! Or how we all run on the grass and not the path…? it was all so weird. So, I’ve done trail races, like ultras, or like Bear Mountain 50K, or stuff like that. But this was SOOO DIFFERENT. Fast but also trails, crazy. Anyway, I run to the Bronx, got there at 8 am, race was starting at 9 and it was SO BURNING HOT already… I started feeling all the heatnessticity before we even started. It’s a smaller race than the typical NYRR race, like a LOT smaller. 40% of it were we out of the trails and in THE SUN. The last loop was hard and I won’t admit this to myself but there’s a chance I didn’t negative split this race. It was still great though (if can call walking up Cemetery Hill twice because your legs can’t run up, then yes it was great).

I think you can tell how HOT it was. Maybe by the sun situation, or my sweat situation, or maybe becase my hair is fried. I didn’t run back home. At all. I tried. But no.

DATA DOWNLOAD

Total Miles: 157, biggest mileage month so far this year. Just checked and my biggest month was 187 miles in October 2016.

Races: Four. Two were miserable/slow. One was ok, one was awesome.

Ups: UM, HELLO, SUMMER STREETS. Did you forget already??? Also, that’s the most miles I run in a month this year. Catching up.

Downs: THIS STOOOOPID KNEE. Sorry, sorry, I still need love you knee, please don’t hurt me, anymore, prettyplease?

Balance: I wanna feel un-pain again and run hard, and do speedwork and I hate this crap.

July

I barely remember July already and it was just now. My parents were still visiting so we kept touristing around and we had an amazing Fourth of July with all the official NYC fireworks on the East River. Epic. I did two races, with meh performances. The first one was the NYRR

hair working hard for the picture, post-Retro 4 Miler

Retro 4 Miler, and I was really lame to not dress up, or back? I seriously will wear any costume but just like happens every single Thanksgiving Halloween, I don’t care enough to remember more than 1 minute ahead of time. Every year I tell myself I am totally going to dress up next year and then I forget. Then every year, when the costumey event happens, I tell myself I am gonna set a reminder in the calendar for a month BEFORE Halloween/race/etc so I can plan ahead… but I am a snooze-hitter with things I don’t really want to bother with (NOT the alarm, you KNOW I wake up before the alarm even goes off!), and I use my go-to motto: if I didn’t bother doing it so far, no chance in hell this is gonna get done ever. Just like with the emails at the bottom of my inbox. If it’s been 2-3 days, there’s a high chance they won’t get opened/read/replied to… AAAANYWAY, I didn’t wear a costume for the Retro Run because I am lame. But people do, and it’s SUPER fun and I really really really always wish I did. mooooving on. Ah, so, the race. Wasn’t feeling it. I met with Courtney to do about 4 or 5 miles before and I kept wanting to go home. I was THIS close. Does that ever happen to you?

Then, I also did the NYRR R U N 5K in Central Park last week. Also wasn’t fast or anything special. It was a bit like hell hot so I decided to hold it in a bit. I managed to not kill myself. It was meh, but I love that course, it’s pretty fast with just one hill. Saw like a million people I knew, which was fun as always to catch up and chit chat and all those things with lots of chs in them. cha cha cha.

If anything else exciting, fun, amazing happened, I either don’t remember or it’s totally private or NSFW! HAAA, got you thinking!!!

DATA DOWNLOAD

exciting huh? I am behind on my mileage… been behind since,… January??? I am lazy or having too much fun, you decide.

Total Miles: 152, not bad, not bad… not amazing but the most this year. July is a good month to run!

Races: 2. LAME!!!! Last month I had 6… so… AH THAT’S WHY MY MILEAGE IS UP!!!

Ups: I heart running in the summer. LOVE IT. JULY NEEDS TO BE 325 DAYS PLEASE.

Downs: omg my hair in the weather. HELP. Send the firemen or the paramedics or Paolo Puttanesca asap.

Balance: I have no idea. ALL I CARE ABOUT RIGHT NOW IS SUMMER STREETS. SUMMER STREETS STARTS IN TWO DAYS. SUMMER STREETS IS THE BEST. SUMMER STREETS HERE I COME. SUMMER STREETS IS THE BEST. DID I TELL YOU I LOVE SUMMER STREETS?

can you tell I am melting?

