#caff game ramblings

[corrieguards]

I'm not even going to put myself on anon for the ask game because what's the point if I'm just going to ask you something about Cody 😂

When Cody gets a crush, what do you think he acts like? What does he do? How does he cope with it? Does he make a move on his crush? I'd love to hear your opinions on these!

send me a random anon ask 🖤

Molly my dear!!🩷🩷 You already know better than anyone that i could ramble about our boi Cody for hours.

Let me just start off by saying Cody with a crush would be the cutest thing ever.

Initially he would probably start avoiding you a little. Just because he's suddenly got all these feelings and he doesn't know wtf to do with them??

He doesn't even know why he's feeling these things because lets be real, why would he? Nobody ever taught him about getting crushes and falling in love. All he knows is that he cannot seem to keep his eyes off of you and every time he hears you laugh he gets that weird fluttery feeling in his stomach.

So he shoves them down, simply because he doesn't understand them and somehow thinks he's in the wrong for thinking and acting so inappropriately around you.

He will inevitably have a huge soft spot for you though. Seriously, if Cody has a crush on you then he will literally let you get away with murder. He can't help it.

He'll do random little things for you before he can stop himself. Getting you an extra cup of caff when he goes to get his own, picking stuff up for you if you drop it, opening doors for you, silently carrying things for you so you don't have to hold too much.... You get the picture.

Once he realises why he's acting so different around you, then I don't think he'll hesitate to ask you out. He's got enough self confidence that he's not afraid of a little rejection. He'll shoot his shot, albeit a bit awkwardly, but still cute asf💛💛

[cafferine]

Alright, who the hell am I?

Hello! This is the Obligatory Pinned Post about who I am, and what this blog is about. (took me long enough to put it together tbh xD) I'm Caff, and this is my brainrotting sideblog about my fandom OC's. Main fandoms are FFXIV and Destiny 2, but other fandoms might pop in and out as I gain and lose hyperfixations lol I'm an enby 23-year-old ADHD artist/writer with a lot of other obligations (like work) so updates will be spotty and sporadic.

What exactly do I put here?

This is an oc and fandom blog, and I'll be posting in character and out of character stuff about my oc's as well as art and images of them. There may be nsfw/nsft/18+ stuff which will be tagged. Filter your experience accordingly.

Who (and what) are on here Currently?

My oc's as of right now are my (currently) unnamed destiny 2: awoken hunter and my FFXIV WoL: Morana Valdis-Keket (they'll get their own intros in time) A quick list of all the tags I'll be using (I'll try and keep these updated as I continue to add to them)

----GEN---

#cafframbles - rambling

#caffwrites - short stories/formatted writing

#caffdraws - general art/drawings made by me

#caffsderangedOCthoughts - oc brainrotting

#caffslorerot - brainrot about more general lore/storytelling

#caffchallenges - setting/participating in prompts/challenges

#NSFT/#NSFW/#18+ - ADULT ONLY CONTENT. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

---FFXIV---

#ffxivrambles - general ffxiv thoughts and rambling

#ffxivwrites - short stories/formatted writing

#ffxivlorerot - lore discussion/brainrot

#moranarambles - morana brainrot and random thoughts

#moranalore - anything that explains morana's character more

#moranadraws - creative stuff related to morana

#moranagpose - specifically in-game screenshots/gpose

---DESTINY2---

#d2rambles - general destiny thoughts and rambling

#d2writes - short stories/formatted writing

#d2draws - d2 art by me

#d2screenies - in-game screenshots

#d2lore - lore discussion/brainrot

#d2oc - stuff specifically relating to my oc (until they're named)

#d2brainrot -d2 brainrot/random shit

[1804falcon]

I love the way you are analyzing and deepening the lore of one of my favourite game, so I will share some headcanons on my main toon : Flynn Scarrow (SW)

• First, the nightmares. Because of his predisposition to Visions, he was at least used to them. But even this didn’t prepare him to bear the weight of the presence in the Force his old Emperor had. The confusion, the visions he saw during his non-restful sleep in the carbonite (this wasn’t a restful sleep, not with Vitiate rambling about his powerful Empire and his dysfunctional -to be polite- family), the fear for his team (did they make it out alive ? Was the Empire alerted in time ? He hoped that the Jetiise were prepared for the unstoppable storm that the Eternal Empire was, at least he knew Aethra (JK) could deal with them). Needless to say that more often than he would have, he had troubled sleep (when he had any…).

