#but going back home would be an 11 hour trip and then I’d have to go back up there for my grandpa’s bday anyway a couple of days later

[imabillyami]

.

[lou-struck]

A Peaceful Project

Hajime Iwaizumi  x reader

Flufftober Day 11

WC: 1.4k

~You bought a few beginner crochet kits from the airport's gift shop to wait out your long layover, while traveling with your Fiancé and the Pro- Volleyball team he works for. 

What a sight your group must be amidst the usual airport crowd. The Japan National Volleyball Team mostly stands tall in their all-red warm-up uniforms they have elected to travel in for their flight home from an International Volleyball tournament. You would never tell them this, but the group looks a bit like a cult. 

Due to hazardous weather, the flight home has been delayed for at least another twelve hours, and it is quite amusing to see how these top athletes deal with the stale stench of boredom that wafts throughout the gate.

Between the rows of leather-backed seats, you spy the muscled form of your Fiance, who busies himself with adjusting the athletic tape of Tobio Kagyama’s fingers, but you can tell by Hajime’s tight smile he is thankful to be wearing his normal clothes.

“How much longer do we have to sit hereeee?” Shoyo Hinata whines, squirming in his seat. The redhead has never been good at staying in one place, so this must be agonizing for him.

“A while,” you reply, feeling pity for the man. “Maybe you could go check out the airport and get yourself some food.”

At the mention of a meal, he brightens up exponentially and looks at you with wide eyes. “There’s food here?”

“Yeah, idiot,” Kageyama says, walking over to the two of you, flexing his freshly taped fingers. “Why would we be stuck in a place like this without something to eat?”

“I wasn’t talking to you, Crappyama,” the smaller man responds, childishly sticking out his tongue at the setter. He turns his attention to you nicely. “Wanna go with me since Iwaizumi is busy?”

You smile warmly at him and shake your head. “Thank you for asking, but I’ll wait for him to get done.”

“Oh, okay,” he says before turning to the setter. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

“Why me?” Kageyama asks, looking surprised. 

“Because you’re always grumpy when you’re hungry.” the redhead says before zipping away down the terminal. 

“I’m not grumpy!” The dark-haired man calls, sprinting after him. 

You laugh as they disappear out of sight, and you hear a deep chuckling behind you. Turning your head, you see Hajime walking over to you. 

“There goes our entertainment.” he laughs, leaning over you in your seat. His large hand slips under your chin and tilts it upwards so that he can give you a proper kiss. “How you doing, baby?”

“Better now,” you hum, enjoying his attention. While you are glad that you were able to join him on this trip, you definitely haven’t gotten to spend as much time with him as you would’ve liked. Between tending to the player’s injuries and providing nutritional advice for the team’s meals, he has made a lot of overtime pay these last few days. “How many players do you have to do treatments on?”

His face falls, and he glances back at the queue of men standing behind him. There are at least a dozen players in need of treatment. The last few days were tough on them, and there was no shortage of injuries. “I’ll be at least another hour,” he sighs. “I’m sorry.”

Your comforting touch finds his bicep, and you give it a reassuring little squeeze. “Hey, it’s alright. I can just get a book or something from that little shop over there, and then we can go and get something together.”

He looks between you and the ‘Go Mart’ a few yards away before giving you a tired yet heartfelt smile. “You would really do that for me?”

“You know I’d do just about anything for you,” you laugh, reaching into your backpack and pulling out your wallet to pay for whatever kind of overpriced airport entertainment you are about to get for yourself.

“Thanks, baby,” he says, helping you to your feet. “I’ll go as fast as I can, I promise.” With quick steps, he walks back over to his empty row of seats that he has cleared out for his athletic training purposes and starts barking directions at the men waiting in line. “You’re next, Miya, sit down and let me see that damn wrist of yours.”

Leaving your suitcase in the safety of your party, you step into the little shop. Walking past the rack of keychains and shot glasses with various city names and other last-minute travel gifts, people get when they forget to buy them on their travels to the back of the store. The wall of mass-market paperbacks looks down on you. 

You are just about to reach for a cheesy-sounding romance novel until something catches your eye. Your head turns to give yourself a better look, and you see a little rack of arts and crafts kits, including some paint-by-numbers coloring books and ‘Beginner-Friendly’ crochet kits. 

The little pouches have adorable little crochet animal pictures on the front, including a little green lizard guy and a purple penguin. It may not be a book, but these little kits look like just the thing you need to make it through this layover. 

You scoop the light packages off their hooks and bring them to the counter, not bothering to look at the obscenely high price they have. 

It will hurt less to just ignore the charge on your credit card completely…

~

The gift shop bag sways to and fro as you walk back to where your group is supposed to be. Your gate has become practically empty save for your Fiance, who diligently watches the luggage with his arms crossed. 

“Where’s the rest of your line?” you ask, noting the absence of the volleyball players. 

“They got hungry and left.” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “We should’ve just gotten food when we had the chance.”

“So now you’re on suitcase duty?” you ask, plopping down in the seat next to him.

“Until they come back, I guess we are stuck here.” He spots the bag in your hand and peaks into it. “That doesn’t look like a book.” 

“Nope,” you say brightly, taking the kits out of the plastic and showing them to him. “I got us a project.”

“Crocheting?” he asks, reading the label. 

“The package says it’s for beginners, so I think the two of us can figure it out together,” you say, tossing him the lizard. “Go make a mini Godzilla.”

“That’s just a Lizard,” he chuckles. 

You roll your eyes and open the package of your purple penguin. “It could be a Mini Godzilla.” you hum. 

He smiles just for you and opens the package, taking out the yarn, the crochet hook, and, most importantly, the instructions. “Let’s see what this is all about then.”

Within minutes, you guys are hooked…

As much as you love talking to each other, you are dead silent as your eyes scan the instructions and your project. And despite the hustle and bustle of the airport around you, you feel remarkably peaceful. 

Thirty minutes go by before you say anything. “How is it going?” you ask, not taking your eyes off the little penguin bottom you have crafted. 

“Good,” he says, short and sweet. No doubt thriving in the comfortable silence the two of you have created for yourselves.

“Good.” you parrot, looking at the yard strand between your fingers and admiring the long chain you have formed. You may not know what you have to do after this step, but you’ll find out when you get there.

“Hey, we’re back,” Hinata calls, rushing back over to you two with Kageyama on his heels. “This airport is so cool. There’s a whole plane inside this garden thing and like a gazillion places to eat; when you go down there, make sure to,” he is cut off by an icy glare from your Fiance. 

“Shut up, I’m trying to concentrate.” Hajime hisses at the dynamic duo. “Unless you are injured or dying, leave us be.”

They look a bit taken aback at the Athletic Trainer’s outburst and look to you for any kind of comfort, but you are too engrossed in your project to give it to them.

“Sorry guys, I have a penguin to make.” you hum, looping another strand of violet yarn around your crochet hook. 

Neither of you has acknowledged it yet, but whoever finishes their project first won’t have to pay for their meal.

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network @eussstasss

[walker-extended-universe]

Welcome Home

Relationship(s): August Walker & Stella Walker, August Walker & Cordell Walker, August Walker & Liam Walker, August Walker & Sadie Yoo, August Walker/Sadie Yoo

Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Military, Post-Military, Post-Canon, Insecurity, Disability, Physical Disability, Amputation, Recovery, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: August came back from his time in the military, but he's not the man he once was. Can his family help him get back to his old self or is he too far gone?

Written for @augustofwhump Day 11: Scars, Insecurity

A/N: I know August didn't go to the military after season 4 but I already had AUs cooked up and I'm not letting them go now

Taglist: @theladywyn, @ihavepointysticks, @klaatu51, @itsjessiegirl1, @neptunium134

----------

August had thought about the day he came home from the military for good a lot. He’d imagined himself leaving after a few years and transitioning into a more sedate lifestyle, maybe with Sadie by his side. He’d imagined himself going full career military and passing on a legacy of government benefits when he eventually bit the bullet. He’d imagined himself getting a hero’s funeral, remembered in pictures and funny stories until no one was around to tell them anymore.

In all his imaginings and daydreams, he’d never pictured this.

“Your recovery is coming along very well,” his assigned physical therapist told him. “Have you given any more thought to if you would prefer a prosthetic or crutches?”

“Crutches.” He’d made his choice soon after the amputation surgery. He’d seen the options and recovery schedule for a prosthetic. It was pricey, cumbersome, and something that would probably only lead to confusion and disappointment when he was wearing long pants. Crutches were cheaper and a lot more upfront about his baggage.

Crutches also meant he’d be going home sooner, but you can’t always get everything you want.

“Are you sure? We can-”

“I’m sure."

She blinked at him and nodded. “Alright. You’ll have to learn how to use them before we can release you. I’d also like to talk to your family about accommodations you might need at home. Is there a number I could call or….?”

August sighed. “My sister will be here in two hours. You can talk to her about all that.”

“Okay, we’ll do that then. Let’s just finish up your exercises and then I’ll come back to talk with your sister. Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

“No. Let’s just get this over with.”

August could do the whole exercise routine by himself at this point, but it was definitely easier with someone else helping him. Having someone to help him balance made it easier for him to keep his eyes away from the scar he was left with. The phantom pains were bad enough; the ugly stump was just another unfortunate reminder.

He really just wanted to get his crutches and get back to moving on his own again, but he knew that would be a journey. A journey he wasn’t really looking forward to.

Especially not a journey he wanted to go on with his family.

He was glad Stella had taken the mantle of dealing with all his hospital stuff. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle it if the rest of the family was constantly hovering around him during this. He didn’t need their sugarcoated praise or unnecessary optimism. He didn’t need Gramp’s war stories or Dad’s constant assurances that this wouldn’t change anything. He didn’t need Mawline’s smothering or Liam’s assembly line of therapists to “heal his mental state”.

He just wanted to get on with the rest of his pathetic life.

—------------------

The road had been cleared before they went on it. Or, at least, they thought it was. Not that it was August’s job to worry about that. It was their Sergeant's job, or at least the drivers. He just got on the truck he was told to get on and zoned out during the drive to prevent himself from thinking too hard about their mission. He much preferred scouting to sniping, but he didn’t get to make those decisions.

He hated trips like this, but it’s what he signed up for. Literally.

Maybe he should’ve listened a little closer to his grandfather’s war stories before he committed to this. A little late to complain about it now, so he didn’t. Not to his fellow soldiers, not in his letters home, not even when he was drunk on leave. Bottling things up was the Walker Way and after a few years at it, August was a professional.

The explosion came from right under his seat. There was another one as the driver tried to regain control of the vehicle.

And then the ambush came.

August didn’t remember much after the first gunshot. He just remembered the smell of blood and the sound of someone screaming.

Later, his sergeant would commend him for his “bravery in the face of adversity”. If August hadn’t just heard that the infections in his leg wounds were too severe for the field hospital to handle and amputation was the best route, he probably would’ve punched the man.

August got a medal for his bravery. He got to shake the governor’s hand and his face was plastered on the front page of The Austin Chronicle and The Daily Texan.

The other 19 men in the truck with him died. They got no awards and their families got meager compensation. He spoke with one of the wives, tried to tell her he was sorry. She just smiled and patted his remaining leg and told him to say “hi” to his mother for her.

The more he practiced “walking”, the closer he got to going home, the more he dreaded it. He didn't want the welcome home party or the accolades of a “successful” military career. He just wanted to move on, forget how he ended up here.

But that would never happen. He could never be that lucky.

—-------------------

“So I did tell them you didn’t want a big party but-”

August groaned. “Just tell me how many people are going to be there.”

Stella sighed. “I managed to talk them down to Dad’s work friends. And nobody got plus ones. Oh, and Sadie will be there.”

Sadie. He hadn’t seen her since last Christmas. Knowing the first time she would see him again was like this made his stomach twist into knots.

Last time he’d seen her, they kissed under the mistletoe. It had gotten them laughs, but it made him want more.

One more tour, he’d told himself back then. Just one more and then he’d be good enough. His family would be proud of him, he could get great benefits on top of whatever job he picked up, and maybe he could finally ask her on a date. She might even say “yes”.

Fat chance of that happening now.

“I already told everyone you’ll probably be tired and you don’t need to be overwhelmed right now so the extra guests probably won’t stay for more than an hour. If you need me to, I can be the bad guy and kick everyone out early,” Stella promised.

“Thanks,” he muttered. “But I can deal. If I let them get all their hovering out of the way now, maybe they’ll chill for a bit.”

Stella snorted. “Yeah, right. Dad’s been excited to show you all the renovations they made for you and Liam really wants your opinions on his new ‘inclusive’ therapy plans for the rescue. And I’ve lost track of how many times Mawline’s asked me if I was absolutely sure you don’t have any new dietary restrictions.”

August groaned and slid down in his seat. “And they wonder why I wanted to stay at the hospital by myself….”

“You know it’s because they care about you. I know it’s clumsy and overbearing but they’re trying.”

“I know that but…. I just wish they wouldn’t make a big dal out of it.”

Stella gave him a side eye. “Auggie, you lost a leg. That’s kind of a big deal. I know you don’t want a fuss but it’s an adjustment for everyone. Just- I talk to them but you may just have to ride this out. They’ll calm down after a couple months and then you can go back to pretending this isn’t a big deal, okay?”

He sighed. She was right, to an extent. He’d had a lot longer to adjust to his new situation than his family did. And they did care, even if he didn’t appreciate the way they showed it.

“I can put up with the party for an hour and I’ll try not to rush Dad through his tour but can you ask Liam to hold off on the therapy stuff for a bit. I’m just- not ready to think about that.”

She nodded, smiling. “I can do that.”

Done with the conversation, August turned on the radio and closed his eyes, letting the music carry him away from reality for a bit. He would take any break he could get.

[scarabsinthestardust]

Better in the Morning // Ch. 11

MASTERLIST

Well, here we are. Time to meet the parents.

Word count: 7300+

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Language; talks of depression, suicide, and anxiety; strained parental relationship; talks of crime, murder, drugs/drug cartel, running from the law, and minor talk of sex trafficking (nothing too graphic); mentions of death of a parent; injuries sustained from a shooting, blood, removal of a bullet, stitches (I'm not a medical professional and have zero medical training. I'm making it up as I go.); some probably really bad and vulgar Spanish retrieved per Google and Google translate (and I can't for the life of me figure out how to do the accents so we're just going to ignore that for now); I also might be tiptoeing real close to 'No Country for Old Men' fanfiction 😅

Two and a half years. Two and a half years, countless ups and downs, and I was finally taking the love of my life to see an important part of me, a part of what made me who I am. He was going to get to see where I grew up.

I don’t know what made me want to go back, but when I proposed the idea to Jake, he eagerly jumped at the opportunity. Soon enough, we were packed and on the road to Thomas, West Virginia.

It was about a nine-hour drive from Nashville. Jake tried to convince me to just fly, but I felt like I was due for a good road trip. We could travel at our own pace, and besides, Jake was good company for the drive. Richie had reached out to Vivian, an old family friend, arranging for us to stay with her instead of one of the shitty, middle-of-nowhere hotels (which were few and far between).

Vivian technically lived in Coketon, a coal-mining town just outside of Thomas that was almost abandoned. Mining activity flourished in the early 1900s, and the 15 coal mines in Coketon shipped out a million tons of coal annually. But by the mid to late 1950s, pretty much all underground mining had ceased. Most of the residents left shortly after that, only a few deciding to remain. Vivian’s family was one, not far from where Finn’s family had put down roots.