June

was a great month. Let me break it down before I forget it all (photos and a super organized calendar really do help!). I often wondered if I should do these weekly… there is so much to say but then I forget. Anyway, JUNE was BUSY, My parents came to visit from Argentina, which is awesome, they come every other year, for about a month and it was amazing. We did everything, we went everywhere, I got myself them so tired every single day…. it was awesome and rough at the same time. We literally did it all in a month. We even went to Miami for a few days of untamable hair and sticky skin. I forgot how insanely hot Miami is in the summer. #protip, don’t effing go to Miami in the summer, ever. or really, at any other time but definitely NO in the summer.

Anyway, the month started with the Italy Run NYC, a 5-mile race in Central Park, sponsored by Ferrero where I proceeded to smear Nutella all over me post-race, best celebration possible, correct? Before you ask, there are no pictures of that because it’s a LIE. Race was good; my performance… meh (actually, I don’t remember anymore!).

Literally 3 days later, I did another race, the Summer Series 5K in Prospect Park. It’s on Wednesdays at 7 pm, which REALLY messes up my sleep AND my Thursday morning run with my Flyers friends, BUT…I kinda love showing up because:

I see lots of friends I don’t see every day in Central Park

I cherish (and also hate) racing in a different course than the ones I did one million times in CP (though it’s also harder)

Love the small race ambiance

Also, don’t remember much I think (given there is a picture of my holding a medal, duh) that I placed and I got a medal. Oh, and I totally remember I got something like 71% AG. YEAH, nbd.

And… 3 days right after this one, I had the 3rd race in 6 days… can you imagine how that one is gonna go???? So, Saturday morning was a Mini10K, which is a mega party, so I wasn’t going to miss it. BUT, I also wasn’t going to miss the other mega party Friday night… So come Saturday morning I was a MESS… my feet hurt (from the heels or dancing, who knows!) and I was sleeeeeeepy, SO SLEEEEEPY. I have no idea why, NOT ONLY I SHOWED UP TO THE RACE, BUT I also met Elizabeth (she is real, I promise) to do 4 miles before the race. MENTAL.

But, it was all worth it. I run it, EASY, with 3 friends, and it was a frigging BLAST. I regret nothing. #noregerts.

Told you it was FUN! Yeah, I was physically miserable but no one remembers that… smh. So then my parents arrived and we started the daily tour of all the food and all the things we don’t tell the tourists about. AND the World Cup. June was literally mental. Somehow I managed to get to Queens the next weekend, early, to run the Queens 10K. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to make the trek because Argentina was playing at 9 am against Iceland and I’d miss the first half, but so happy I went… Not only I had tons of fun at the race, I SOMEHOW (…miraculously) managed to do OK. Noooo, not a PR or even close but I got up to 69% AG, I was just one minute off from my PR, which is from frigggggging 2013! Does that even count anymore? I say NO.

I am a sucker for high-fives!

Then, wait for this because the madness doesn’t stop there…. I did TWO races the next weekend!!!! YEAH, again, NBD! Crazy, right? I agree. It’s good that I am a biomechanics coach and I know what I am doing because otherwise my leggies would have fallen off by then… Saturday was the Pride Run and OMG I WAS NOT GONNA MISS THAT. I always race the Achilles Hope and Possibility race (which was going to the next day), so I decided to take the Pride Run easy and save my legs for Sunday. Only… I didn’t quite do that. I ended up with a lot of fun AND 12 miles… oooops. #mischiefmanaged (for you all PotterHeads!)

Jackie, Mary, Michael and I run the whole thing chatting from start to end. And the outfits were ON POINT.

Sunday I woke up to do a few miles before the Achilles Hope and Possibility race and I was wishing I had raced the day before… It was muggy, humid, gross and I was tired. You do what you can.

David and Patricia (and corrals B,C,D,E and F) smoked me but I was happy. My parents had come to spectate and it was AWESOME. They came both days. They LOVED IT. Those two races and really something. REALLY REALLY something.