• Fortunately for him, (a little victory in all this mess) he was used to command. But that didn’t mean that being the Outlander was easy - he struggled hard. To keep them united, keep the moral high and to not let rivalries take the better of the cohesion the Alliance had, hell, to feed everyone and make sure that the dead had proper burials. The pressure, the stress… The specialists help him a lot and he is very grateful for them to be here and Lana and Theron are a vital support for him, two unshakable rocks on which he can rely when stress and pressure become too difficult to bear, who allows him to focus on the present and not think of all those he has lost…

• The absolute trauma of seeing Ziost being devoured ?? Feeling all the souls in the Force dying all in one time ? The pain ? The agony ? The cacophony of emotions that they hurled before being absorbed by the dark void of emptiness that Vitiate was ? The void left in the Force as a wound when in its place was a planet full of life ?? THIS was his breaking point, the exact moment he decided that Vitiate had to die. If this psychopath were not arrested, the entire galaxy would be his meal. It was his responsibility as his former Fury to put an end to his actions. And if he had to die for that, then so be it.

• As a light side Sith, he followed a strict code. He knew where he was standing, what position he held in the Sith Empire, what actions he could take without being labeled a traitor, what proposition he could make to the Dark Council to encourage them to evolve in a better cohesive and stronger way, he knew how to do his job, okay ? But after five years frozen in the depths of the Wild Space, he was lost, and a little more paranoid than the average level of your local Sith Lord (Shab, he was a Sith Master before this kriffing hell, all the betray-ish tendencies and the constant backstabbing was even awaited here). Who was his ally ? Who wasn’t ? What pub soldier was the eye and ear of the Republic and what Sith the agent of the Empire ? Who was here to kill him in the little time he had to close the eyes, and who was here to really helps ? He didn’t show it, he couldn’t. He had to believe that they could win, not with fear but by unity.

• Cross-faction allying, and all the stress it was to choose one of them just to have help, to survive. The struggle to keep everyone happy….

• Self care ? Where ? He could barely sleep and wash when he wasn’t busy fighting the Eternal Empire. He, Lana and Theron had too many sleepless nights on their counter (for this to be sane) just to keep the Alliance running, without including the planification, the strategy reunions, the missions ect… Sometimes, all the food they had was rations bar and caff and bless the Force, its help to keep him focused and alert. All the little sleep he had was instantly sucked in by the exhaustion that managing the Alliance caused him.

• He had lost everyone he knew, fortunately, he had Lana and Theron. They were the rocks that maintained him focused, but when they weren’t here, the fear of losing them was there, lurking, causing his breath to accelerate and his brain to think of all the bad scenarios he could think of. All he had to reassure him was the Force bond he had with them, but sometimes, that wasn’t enough.

• Valkorian (A walking trigger warning itself). His constant presence in the corner of his eyes, lurking, circling around him like a predator, just waiting to devour him like he did to Ziost before… His deep voice emerging from the depths of his mind to make comments, the icy chills that run down his spine when he feels him behind him, observing, judging… The moment when the time freezes where he offers him his immense powers just for a brief control over his body, where he knows that he can’t refuse… Because if he does, who will pay the price ? He can’t be selfish.

• Arcann and Vaylin. He kept them around, but by the Force, that was hard. It takes him all his control not to simply jumpstart when Arcann entered a room he was in, he couldn’t get out of his head the way the ex-emperor looked at him when he had tried to kill him with all his hate and might (he have a scar on the stomach as a reminder), rapidly followed by Vaylin in a burning vengeance.