I spent a good chunk of my childhood at Vivian’s house. It was one of the “safe houses” my dad would drop us off at, Vivian being one of the few people he trusted. It was where I met my best friend, and where I lost my brother. There were a lot of bad memories associated with the place, but enough good to lure me back occasionally. Vivian could be… tough, a little abrasive, but she took care of us when our dad was gone and taught me most of everything I know. I mostly missed the horses. Jake expressed his unease at being that close to a 1,000-pound animal, more so at the idea of trying to ride one.

I smirked. “I will definitely get you on a horse before we come home.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

~

It was almost sundown by the time we turned down the dirt road that would take us to Vivian’s house. The trees on either side of the road loomed darkly, appearing much taller and thicker than the last time I was here. It had been almost five years, after all. Everything still felt so familiar, though, as if I was only here yesterday. The house came into view as we rounded the corner. It hadn’t changed a bit. The two-story brick house with its worn white molding and wrap-around porch had seen a lot, witnessed me and Finn grow up, and Luca not quite make it out.

“It’s a little creepy out here. Quiet.” Jake eyed the thick woods wearily. He had gotten so used to city life in Nashville. This was such a big jump from that.

“At least I’m not freezing my ass off,” I huffed.

“Sounds like a skill issue,” he joked. I narrowed my eyes and poked at his side, causing him to squirm away.

“I’ll remember that.”

As we unloaded our bags from the trunk, I heard the front door creak open. “Glad to see you remember your way here.”

“I wouldn’t ever forget it, V.” I gave her a quick hug. Jake stepped up behind me and I introduced them to each other. Vivian eyed him distrustfully, as I expected, but Jake didn’t seem put off by it and maintained his polite demeanor.

Vivian led us into the house and directed us to the spare room upstairs we’d be staying in. The inside was just as I remembered. A collection of paintings, created by Vivian, decorated the walls over gaudy wallpaper. The ugly blue carpet was still in the bedrooms, and even uglier striped, red carpet covered the stairs, which creaked under our weight. The innards of the house were worn, and needed some serious upgrades in my opinion, but it had good bones. The double bed with the brass headboard had a fresh set of sheets and a yellow floral blanket that was probably older than me. And as outdated and musty as the house was, it was home to me.

After dropping our stuff off and heading back downstairs, Vivian gestured up the stairs with a tilt of her head. “I’ve got one right now, so keep your voices down.” She offered no other information and Jake looked at me quizzically.

“There’s someone else staying here. I’ll explain later.” I pretended I didn’t notice the way Vivian narrowed her eyes at me. She would have been livid if she knew I’d told Jake anything. It was her secret to keep, too. And she didn’t trust him, not yet.

She set the table for dinner and took a plate to whoever was upstairs before we all sat down to eat. We took the time to catch up, her inquiring about Nashville and Richie, and asked after Finn when I told her he’d come to town for a visit. She asked Jake about his career, not bothering to hide the judgement in her eyes when he told her was a musician. All these people I grew up with seemed to think if it didn’t involve physical, manual labor, it wasn’t a ‘real job.’

“Oh, your pa’s gonna love that,” she said sarcastically. I rolled my eyes, which earned me a scolding from her. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, girl.” I found it annoying that even as an adult, she still knew how to make me feel like a child that had done something wrong. Jake, on the other hand, was doing his best to hold back his laughter.

Exhausted from the drive, we decided to call it a night after dinner. I filled Jake in as we got ready for bed, keeping my voice down to a whisper. “Viv’s in the business of taking in girls, young women, that don’t have anywhere else to go, or got pulled out of some shitty situation. Chances are, they’re probably traumatized and terrified, a lot of times of men, if you get my drift.”

“Like, victims of sex trafficking?”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

He exhaled a puff of air. “Your life just keeps getting more and more interesting.”

“Hah. This one is all Viv.”

“I don’t think she likes me very much,” he said as he got into bed.

I crawled in and snuggled up next to him. “Don’t take it personally. She doesn’t like much of anyone until she gets to know them. She’ll warm up to you.”

“You don’t think your dad would warm up to me eventually?”

I snorted a laugh. “No, because he’s just an asshole. It’s a good thing you won’t have to be subjected to that. At least during this trip.” That wasn’t true, but I didn’t know that yet. I had no idea how much Jake would learn while we were here, much less how much I would learn.

~

We spent most of the next day in town. There wasn’t much to do, but we checked out local shops, got lunch, and I took Jake to the Purple Fiddle Coffeehouse and Market, a staple in the town of Thomas. In the late afternoon, we took a walk around Vivian’s property, showing him all my little hangout spots and secret hideaways.

“That was Finn’s place,” I pointed out the small, now abandoned house. I’d never been inside and had no idea what happened to his parents. Perhaps that was for the best.

There were several pathways through the woods, some of them quite overgrown now. I can pretend I didn’t really know where we were headed, which path led to where, but that would be a lie. I grew up here, under the aspen canopy, weaving between these tree trunks like I was born for it. Maybe some sick part of me needed to see the place again, to remind myself that it was real.

Jake had been talking but he quieted when I stopped walking. “You okay?” He cocked his head.

I didn’t speak right away, worried that my voice might betray the peace of this place. The forest knew death. It had seen it many times over the course of thousands of years. I wonder if the trees remembered it, though, if they remembered his death, or if they heard my scream as it echoed through the leaves. My vision zeroed in on the spot. There wasn’t anything that stuck out, nothing that distinguished it from any other place in this vast expanse of wooded ground, but I knew it. I wouldn’t ever forget it.

“That’s where Luca died,” I whispered.

I heard a sharp inhale of breath from Jake. His hand gently rubbed my arm as he stepped closer to me. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I just shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. Jake didn’t push. He guided me to a fallen log nearby and we sat, seemingly understanding what I needed without words. His hand didn’t leave mine. There we stayed, letting the leaves and the light wind do all the talking, us playing the role of mere witnesses, just bystanders.

As the sun sank lower over the horizon, casting deep shadows over us, Jake gently nudged me. “Do you know how to find your way back in the dark?”

It was a genuine question, but I laughed anyways. “Would you be scared if I didn’t?”

“I mean, we could camp out, but you might need to protect me from whatever cryptids live in these creepy ass woods.”

I nudged him back with my shoulder. “What do you think I was doing as a kid running around in the woods at night if not making friends with the cryptids?”

“I dunno, committing crime?”

“A little arson never hurt anyone.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Okay, Josh.”

My hand came to my chest, and I feigned offense. “Well, I never,” I exclaimed with an exaggerated southern accent. Our laughter seemed to fill the empty air around us, drastically lifting my own spirits.

The porch light was on when we made it back to the house. I sighed contently. “She always left the light on for us.” I didn’t miss the scamper of footsteps running up the stairs when we came in the door. I didn’t get a good look at the girl before she closed herself back up in her bedroom, her safe space, I imagine. It was mine, too, on some nights.

~

“Oh, c’mon, he doesn’t bite.”

“That is a blatant lie, and you know it.”

I giggled, slightly menacingly, as Jake eyed the animal in front of him wearily. He reached out slowly to pet it but jumped back when the horse stomped and huffed at him. The stable hand holding onto the lead rope couldn’t hide his amusement. I shrugged and sighed from my spot in the saddle of another horse. “Guess I get to tell your brothers you were too scared to ride a horse with me.”

It was a low blow, taunting him like that, but it was the results that mattered to me. He glared at me. “You’re the worst,” he muttered, before moving to grasp the saddle horn and sticking his foot in the stirrup. He took a deep breath and held it, hoisting himself up and swinging his leg over the other side. When he was confident the horse wasn’t going to bolt or immediately buck him off, he exhaled. “Happy now?”

“Yep!” I beamed at him, ignoring his grumbling. The stable hand adjusted Jake’s stirrups and gave us the okay to ride.

Jake was fidgety and white knuckling the reins, but he started to relax as the ride went on. I’ll go so far as to say he might have started enjoying himself a little bit. I even caught him talking to his horse once or twice, little admonitions of praise.

“So, what do you think, grumpy gills? Think I could talk you into doing this more often?”

“I could perhaps be persuaded,” he said as he winked.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure there’s lots of places around Nashville we could ride. Maybe we can make it a regular thing?”

“Sure. And with enough practice I’ll be riding circles around you in no time.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “You’d have to catch up to me first.” I spurred my horse to run ahead, wondering if he’d be brave enough to commence the chase. After a few moments, he finally did, and I heard the patter of his horse trotting up behind me.

We slowed to a stop at the edge of a creek, and I laughed at the grimace on Jake’s face. “That is… fuck, that hurts.” He fidgeted in the saddle, adjusting to get more comfortable.

“Oh, just wait until after. You won’t be able to walk straight for the rest of the day.”

“Thanks for the warning,” he mumbled. At my smug look, he said, “Payback’s a bitch, babe.” I huffed in faux offense.

We took our time finishing up the trail, which looped around and led us back to the stables. I snickered as Jake attempted to walk, his legs and rear end sore from the saddle. I felt it, too, having gone so long without riding, but my stubbornness would never let me admit it to him. Before getting back in the car, he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me in for a kiss. “Thank you for making me come do this. I really did have a good time.”

~

I was woken up to the sound of a door slamming down the hallway. At the sound of cabinets being slammed downstairs I sat up, listening. Jake reached out for me and mumbled sleepily, “What’s goin’ on?”

I checked the time on my phone; it was a little after midnight. “I don’t…” I got out of bed and padded to the door to listen closer. I wasn’t hearing as much noise, but could hear Vivian’s voice, along with a man’s, a voice that was unfortunately all too familiar. “Shit.” I turned on the lamp and hurriedly threw on some clothes. Jake started to do the same and asked me again what was happening. I was suddenly very worried; I did not sign up for this. “I think my dad’s here. And if he’s here, then something’s wrong. Just… stay here.”

Vivian was bustling around in the kitchen gathering supplies. “Good, you’re up. You can help. My hands ain’t as steady as they used to be. Wash your hands.”

I didn’t argue or ask questions. I knew better than that. The living room light was on, and I silently prepared myself for what I might find.

My father sat in the light, shirt off, his arm awkwardly bent to hold a bloodied towel on a spot just below his left shoulder blade. His hair was longer, but he didn’t look much different than the last time I saw him. He also didn’t seem surprised to see me; Vivian probably already told him I was here. Whether or not she told him about Jake was still unclear.

“Mija.” He nodded at me. He never was one for heartfelt greetings or hugs.

I sighed, moving to his side and pulling away the towel to examine the wound. “Bullet?”

“Still there.” If he could take care of a wound himself, he would do it. But this was in a hard-to-reach place, so it made sense he would need help. The problem was that there weren’t a lot of people he trusted to help, so he would suffer as long of a drive as he needed until he reached one of his “safe spaces.”

“How long?”

“Four hours.”

That checked out. Infection was already starting to set in the edges of the injury, redness and inflammation spreading, but it wasn’t necrotic or life-threatening. Yet. Judging from the fact he drove all the way here (from wherever) and was still awake and alert, it was safe to say the bullet missed anything important. He was always lucky like that. I pulled out some of the supplies Vivian had already brought out and set to work removing the bullet. I’m sure the act of digging around with the forceps was painful, but he didn’t make a sound. He never did.

I was so focused on the task in front of me that I didn’t hear the creak of the stairs as someone came down, and I didn’t hear Vivian’s voice as she addressed them. I know I told Jake to stay put, but he either didn’t hear me in his half-asleep state or chose to blatantly ignore me. I’m gunning for the latter. Dad tensed up, and it wasn’t because of pain from the bullet I finally found and was carefully removing. I followed his eyes as they focused on the man he didn’t recognize, hackles raised and on guard.

“Can I do anything?”

Bless him. Despite the whole situation probably being unsettling, Jake was still here with me, offering his help. He got plenty of brownie points for not freaking out. With the bullet out, all I had to do was clean and stitch up the wound. “No but thank you.” I offered him a soft smile. Everything was under control. Except for the fact that Dad was staring daggers at him, and that was just how he handled strangers. We hadn’t even crossed the ‘discussing my relationship’ threshold yet.

“Dad,” I started cautiously. “This is Jake.” Bite the bullet, no pun intended, get it over with. “He’s my boyfriend, and I trust him. Jake, this is my dad, Antonio.”

Jake kept his distance, but wanting to be polite, as he usually is, said, “Nice to finally meet you. Wish the circumstances were a little different.”

“Give me one good reason I don’t gut you like a fucking trout.”

I was suddenly feeling very protective. I pressed my thumb as hard as I could into the edge of the bullet hole I had begun to stitch up. He hissed at the unexpected feeling and turned to shoot me a glare. “Knock it the fuck off,” I growled through gritted teeth. “You don’t get to show up out of the blue after however many years and be an asshole. Especially not to him.”

Of course, my father was incapable of knowing when to move on or walk away from a fight. And God forbid he actually apologize for anything. “Se ve como un imbecil. Pelegatos.”

“Yeah, real classy,” I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes. “You can’t even insult him to his face, in English.”

“Que te la pique un pollo,” he spat at Jake. I’m sure he could figure out it was an insult, even without understanding Spanish, but he didn’t shoot back any retorts, which I was grateful for. It only would have exacerbated the situation.

I jabbed another finger close to his wound, careful not to mess up my stitch job. “I said knock it off. Unless you want to stitch yourself up. I love him, whether you like it or not. So, get over it. The least you can do is be civil.”

He mumbled something else, no doubt another insult, but I stopped listening, and cut him off with a frustrated yell. I stomped my foot, much like a petulant child, and jammed the needle into the next appropriate spot, leaving it there. “Viv! I need you to finish this before I kill him!”

She quickly took my place, shaking her head. “You two…”

“He’s the one acting like a fucking child!” Everything felt too confined, too bright, too loud. The air felt thick, and my chest tightened with anxiety. I needed out. I rushed out the front door without another word. Jake followed. I paced back and forth, my fists balled up tightly as I tried to focus on the wood creaking beneath my bare feet. “He’s so insufferable! Can’t even pretend to act like an adult for two fucking seconds! He thinks he’s so tough ‘cause he can go out and get shot! It’s probably his own fucking fault, probably was being reckless because he thinks he’s invincible or something. Then he shows up out of the blue with a bullet lodged in his shoulder and has the fucking audacity to talk to you like that? What gives him the right? What is he gonna do the next time he gets hurt? His luck will run out eventually. You’d think he’d be a little more conscious of the fact that he faces death every single day, that any one of these days will be the last time we get to talk to each other, to see each other. But instead of just accepting that and just, I don’t know, being happy for me, for once in my life, that I found someone that makes me happy, he has to act like a fucking animal!”

Jake reached out and grabbed my arms, forcing me to stop my pacing and rambling. “Hey, hey, just breathe for a second, babe.” He gently placed his hands on my cheeks and used his thumbs to wipe away tears I didn’t even realize I’d been crying.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to meet him ‘cause I knew he was gonna be like that.”

“Shh. You don’t need to apologize. He’s an ass, but I don’t think that’s what this is really about.”

“He just makes me so mad, and-“

“I think you’re afraid of losing him.”

Well, that was absurd. “What? That’s not… what are you talking about?” I stared at him, blinking away tears as I tried to process what he was saying.

“You’re mad at him for acting like a dick, I get that. But is it possible that you’re upset he got hurt? I mean, he got shot. That’s a big deal. I… maybe that’s nothing new for you. If I had to take a guess, you’ve probably seen it a hundred times. But that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be worried about him.”