The next weekend was a wash because I was out of town, and back just on July 1st to watch the husband race the NYC TRI, with the parents and my cheering crew along. TRIATHLETES ARE CRAZY, just saying. But he’s so cute, it evens out.

DATA DOWNLOAD

Total Miles: 139, eeeeeek. too much racing makes the mileage go puff!

Races: SIX. 6 races in month. That’s probably maybe a PR, at least this year… ha, I have 12 races this year, 6 in ONE MONTH.

Ups: All the fun things I did with the parents…!!! The Nutella at the Italy Run was HEAVEN. The Mini10K was SO FUN. Queens was a MEGA REVELATION. Pride and Achilles get me teary every time…

Downs: Mileage was yuk and I am behind my yearly goal. Tapering before races and how sore I am sometimes after…

Balance: ALL AWESOME!!!! I can’t believe I did all those races with all the other stuff I had going on…!

May

May was a whirlwind!! So much happened, and so many races also! I remember I started the month with something we had planned since September last year: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child!

Call me a Potterhead, That was awesome! Twelve hours later, I was up early for the Newport 10K, just over the Hudson, one of my favourite 10Ks, because 1, it’s flat, 2, the finish line bagels (and I don’t really like bagels!). The race was a blast as usual: I’ve run it a few times and it always delivers! It’s usually hot but I love the vibe and the views!

Of course, as usual, there were many runs and stairs workouts sprinkled through the month:

And then there was the Japan Run. I remembered being tired from something but then, at the start, I met with Brian and Nick and Jackie, and we all decided to run together and pace Jackie. Those are my favorite types of races!

Way too much fun was had!! The next weekend, just so I wouldn’t fall off the wagon, I run the NYPD Memorial Run 5K. It was HOT and humid but I rallied and for the first time in months, I did OK. I measure my race performances by AG and I feel I do ok when I get close or over the 70% AG mark. Lately, I had been around 64% to 69%, and in this race I went back up to 70% wohoooo. Also, it was super fun to run on the West Side Highway. I really like how wide it is there.

Then, three days later, after a brutal stairs workout and speedwork, we raced the Prospect Park Summer Series 5K: no biggie. The course was slower (as there is a hill in Prospect Park) but I managed very similar results! Just like 10 or 20 seconds off. I find it so weird to race at night (well, 7 pm), that I find it quite amusing to try to figure out what to eat, how much, when, etc. Of course, then I slept like crap after because I was so wired!

That was a lot of racing…!

DATA DOWNLOAD:

Total Miles: 147, coming back up, but it’s hard with those short races because I feel like I need a good taper before and then my legs are thrashed for a few days…

Races: FOUR, here we go. Racing season is upon us!

Ups: the NYPD and the Summer Series 5K were definitely a surprise! I wasn’t expecting to do so well (NOT IN PR SHAPE YET THOUGH, ok?) and even though I don’t feel as strong as I used to, feeling in control of the situation really helps! One more thing: Central Park blossoming is the BEST!

Downs: how tired my legs feel two days after any short race! YUK

Balance: VERY HAPPY

So, I need to race more. Even if I am not in fighting shape or without any kind of expectations, I really enjoy it. The fewer expectations I have, the more fun I have, and so I go out there controlled and just let the race happen. I’ve actually started measuring races and performance by the amount of time it takes me to get back home, aka “how much fun I have”. For example, the NYPD Memorial Run was at 9 am and I got home at 4 pm: THAT is a successful race in my eyes now. The truth is I am not always (or ever again!) be as fast as I used to be or as I would like to be or as I would expect to be, so what should I do? Stay home until I feel I am in shape? HECK NO. To me, races are not a test of my fitness or “what I get from the work I put in” but a chance to enjoy with the community of friends who like to get out and enjoy the park with one foot in front of another trying to stay healthy. Yes, I’ll push hard here and there, but if one day I don’t feel like it or I decide to stick with a friend, it’ll be no different: it just HAS to be fun.