• Home sickness did hit him hard when Theron get his ship back.. empty. His crew, the team he was proud to call friends.. all gone without a trace. The people with whom he travelled and fight for years, shared joy and sadness, pain and peace…gone. This ship was more a home for him than any planet he stayed before and now, the weight of their absence was too loud for him. He could not stay long in this ship without hearing the memories of his crew coming back to haunt him.

outlander headcanons!

primarily for my outlanders (yes, i cracked and boosted khaak to 60), but here we go.

SPOILERS FOR KOTFE/ET+ HERE!

nightmares? like, force sensitive or not, they struggle a lot to figure what’s real and what isn’t. dreams are VERY vivid as an outlander, and more often than not, are omens to future events. if they even have time to sleep, they definitely struggle with going to sleep because of it, or staying asleep because of it.

stressed af. once they become commander, the outlander (especially if they aren’t a jk -a battlemaster-, a jc -an ambassador-, a trooper -a colonel at this point- or a warrior -a whole faction’s wrath) is absolutely screwed trying to finish everything themselves. the specialists help out a lot and theron and lana are godsends, but we seem to forget that this is all on the outlander. this is still all their job, and they aren’t just a figurehead. caf can’t fix this. 

being unfit for the job? really mostly for the force blind classes (quizzy and trooper being included here). it’s been mentioned by multiple people knights was meant for the knight, and if not also extended to the consular and warrior. but a bounty hunter? a smuggler? a trooper? an agent? someone who only knows their daily need for more money just to make a living? someone who hasn’t ever had to lead more that a specforce platoon? someone who works in the shadows instead of broad daylight? being the outlander isn’t meant for these classes, but getting stuck here can be absolutely hell for them without understanding half the things that are being said around them. revan? the emperor? force possession?

ziost? yavin iv? two planets where you basically need a grasp on the force to even really survive the hellish scape for a city planet turned warzone, or the jungles of ghosts and other force creatures?

morality? as mentioned above, most classes know they’re clear cut. they know right or wrong (and do by it as they please), but no longer held in place by the code five years later (if they choose so) or by their faction, what do they do? they don’t get praised anymore for being so pure, no military badges. do they sacrifice a patrol squad for a friend or lover now? is it worth killing someone who tresspassed or betrayed them? now that there is no light or dark, there is no more the empire’s right or the republic’s wrong, what do they do with all that pent up discrimination?

paranoia? after five years of being in carbonite no less, the outlander probably struggles a lot wondering who’s here to kill them, and who’s here to save them. especially after umbara, they tighten their defenses and their hearts, possibly bunkering down for days at a time or taking out their anger on others because of it.

phantom pains? being trapped in carbonite, even after lana’s cure, still pained them so bad they eventually would have phantom pains of lurking injuries from that time. more along the time they’re on zakuul running from vaylin, but it could progress from arcann’s stab wound, or their fight with other zakuulan enemies.

new faces? as much as they see lana in the first few months i predict chapters 1-9 took, their second familiar face is vaylin, and she’s trying to murder them. koth becomes friendly enough (if you decide not to be an ass and kill zakuulans left and right), but the third is theron, but they don’t see him until months, maybe years later. as mentioned above, there’s a small freakout that definitely happened here, especially if their love interest was part of the vanilla crew or theron. every single face is new to them, and who knows if they’re trying to kill you or they’re sympathetic to you?

cross-faction allying? if a warrior chose to ally with the republic because they’ve been cast out of the empire, or the knight chooses the empire because they feel more in tune with themselves there, there’s a lot of underlying trust issues in-between both parties. not everyone is pleased, the republic deserters are happy to go back home, but the imperials are disgusted (but begrudgingly work with them). the republic deserters are disappointed with working for those who sacked coruscant, and the imperials are happy to return home. the outlander struggles with making everyone happy, which can leave longtime effects on them. do they ally with the republic to keep lover!theron happy at the risk of angering lana? do they ally with the empire to keep lover!lana agreeable at the risk of theron leaking their secrets to the sis?