“You’re insane,” I mumbled.

“Am I wrong, though?”

He wasn’t. I always worried, it was just my nature. Every time Dad got hurt, I always worried if this would be it; each bullet, each stab wound, each broken bone threatened to be the one that would take him out. Life is never a guarantee, but death seemed to taunt him, dangling the thread of fate in front of his face as a warning. You’re next. Most children don’t think of death often, much less worry about it creeping up on them. We weren’t most children. I don’t remember losing my mom, but when it took Luca, I realized how close it was. Death rode our trail like the dust I kicked up on the dirt roads I ran down. Every time the phone rang, I imagined it was someone calling to tell Vivian “Antonio’s dead. He isn’t coming back for his daughter.” Realistically, there probably wouldn’t even be a phone call. He just wouldn’t come home, and we would know.

I fell forward, burying my face in Jake’s chest. “He used to be so good at it, whatever he did. And smart. Or maybe it was just dumb luck. But now it seems like every time I see him, he’s hurt again. And it scares me.” That last sentence I whispered. It made my heart clench. I pulled away and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “And for once I would like to have a nice conversation, without him threatening my boyfriend’s life.”

“Don’t worry about me. I can handle it.” He nudged me toward the door. “Go talk to him. Say what you need to say. I’ll give you some space.”

I sighed. “You know I hate it when you’re right.”

He smirked. “But you love me anyways.”

“I do,” I grumbled as I wrapped my arms around him again. “I really am sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not going to let him scare me off. Other than threatening to gut me like a fish, I don’t even know what he said.”

“And I absolutely won’t be repeating it.”

“Pft. I’ll get it out of you eventually. But for now, go talk to your dad. I’ll wait for you upstairs.” He planted a kiss on my forehead.

“Thank you, Jake.”

I led him back inside and gave my hand one more reassuring squeeze before parting to walk back upstairs. I waited until I heard the door shut to approach my dad.

He was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, while he spoke quietly to Vivian. They both went silent when they saw me. Vivian didn’t speak; she didn’t have to. She shot me a look that said, “Figure it out,” and left us alone.

I crossed my arms and looked around at anything other than him. In a perfect world, I’d wait for an apology, and we’d make up, but as I mentioned before, my father never apologizes for anything. And maybe it’s my inherited stubbornness, but I certainly wasn’t going to apologize to him; I didn’t do anything wrong. So instead, I would just wait for him to say something that would inevitably piss me off all over again.

“I don’t like him.”

“You don’t like anyone.”

“I don’t think he’s good for you, mija.”

“You don’t even know him. And how would you know what’s good for me, anyways? You haven’t been around enough to know I even had a boyfriend, and we’ve been together for over two years.” He seemed to ponder that for a moment. “Yeah, I haven’t seen you in over four years. Let that sink in.”

“It has to be like that, sometimes. You know that.”

“Still wouldn’t kill you to check in every once in a while, let me know you’re okay.”

“You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Clearly someone does!” I gestured toward him and his freshly stitched up bullet wound.

“It isn’t your responsibility, it never was. I taught you to take care of yourself only. And that also means not relying on some bastardo."

“It’s not about relying on anyone. I found someone that makes me happy, happier than I’d been in a long time. I found somebody that I can see myself spending the rest of my life with, and I want that with Jake. He sees me for me, not just some weird, damaged girl with a fucked-up childhood and without an actual family. Shit, even his family made me feel loved. His mother texts me more than you do! So, you don’t get to decide if he’s ‘good’ for me. I love him, dad. I know you know what that’s like because you loved my mom at some point, right?”

His jaw tensed and he avoided my eyes. “Don’t,” he warned.

“Don’t what? Is it so wrong of me to want to talk about her? My entire life you’ve done nothing but shut down when I try.”

“Let it go, Kya.”

“No! Stop fucking shutting me out! I can’t talk about mom; I can’t talk about Luca.” His breath hitched when I said my brother’s name. “I’m not asking you to be some perfect, therapeutic, emotionally available well of information, because I know that isn’t you. I just… sometimes I just want my dad. I know it hurts to talk about her, just like it hurts me to talk about Luca, but it feels worse to keep everything bottled up like that.” I rubbed my upper arms nervously. “Jake’s the first person I’ve talked to about Luca, outside of Finn or Vivian.” The fact that it was technically Josh I told first was irrelevant to this conversation. There was no need to introduce more strangers to my dad right now.

“Cuanto sabe el?”

He wasn’t just talking about Luca. He wanted to know how much Jake knew about him and his career. “Not much. Not enough for it to be a problem.”

“I don’t-“

“Trust him, I know. But I do, so just maybe you can trust me for now.” For some reason, I felt the need to reiterate, “I’m not a little kid anymore.”

He stayed silent except for the deep breath he took in. He never was great at handling confrontation, at least when it came from me. In his line of work, he could typically deal with it via some kind of violence. He would choose to die before ever hurting me in that way, so that option was off the table. I don’t think he had ever even raised his voice at me. Instead, he’d struggle to find the words until he gave up, shut down, and walked away, leaving me back at square one. I don’t know why I expected anything different tonight.

His expression was unreadable when he looked at me. “You should go get some sleep.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, so you can disappear before I wake up to avoid talking about anything. I’d bet money you won’t even say goodbye.”

It was then that I noticed how tired he looked. The dark circles under his eyes seemed more prominent than I remembered, and the air of arrogance and confidence he normally carried with him almost seemed completely dissipated. I tried not to dwell on it too much, blaming it solely on the late hour, his injury, and the amount of time that had passed since I’d last seen him. He stepped forward, held my face between his palms, and leaned in to kiss my forehead. “We’ll talk in the morning.” And with that, he walked away, leaving me standing in the kitchen, alone and dumbfounded. Did he mean that, or was it just another empty promise that would be broken by morning?

I’m sure it wasn’t for lack of trying to stay up, but Jake had fallen asleep by the time I made it back upstairs. I managed to get back into bed without waking him. I laid there in the dark, listening to his steady breaths until my thoughts finally quieted enough for sleep to take me, too.

~

Jake wasn’t there when I woke up, and the sun pouring in through the curtains seemed exceptionally bright. I checked the time on my phone and groaned; it was almost noon. I forced myself out of bed, and after a quick shower made my way downstairs.

“Well, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence.” Vivian was bustling around in the kitchen, cleaning things up as she went. Jake was helping prepare lunch. He smiled sweetly and greeted me good morning.

“Sorry, guess I just really needed that beauty sleep. I… oh, hello.” I didn’t notice her at first, the unfamiliar face sitting at the table. She was quiet, and I imagine really good at making herself seem small. Dirty blonde curls hung messily in her face, nearly concealing her eyes. She couldn’t have been more than 14 or 15. She had significant bruising on her wrists and neck, giving me an idea of what she went through, and also letting me know she hadn’t been here very long. “I’m Kya.” I kept my voice low and movements slow as I introduced myself and sat at the table.

She didn’t panic and bolt up the stairs to safety, so that was a good sign, but she avoided my eyes. “Sara,” she whispered.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sara.” In my experience and based on all the trauma this girl had obviously been through, it was better to let her come to me and call the shots. She would talk when she was ready, and nobody liked forced conversation and small talk. I glanced around the kitchen and into the living room, not sure what I was looking for or what to expect.

“He hasn’t left yet,” Vivian said. She never missed a beat. “He’s outside, I think. After you eat, you can go find him.” I wondered if dad had said anything to her about our conversation the night before.

Jake waited until we had a minute alone after lunch to ask how things went last night.

“About as good as I expected, I guess. In other words, I got absolutely nowhere.”

“Well, he didn’t threaten my life when I saw him this morning, so maybe you made some progress.”

“I’m shocked,” I laughed and rolled my eyes. “He said we could talk more today, so I’m gonna go corner him and see if I can’t hold him to that. Before he disappears again.”

“You’ve got this, babe. And I’m sure Vivian will find something to keep me busy with.”

“She absolutely will,” I grinned, hugging him and stealing a kiss before venturing out to find my dad.

At the northernmost edge of the property, there was a trunk from an old oak tree laid across the ground. That tree had been there before any of us, like an ancient forest spirit watching over the land it casted shadows across. Then one night when I was eight, a storm rolled through. I remember being fascinated by the flashes of lightning and rolling thunder, harmonizing with the heavy pelting of rain against the windows. We lit a bunch of candles after the power went out. Most kids would have been afraid. Finn hated storms when we were kids; he would hide in the closet until it passed. But I thought it was beautiful. I liked to think the sky sent the rain to clean the earth up a little, and that it would wash away all the bad stuff that haunted us.

It was during that storm the oak tree decided it had enough, and it couldn’t fight to stay strong anymore. It shook the entire house when it fell, shook it so hard I thought there was an earthquake. The next morning, while we surveyed the damage, I studied the splintered wood and the torn roots sticking up from the soil, and I felt… sad. I remember putting my hand on the rough bark and apologizing like it was a person. “I’m sorry it got too hard.” I didn’t understand at the time how much I would relate that oak tree to Luca, and eventually my mother, too.

My dad was seated on the fallen trunk, like we did often as kids. Luca spent a lot of time there; I think the sounds of the woods quieted the noises in his mind. I took a seat next to my dad, waiting to see if it would quiet my mind, too.

“He has an accent.”

That was a weird way to start a line of questioning about Jake, but I’d play ball. “He’s from Michigan.”

“How did you find him?”

“He came into Richie’s shop.”

Dad let out an exasperated sign. “Don’t tell me he’s a musician.”

“He is, and he’s a very good one. He plays guitar for a band. They have three albums and play sold out shows all over the world.”

“That isn’t a real job. It isn’t stable-“

“And working for a drug cartel is?”

“Kya,” he started. “I only want you to be taken care of.”

“He takes plenty good care of me,” I huffed. My next words came out before I could stop them. “Did my mom know what you do, who you are? Or did you shut her out, too?”

The silence that followed was deafening. I didn’t expect an answer, much less any kind of explanation, but after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. “Yes, she knew everything. I never told you how we met, have I?”

I stared at him, wide-eyed and confused. Who even are you right now? “No, you never told me much of anything.”

“She killed a man.” I’m sorry, what? “A preacher that was hurting children.” I didn’t need any clarification on what that meant. ��I was in custody when they brought her in. She fought them every step of the way. She wasn’t afraid, and she was full of fire. I was intrigued, so when I left, I took her with me.”

“How’d you get her out?” I’m sure the details were nothing good. Richie once told me that when my dad was younger, he would let himself get arrested on purpose, just to see how long it would take for him to get out again. It was all a game to him. At least, it was before he became a father, and everything changed. When I first read ‘No Country for Old Men,’ I swore Cormac McCarthy wrote it about my father. Even the names were similar.

To answer my question, he said, “It was a different time in a small town, and much easier than it is now.” And he was good at running from the law.

“Did you… kidnap her?” I asked through narrowed eyes. I don’t know why I asked. I know he had done a lot of bad things, but I didn’t really think he would have done that. He was a criminal, a killer, but he had some morals.

He chuckled, an actual laugh. This was so surreal. Maybe these years apart changed him somehow. “No one could make your mother do anything she didn’t want to do. You’re a lot like her in that regard. She could have left whenever she wanted, but she chose to stay.” He sighed sadly. “She was a good mother, and she loved you.”

Now why did he have to go and say that? My eyes welled up with tears and I looked away to hide them. “What happened to her? I’ve only ever been told she got sick,” I whispered, barely audible. The quiet that followed made me wonder if he even heard me. I thought I’d cut my losses and be grateful for what he did give me, but then he surprised me once again.

“She did, and I couldn’t… she was sick, like Luca.”

I didn’t expect that, and I was suddenly feeling extremely nauseous. “How did she…?”

“It doesn’t matter how.”

“Tell me.” I’m not sure why I needed to know so badly. Knowing the gory details wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t bring her back. But still I pushed him until he caved. This was the most progress I’d made with him my entire life; I didn’t want to give up yet. “Please, just tell me what happened to her.”

He took a deep breath and straightened his spine, steeling himself. “She drowned. Whitecap in Corpus Christi. She went out into the ocean and kept going, until she couldn’t get back. She let the waves take her.”

My head was spinning now, and I had more questions but couldn’t figure out how to ask them. As the quiet settled between us again, my mind started to wander down a darker path, one of anger. He knew. He knew mom was sick, he saw what it did to her, and yet he still abandoned Luca when he was in trouble. He let this happen, left me to deal with it alone.

“Did you see it happen?” I asked, not waiting for his response. “Because I saw Luca die. I saw it happen right in front of me and there wasn’t anything I could do to stop him. I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t… why weren’t you here?”

“You’re strong, Kya. You always have been. You didn’t need me.”

“I was a kid for fuck’s sake! I was a kid who just watched her brother die, and who needed her dad! But you weren’t there.”

He clenched his jaw but didn’t respond. I didn’t expect him to say he was sorry or feed me some line of bullshit about wishing he could go back and do things differently. Every single choice he made in his life was thought-out and meticulous. It’s just that most of those decisions were made for him, not anyone else. I know he cared about me, on some level, in his own backwards way, but he made it so easy to be angry with him, to blame him for all the shitty, horrible things that happened to me.

The last thing I wanted was for him to see me cry. I spared him one last glance, one more opportunity to say something, before standing to walk away. I’d only gotten a few steps when he called my name. I stopped but refused to turn around and face him again.

“I am proud of you, Kya, who you’ve grown up to be. She would be proud, too.”

I squeezed my eyes shut to fight the onslaught of tears. It didn’t help, and his words did nothing to take the pain away. He didn’t try to stop me as I continued the trek back to the house.

By the time I made it back, I forced myself to stop crying but I’m sure I’d rubbed my eyes raw. Vivian was outside doing some work in her garden. She saw me as I walked by, but she didn’t say anything. She knew how conversations with my father usually ended; she was used to the tears.

I found Jake in the living room, seated on the floor by the coffee table, playing a board game with Sara. It surprised me to see her not only opting to sit in here with a man she didn’t know, but also letting herself have fun. It wasn’t lost on me that there was no way in hell Vivian would have left them alone if she didn’t trust Jake.

I watched them for a minute, how he seemed to connect with her so easily. She clearly felt some sense of safety with him, otherwise she wouldn’t be here. He made her laugh so effortlessly, like it came naturally to him. He’s going to make a good dad, someday.

When Jake realized I was there, he beamed at me. “Hey! Wanna join us for a game? We-“ His face fell once he got a good look at me and how red my eyes were. He pulled himself off the floor and came to me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” I offered a weak smile. Part of me just wanted to take a nap; I was emotionally exhausted. But I didn’t want to worry him, so I sucked it up and pulled myself together. “I’ll tell you later, I promise. For now, I’ll take you up on the offer. What are we playing?”

~

Things were bittersweet when the time came to make our departure. We were ready to get home, but I always missed West Virginia when I was gone. It was my first real home and would always have a special place in my heart, even when I was hundreds of miles away.

Vivian was never big on heartfelt goodbyes, so she made it short and sweet. “Drive safe. And don’t forget to come back one day, ya hear?” Even Sara waved her quiet goodbye from the safety of the porch.

My dad, of course, left sometime in the middle of the night. I tried to push down the hurt; he didn’t bother to tell anyone he was leaving. What a surprise. Our conversation was still fresh in my mind, creating newly opened wounds I would need to work through. But as always, I would push it down, and bottle it up, at least until I saw him again in a few years.