April

We started the month in Argentina, which was great because it was WARM and hey, it was vacations. Got to see the fam and a few touristy things of course, and yeah, a few runs with Juan. Oh and of course I ate my face away. Lots of asado and steaks but also a lot of nikkei, my favourite non-native cuisine while in Argentina (my favourite non-native in the US is Japanese and French, you always gotta know where to get what!). I got back, I did a 4 miler in Central Park, the Run as One… it was so long ago, I can barely remember, or maybe it’s because I’ve been racing a lot the last two months! Oh yeah, I remember I got really hot (I was overdressed) and started way too fast or something, here is one picture!

I obviously spent some time running around, exhibit A:

or working:

or with Juan, usually eating crap:

and/or usually with friends, running or not!!!

DATA DOWNLOAD:

Total Miles: 119. Ooops. That’s low. I really vacationed in Argentina… IT HAPPENS, OKAY?

Races: just one but it was more like a tempo, wasn’t expecting to go all out.

Ups: the fun runs!

Downs: didn’t get a lot done!

Balance: it was good -> lots of blossoming happening all over NYC made it amazingly beautiful!

March

March is always a good month because it is my birthday!!! HA. I started the month with a race, the NYRR Washington Heights Salsa, Blues and Shamrocks 5K (there is a post there), which wasn’t great time wise but it was fun. See proof here:

There was a lot of running, maybe not tons of miles, because it was still cold as hell Alaska? ok Alaska, but it got done.

And the United NYC Half happened. I saw so many of you there. That was an intense week and I was REALLY just a bit jealous of everyone running the new course. I got to run parts of it last year and was on one of the Pro lead trucks on race day and it looked amazing!! and everyone looked SO happy at the finish line… Really jelly So happy for you all!!!

We then went to San Antonio for a few quiet days of pulled pork and warmer weather. For my bday. We ate a LOT. We run a bunch too:

DATA DOWNLOAD:

Total Miles: 151, it’s starting to pick up

Races: one. and I was so not wanting to race!

Ups: I did a lot of really great runs

Downs: still not feeling my best.

Balance: not letting it get to me. Let’s hope the nicer weather brings better running!

Also, one more thing I forgot to report on this whole year. A few friends and I have been doing monthly challenges. January was squats, February was pushups, March was planks. We usually just grab one from popsugar.com. Basically it tells you how many to do every day and each day is a bit more. It’s interesting. Maybe you’d want to try it with a few friends? we all text each other to make sure we’re all doing them EVERY DAY… Protip: it works better with a reward at the end of the month!!!!!!!!!!

February

was weird. I happened so quick I barely noticed. Instead of ice-fest, we had a few meltdowns (all kinds of meltdowns!) and even one day in the 70s… OH OH what are people going to use now to discredit “””global warming“””? I feel so bad for those polar bears, and hey, we won’t be moving to Venice anytime soon. Glad I live in a 2nd floor too, but I digress… Anyway, my body decided also to have a meltdown and I had a couple of stooopid issues (my hormones have decided they need more attention than any Kardashian!) and even some very very easy runs where my heart rate was about 50 over the usual… anyway, I was signed up for the NYRR Al Gordon Brooklyn 4M, and I was literally too tired to get up. Of course, I ended up running 11 miles in Central Park instead but my pace was 10:00 and my heart rate was at 82%. Insane. You just can’t win them all, can you? About two weeks ago, I spent the husband and I spent two hours shopping for half marathons for me… I came up with not a lot. If you have any ideas, let me know. Also, my running is so up and down I’ve started questioning if I should try to take some weeks/months off so my body doesn’t feel pressured and maybe that would help?

ha, I was just kidding! I’d be super hyper and way too annoying after just two days and waaaaay unhappy. So, let me just slow down, do it when my body is ok with it, and just enjoy it with no pressure. Deal?

So, I had a few awesome runs, still.

Plus it was Valentine’s Day and who thinks we’d let any reason to celebrate pass by? any excuse works!

Also, I got to spend some quality time at work (at NYRR) with some people you might know… Meb and Jenny. Do you even need last names? Don’t think so! Meb is now a Team for Kids Ambassador and Jenny is a Rising NYRR Ambassador and both were in town to run the Virtual For the Kids 5K race. If you haven’t check NYRR’s Virtual Races, you should.