self-care? unless they’re really self-indulgent, the outlander just doesn’t have time for self-care. they, lana and theron probably have all-nighters together just to keep everything up and running. they haven’t eaten in days, caf is in their bloodstream now, and they can barely hold their head up, much less keep their bloodshot eyes open. for all the right reasons, the outlander is probably the unhealthiest person in the alliance. and keep in mind what starvation, malnutrition and sleep-deprivation can do to someone, especially if you exercise a lot (as we see our sprinting outlander do everywhere; hint, brain function drops dramatically)

depression? seperation anxiety? social withdrawal? the outlander probably experiences that all and more. after being told that five years have passed, and their crew hasn’t been found yet, and a whole empire is out to get them? there’s no way that isn’t traumatic enough to have a profound psychological effect on the outlander, causing them at least some form of seperation anxiety from lana or theron (or someone they’re close to) or social withdrawal from just being unable to deal with all anymore. if not that, a whole laundry list of issues that they don’t show on screen.

the psychological effects of valkorian? valkorian bouncing around in the outlander’s head for years on end, you can’t tell me that even after that’s all over (especially the outlander extensively used his powers for their gain), that they aren’t floundering without him. he may have been evil, but he also was nearly their rock through the entire mess of both expansions. he had answers for the outlander when no one else did, he had immense power at his disposal for the outlander if they so chose. now without him, what do they do? they still hope time will stop sometime, so they can ask for more power or get answers to things they don’t understand. there are some pretty close calls following valkorian’s death. they have to be explained somehow.

arcann? if the outlander keeps him around, there is going to be some serious trauma they need to deal with seeing the person that stabbed them once and tried to kill them so many other times. they aren’t going to be all buddy buddy and there sure as hell is way more emotional thought behind shooting down senya’s ship then there is present in-game. and forget about romancing him (unless there’s some odd version of stockholm syndrome going on there) without crying first.

i’ll probably add more as i think about them, but feel free to add your own or use ideas from here! i know these are some of the basis of my own stories :D

[despairity-knight]

default character moves for the game under the cut

Caffrin -  “A broken girl, but still tries to stay positive after all she’s been through.”

Moves:

Stripe Magic - A powerful magic attack, gets more powerful every time you use the attack several times in a row.

Anon’s Call - Call upon one of your old anonymous friends, can only be used if you equip an Anon Orb.

Compose - Compose a special song, heals other party members.

Defuse Attack - Quickly defuse into Chartreuse and Caffy to perform a special surprise attack.

----------

Monstrox - “A lover and companion to Caffrin. A strange cloud who is just as broken as her, maybe even more.”

Moves:

Soak - Rain on a selected party member, cures all ailments.

Storm - Send off a bolt of lightning, causes electrocution and makes the user pissed.

Absorb - Absorb the enemy’s next attack and only take half of the damage, inflicting the other half onto the enemy who originally used the attack.

Glare - Simply glare at a selected enemy, causes wariness and sometimes makes the selected enemy cry.

----------

TickTock - “A shapeshifting alien cyborg from a different planet, has many different forms.”

Moves:

Hold - Grab and hold a selected enemy with one of your many tentacles, reduces the change of the selected enemy’s attacks.

Bite - Bite a selected enemy, causes bleeding.

Morph - Morph into a different form, causes confusion.

((I can’t think of a fourth move I’m sorry.))

----------

Z - “The final party member, has a lot of trouble with her life.”

Moves:

Hot Dance - A mysterious and powerful move from the Hint Lord himself, causes burning.

Cool Pose - Makes you look cool, but you really aren’t.

Critter Release - Release a random critter from your bag, induces a certain status effect depending on the critter.

Inky Punch - Punch a selected enemy using your inky arm, causes slowness and sometimes makes the user cry.

[overcaffeinated-creative]

I may or may not get Battlefront 2 entirely because there’s a bunch of Pre mods?

Like, fuck yeah I wanna slaughter Stormtroopers with the Darksaber. Sign me the fuck up.

[choconanime]

Rambling about Adami lore don't mind me

lil tibits i have for bsts adami as i got inspired watching anime with friends

Adami while having lawyer parent's,their very much like "if u have a dream seek it without our help especially the field your own, prove to us your worth it n well start sending money if needed" is harsh but is more like she doesn't always depend on them.