I gripped Jake’s hand as I said a silent farewell to the memories that filled this place.

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[brighter-by-the-daly]

Rachel Daly x Millie Bright x Reader

Part Seven - Coming in Crutch

Posted: 11/05/23, Edited: 26/09/23

TW: mentions of unwanted attention and harassment

Rach’s perspective:

Looking up into the stands after scoring my first goal against Tottenham I forgot for a second that my girl wasn’t here, I’m so used to her always being near me that it doesn’t feel right when she’s not. I’ve been like this all week - going to tell her something funny or talk about the pranks I’d played at training or simply just taking Dexi for a walk together. Everything I do, I just automatically think she’s there with me. I know she’s having an amazing time away though, remembering all the games she has been here for and all the ones she will be at in the future. Shaking the thoughts away I needed to get my head back in the game. This match was gruelling, we played so well but in the end came home with a draw, scoring two and making my way up the golden boot ladder. Of course I want another trophy for the shelf but I don’t want to seem too confident as it’ll be a blow if I don’t.

You had managed to get Rachel’s game on your phone, pleased with yourself with how your timing had worked out perfectly. The morning sun rays had soaked your skin before coming back for a shower, now laid up on your bed to air dry and watch the game. You had text your girlfriend earlier to wish her luck but she didn’t know you were watching. Elated at her scoring two but gutted their hard work didn’t pay off, Tottenham had a lot to fight for being near the bottom of the table and that really showed. Villa had solidified the 5th place in the league, a goal they had for 3 years time but completing it in one season. Texting her at the end to say she and the girls played so well and not to be too hard on herself, you’re always proud of her and the team no matter what.

During the week away, Lucy and Keira popped over to show you the sites around Barcelona, visiting all the touristy spots and taking lots of photos together. Chelsea trained for the impending second leg of the semi final while you and Millie enjoyed the sunshine, cocktails and boat trips. Towards the end of the week you were starting to miss Rachel terribly but she was always only a phone call away. The game came and went, Chelsea lost meaning the team were in dire need of cheering up - planning a night out all together before going home. The Barca girls were invited too and the English team mates came over to get ready with you and Millie.

The night out had dragged into the early hours of the morning as you danced around the club with your newly formed friends, you weren’t drinking too much tonight as you wanted to enjoy your last day tomorrow. Remembering how awful you felt the last time you went out you knew you didn’t want to feel sick all day when you could be topping up your tan for the last time. The music blaring and lights flickering created the party atmosphere, blowing The Blues’ disappointment of the loss away. Later in the night you split from the group to use the bathroom but when you came back your friends were no longer to be found, you didn’t worry too much and knew they’d turn up somewhere. Popping your head into the different rooms to see if you could spot them before heading to the garden, you couldn’t find anyone there either so you decided to station yourself at the bar knowing that someone would come around sooner or later. Finding the only bar stool available you sat down and tried to get the bar woman’s attention to order a drink. The person next to you soon left leaving the stool next to you free which quickly got taken by an older looking gentleman who immediately gave you bad vibes. He tried to make small talk, you smiled politely but didn’t engage in any conversation. After he got the barmaid’s attention before you did he offered to buy you a drink, you declined his offer but disregarding your wishes he still ordered you a cocktail. Reiterating you didn’t want a drink and pushing it away made him angsty, “don’t be ungrateful, drink up” he said pushing the glass back towards your hand. The barmaid glared at him in a way to say she was watching him as she took the order you actually wanted them span your chair around to face the dance floor hoping to catch sight of your friends but the man’s advances still didn’t let up. That was until his hand landed on your thigh. “Don’t touch me please!” you shouted smacking his hand away and opening your phone to text Millie, managing to send ‘SOS bar’ before your phone died.

Pushing the stool back you tried to walk away from the bar in search of your friends when you felt an unwanted hand on your bum, turning around to slap him his sweaty hand gripped your forearm squeezing tightly. As you tried to pull away he held onto you tighter, burning your skin as it twisted under his hold on you. You felt your heart thump harder in your chest as you screamed at him to let go of you, people glanced over but did nothing to help. His raspy voice mumbling “where do you think you’re going?” made you feel sick, his teeth gritted and mouth barely moving as his words hit you, feeling a knot in your stomach making it churn. You tried desperately to yank your arm away from him but his strength easily overpowered you. Unable to move you started to panic, how was this happening in a crowded room of people?!

In a sudden and desperate attempt to get away you instinctively threw your glass of vodka into his eyes, his grip loosening a little but not enough to escape. Your body jolted with sudden movements trying everything to make him let go, your hair flung over your face and blocked your vision of someone else approaching you. “SHE SAID LET GO OF HER!” the voice thundered around the room louder than the music making the whole room turn silent causing hundreds of eyes to stare in your direction. The sigh of relief that left your body knowing Millie had found you made you want to punch the air. The man yelped in pain as she slammed her crutches down on his toes, immediately letting go of you allowing you to run into the awaiting arms of her Chelsea teammates. Some were filming as Lucy approached, her fist drawn back as she went to punch him only stopped by Kiera hanging onto her knowing it would cause her reputation to be damaged. “Should have known you’re all dykes!” he shouted as he lost the battle. Millie towered over the man delivering another blow of her crutches into his feet, her eyes red with anger, her face displaying a look nobody would want to be on the other end of. Security finally caught word of the scene and advised the police had been called, offering a safe space to wait until they came and made sure the man would be waiting for them.

Bruises already forming peppering your arm in purple and blue hues as you sipped on water in the comfort of your hotel room. Now well into the morning Lucy and Kiera had returned to their own house while Erin, Sam and Guro had moved their duvets and pillows onto the floor of your hotel room. Surrounded by people who cared about you as you curled up onto Millie’s stomach who was desperately trying to warm you up. The adrenaline had worn off and with the shock kicking in you were shivering uncontrollably even with the humid air of the foreign country. Your whimpers escaping as tears started to fall again “I just want to go home”.

Part Eight - ReUnited

[castielmydarling]

Suptober 2023- Day 11: Epic

Morning-650 words on AO3 or below Summary: Dean and Cas take a trip.

“Come on, Cas. Wakey wakey.” Dean pulls the covers off him. “We gotta go.”

Cas mumbles something unintelligible into the pillow, he tries to push Dean away. 

Dean laughs. “Didn’t catch that, buddy, but come one.” He turns Cas over, catching his arm before he can cover his face. “I know it’s early but we need to go. You can sleep in the car.” He holds on to Cas’ hands and pulls him up. 

“But first that requires actually getting up.” Cas grumbles. 

“It does. Look if I had your strength I’d carry you to the car but I don’t,” he teases, “everythings already loaded. We just need to get you from the bed to the car then we can leave and you can sleep.”

“Fine.” He says, flatly. 

“That’s the spirit!” Dean claps his hands in excitement. “Let’s go!”

Cas glares at him as they walk to the car. He keeps the enochian cursing to himself. 

Dean and Cas are finally taking their road trip to the beaches of southern California but first they’re stopping at the Grand Canyon. Dean still hasn’t been there and Cas hasn’t seen it since before it was made. They decided they wanted to watch the sun rise and set over the canyon so that meant leaving extra early. The plan was to drive the almost 16 hours it would take getting to Arizona in one shot. 

Nowadays, Dean hates driving for long stretches like that, his body just can’t take it anymore. But if they split the drive between 2 days it would be 3 before they actually got to the canyon and Dean was done waiting. He wanted to get there and the beach as quickly as possible. He was afraid something would come up and keep them from finally doing this. So he just needed to get there then he could relax. 

Coming back home would be a different story. They would take their time. Maybe even find a deserted back road to have a little fun on the drive. But first. The Grand Canyon. 

“Dean.” Cas gently nudges him to wake up. “Come on, Dean, it’s time to get up.”

“Cas?” Dean starts to stir then sits up quickly. “What’s wrong? Why are you awake?” He reaches under his pillow for his gun but comes up empty. “Fuck, where is it?”

Cas stops him from getting out of bed. “Dean, it’s ok.” He says, laughing. “Please, calm down, everything is fine.”

Dean takes a deep breath trying to bring his heart rate down. “Cas, what the hell? You almost gave me a heart attack. You never get up first. What’s going on?”

“We have a sunrise to watch.” He says, brightly . “Here.” He hands Dean a cup of coffee. “You did a lot of driving yesterday. I know how tired you were so I wanted to make sure we got up in time.” He explains. “Plus, my grace is at a good level where I didn’t really need to sleep. I’ve been up for hours.” He adds sheepishly. 

Dean laughs. “So you cheated?”

“Not technically.”

Dean takes a few minutes to get ready and they’re out the door for the short drive to the canyon. Luckily not many people are trying to get up at 5am so they get a good spot to watch the sun rise. Cas starts talking about the early days of the canyon and the angels who helped form it. Dean listens, taking it all in, it’s a lot anytime he's reminded of just how much Cas has done and seen. 

Cas stops talking when the sun really starts to rise. He stares out over the canyon. Dean tries to keep his eyes on the sky, to do what he drove 16 hours in one day for,  but his attention keeps turning to Cas. 

Under the morning light Cas is just as beautiful as the sunrise.

[konohamaru-sensei]

Nisi I really cannot decide, I will leave this to you but tetsuro x sayuri with either

"I'm chemically drawn closer to you"

Or

"I need you so much closer" (maybe they are ...very similar I'm sorry for that) <3 xoxo

FINALLY FINISHED THIS OH MY GOD. Its not very good. But ... you know!

This is an OC story about Ku/roo please do not read if you hate ocs. Thanks!

A gruesome two weeks of meetings, conferences, interviews, discussions and more meetings. Tetsuro felt drained after all the back and forth his new job entailed. He had barely started working at the National Volleyball Association and he was already expected to do everything. He did them all, of course, because he was good at what he did, but man did they drain him.

That he had had the time to go home and sleep was a miracle, though he really felt like he spent more time in and out of commuter trains than actually in his apartment. Living off cup ramen and 7/11 food for a while might have been fun when he was a student, but he expected to have it better once the full time jobs rolled around, and so far it really wasn’t. He couldn’t even bear to think of how bad the situation would be once the olympics rolled around.

He could have lived with this lifestyle though. It bothered him a little, the back and forth, the stress, the lack of sleep, but it would have been alright to him, if it didn’t also mean that he was entirely unable to see his girlfriend. Texting yes, even the occasional phone call was possible, but he was too busy to even stop by her apartment and she had her own work as well. In the last month they had barely met one another face to face and he was slated to go on a trip abroad soon as well.

Meanwhile Sayuri was also working on the beginnings of her own career. She’d snagged a job at a little sports magazine and covered the football section specifically to women’s leagues and while her goal was to eventually be a reporter for football regardless of player gender, it was at least a start. With how much she was on the phone, her laptop and managing her planner, Tetsuro barely fit in himself. 

Recently, when they had talked to each other, her reply to his question about when they could call next had been a shocking “I’d have to check my planner.” His mouth ran dry. They were leading a relationship on schedule now. 

And while he liked his job and would never try to take Sayuri’s career away from her, he missed hanging out and their time apart made him moody. He dared not tell her, because he didn’t want to show himself as clingy as he really was. But something needed to change, because at this rate they’d just drift apart.

I was working a press conference with the coach of the volleyball national team, the day the last straw broke. It had been two weeks since he’d so much as seen Sayuri and almost equally as long since they had spoken on the phone. Every encounter was subsequently cancelled and pushed to another day with an apologetic “Let's reschedule”. Tetsuroo was also guilty of this.

He’d come early, being on the front lines of preparations as any young employee ought to be. Slaving away to keep his seniors happy he only noticed that he had a phone message an hour later. His stomach turned when he pulled the phone from his pocket. “I have to go for an interview tomorrow,” Sayuri wrote apologetically. “I can’t stay over.” She didn’t even ask to reschedule which showed him how badly she felt.

What was he supposed to say? That she shouldn’t go? That he’d looked forward to seeing her tomorrow as much, he’d even made efforts to wash his sheets and towels? It would be selfish to say that. So he gritted his teeth and texted back: “Understood.” It was a little dry and he knew it wasn’t the nicest way to reply, but right now he was annoyed anyway.

Tetsuro decided that he would concentrate on work. If his relationship was going to go down the drain at least he’d have a job he liked. Not that he wanted to think about that right now, because really the last thing he wanted was to give Sayuri up. He was getting frustrated with losing points, but that didn’t mean the match was over.

Apart from a moment in which literally one of the lightbulbs in the stage lighting broke, the press conference went down without any major issues. The national team was preparing for a row of friendly matches ahead of the Asian Games and there was a lot to discuss about the starting lineup. There were more talented volleyball players in Japan than one would think with its average body height so choosing a lineup for such important matches always came with a lot of questions.

The end was drawing near and Tetsuroo was sitting on one of the stools at the edge of the stage. He was supposed to watch closely so he could completely lead these events in the future. Despite his short time working there  they had already decided that he’d be a leading figure for the association going forward. He played with the phone in his pocket and looked at his feet.

Sayuri hadn’t messaged him after he’d replied. Was she mad? He had been a little rude to her, though he had hoped it was clear that it was just his own frustrations with their situation. He gritted his teeth. He’d been able to put his worries for their relationship aside while he was busy, but now, with his mind wondering, there they were again.

Something in the audience caught his eye. A long black ponytail snailing itself around a group of reporters. His heart skipped a beat and he forced himself to blink, but when he looked again the hair was gone. Incredible. Now he already saw images of Sayuri running around. It was really time that he saw her again.

He shook his head and returned his gaze to his feet for a moment. He reminded himself that he was ready to give his all for this job and that though he’d been asked to pay attention, his thoughts were constantly drifting away. From now on he would focus on what was in front of him. He could worry about Sayuri later.

Looking up once more his heart stopped for another second, but this time it took a moment for it to start beating again. If Tetsuro was still just seeing images, then the images looked very real. At the back, behind the usual sport journalists, was Sayuri, leaning with her back against the wall. She noticed that he was staring at her, so she gave him a little wave.

He could feel his chest lighten and probably his face too. He felt so happy to see her, right there in person, that he didn’t even waste a moment to wonder why she was even here or how she had gotten into this closed off event. She had worked in a completely different part of the city and must have taken about an hour to get to him, but she had. He felt so happy that he had to pull himself together completely not to abandon his post.

Agonising 15 mins creeped by in which he watched Sayuri scroll her phone idly on the other side of the room. He tried to keep his hands still, but felt too excited to calm himself. Then, finally, the coach got up and bowed in thanks, leaving the stage to mark the end of the press conference. He held himself back for a little more to make sure he wasn’t just running away from his superiors.

It was an older colleague that finally released him from his obligations with a questioning “Isn’t that your girlfriend over there?” and then, in reply to Tetsuroos nodding, said “Do you not want to talk to her?”

He didn’t ask for permission a second time, instead he dropped the chair he had been holding and snailed his way through the journalists that were still packing up their electronics to head back to whatever tv stations they had been sent from. Sayuri was still at the same place she had been at since she had entered

“Oh, hi, I sneaked i-” she started saying once she noticed that he was approaching, but he cut her off immediately by pulling her into a kiss. Completely caught off guard by this Sayuri did not even resit, though she really wasn’t a big fan of public display of affection. Under usual circumstances he would also never do anything like this, but it had been too long since he’d been able to.

“What was that?” Sayuri, red in her face, said as soon as he gave her her lips to speak back. “People are staring.”