Anyway, it all went waaay too fast!

DATA DOWNLOAD

Total Miles: 124, emmm, got lazy a bit!

Races: big old zero for the year

Ups: weather got surprisingly “hot”. 40s and some 50s even.

Downs: not feeling my best.

Balance: i am getting a bit frustrated. cause, wtf.

January

was really cold. The first two weeks we set cold weather records. It was awful. Running was awful. I started the year working at the midnight run and it was really really cold. I wore everything and it was still crazy cold. But it’s a super fun race!

It was so cold that the races on the second weekend of January got canceled. I managed to run both Saturday and Sunday but it was insanely cold. Everyone kept asking me what I was training for, as most people assumed I had to get the miles in for some marathon or something. I am not really training for anything, just trying to not let the winter win. I can’t say I loved it, but I got out there.

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As you can see there was a couple of blizzards in there, snow, ice, and all the layers. Luckily we had planned a trip to Mexico for mid-January to escape the cold. The vacation part was uneventful but we had a few epic runs with Juan (the husband!).

First night in the hotel, a guy who worked there came up to talk to Juan as he was wearing his 2017 TCS New York City Marathon shirt, to ask him if he had run the marathon. Turned out that Armando, our new friend at the hotel, was a runner too and invited us to his team’s workout the next morning. So, at 6:30 am we went out to meet up the Red Runners, who were having a special run as one of their teammates had passed that week. There was a half an hour of a warm-up, everyone in a circle, probably around 130 people, and the coach had a microphone and big speakers. Before we headed out, we all got one white rose to carry for the memorial. We all run together to a gorgeous lighthouse I never would have seen, we got there with the sunrise, there were speeches, even a triathlete pastor, there were prayers, and we run back with the boombox in tow. Everyone was together. It was very moving. And everyone was so welcome to this stranger. It was very special.

When I travel, to me, the best thing EVER is to hang with the locals. Nothing could have beat that run.

Juan and I did have a few osom runs. The day after the run with Red Runners, there was a race in town, which we didn’t sign up for because registration was miles and miles away but we run to the start and finish to cheer/spectate. Funnest part: Kukulcan road (the main drag) had no traffic for the race. Quite FUN!

The next few days we did great. We did a tempo together and we run back to the lighthouse so Juan could see it. We managed to get the sunrise too.

And like that, we were back and the month was over!

DATA DOWNLOAD!

Total Miles: 140

Races: not even one. But we spectated at one..!

Ups: the runs in Mexico!

Downs: running in the sub 10 temperatures (which is like minus 20 in Celsius). NOT FUN. WITH WIND!

Balance: can it be June now? I really miss racing a LOT.

August 2018 – the month that was well, August is always a good month because of SUMMER STREETS, literally, I should be hired by the Summer Streets People because I feel like a community evangelizer.

1 note · View note

365-money-diary · 4 years ago

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DAYS 50 - 56

DAY FIFTY

6:25 AM - Up an at ‘em. It’s vaccine day! The State Farm Stadium is 30 minutes away from my house and I kind of have a history of feeling light-headed and such so I eat a piece of toast before we leave. Prep our water bottles and coffee in our respective hydroflasks and we’re out the door.

7:25 AM - We arrive to the stadium and go through a slew of checkpoints. Unfortunately because of the storms they aren’t giving out plus ones today so we will try for K again when I get my second. The process is pretty easy and we are out of there in 30 minutes. I get the Pfizer vaccine. :)

8:30 AM - K and I take a walk since I still have some time before work starts.

10:00 AM - Today is going to be super easy workwise so I just kind of take my time easing into it. I start to feel some tingles from the shot as well as arm soreness. Nothing I can’t handle though!

12:00 PM - Annual charge for my recipe plugin comes through for my blog. Heat up broccoli fried rice for lunch. $49.00

2:00 PM - My arm is starting to hurt but nothing I can’t handle. Eat pretzels.