Adami office is actually located in a caffe shop! a friend ended up helping her out as they had a spare room in their coffee shop

This prolly explains her addiction to coffee n cinnamon rolls she wakes up n immediately start of her day eating them.

Her group consist: Of two assistant and one other detective, so two girls n one boy. She's the main leader+ with the new addition that Kiri join in once in a while to help on certain cases

She wants to research more about the Blackstar but if i make her the Mc,Kei prolly forbid her hence one of her assistant actually being hired by Kei to keep track of her to her dismay,she hasn't given up on looking more about it so she says Blackstar stuff it's just in hiatus ~~but she looks for clues with Kiri in her off day's~~

Kei and Heath call her Saki to hide her name so calling her saki it's like wrong either.

There's certain things she learned from certain members that should be obvious to the public eye, like she prolly learned Kei name earlier n that's where the talk of "don't search for anyone info, please adami" talk came from n as much as she hates it,she's a woman of her word n has not search further for any other boys info to her dismay+ she however told Kei she dislike they however can look for info, if she realized one of them has info she hasn't share with them she will target them specifically n she hopes that isn't an issue as it's only fair

hence i can see as the boys start caring for her, especially sussy man, they start searching less for her bcuz they don't want to get her in trouble for searching for them as they believe she's quite capable of searching.

Kiri sometimes help in other cases unrelated to Blackstar bcuz of her connections

Unrelated but enstars admai most people she contact are too are girl's

her introduction would prolly be slightly different from bsts

Like instead of a woman chasing her it was due clues+ wanting to find more n realizing one of her old clients she helped , zinnia works exactly on the place a lot of her clues lead here this pass few months but it seems when she got there Kei already was already expecting her to her dismay n it continue off as normal story went

her awkwardness come from the idea of how game saki is grounded n kinda serious but can be kind.

N I'm like imma steal that n make it adami twist of her serioness is actually her awkwardness with people but when she warms up she pretty much becomes motherly

adami i once again change what she's looking for LMAO i feel like. A child is to much of a high stake(bcuz i was gonna make it be she had a child) n seeing how slow this story is I'm giving lore it won't fit,i feel like smt less high stake

N i got an idea that it rounds back to blank place, as i was thinking more about how it worked i actually give a number of girls working there: 10 girl's,Io and Zinnia being one of them, she was working there in the first place because a customer reported a missing person who led her to the blank but by the time she got there the fire happen+ realize that every girl was there except the one girl she looking for, instead of leaving the blank alone she decided to help not only to find more clues but the situation the girls were in was...horrid.

N she still been working on this missing case on the sides,not knowing why it draw a her so much it wasn't till she learned the that this organization, the black card, that smt in her click in her concidendly she also received a card when she realize oh this dude ,Kiri dad, worked under them which led to today event's

Adami is someone even when when she isn't a saki she can easily still have good reason to be there hanging out bcuz all clues keep leading her to this damn place n instead of Kei warning her perhaps is Kasumi,someone who cares for zinnia a lot, understand that it seems Adami is someone Zinny really cares about, feels indebted in warning her to please watch out n don't go poking on people information (later being reinforced by Sin if zinnia chooses that route).

Adami feels like she seen TAKAMI before

TAKAMI: i don't think you have however many people think they met me before so I'm not surprised

Adami: mhm i see **doesn't believe him,she took of that**

TAKAMI: if that's all, excuse me have a good day **he knows that she knows she took note of that n doesn't believe him**

but also

takami ~~or kasum~~ kissing her n instead of getting shy bro my braincell barks at the idea of her while flsutered just traces her fingers accros where they kiss her n looking very pleased n they kinda dont expect that so they get flustered too

[obeymematches]

HAPPY belated NEW YEAR!!! 🎊

I feel so much better by now, finally!

Oh and you, me and 💥anon could probably open a rescue cat club!

My furry rascal is about 6 years old, a black and white main coon mix and called Luci, short for Lucifer. Named way before Obey Me! due to his questionable personality.

He‘s mean, bossy, likes to punish people, only loves me because I take no shit from him and kind of speak a little cat. And he has white front paws as if he‘s wearing gloves which is so adorable - but don’t be fooled.