He wanted to apologise. The word was definitely on his lips, but that was not what he heard himself say when he opened his mouth.

“Move in with me.”

Sayuri looked at him as shocked as he felt. What was he saying? But then again, the more Tetsuro thought about it the more right it felt. She blinked. “What … why?” 

“I miss you constantly. And not only in the literal sense that we keep missing each other, but also in the emotional way.” All the thoughts that had been plaguing his mind came rushing out. “And I understand your career is important and I have mine, I do not want to interfere with that, but I want to see you, even if its just for five minutes every night or every morning.” The more he thought about it the more sense it made. “Just - you know, let’s live together.”

For a moment, she seemed speechless. His heart was hammering against his chest. Somewhere over his shoulder someone was giggling and whispering “Thats so sweet”, which embarrassed him. But he definitely wasn’t going to take it back. 

Then, an eternity later. “That is reasonable. I guess it would be practical. We would have more ti-” 

“So that is a yes?” Tetsuro decided to cut her endless analysing short before he got too nervous.

Her deep blush told him all he needed to hear. Ignoring her stammering he pulled her into a kiss again, though this time she pushed him away much quicker than before. “Stop it,” she hissed, now even redder in the face.

In the future they would at least have a few moments each day and most of the nights with each other. Tetsuro let out a deep sigh of relief. No more text messages of rescheduling and cancellations. Fumbling absentmindedly for the phone in his pocket reminded him of how Sayuri had first cancelled on him and then shown up out of the blue.

“Wait, how did you even get in here?” He asked confused.

Sayuri threw one of her hair out of her face. “I tried to explain that when you came over and you…. interrupted me..” She meant when he kissed her. “... I used my card from the magazine to get in, though I am not authorised to be part of the press conference but I was lucky nobody checked. As long as my boss doesn't find out….” 

So she was risking her job to come see him? She could be so oddly sweet sometimes. “And why did you come over?” “Ah, you know..” she mumbled a little. “We hadn’t seen each other in a while and I’m busy tomorrow…” He grinned. “Ohh, so you missed me.”

“Shut up.”

“Well soon you wont have to anymore. You can see my wonderful face every morning.”

“I told you to shut up.” 

“Right right,” he slung an arm around her shoulders and turned her around.

[dyinggoosenoises]

1-25 new years ask game

yesssss

1. Song of the year?

Good As It Gets by Little Hurt

2. Album of the year?

I don’t really listen to albums

3. Favorite musical artist / group you started listening to this year?

Noah Kahan

4. Movie of the year?

uhhh I don’t watch many movies but probably Nimona

5. TV show of the year?

Young Royals :]]

6. Episode of tv or webisode that defined the year for you?

hm I’m not really sure what this question is asking

7. Favorite actor of the year?

Ruby Cruz 😌😌

8. Game of the year?

Board game or video game? I don’t really play board games unless it’s with my family so my favourite video game was Tears of The Kingdom

9. Best month for you this year?

August for so many reasons

10. Something that made you cry this year?

I cried a lot but the worst was probably when I threw up a ton on our trip to Europe and sobbed for like an hour straight

11. Something you want to do again next year?

Uhh go to winter camp with pathfinders

12. Talk about a new friend you made this year

I became friends with this girl from pathfinders and now we’re pretty close!

13. How was your birthday this year?

It was fun! I invited some friends over and we hung out

14. Favorite book you read this year?

My current read, Gwen & Art Are Not In Love

15. What's a bad habit you picked up this year?

I didn’t pick it up this year, but my nail biting has definitely gotten worse

16. Post a picture from the beginning of the year

I don’t actually have many pictures of myself so this one is from May lol (this is my favourite dress literally ever btw)

(also this photo is from right after I tripped and scraped my elbow really badly so you can see the bandage)

17. Post a picture from the end of the year

The most recent photo of myself that I have is the absolute worst quality but oh well

18. A memorable meal this year?

Umm idk my mum’s beef stew??

19. What're you excited about for next year?

Going on a trip with pathfinders to Toronto!

20. What's something you learned this year?

I learned that I am not in fact a girl

21. What’s something new about your place of residence (room, home, or general location) now vs the start of the year?

I got a new window in my room, and we redid the upstairs floors to hardwood instead of carpet

22. Favorite place you visited this year?

Ireland and Scotland (and England) definitely, I’ve got some really pretty pictures from there

23. If you could send a message to yourself back on the first day of the year, what would it be?

I’d tell myself that it’s okay to still be figuring myself out

24. Did you keep any New Year’s Resolutions?

I didn’t have any in the first place

25. Did you create any characters (in games, art, or writing) this year? Describe one

I already described Ozzy and Micha when I answered this the other time so instead I’m gonna tell you about Claire. She’s my pjo OC and she’s a daughter of Iris. She’s 23 and she basically adopted Ozzy. She works a part time job while getting her degree in New Rome, and is slowly falling in love with a non binary classmate that I haven’t named yet

[putsch]

Show me your EGOTION - A Carly Rae Repsen-inspired Blue Lock fan event!

All 11 fics in the collection are up, and you can read them all right here!

Previews for each fic below:

and i'll find your lips in the streetlights by akhikosanada | Kunigami Rensuke/Chigiri Hyoma, M, 10.6K

There had been a deathlessness, too, to the feeling that excavated itself from his sternum when he’d seen Kunigami standing at the arrivals terminal of Copenhagen airport—in the sense that Hyoma had thought it dead and gone and buried ever since they’d all left Blue Lock, ever since they’d been recruited by their U20 clubs and dragged to the other end of the world by the promise of victory. It’s only now that he’s here, that Hyoma feels the sharpness of Kunigami’s absence like a knife to the gut, the belated pain of loss surfacing faster than the realization. He should have known better, he notices now. Nobody makes him feel as deathless as Kunigami does. Chigiri, and Kunigami, and a summer weekend in Copenhagen.

you like making me wait for it by ganache | Kunigami Rensuke/Chigiri Hyoma, M, 7.5K

So Chigiri just has to stand there and watch as Bachira asks if Kunigami could (pretty please) drive him all the way out to Kagoshima. Has to stand there and watch as Kunigami looks over at him, smiles in that stupidly handsome way of his, and without even asking for any further details casually says, “Sure, I’d love to,” as if Chigiri isn’t going to go home tonight and try to dissect further meaning out of those four words. Kunigami and Chigiri go on a road trip together.

never let you come apart by Ethereally | Bachira-centric with side Bachisagi, M, 9.2K

After a disastrous season and a tryst with Isagi where neither of them got what they wanted, the monster resurfaces to help Bachira ruin all his friendships.

red lights i'll run by putsch | Kunigami Rensuke/Chigiri Hyoma, T, 6K

“What, trying to play the hero?” Chigiri raises an eyebrow with a challenging smirk. “Does that make you the spoiled princess then?” Kunigami fires back, sounding unamused. But he is playing along, and Chigiri will take that as something. Both Chigiri and Kunigami are trying to outrun something in their family, their past - they just didn't expect what would happen when they ran into each other. Both Chigiri and Kunigami are trying to outrun something in their family, their past - they just didn't expect what would happen when they ran into each other.

break my heart and start again by cygnusknights | Bachira Meguru/Rin Itoshi/Isagi Yoichi, G, 8.1K, Chapter 1/3

The universe drops Bachira, Rin, and Isagi like bouncing balls into a closed box, setting them on an infinite collision course through the sacred vehicle that is the iAntiVirus roleplay forum.

the long way home by kiwiking | Bachira Meguru/Isagi Yoichi, T, 5.6K

They’ve been on the road for almost an hour, and Isagi has been blessedly respectful of Bachira’s silence, but something stale brews in between them, and Bachira knows he needs to say something soon. It would be unlike him otherwise. The expanse stretches for two decades, and the challenge is to leap.

warm blood by KiraInTheSky | Kunigami Rensuke/Chigiri Hyoma, M, 2.3K, Chapter 1/3

Kunigami can’t get a read on the situation, had he said something on the way to the hotel? Was there a problem at the airport he didn’t catch? He racks his brain for a response that will satisfy Chigiri and keep himself from getting chewed out for whatever unknown offense he might have committed. “You know I always do whatever you want.” The tightness in Chigiri’s jaw becomes more apparent. Fuck. Chigiri’s voice is quiet as he replies, now facing the car window, “That’s the thing isn’t it? It’s what I want, I just thought maybe this time you wanted it too.”

luci a sansiro by aprilisthecruellestmonth | Kunigami Rensuke/Chigiri Hyoma, E, 4.3K

There was a time —Hyoma thinks, while he splashes his ghastly expression with cold water— when dreaming about stolen kisses and heated skin, warm and flush against his own, used to leave him giddy and dreamy for the rest of his day, if not week. It’s a little pathetic now, if he is being honest with himself, and he would consider his past self to be nothing more than a fool, a teenager in love. Real life has always been different, regardless of Hyoma’s feelings on a lot of things, and it’s been clear for a long time. In which, Rensuke and Hyoma somehow find each other again.

cutting through the cracks of the concrete by alaudarum | Rin Itoshi/Isagi Yoichi, T, 5K, Chapter 1/2

“I’m job-hunting in NYC and trying to relocate. I need a place to stay.” Rin never was the sort who asked for anything straightforwardly. At least, not until now. “Can I stay with you?” Rin needs a favor. Isagi doesn't think he can ever say no to Rin.

if you know (what i mean) by bittermoons | Olivier Aiku/Sendo Shuuto, M, 3K

And you would think Shuto wouldn’t be here in the first place, as he and Aiku haven’t had a real conversation since The Bar Incident. How Sendo Shuto gets his Hollywood husband. Or, a love story.

favorite colour by caelam | Bachira Meguru/Isagi Yoichi, T, 3.8K, Chapter 1/4

Isagi Yoichi is a senior art student with a penchant for falling just below his eccentric professor’s demands. What should be the kickoff of his art career feels more and more like a dead end, his portfolio littered with paintings that don’t inspire ‘chemical reactions’ or can’t ‘turn a zero into a one’. Fate brings him a monster as a muse.

Enjoy!!

[vtforpedro]

update - tw in tags please read

I’ve been meaning to make a life/health/disability update the last week or so but those things don’t really matter to me right now. My cat Isis, my soulmate if ever there was one, died in my arms on Thursday morning at 10:32 AM. It happened after I heard a long, mournful yell/groan from her at 10:25 AM. She was fine before, then dead in my arms in seven minutes. 11 years and 1 month old. No warning, no lead up. To say I am devastated is an understatement. I genuinely don’t know how to live without my soulmate. She took half of me with her and my half, well... it’s circling the drain and has been for years. It’s why I’ve always said my cats and my mom are the only reasons I don’t unalive myself. My relationship with my mom is ruined and she won’t do family therapy, and my soulmate is gone. I love all of my pets the same, give them the same love, but there is the once in a lifetime or very rare animal in a long line of them who is just different and that was Isis. Tomorrow will be my third morning waking up and not seeing her come to greet me. She did that on the day she passed but I hung out in bed too long so she went to the bedroom. 10-12 minutes later and as I was getting up, I heard her cry. After attempting CPR, I knew the second she died and the ER vet’s front desk told me sometimes they choose when to go as I wailed with agony. She didn’t fucking choose this. She’d choose to be home if she could. Warm and loved. Not fucking that. I held her in my arms for 40 minutes. Then I held her on her favorite blanket on my lap for almost two hours. We wrapped her in another favorite blanket when we took her to the vet. We spoke with her vet, who is quite familiar with her, and he said it was likely a blood clot or sudden heart issue from what I described. Nothing to be done and no way I could have saved her. She felt pain and fear, but for a brief time she was aware that I was with her and I hope she was comforted by my presence in some way. I’m getting her cremains and a paw print back and one day I’d like to commission art of her. Right now, all I can think about is that I had not yet fully healed from the LP over a year ago so I could sit on the couch and she would lay on my chest and purr for an hour before falling asleep. What healing she’s given me for 10 years. Through some of the lowest points of my life, she has kept me going. I adopted her on May 5th, 2013. I lost her on May 18th, 2023. She was 11 going on kitten. Life is cruel and unfair. I wouldn’t wish going through those seven minutes of agony on anyone and I would turn back the clock to save her from the pain and fear, as she felt them both acutely. Life is so terrible to such innocent beings who have unconditional and insane amounts of love to give, as Isis did to anyone and everyone she knew longer than a day. Everyone always told me how sweet she was. They were always so shocked at how loud her purr was, the very reason I adopted her. I cannot believe I am never going to hear it or feel it again. I don’t want to believe it. She did everything with me and my morning routines are excruciating right now because she isn’t there. She went on most bathroom trips with me, we chatted up a storm every day, she laid in her designated second computer chair at my side, always always always laid at my side on the recliner or couch, and purred purred purred. Isis was the funniest, sweetest, most talkative, comforting, attention-hogging, purring machine. She was orange and proud of it. An instigating little shit and also proud of it. She is with me and I am with her, I hope. I’m still coming down from the shock of what happened but I don’t think this heavy grief will go away for a long time. The apartment has gotten too quiet and I’m lonelier than ever. Lilly is my lovebug and honey bun and she is looking for Isis all the time. Not because they were friends, but Isis did not let her have a moment’s peace! lol But watching her look for her is still incredibly painful. She was fully aware something was happening to Isis, as I had to push her away twice during those seven minutes, but not the concept of death certainly. Still, it’s only been 2.5 days and Lilly is becoming more anxious and restless. She spent today out in the living room with me. Almost all day. She is queen of the Queen Bed Kingdom and the bedroom is her territory (she and Isis had many words about it), so it was really unusual. Isis never really let her put her guard down out here and I hope she starts to. She will stop looking for Isis much sooner than I will. I see her everywhere. I feel her against my leg. I hear her. I feel the touch of her soft fur, of her headbutts, her cold nose as she always tries to lick my chin and cheeks and forehead and nose. I feel as if I could simply say Isis and she’d brrp and be here again. I don’t want to adopt another cat. I want to hang on for Lilly if I can. I want Isis with me again, even if it’s only her name on an urn and the fleeting touch of her paw in clay. But how I long to go back and experience adopting her and having her for another decade at my side. Maybe she’ll stop by my dreams and they’ll be kind ones instead. ☀️

[wolfnanaki]

Nanaki's Late Night Thoughts (2/11/2023)

Ramblings of a trans wolf girl late at night.

When it’s coming to an end, Then why hold back? Why save it for yourself When you have so much to tell?

What is it going to take for me to do the things I actually want to do in my life? I have this weird habit of trying to make everything “just right” before I do anything, and yet it never happens. I have so many story ideas floating around in my head, playing out in my thoughts like an endless movie, and yet I can’t bring these stories to the one format I’m good at producing. I’ll have all these ideas, go home, sit in front of my computer with Word open, and then do nothing. More cycling through YouTube, talking to friends on Discord, browsing Twitter, burning through my finite time in this world instead of following my dreams.

Mom keeps pushing me into getting a Human Resources position because she believes my experience and skills are perfect for the job. She even went as far as to enroll me in a HR certification course, which I succeeded at and got my certificate. But still, I don’t feel like it’s the right job for me, I can’t see myself doing it as a career in five, ten years. I promised myself as a kid I wouldn’t allow myself to waste away at a dull office desk job, that my life would have some fucking MEANING, that I’d reach for the stars and follow my dreams.