4:00 PM - Ditch work early to take a walk to the lake. Bring wine in a hydroflask to just sit and enjoy the weather. I chat with T on the way and then FaceTime with H who says he’s moving to Philly. Super bummed honestly. DJing with him is one of my favorite things on this planet.

6:00 PM - Arrive home to find a sleepy K. My arm is really hurting at this point and we decide to take a nap.

7:30 PM - Wake up feeling groggy and in pain. Remember they advised drinking water before taking Tylenol so I down 48 ounces and actually start to feel better. Heat up a Big Sur Breakfast burrito for dinner and K and I watch the first 30 minutes of Uncut Gems. K’s brother hits him up to play RocketLeague and so he breaks away to that and I watch more of The Challenge.

11:30 PM - I am tired of being awake and would just rather be asleep.

DAY FIFTY TOTAL: $49.00

DAY FIFTY-ONE

8:30 AM - Wake up feeling like my body has been doing work to fight something, but without any external symptoms (fever, chills, fatigue) minus my sore arm. Continue hydrating and make a chemex.

9:00 AM - I can’t really work on the trim today as planned because of my arm, so I decide to work on my blog instead.

11:00 AM - Make pancakes and hashbrowns for breakfast.

2:30 PM - Post a recipe for Greek Salad. The Internet seems to be receptive which is nice… my last few recipes have flopped. Finish The Ruins. Actually bummed Sara & KellyAnne didn’t win. Evan, Kenny, and Johnny suck and needs to rot in hell. Make a giant bowl of popcorn.

5:00 PM - Drop off a ball and a tube to a friend who is starting to take Pure Barre classes again. Walk back and then K and I walk to the lake with the dog. Feels like the best thing we’ve done all day tbh. My arm still hurts too much to exercise so this is the best it’s gonna get.

7:45 PM - Arrive home and roast potatoes for buffalo chicken sandwiches. I’ll definitely be shooting this for the blog.

8:00 PM - It’s one of those nights where I already did everything and I’m tired of screens. I reached out to a friend a few days ago for book recs and I pick one from the list called The Guest List. Buy it on kindle. $16.40

9:30 PM - I’m already ready to start a new season of The Challenge. This one is Fresh Meat II. Can’t believe Darrell gets eliminated on the first episode. Dang.

10:45 PM - K and I decide we’re tired and that it’s time for beddie. My body is definitely ready for sleep.

DAY FIFTY-ONE TOTAL: $16.40

DAY FIFTY-TWO

8:30 AM - Wake up feeling pretty rested. Definitely a lot better today. Arm is mildly sore. Might be able to ride the bike or play DDR today. Maybe modify Pure Barre but probably not. Take a shower for the first time since Thursday because I usually shower after I exercise and that hasn’t happened in a while… hah.

9:00 AM - My kettle has been here for a few days but I haven’t broken it out of the shed yet. Unbox the beauty, give it a little rinse and make my first cup of coffee. I like how quiet it is and how little space it takes up. 10/10.

10:15 AM - I notice I still have a half block of tofu leftover so I make tofu/egg tacos for breakfast with Field Roast Sausage, mushrooms, onions, and jalapenos.

11:15 AM - Clean the kitchen and prep for shooting. I am feelin’ the vibes from my last post so I don’t want to lose motivation. Make miso butter pasta since it’s really all I can swing with the ingredients in my pantry.

1:15 PM - Finish shooting and import the photos into my library while watching The Challenge in the background. Decide might as well start editing. I don’t have much else going on and I’m again, feeling motivated.

4:30 PM - K goes on a drive and I decide to play DDR. My arm is not ready for barre but it can dangle a bit while I stomp on some arrows. I decide I really want to learn Afronova on heavy which is something I never was really able to pass consistently in my youth. It’ll be a good thing to work toward over the next few weeks.

5:30 PM - Pour a glass of wine and hop on zoom with K’s family. It’s nice to see them.

7:30 PM - Make buffalo chicken sandwiches for dinner with potatoes.

9:00 PM - Walk to the lake with K.