He is surprisingly trainable though. We are working on it and have come super far already since we got him from a mostly deaf old woman who used to lock him up alone in rooms as a baby, didn‘t react to his cries, never let him out on purpose, always followed him around but never brushed him.

He had to learn to speak to people again and that he is not a prisoner but free to be with us as long as he behaves... getting him off chewing plastic was really difficult too. But by now he keeps his paws odd the Christmas tree decoration and never even touched Baby Jesus of the nativity set despite our initial fears do him eating the tiny thing and I’m so proud of him 😭💕💕

Sorry to ramble about him so much, I just couldn’t help myself! 😅

Your and 💥anons cats sound so cute! 💕💕💕

Did you have any luck with the free new year’s draws in Obey Me?

I managed to get a Solomon SSR as well as a Simeon and a Barbatos UR. Formerly undateables unite! 😊

But I didn’t have any luck with further draws for the twins UR cards, despite 20 more draws.

Oh and I’m curious and would love to know what’s your favorite card you have in Obey Me?

- watching drama anon, eh screw that my name’s Ali (short for Alice).

Thank youuuu 💕💕💕 Happy belated new year to you too!!🥳

i’m happy you’re better now!! 

sdfg i mean why not start a club at this point you’re right;; 

black & white cats are to die for tbh i’m sold already dfghj also maine coons are so pretty oh my gosh at the cat caffe i mentioned they had 3 of them like would you believe???

oh no Ali looks like someone is living up to his name ;; but also it means it was a great name choice for him fgh

damn that’s some creepy stuff on her part but at least you have him now!!! he is so lucky to be with you!! it makes me so happy 💕

noo don’t worry about rambling i love hearing about your cat!!! in fact pls go on i want to know more 👉👈

2 URs??? girl 😹 congrats!! 👏👏👏

oh Ali... i believe you’re going to love my summons 👀

So i got 1 Luke SSR so he is at lvl 2 now thankfully-  i also got Beel’s morning 2 times so he’s at lvl 4  i also got Belphie’s card abt smiling so he’s at level 5

+ i got a Mammon UR 😌 it’s my second ur of him, the first being the recent christmas one 🥺

ohh i’m sorry to hear about the christmas twins :( 

hmmm my fav card...either lucifer’s bunny ur+ or mammon’s christmas ur+!! but i also like asmo’s guided by desire card, it’s flower unlocked version is my icon in the game after all 😇😋

whats yours??? (fav card + icon) 👀

[maevefiction]

Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 15

I was seated at the end of a chair grouping outside gate four in terminal two of the airport, luggage screened and checked. The six AM flight had departed without me, and the one PM flight would be leaving from here so it had seemed as good a place as any to wait. It was ten-thirty AM and I was on my fourth Starbucks Caffe Vanilla Frappuccino. I never drank coffee because it made me a jittery mess, but since I was already a jittery mess I figured why the fuck not. At least I’d be a conscious jittery mess this way.

The chairs were brutally uncomfortable, and the fluorescent lighting flickered from time to time, or it appeared to. It could have been from sleep deprivation and anxiety, I supposed. But it didn’t seem to matter much. Nothing did. All I wanted to do was disappear into the void and not have to face any aspect of my reality. Too bad it was never that simple. Not for me, anyway.

I tried to take a nap when I learned there would be no seats available on the six AM flight, but every time I nodded off either Tom’s words or my mother’s face would pop uninvited into my head and jar me awake. Focusing enough to read online or off was impossible, and any song I played on my iPod upset me for some stupid reason. Walking around worked for a while, carryon in tow, moving from place to place, sucking down my Frappuccino and visiting the bathroom every half hour, until I noticed airport security watching me. That’s how I wound up here, sitting down, staring at the walls, reading the signs over and over again and not comprehending a single thing they said. The people walking by were like ghosts, each living a life completely outside of my realm. They smiled, they hugged, and they laughed while I sat waiting to board a jet that would take me somewhere I’d never wanted to be again, where I’d have to gaze upon the lifeless body of a woman I’d never wanted to see again.