I’m enslaved by impulses. Even now as I type this, I had to stop myself from reaching for my phone to play a mobile game. I have to look away from Twitter and other social media platforms that hit my brain in just the right ways that ensure I’m always on them. Looking at and sharing other people’s thoughts is a hell of a lot easier than sharing your own. And there’s always a hot new topic for you to dabble in, just peeking out from the “Trending” tab on the side. Want to see how many people you thought you could trust and respect still follow J.K. Rowling? Want to watch another manmade horror happen live? Want to get swallowed up in stupid debates with loser bitches whose primary goal is to make you upset and haven’t evolved their worldview since they hit puberty? Welcome to Twitter, stay a while and suffer. I’m almost glad Elon Musk is burning it to the ground, though I wonder where all the worst people in the world will go once their stomping grounds are gone.

It’s too late now anyway, So when you feel you have something to say, Why save it for yourself? Don't let those you love get away.

A few minutes before I started writing this, when I went downstairs to make myself a sandwich, I felt my foot bump into something on the floor in the darkness. It was my dog’s chew toy. It’s always in our walking path at night for some reason, and I always move it out of the way because I worry that one day, mom isn’t going to see it and will trip over it. When I started toasting my bread, the toaster started smoking, and I turned it off to look inside. My older brother has a habit of toasting a sandwich for himself every night, and he uses the toaster to reheat leftover pizza too. Whichever the case may be, there’s now a hardened black blob of cheese at the bottom part of the toaster that’s supposed to cook the food. I hope he recognizes his mistake and fixes it, otherwise I’ll have to do it for him.

Ever since I lost my job, I’ve noticed little things like that around the house, but especially in the kitchen. No matter how much you sweep, no matter how many hours you devote to cleaning the place, there’s always something dirty to it. You always feel crumbs under your toes. It makes the whole process feel pointless. I don’t get why mom puts so much effort into cleaning it when it’s always dirty anyway. Maybe one day it can be clean for real, probably the day we move out and spruce this place up.

Mom wants to move up to Jacksonville – or at least near it – since my youngest brother and his girlfriend just moved there. I’m surprised at the trajectory of my brother’s life. He traveled the world, taught English in China, started online businesses for selling tat and books, started dating a girl, and now they’ve moved in together. His girlfriend has a daughter who happily calls my brother her dad. He's 28. I’m 32 and I haven’t even been on a date. But it’s hard to compare myself with him in that way; he’s always been comfortable with who he is and how he presents himself, whereas I’m a trans woman trying to find her body, her comfort and her happiness. I don’t think I can truly open up with a romantic partner if I don’t know for sure how they’ll take me being trans, especially considering the way I look right now. I can’t “pass” the way I am, I haven’t done much vocal training, and I live in an anti-trans state. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t keep trying to live as my most authentic self.

Authenticity – my job, my gender identity, my dreams, my personality. It’s all exhausting but it’s a journey I must face head-on. If I don’t define myself for myself, it’ll be other people who define me for me. And I’ve given years of my life to other people who didn’t have my best interests at heart, who used and discarded me. That’s not who I want to be. Maybe that’s why I’m so hesitant to settle into a Human Resources career. I don’t want to live a life as another person’s lackey. And I don’t dream of labor. I just want to write my stories and life as my true self for the world to see.

And this time there won’t be another day, And now I know This is the only way. And when we go...

Back in December, I listened to a song. It’s called “Constellations,” performed by Dabu and sung by Brigitte Naggar, composed for the soundtrack for an upcoming indie game called Goodbye Volcano High. The game’s story is about anthropomorphic dinosaur teenagers in their senior year of high school having their lives being interrupted with the revelation that a comet is on its way to strike the planet and wipe out the dinosaurs. The player character is a nonbinary pterodactyl named Fang, who must figure out what they’re going to do with their remaining time. The game is billed as “the end of an era and the beginning of a love story.”

The song “Constellations” hit hard for me; its lyrics encapsulated so many of my feelings, trans and otherwise. It’s a beautiful and heartfelt song, but when I listened to it in full for the first time in full that cold night, I couldn’t handle all those feelings at once. I was overwhelmed. I was a sobbing mess for ten minutes. It hurt, but it was also cathartic in a way. I shared those feelings that night in posts, not for attention or anything, but because I desperately needed to share them in case they reach the eyes for someone else going through what I’m going through, and maybe it’ll help them knowing they’re not alone, that someone else has felt their feelings and is healing.

It was that night, influenced by the song’s lyrics, that I came up with a personal motto, one I have now posted on as many platforms that allows for it:

“When the world is ruled by hate, rebel with love.”

So many of our online interactions are defined by hate, outrage, disgust, contempt. No platform is truly safe from that influence because when we feel those feelings, they’re incredibly strong and we NEED to vent them. We spend our time arguing with each other over the most petty things, leave feeling miserable, and then prep ourselves for when we’ll do it all over again. And frankly, I realized that night that I don’t want to fall into that trap anymore. I want to live a life celebrating good, influenced by love and compassion. Because love is so much stronger than hate. Love yourself enough and you can overcome anything. Love strong enough and you can change the world. And when so much of our daily lives are defined by hate, showing true, honest love becomes a form of rebellion.

Right now, I have many parts of myself that paint me as a target for hate. I’m Jewish when antisemitism is on the rise, I’m a transgender woman when anti-trans bills are being passed across the USA, and being a furry, I’m part of a big, openly queer space that’s now also under attack by the political right. I am surrounded by hate, and if I’m not careful, hate will be my end. But that’s even more reason to love. I don’t plan on being a martyr or anything, but I let the hate and fear of other people control my life, then just like when I’m boymoding, I’m not living as my true self.

I’m a trans woman, I’m proud, I’m full of love, and I want to make the world a better place. Whatever dreams or achievements I accomplish before I’m gone, that’s one legacy I want to leave behind. And I hope my words reach people who need them, who find comfort in them, and who come to choose to live a life of compassion and love. We only get so much time in this world, let’s make it worthwhile.

You can see it in the constellations. It spells our legacy above. There was love, there will always be love.

[adventuresandstuffs]

Some final thoughts…

Well, we made it to the top. And on the day that we were making it to the top, there was a snowstorm the night before and I fell on and thru some ice. I landed on my ribs and broke one of them. I ended up completing the final day up with a broken rib, and then did another ~25 miles down the trail with a broken rib. We also ended up walking about 15 miles around Kathmandu. It honestly took the wind out of my sails. It sucked. It hurt. It still hurts. And as of yesterday (11 April), I went to the doctor and the only thing I can do is be lazy for the next 6 weeks for it to heal. It feels really weird and uncomfortable to have spent 2 weeks putting so many miles under my feet, to come home and sit on the couch so my rib can heal.

The going down part of the trek is kind of a… lie. Even going down you’re still going up. In and out of valleys. We still added about 3k feet of elevation gain in the 25 miles we did going down. Not as intense as adding 3k feet of elevation gain in 6 miles going up, but was still intense. We woke up the morning after base camp feeling like absolute garbage. The elevation really takes a toll on you and that’s one of the worst days that I’ve ever felt, and the rib didn’t help. Even our guide felt bad that day. So getting down in elevation was great. With every 1k foot drop, breathing got a little easier.

We trekked down for 2 days. We were meant to trek down for 3 days, but, due to a change in our flight back to Kathmandu, we had a change of plans. We were told that our flight from Lukla (beginning and ending of the trek) to Kathmandu was canceled and we’d instead have to take a flight from Lukla to some city 5 hours away from Kathmandu and then take a bus. Or, we could take a helicopter for $350. We chose the helicopter. Turns out, the price of the helicopter from where we were in Namche Bazzaar to Kathmandu was the same price as the helicopter from Lukla to Kathmandu. We chose to skip the final day and 10 miles of trekking and take the helicopter from Namche.

We got back to our hotel in Kathmandu Wednesday morning around 11 and we didn’t leave the bed all day, with the exception of getting some lunch and dinner, which we did at the hotel. Thursday and Friday we explored the chaos of Kathmandu and on Thursday night we joined our guide Kiran and the owner of the company that we used for some Mexican food. Kiran told us that he’d never had Mexican food so we had to change that. We found a spot owned by a Mexican expat and they had outstanding food.

And with that, our time in Kathmandu was done. We had a 0230am Saturday flight to Doha and then a 730am flight back to Atlanta, then a drive back to Nashville. Finally, around 10pm Saturday night, after traveling for about 36 hours and being awake nonstop for more than 50 hours (I couldn’t sleep on the plane with the sore rib) we made it home.

I’m still jetlagged.

All and all, it was an incredible trip. Painful at times, rough overall, but the most beautiful place I’ve ever been. Would I do it again…. Yes, but this time I’d take the helicopter from base camp and skip any of the trekking down. And hopefully, next time, I don’t break anything.

I’m already looking forward to the next adventure in October with I do some of the 14k’rs out in California and climb the highest mountain in the continental US.

But for now, doctors orders, rest.

[sketchunivercx3s]

1. Tails, Rocky Rickaby, Agustus Porter, Michelangelo Hamato.

2. Matches ( it smells better to me )

3. I don’t usually open my bedroom windows but I always find it open when I wake up, so probably.

4. Mothman and the Loch Ness monster

5. Black or brown. I can’t tell which.

6. To survive.

7. Hair ties. Scrunchies make me feel as if a parasite has latched onto my scalp.

8. Around 15. 18 if you include Gatorade bottles.

9. Frosted coffee. Coffee that’s been blended with ice.

10. Only if they consent and only if they pay me.

11. Mock trial. It’s like drama but calmer. Somewhat.

12. “ a bunch of groundbreaking earth shattering things happened today but this morning I decided to test God and filled a large quick trip cup to the brim with five hour energy drinks so I am physically numb to the stress “

13. A minute ago. ‘‘Twas a grape for my nourishment.

14. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s like the earth just took a warm bath and it smells peaceful.

15. Yes. I am the proud mother of ten fish. They are my scale-babies and anyone who mistreats them will be publicly executed. With the exception of my baby niece who gets a pass because she’s cute.

16. Not legally, but what the government doesn’t know won’t hurt them.

17. Neither?

18. Pantene shampoo, apple flavored conditioner, and cucumber flavored body wash.

19. I am notoriously bad at painting nails but sure. It’s your funeral I guess.

20. Carbonated beverage.

21. A little mermaid guitar with Ariel flounder and Sebastian on it.

22. Quiet, chaotic, determined.

23. It’s off putting, but bearable and somewhat calming in its own unnerving way.

24. I’d be shooting at my neighbors squirrels with a bow and arrow. Since you’d be my guest, I suppose you could do whatever you’d like.

25. Butterfly by bath and body work. Tastes smooth, and slightly like raspberries.

26. Smashing glass against the floor as I walk towards a tyrant who’s overpowered yet highly analytical. Walking through fire that separates us as the trench coat I’ve been wearing burns to reveal a brightly colored suit. Then I kill him and go about my business, going home to take care of my fish.

27. I got 7 last night. But with this amount of five hour energy drinks in my system, I have a feeling I won’t go back to sleep for a little while.

28. No, not at home. Sometimes out in public if it’s required, but it’s usually not.

29. Cold. It’s more refreshing that way.

30. No. I don’t eat in my room. Not unless you count that one bird that got to close to the window.

31. Music doesn’t keep me grounded at all. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. When I listen to music it makes me feel free. Deeper in the moment than anyone else, but my mind is up in the clouds at that point. It’s just pure emotion that drives me with no thought at all.

32. Yes, a blue one my father made me buy after I kept stealing his.

33. It’s best to keep that one to myself.

34. Halo by Beyoncé, lost in the Rythm by Jamie berry, take me to church by hozier.

35. No clue.

36. Never, really.

37. A friend I’ve stuck with since elementary. She’s nice, amiable, she gets along with most people, but not in a peppy way.

38. Dove is basic, but nice. The taste leaves a slightly tart mark on the palate, but it smoothens out.

39. Yes. My favorite flavor is pomegranate.

40. Grapes, pop tarts, teeth, donuts.

41. I only drink black or frosted coffee, otherwise I don’t drink coffee at all.

42. Pinterest and animal jam.

43. Not my preferred taste, but I can handle it. The only spicy food I like is sweet chili Doritos and spicy skittles.

44. I’d tell the person I’d want to kill that I had a free pass to kill them, but never actually kill them. I want to see them tear themself apart from paranoia, just knowing that someone had permission to kill them with no consequence. To make them even more paranoid I’d start following them, meet up with them in random places, follow them when they’re alone so no witnesses would be suspicious. Eventually they’d be distant from the ones they loved, with no one to believe them about all of this, I wouldn’t even have to kill them. It might just be a fate worse than death.

45. I saw a snake. That’s pretty much it.

46. Rudolph the red nosed reindeer, and Santa paws. My family loves to watch Santa paws every Christmas. They also like elf.

47. “ he’s following a blonde teacher “

48. Christmas party. Nothing heavy, just a sip from my moms glass.

49. Yes. I can also skip people. The trick is to rotate them.

50. Of course. Random is what I do.

here’s weirder asks

who is/are your comfort character(s)?

lighter or matches?

do you leave the window open at night?

which cryptyd being do you believe in?

what color are your eyes?

why did you do that?

hair-ties or scrunchies?

how many water bottles are in your room right now?

which do you prefer, hot coffee or cold coffee?

would you slaughter the rich?

favorite extracurricular activity?

what kind of day is it?

when was the last time you ate?

do you love the smell of earth after it rains?

are you a parent? (all answers qualify)

can you drive?

are you farsighted or nearsighted?

what hair products do you use?

imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails?

do you say soda or pop?

something you’ve kept since childhood?

what type of person are you?

how do you feel about chilly weather?

if we were together on a rooftop, what would we be doing?

perfume/body spray or lotion?

a scenario that you’ve replayed multiple times?

about how many hours of sleep did you get?

do you wear a mask?

how do you like your shower water?

is there dishes in your room?

what type of music keeps you grounded?

do you have a favorite towel?

the last adventure you’ve been on?

is there a song you know every word to by heart?

what’s your timezone?

how many times have you changed your url?

someone in your life, other than a relative, you’ve known for 10+ years?

a soap bar that smells good?

do you use lip balm?

did you have any snacks today?

how do you take your coffee?

an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site?

what’s your take on spicy foods?

you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

can you remember what happened yesterday?

favorite holiday film?

what was the last message you sent?

when did you first try an alcohol beverage?

can you skip rocks?

can i tag you in random stuff?

[blahandwhatever]

My mother and I had some ups and downs again, and though eventually we found our way back to a sort of peace, she didn’t want to go on the trip we’d planned anymore. Some other time.

I still wanted to celebrate her birthday - and my brother was, unusually, planning on coming. After giving her some space for a few days, I suggested going out to a Naperville restaurant, and she accepted.

The past two days were something of a task completion and time & money alignment Rube Goldberg machine. What time would my brother be able to get to Naperville? Around 5. What time were reservations available at the restaurant? Up to 5:30 or after 8. So I snagged a 5:30 slot before it was gone - and thank god making a reservation is free, because I was broke until payday on my mother’s birthday.

In the meantime, I had my own stuff to take care of, and things to buy before I went, all of which would somehow have to be squeezed in on the day of my Naperville journey. I thought about getting a cash advance - enough, potentially, to at least get the restriction removed from my bank account so I wouldn’t have to deal with the customer service chat about that on Friday, and let me buy a few essentials too. After running a gauntlet of app downloads, account registrations, and single-use verification codes, I got nowhere with this - the best I could get as a first-time user was a useless $25, and most apps couldn’t offer me anything due to my non-employee work status, due to my inconsistent paycheck amounts, due to requiring having direct deposit set up with the app, or whatever.