12:00 AM - Finish my entire post for miso butter noodles. I don’t think I’ve ever shot and posted something in the same day. Exhausting! Hah

DAY FIFTY-TWO TOTAL: $0

DAY FIFTY-THREE

8:00 AM - Pure barre charge. Make a chemex. And eat half a bagel with earth balance and nooch for breakfast. Also get charged for my automatic payment to Amazon for iron pills $27.93

9:00 AM - Today is my officemate’s birthday. My boss and I pitched in to get her a Lululemon gift card. $35

12:00 PM - Leftover miso butter noodles for lunch with air-fried broccoli.

5:00 PM - Today was honestly exhausting but I am ready to move. Play a few games of DDR and then do a barre class.

7:00 PM - Rinse off and make the last of the buffalo chicken sandwiches. We’re very excited for groceries tomorrow hah.

9:30 PM - Buy a phone tripod. I suck at doing videos one-handed and I know I can grow my pages like bananas if I can actually shoot the content correctly. I apply the gift card my boss got me for building her website so this is on the house.

DAY FIFTY-THREE TOTAL: $62.93

DAY FIFTY-FOUR

7:00 PM - Long ass day. Groceries are slated to arrive. Incoming of bell peppers, tomatoes, grapes, tofu, cucumber, broccoli, red onion, limes, lemons, bananas, jalapenos, serranos, clementines, bread, chickpeas, tortilla chips, tortillas, sprouts, potatoes, baby carrots, onions, salsa, cauliflower rice, cilantro, gf mini pretzels, apples, hashbrowns, oat milk, cheese, vegan cheese, brown rice, white rice, gf pasta, spring mix, romaine, tomato paste, dark chocolate, red wine and balsamic vinegar, pineapple, scallions, oregano, shallots, mushrooms, orzo, kale, chipotle peppers, eggs, brown sugar, burger buns, corn, parsley, veggie straws, vanilla bean, asparagus, snap peas, a pound of coffee, plant sausage, plant yogurt, zucchini, radish, cabbage, seltzer, plant yogurt, pasta sauce, plant pizza, jelly, and mustard. $350.86

8:00 PM - Eat red lentil pasta for dinner.

DAY FIFTY-FOUR TOTAL: $350.86

DAY FIFTY-FIVE

1:00 PM - Done with meetings for the day. My brain hurts. Hah make salad (bbq chicken, spring mix, carrots, bell pepper, onion, corn, tomatoes, cucumbers, and ranch is the combo for the week), drink seltzer, tryyyy to calm down.

3:40 PM - Actually hoping no one bothers me for the rest of the day. Change into workout clothes and sneak in my last barre class for the challenge.

6:00 PM - Get charged for CBS all access. Craving a cocktail instead of wine. Pick some grapefruits from the backyard, text J to ask how to salt a rim, then make a grapefruit + mezcal drink with a chili-lime salted rim. YUM. $6.48

7:00 PM - Veggie sandwiches with potatoes is the name of dinner for the next few days. So good!

DAY FIFTY-FIVE TOTAL: $6.48

DAY FIFTY-SIX

8:30 AM - Make a chemex and “get to work.” Today is super slow. I finish the last of my outstanding tasks, make 2 batches of chex mix which I regret because K says he won’t be eating any since he’s trying to avoid salt. Snack on that and then make salad for lunch.

1:30 PM - Literally no one has pinged me so I take the opportunity to play some DDR. I play for nearly an hour before anyone bothers me and nail down the steps to this one section of Afronova at ⅕ the speed. I’ll try ⅖ tomorrow!

5:30 PM - K and I are both starving so I make us dinner early today. Drink a grapefruit + mezcal cocktail after din.

8:30 PM - K asks if I’ll walk to the lake with him and the dog. I kind of don’t want to since I played my heart out already but he asks pleeeassse and I oblige. The walk is really really nice. We even sit near the waterfront for a while watching people do this cheesy skate routine.

10:30 PM - Make it back. I work on my blog in K’s office while he edits video stuff. I have The Challenge on in the background and finish Fresh Meat II. Only 11 more seasons before I can cancel my membership! Hah.

DAY FIFTY-SIX TOTAL: $0

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