And then there was…Tom. I was incredibly angry at myself for growing so attached so quickly, for letting him in. I knew better. But I did it anyway, because…there was that feeling. That this was the person. My person. It was all so fast, but it had felt right. And whether I liked it or not, I loved him. He deserved a chance to explain himself, certainly, but I wasn’t sure I was capable of giving it to him. Some of the things he’d said cut very deeply, and by my own admission forgiveness wasn’t a thing that came easily to me. Yes, he’d been drunk. But that’s the thing about words…once they’re said, you can never take them back. Your state of mind when you speak them is essentially irrelevant if they’re heard and they hurt.

Yet in spite of what had transpired, I missed him terribly already. I wanted him right next to me, warm, present, here. I felt…halved. Alone. And lonely. There had to be an underlying issue that caused him to behave in such a fashion, didn’t there? Or, perhaps the man I saw last night was the real Tom, and the one I’d spent the past two weeks with and thought I’d known was simply proof positive that he was just a better actor than anyone could have ever imagined.

More than anything else, I felt stupid. Stupid for thinking that love at first sight could actually happen, and even stupider for thinking it could happen to me. I was not meant for this. No matter how far I thought I’d come, I would never be more than this broken thing on the inside, a thing that couldn’t even earn the love of its own mother, no matter hard it tried.

My phone rang, and I nearly jumped out of my skin, instantly ejected from my introspection. I thumbed to unlock the screen. It was Tom. Heart pounding, disgusted with myself when I realized that I wanted nothing more than to pick it up, say hello and make everything better, I flung it down on the seat next to me as if I’d been burned.

Four minutes later, the voicemail alert chimed. Staring down at it, I began rubbing my temples and had a lengthy back and forth with myself as to whether or not I should listen to it.

“Eh, fuck it. Let’s see what he has to say. At this stage of the game, I don’t think there’s anything that could make me feel worse than I already do.”  

I clicked, held the phone up to my ear and listened. His voice was several octaves higher than normal, his speech wavering between halting and rambling and filled with anxious panic, reminiscent of a child who’s just realized he’s lost and alone in a strange, unfamiliar place.

“Maude? I…it’s…I don’t know…I slept through my alarm and it’s after ten and we were supposed to be on a plane already but I woke up and you’re gone and all of your things are gone…” He choked back a sob. “And I don’t remember anything from last night after you called me…” Another sob. “I…Maude…what I said…I’m so sorry…I was just…I thought you…didn’t want to…be with me…” He was openly weeping now as he spoke, addressing himself more so than me. “I’m not…I…how did I even get back here? I don’t know…what happened? What did…did…I do? My god, what did I do that made you leave without me?” An agonized, muffled cry, as if from behind a hand-covered mouth. “Where are you, Maude? Why aren’t you here? Please call me. Please. Please.” Another cry, gasping this time, then silence.

My stomach heaved, and this time there was no holding back. I ran for the closest restroom but only made it as far as the garbage can around the corner. I vomited up all four Frappuccinos, then continued to retch long after there was nothing left to be brought forth. I leaned on the rim, face still hovering over the can, until I heard a voice behind me. It was airport security.

“Ma’am? Ma’am? Are you okay? Do you need medical assistance?”

I wiped my mouth with my forearm as I pushed myself into a standing position, shaking like a Chihuahua and wishing I could make myself invisible.

“No, I’m fine. Thanks. Sorry about that. Coffee and I don’t get along very well, apparently. Now I remember why I switched to tea.” I tried to smile, but it just wasn’t happening. He handed me some paper towels.

“Ma’am, if you need to use the restroom I’d be happy to keep an eye on your bag for you.”

I nodded and handed him my carryon but kept my messenger bag. “Thank you so much.”

My reflection in the mirror was gaunt, the dark circles under my eyes highlighted by yesterday’s makeup, which I had forgotten to remove. I looked like I’d been out all night partying, eyeliner smeared, mascara clumped and flaking. I rested my hands on the counter and leaned in closer to my reflection.