About all I could do about today for the rest of yesterday was pick out my outfit, pick out the flowers I’d order, and plan. And try to get to bed early. Which went… just okay.

Ended up sleeping later than I’d hoped, pushing the end of the acceptable range. Did the bank account customer service chat, which went mercifully fast - I’d spent over an hour waiting for a representative in the past, at busier times. By the time I was done brushing my teeth, making my coffee, and texting my mother, I realized it was almost 1 PM - the deadline for placing a same-day order with Naperville Florist. I hurried to make a final decision on a bouquet - I’d made one last night but decided to scrap that choice - and managed to place my order at 12:59. I then realized I’d failed to select a pickup time, which made the selection default to 1:30, and I didn’t want them to needlessly hurry, so I called the place to rectify this. I then learned from the lady on the phone that my PayPal payment had not gone though for some reason, so I paid with my debit card, and then I got an order confirmation in my email, unlike before (I only got the one in the browser window), with a new order number, which made me wonder if this whole thing would have fallen through had I not called.

I also placed a Vitamin Shoppe pickup order for my magnesium, which I’d finished yesterday,

I got ready and went to Target for some things I really needed for home and a card for my mother. After going through and reading all the mom birthday cards, I found myself dissatisfied with the options and decided I’d have to go to Jewel. I could stop by the Vitamin Shoppe too while I was at it. I decided to do this on the way to Naperville and not now, to avoid wasting time driving back and forth.

And thank god I did because, by the time I was ready to leave for real, there was no time for either of those stores. Traffic was bad, at this time, on this day. I still had to stop by the gas station. By the time I was done with that, GPS had deemed the traffic for my usual route even worse, putting my ETA at the florist (which closed at 5) at 5:11 PM (with another 12-15 minutes to drive to my mother’s house, another 12 to drive downtown, and whatever additional minutes it took to park and walk to the restaurant).

Thankfully, GPS offered an alternative route, partly off-highway, to get me to the florist at 4:56. So I took that, and I drove very tensely and tried Very Hard, and at times I shaved down minutes, and at times they piled back up, and in the end, I got there at 4:56.

Factoring in the minutes spent on various in-betweens, I got to my mother’s house at 5:12, and we found convenient parking, and we got to the restaurant at exactly 5:30.

And I just want to say. I just want to say, I don’t know how people live like this. Managing time, all the time. I manage a few times barely passably, and I feel like I’ve slain a dragon. I feel like I’ve summoned all my powers, all my strength, and unleashed them upon the most onerous task in the world - and, to my own bewilderment, actually succeeded.

Granted, parts of my plan had to be sacrificed. No magnesium to help me through the day’s stresses, or counteract the Greek dinner’s cheeses. No card for my mother, which was not an essential part of her birthday package, though it would have been nice, and who was I kidding - I wouldn’t have had time to compose a thoughtful message. I thought about prewriting one last night, but I was too deep in taskmaster mode to be able to be that reflective, and frankly, the same was probably true today, though time pressure can make me pull off all sorts of unlikely things.

In any case, the machine went off relatively smoothly without its dispensable parts, and things went well with my mother and brother.

The biggest wrench in my plans was my father, who was… there. Not at the restaurant, but at home. Very at home. He had bought my mother cake, balloons, expensive champagne. He took a lot of pictures. He did his Everything Is Normal act. He wasn’t in one of the more pleasant versions of his ‘normal’, either. He was irritable, impatient, and interfering; he was a pain in the ass. And with each phase of the evening, I hoped he’d go off and leave us alone, and he never did.

And every fiber of my being screamed, “YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE.”

But my mother was okay with it. She didn’t exactly want it, but she was okay with it. Which was about as close as she ever got to enthusiastic consent around anything to do with my father.

He was being very nice to her lately. And he’d stopped playing poker. And he was getting some kind of counseling.

Were things really back to normal? Were they, generally, talking to each other, or doing things together? Not really (though he kept trying to make it happen). But her birthday felt like a lot. Her birthday felt like a transgression. It wasn’t like, Thanksgiving or something.

And did she still want to divorce him? Ideally, sure… but the expense to get it done one-sidedly was too much. It wasn’t going to happen. In a few years, she would go back to Poland. She could wait it out.

And I thought, do you remember last year? Do you remember what you went through, how it felt? Do you remember your whole life?

And it felt like one of a million slippery slopes she’d already been on, always ending in unhappiness, even if it wasn’t ‘as bad as before’ this time around. And it made me a little sick.

And I came home so drained. Barely managed to eke out half of the work I was supposed to get done.

And I don’t know what’s to come, but I know, as with every ominous thing on my life’s periphery, that my own life must go on.

[the-duckless-pond]

It is 03:54 as I begin this post and I have FINALLY finished my flash cards as of about fifteen minutes ago. Holy shit. It feels so amazing to have finally, finally done them.

Yes, I did all of chapter three which was basically entirely verbs. Yes, I did the auxiliary conjugation decks for that chapter too. And for chapters one and two. And for the new verb forms (potential and volitional) that didn’t have decks yet. All done. And then? I even pulled out Nakama 1 and entered in all the verbs from the entire book into those two conjugation decks. Holy shit. It’s done. I’m caught up on flash cards. At long fucking last.

I started around 8pm ish and took two and a half SVU breaks. I did take other little breaks to stretch or get a drink or something too, but I didn’t track how long those were. I guess overall I will say that I took two and a half hours worth of breaks. That means I made flash cards for… like five hours if I did that right. Holy shit. Fuck yeah.

I cannot believe they are actually DONE oh my godddd finally it is manageable again. Now all I have to do going forward is make the cards per each chapter. I’d say that each chapter introduces maybe 100 words and 15-20 verbs on average? So that is super doable and easy.

I don’t know what to do next. I’m still not entirely committed to pulling an all nighter. The flash cards and getting those done whatever it took was my main mission. Everything else is a bonus. I definitely want a little break no matter what I do.

Let’s see. What else is there to do that I could conceivably do well in my very caffeinated but becoming tired state.

I could…

- shower and wash my hair (or better yet take a bath and wash my hair, even if a shower does rinse better than the bath)

- Japanese test take home writing (8 sentences about a trip I will take over winter break, allowed to be lies, must contain certain grammar points)

- japanese extra credit (2 pages in the workbook, maybe with corrections? Idk)

- Japanese test review sheet (a few pages, usually 3 or 4)

- watch instructional videos on grammar points I don’t entirely understand

- line the remaining three cabinets with my contact paper like I’ve been wanting to do for a literal month now

- French exercises 2.1 to 2.3 (although those can be difficult and I am starting to get tired so maybe best saved for Tuesday)

That about sums up all my options. All of those, minus the cabinet lining which is a want, are things that absolutely need to get done that I had intended to do this weekend.

I am in a weird state where I’m yawning but I am pretty awake. Idk what to do. I’ve never pulled an all nighter studying before so how does it work? I have class tomorrow at 5:30pm but it is a review class. If I go to bed now I could wake up around noon and still have time to get more work done, but I worry about super fucking up my sleep schedule. I don’t mind going to bed around 10 or 11 and waking up between 8 and 9, but this would be the second night in a row that I would have gone to bed at like 4am, and that bodes poorly and speaks of a pattern. I don’t want that. Especially because I would have to wait until the weekend to fix it probably. Blah. It’s hard.

I did ask Charlie and she voted against an all nighter but understood my reasoning, and honestly it is such a relief to have those flash cards done that no matter what this was worth it.

I am not committed to staying up and I am not committed to going to bed, but I am very committed to taking a break. So I am laying in bed, glasses off, under the covers. I have my iPad which is probably at full charge if not close. I have my phone which I didn’t get a chance to charge because it is integral to the flash card process and it is at like 40%. My bright nightlight is on and I am on my back, not in my normal sleeping position. I am taking a break.

Boo is here on her pillow. Callie is in the dining room in the corner how she likes, last I saw with her eyes closed and snoozing. Boo seems happy. She is laying down and just closed her eyes. I felt soooooo bad earlier. Around 11pm I needed to charge my vape and I found her in bed on her pillow fast asleep.

There she is. I guess that shows you how bright my nightlight is too! It’s not actually that bright in person. It is bright enough to s the the outlines of things in the room but not so bright that I can’t fall asleep with it on.

Anyway. She was snoring and totally passed out. I really wanted to pet her and cuddle her but I didn’t want to disturb her so I just silently crept to the outlet and plugged in the cord, whispered that I loved her, abd crept back out. When it was done charging and I grabbed it she was still out cold.

She woke up the third time I went into the room. Around 1:30am I finished using my laptop but it was at half battery and I wanted it fully charged for class. So I grabbed the charger and prepared to sneak in. I made it halfway to the outlet before she let out the most heartbreaking meow. She NEVER meows except for when she really needs something (food, love, etc) so u knew she was asking me why I wasn’t in bed yet. She tried to get up but she was coming out of a deep sleep and stumbled and tripped ;~;. I rushed over to her and sat on the bed and started petting her gently and telling her that I was still studying and it was okay to go back to bed. She purred like CRAZY like wow purring so forcefully!! As if to say that she had been waiting for me all that time and she was so happy I was finally there. I stayed in bed with her sitting there while she woke up and petting her for a while. Eventually she got up to get a bite to eat and a drink of water, and I followed her out and got back to work.

After that, instead of going back to bed or to her cat tower like she does during the day, she stayed right by me. I study sitting at the coffee table on a meditation pillow with the couch right behind me. She took up position on the couch and curled right up and went back to sleep. I guess she just wanted to be by me. She is so sweet. I love her so much. I missed her while she was in the bedroom so I took an SVU break after a little and sat with her and she climbed into my lap and purred and purred. Sweet girl.

Callie mostly spent my study time atop Boo’s tower, as fast asleep as she could ever be. I didn’t want to disturb her even though I really wanted to pet her several times. She snored a handful of times and that was really sweet and melted my heart to hear her resting so soundly. She was my little companion for the entire flash card study session. She did get up once to go nap on the bathroom rug, but she moved when I went in there to use the restroom.

Gosh time is flying. Or maybe I talk to much. But it’s my diary so fuck it. It’s 4:25am as I type this sentence. I don’t feel any more or less tired than before I laid down, so I doubt sleep would come easily if I tried. I’m committed to taking a break in the form of resting quietly with my precious terminally ill cat because she wouldn’t have come back to her favorite spot without me. So I guess I will stay laying down for at least a little bit. I put in a lot of work. I’ve earned it. And it does feel nice to lay down. I was kind of hunching over when I was making my flash cards and my back is kind of sore now.

I feel like, just purely based on the amount of caffeine I have consumed since I got started around 8pm (maybe closer to 7:30pm but I wasn’t keeping track so I am saying 8), sleep is a few hours off. I feel roughly mid day level tired, only my eyes hurt a little more than normal. Probably from focusing so intently or something.

I did do the math. If I went to bed now I would wake up around 1:30pm, further worsening my sleep schedule. If I was capable of closing my eyes that is around when I would naturally wake up. It usually takes me about an hour to fall asleep, so I would end up waking up around 2:30pm ish. And because of my particular flavor of depression and executive dysfunction it is unlikely that I would make it to class. I probably wouldn’t take my so called morning medicine until like 5pm, and class starts at 5:30pm and goes until 7pm. Hm. Well then.

So what do I do? I am getting tired, that much is true, but I am always always always tired around what ends up being roughly the middle of my day. That’s why I usually have a caffeinated drink around 2 or 3pm. But with my sleep being so weird lately it’s been all off.

I think that at the very least for the sake of the cats needing a routine, I should keep the apartment dark and stay in bed laying down until at least 7am ish. I will set a series of alarms every fifteen minutes from noon to one, just in case I drift off. That should do the trick and protects me in case I do end up falling asleep. I think… that I should stay committed to resting and letting the cats rest and giving them a semabalance of everything being normal. Cats thrive on routine so that will be good for them.

I guess for now, I will test out a flash card or two (I change the font size to be larger and I want to see what it looks like) and then I will maybe read the news on the iPad or watch an episode of SVU. If I drift off, I drift off. But I won’t plan on it. Alarms are set just in case.

Boo just started snoring so I guess that’s my queue :) catch you later diary

[meowwrites]

Fruit Bowls.

inspired by me making fruit bowls for me and my sister and then making very poor quesadillas. and crying. because both came out poorly.

—————————

Neoma is coming over at 12:00. Get ready.

That’s the first reminder that fills my vision when I pick up my phone.

Summer had just started. June 11th. The first day I had gotten to sleep in for what felt like years.

The sun shone brightly through my curtains, the sky was bright and blue, the birds chirped through my window; it was entirely peaceful, and worth celebrating because it had been nothing but rain in the last month of May.

The weather was reflective of my emotions. Even if the suns heat made me sweat and the light made it difficult to see, it was better than the forlorn days and nights of raining and flooding, having to run around in the rain to make it home because I kept forgetting my umbrella.

With the bright weather, there was happiness. There was confidence. And with that confidence, I invited Neoma to my house.

Neoma is a good friend of mine. One of my best friends, even. That’s a little embarrassing to say and maybe a bit of an overstatement, since we only met in the second semester.

We met when I tripped and fell down the stairs on my way down the staircase. She helped me to the nurse in a rolling chair. She’s really kind.

She’s pretty and has nice hair and she’s really cool and… I insisted she come over to my house today and we could go have a picnic at a park near my house.

I also insisted I prepare all the food and drinks. Which I planned to do when I woke up at 9:00.

And now it’s 11:00. And I have nothing prepared.

Nothing. Zero.

I must be the worst host in human history.

I chuck my phone off to the side, it falling off the edge of my bed, and quickly swing my legs up and hoist myself out of bed, my legs hitting the ground and standing up as fast as possible, which I had to sit back down because my vision when black.

“Oh no… no, no, no…” I groan. I don’t know how I’m going to get this all done in an hour.

No way I can cancel. That would be rude. And asking her to come later would be improper, she’s already making the attempt to come from her home on a Saturday. I can’t mess this up.

I also really, really want her to come over.

With a sigh, I get up a lot slower and make my way to my bathroom to go shower and clean my face.

Wash my face, put on sunscreen, wet my hair, painstakingly comb it through, and go back to my room to make my bed and change.

I’m trying to look my best. I have to look my best. She needs to see my best. She deserves my best.

I smack my cheeks, throwing opening my closet to pull out various shirts and dresses and skirts to try on.

A white crop top with a pretty short blue skirt? No, definitely not, it’s too short.

A black shirt with grey sweatpants? No, it’s too hot for that, and I’d look underdressed.

A white sundress? It’s… not half bad. It’s pretty. I wonder if Neoma will think it looks nice?

…

It doesn’t take me more than a minute to put it on.

Okay, next order of business. I have time, it’s only… 11:30.

Why is there never enough time in the day?

Right, business. I need to… I need to get the fruit! I wanted to make fruit bowls and bring chocolate and honey to eat them with. Neoma says she loves eating strawberries with chocolate, so I should buy those.

Alright, so hand-made fruit bowls. I can do that—

I don’t have fruit.

Why don’t I have fruit? Because grocery shopping is only for people who have grocery lists—as in my parents went on vacation and I had to shop and ended up buying everything wrong due to the lack of a grocery list.

So now I have to buy fruit.

And my driving skills are subpar at best.

And the grocery store is five minutes away if I run.

…

I run out of my room, almost tripping and falling flat on my face by the time I make it to the my front door because of my socks. I put on my sneakers, and run out the door.

It’s really more like speed walking, because I keep tripping over my own feet and it’s close to scraping my knees open.

I really wish my mother had taught me better motor skills. Because by the time I’m through the front door of my local Publix, I’m on my knees (because I tripped on the bottom of the door, panting and sweating.

Why does it have to be like a million degrees outside? And people are staring. At me. On the floor. Understandably so.

I quickly get to my feet and continue my quest into the store.

I have a bit of a mental list of what I need as I make it through the produce isle with a shopping cart; pineapples, kiwis, strawberries, honeydew, mangoes… etc. etc.

Neoma may or may not be allergic to one of these. I knows Neoma told me, but I’m now really struggling to remember; my brain is all fuzzy from running. I’m isn’t sure how I managed to fumble this bad and it’s only morning.

Speaking of which, it’s 11:40 now.

Life is cruel to girls like me.

I shovel in a bunch of more fruit in my shopping bag (while taking too much time with trying to figure which end of the plastic bags to open) and make my way to the checkout. As in, the self-checkout. The last time I had a cashier I ended up having to use cash because all my five credit cards rejected.

Even if it’s more time consuming that every time I put in the monumentos amounts of fruits I have on the scale, a person has to come and scan their id for me. I manage to stutter out a thank you every time, at the very least.

I can never go to a regular cashier. They are going to throw rocks at me.

By the time I finish and manage to check my phone and it’s 11:45 and there is no way I am going to make it back in time to do everything.

How I managed to mess up so badly even though I had everything planned to the wire, is well beyond me.

I take a deep breath and quickly begin making my way back home, trying to match the same pace I was at originally, just with less tripping and more actual running.

It’s a little difficult when you’re carrying a pound or so of just about every single fruit a person can imagine, but I just have to make do.

Staying positive is one of the thing I unfortunately need to have going for me. Maybe I can make it on time. Maybe I can prepare everything I need too in the span of however much time I have left by the time i get home. Maybe I won’t fumble every single attempt I have ever made towards Neoma.

Neoma…

She makes my head spin. And not just because when I met her I had hit my head on the pavement.

I really want to impress her this time around. Make her think that I’m not ditzy and clumsy and anxious, because I’m not—well, I’m not that much. I think. Maybe. Probably?

Regardless, I really want her to think I’m cool. Maybe if I show her a good time, maybe she’ll want to come over more. And maybe if she wants to come over more she would want to be friends, and maybe if she wants to be friends we could be—

I accidentally ram my head into the door to my house thinking about Neoma.

“Ow, ow—“ I rub my forehead, stepping back and opening the door, running back inside.

It’s currently 11:50. I can make it. I have to make it.

I begin running into my kitchen, setting all the bags on the counter, which some of the contents spill out and I manage to pick up before they rolled off to the side.

Grab a bowl, grab a cutting board, and grab a knife. Finely cut the fruit into small pieces—

“Ah, ow, ow.” I drop the knife on the cutting board.

Maybe cutting fruit is hard than I thought. My index finger is bleeding.

I put it in my mouth and sigh. This is a lot more difficult than I anticipated. Is this karma for trying to impress a pretty girl I like?

I begin the arduous task of walking to my bathroom and bandaging my finger, and then going back to my kitchen to continue cutting fruit.

This leads to the repetitive task of cutting fruit, accidentally cutting my fingers because I don’t know how to cut fruit, go to my bathroom to get bandages, and continue cutting the fruit. This happens to all ten of my fingers.

Mangoes, oranges, blueberries, raspberries, anything and everything I can to make it look appetizing and delicious. I even put honey and cinnamon on it.

I do manage to finish, without getting blood on the fruit, somehow. It… doesn’t look great. It’s not nearly as appetizing as I anticipated.

All this effort. All this work. And it doesn’t even look good. And my fingers are all bandages and a faded red color.

The door rings.

Did i mess up?

I walk to the door.

Did I lose my chance of having the best possible day with one of the most amazing girls I know?

I slowly open the door.

There’s no way she’ll like me now. I’m sweaty, I’m bleeding, and I don’t even look nice. I wouldn’t like me either. I don’t even think I do to begin with anyway, but this is just infinitely worse—

“Good evening, Tameline.”

This sucks.

“It’s, nice to see you, Neoma! Th-Thanks for coming.”

She’s dressed so nicely. She has a really large black jacket and low-waisted black pants. She looks so good, she even halfway put her hair up. She’s so gorgeous. And I look like a wreck. It’s taking a lot out of me not to cry.

“Come in! I, uh, cleaned the place, so it’s not a total wreck, haha. Uhm, I woke up kind of late and I ended up not getting everything ready, but I promise I can get it done if I—“

“Are you going to cry?”

“…Huh?”

I stop talking when she interrupts me. She’s looking at me weird. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and her head is tilted to the side. She looks… worried.

Is she worried about, me?

“N-No,” My voice cracks. “It’s, it’s fine. I’m fine. Really I’m—“ This isn’t good. No, no, no. Not now. My eyes swell up with tears. My vision gets blurry. It feels hard to breathe. “I’m f-fine. Just fine.”

She just keeps looking at me. She’s looking at me, and I’m crying. This is embarrassing. She’s just watching me cry.

This was the worst mistake of my life.

Neoma, without warning, takes my hands into hers, and just holds my hands. It makes me stumble backwards from the shock.

She doesn’t say anything, she just… holds my hands. My bandages hands from cutting fruit and accidentally cutting myself.

Her hands are soft. They’re really soft. And she’s so pretty up close.

“I-I’m sorry—“ I hiccup. The tears slip down my face, I feel humiliated. “I’m really sorry.”

And there I am, crying. Crying at my front door with one of the prettiest girls I know that’s holding my hands.

“Don’t apologize.” Neoma’s tone of voice is soft, gentle. She’s so kind.

“I-I totally messed up.” I sniffle, and it’s hard to speak, it feels like my throats going dry. “I woke up late, I-I had to run to the store to buy everything so now I’m all sweaty— then I suck at cutting fruits, a-and I wanted to make you fruit bowls, but I know you’re allergic to one of them but I can’t remember which— a-and everything looks horrible and it all sucks and I just wanted t-to show you a good time and sh-show that I’m not such a loser—“ I ramble the entire time as my crying only gets louder, and Neoma only listens to me patiently. “A-And now I’ve messed everything up—“

Neoma looks at me a little longer, and then she… laughs? It’s more like a quiet chuckle. Is she laughing at me? Or is she…? Honestly I’m not even sure. Crying impairs my train of thought. “That’s… nice of you. I can help you out, we can still have a good time.”

“We… we can?” She took that… surprisingly well. It’s giving me whiplash. I wipe my nose with my arm and sigh shakily. She sounds hopeful. “I-I thought you’d never want to talk to me after this.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Neoma tilts her head, still holding my hands in her own as she stands at my doorway, looking at me with an expression I can discern. “You talk a lot about how you never wake up early. I figured it might happen. I’m not upset.”

It almost feels backhanded, but I get the point. She’s really accommodating for me. “I uh.. haha,” She’s not upset. She doesn’t look the slightest bit mad at me. I let my hands free of hers and wipe my tears. “I’m sorry. That’s… that’s really nice of you. You should— you should come in. I would really like it if you helped me.” I step to the side to let her in.

“Thank you.” Neoma goes inside and I close the door behind her. “It’s fine. Really. Please, don’t stress yourself out.”

I sniffle and take her to my kitchen, letting her follow behind me and not responding besides a faint ‘mhm’. I need to wash my face. And these clothes. And maybe myself. This is embarrassing, Neoma doesn’t even seem to mind. She must really be cringing on the inside.

My kitchen is a bit of a mess. There’s the paper towels with dried blood and fruit juice, one and a half bowls of fruit finished, fruit set out, groceries bags on the floor and some falling out onto the floor.

My face feels red. “Sorry, uh, it’s messy.” I want to push Neoma out of my kitchen—out of my house—right about now.

“I can clean.” Neoma offers, going to my side, only taking a quick glance around before back to me. “You should go wash your face. Your eyes will get all puffy.”

“Oh—, right.” I probably look like a mess. It would be nice to change. “I-I’ll be right back! I promise I’ll come back to help.” I nod quickly, making my way back to my own bathroom while Neoma goes to my kitchen.

I lock the door and slump onto the floor.

I feel bad still. Neoma offered to clean, it looks like a mess in my kitchen, and it’s all my fault. At least… she’s not too mad. I think she would’ve left otherwise.

She was so kind the entire time, it makes my head feel fuzzy.

And she’s probably waiting for me, so I should make this quick… after I spend a minute on the floor.

So I spend the next minute staring up at the ceiling from the floor. Staring up my flickering light that has a lot of dead bugs in it.

I should learn how to clean it.

After mentally counting more or less of a minute, I stand up, feeling a little woozy from standing up so fast before turning on my sink. I splash the cold water on my face, once, twice… a couple times until my hair ends up getting a little wet too.

I look at myself in my mirror. I don’t look as bad as I thought I would. It (me in the mirror) almost looks manageable. I can make it look better.

Quietly I turn off the lights and open the door, slipping into my room.

It takes me not too long to freshen up. Put on deodorant, brush (more like tug) through my hair, change into a different dress, and apply some perfume.

I look to my mirror leaning against my wall. I…don’t look half bad. I even say I look presentable. I do a little twirl and strike a couple of poses just to make sure it looks nice from every angle.

Then I realize it’s definitely been more than a minute.

Neoma has probably been waiting.

I quickly run out of my room and into my kitchen. “Ah, I’m so sorry! I lost track of time again, I wanted to change and—oh wow—“

“It’s fine. I just did some cleaning, I hope it’s okay.”

The counters aren’t covered in shaven off fruit. The plates and cups in the left side of my sink are now clean and in the right side. Some of the clean dishes have been put away.

And Neoma was grabbing various knives and utensils and I’m assuming they’re to finish with the fruit.

…She did all of this?

“Uh. Mhm. Yeah.” I don’t know what to say. I haven’t cleaned since my parents left. And she cleaned the moment she got here. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. I’m not really sure what you wanted to make other than fruit bowls, so I’ll listen to whatever you ask me to do.”

Neoma almost seems eager to help me, she had everything set out and ready to go. I didn’t realize she felt so strongly about helping me. It’s odd, but it makes me happy.

“Alright! So, I wanted to start off with the fruits, obviously…”

We spent an hour or so preparing everything for the picnic, from the fruit bowls to a cake I wanted to make but I didn’t know how to. Neoma, just as she said, helped me with just about everything. She taught me how to cut the fruits without cutting myself, how to properly whisk the ingredients, and sometimes she did it all herself when I got tired.

I could never be a housewife at this rate. But, at the very least, I had a fun time in the kitchen with Neoma, and maybe it wouldn’t go so bad from here on out—

And then that’s when it started raining.

I was washing the plates and Neoma was putting everything in the respective containers and plates, when there were small bouts of pattering from my ceiling. And then I looked out the window. And it was pouring. The clouds were black overhead and entirely forlorn—there was no way they could go outside and have a picnic. I could even smell the petrichor from inside my house.

Did I forget to check the forget the weather when I set the date for this technically date not date?

…

Why am I the stupidest girl on this earth?

“Oh dear.” Neoma follows in suit when she noticed the rain beating down into the ground. “Ah, that sucks. I hope it stops. I walked here.”

And then, it didn’t stop. We waited, and waited, and waited. I even pulled out a deck of cards my father played with his colleagues when things got awkward in waiting rooms. We played cards together. War, blackjack, go fish. We even tried playing uno with them.

And the rain didn’t stop.

It took me about another ten minutes as we played war on the kitchen countertop to come up with a proper solution.

“We could have the picnic in here,” I try to mention as casually as possibly, acting as if it doesn’t sound like the stupidest idea in the world. “I could set the blankets on the floor and we could pretend. It, doesn’t look like the rain is going to stop.” I want to bite my nails. I don’t want Neoma being bored. I don’t want her to feel like she wants to leave.

“That’s… not a bad idea.” Neoma looks up at me from her small pile of cards. “It’ll just have to make do. I’ll get the food out.”

“I’ll get the blankets!” I sound a little too happy saying that, and that’s because I am. I want Neoma to have the best time possible. I’ll do anything for that.

I run to the bag I had with all my supplies for the picnic, picking it up with a huff and dragging it to the middle of my living room. I push everything away so we have more space, and set down the blankets. Neoma has to help me, because I struggle to get it right the first couple times.

Everything’s entirely set up the same way it would be if they were outside. And if there wasn’t rain. It doesn’t look half bad. Neoma sits down and I follow suit. She opens some of the containers of food first. I grab some and place them on my lap to open them too.

“Thanks for inviting me.” Neoma speaks as she grabs a sandwich and shoves it in her mouth in one go. Maybe it’s an instinctive habit, because in a split second she’s covered her mouth and looked off to the side. She looks like one of those hamsters with the chubby cheeks.

“Thank you for coming!” I grab some grapes in my hand, picking out four. “I wanted to do something special to start summer off. It’s a shame it’s been raining.”

“This is pretty nice too, though. It’s not hot in here. I probably would have been sweating.”

“Mhm, same, that’s why I put this dress on! I only have, about a couple. I’ve been meaning to get some more.”

“Dresses look cute on you. I don’t see you wearing them at school often. You should.” Her voice sounds a little muffled because of the chewing.

“Oh.” My cheeks flare up red. I’m going to wear dresses everyday for the rest of my life. “Thank you! I love wearing them, and they’re really easy for me to wear because I struggle with using buttons and zippers and stuff.”

“You don’t like wearing zippers and buttons?”

“You do? I mean, they just feel weird on my skin, it’s too much texture for my taste, I mean dresses with buttons I can take, but as long as they’re fake and I don’t actually have to button them…”

I think for that whole time I was there I ranted about several useless things that people would never care about once in their lives.

Maybe except Neoma. She listened to every word, or pretended to at least, because she stared at me so fondly it was almost strange.

She cared what I spoke about. From the anatomy of jellyfish to how I found one of my friends smoking in the student parking lot, she listened to every word.

Even when I was incoherent from my jaw hurting too much and I lied down on the blankets because of how comfortable they were. Even when I, was half-asleep.

“And then he just ran off… I don’t really know if he likes me. We’ve never really spoken before but… I want him to like me. It’d make tutoring him so much easier…” I yawn. The stress had been melting off me the last couple hours, and now I was so, so tired. But I couldn’t sleep in front of Neoma. That’d be rude.

“Mhm. I’m sure he’s just shy. You’re bubbly. That intimidates people.” I could’ve sworn I felt Neoma’s hands in my hair, but I couldn’t really tell. I just, didn’t think about it.

“Am I scary…?”

“Not really.”

“Oh… that’s, good…” I think that’s the moment I fell asleep, because when I came to up the rain had stopped, and when I shifted to my side, I saw Neoma’s face close to mine.

Asleep.

She was so close.

I could see every detail of her face.

All the containers and food were moved off to the side too. She was just lying next to me, her arm stretched out above my head from messing with my hair.

…

I gently grabbed her arm, and rested my head on it. Just staring at her, taking in every feature of her face like she was an exhibition in a grand art gallery.

And then I went back to sleep.

—————————

Word Count: 4,178