“Well, how do you feel, you fucking dumbass? What’s that? You feel….WORSE?” I barked out a laugh, then turned on the tap and rinsed my mouth out by cupping water in my hands, then ran my index finger over my teeth in a crude attempt at brushing. There was toothpaste in my carryon, but there was no way in hell I was going back out for it right now.

Next I washed my face as best I could with the paper ‘towels’ from the dispenser. There was nothing towel-like about them, and my eyes were red as fire after I scrubbed off the makeup, contacts all askew until I blinked repeatedly to get them back where they belonged. I wet two more towels with super cold water, then held them on my eyes for a few minutes. Most of the redness had faded, and I took out my braid and put my hair in a ponytail.

“Better, Maude. Hopefully the dude won’t want to haul you in because he suspects you’re a vagrant. Or a prostitute. Or a drug dealer. Or a terrorist. Or a vagrant, drug dealing, prostituting terrorist.”

He was guarding my bag, as promised, and handed me my phone as I approached him.

“Ma’am, you dropped this. It looks like it’s fine, though.”

I managed to fake a smile this time. “Thanks again. I really appreciate it. Crazy day, you know? I’m on standby for three flights trying to get to New Orleans for my mother’s funeral. Well, two, now. The first one didn’t work out. The next one leaves from this gate…it’s okay if I wait here until I find out if I’ll be on it, right?” I pulled up my confirmations on the phone, grabbed my ID out of my messenger bag and showed them to him.

He nodded. “Sure thing, ma’am. Take care.”

“Thanks.” I sank down in the chair, crushed under the weight of my emotions, feuding with the compulsion to not only call him, but to get in a cab and rush back to the hotel so I could comfort him and alleviate his pain in spite of that which he had caused me.

My phone rang again, and I decided that if it was Tom again I’d pick up. It wasn’t. The screen flashed at me…’Lestat calling’. It was Anne. Good. I needed a healthy dose of anger to get my sad-sack ass back on track. Because bitches get shit done. I hit the answer button.

“Maude, honey, how are you doing? I figured I’d call to check…”

“I’d be doing infinitely better if you hadn’t given the hospice my phone number, that’s for fucking sure.”

She clucked her tongue at me, which made me grip the phone so tightly that my knuckles turned white. “Kiddo, there was no one else to handle all that needed to…”

“Oh, I’m aware of that NOW. Did you know she was divorced this entire time?”

She hesitated. “Maude, listen…”

“You did, you fucking DID. And you never bothered to tell me.”

A sigh escaped her. “You never wanted me to talk about her.”

“Oh, right…like that ever stopped you from going right ahead doing it anyway.”

“In hindsight, perhaps I should have mentioned it.”

“Ya think?” I inhaled deeply, aware that if I continued being so loud I’d be receiving another visit from airport security. “Are you going to tell me what happened between them or do I have to wait until I get there and be blindsided with it by a total stranger?”

“He left her. For an eighteen year old. Who was a senior in high school. They’ve since married and have three children.”

After letting it sink in for a few moments, I began chuckling softly, which quickly evolved into raucous laughter. Unable to regain my composure, I tried to speak through it. “Oh, Anne. You most certainly should have mentioned it. That’s…” I wiped a tear from my eye. “It’s…it’s…fucking hilarious.”  

“Maude, please, she just passed away. And it hurt her terribly when it happened. How could you possibly think it’s amusing?”

My laughter ceased and was replaced with fury. “The same way you could have possibly thought I’d give even the remotest shit if she was alive or dead, Anne. That’s how. And because you, sanctimonious Christian Samaritan that you are, wanted to ensure that she was sent off to your fairytale afterlife properly I’m stuck being the stupid fuck who’s responsible for it all. You know the whole story, Anne. Every bit of it. You mean to tell me you can’t understand why I’d take pleasure in learning that karma finally caught up with her? Seriously? Well, at least now I get why you never told me. If you’ll excuse me, I’m kind of having a massively shitty day here and I need to go.”

As I hit the end call button, I realized my hands were shaking wildly and I felt lightheaded, and that I hadn’t eaten since dinner last night. I hefted my bags over my shoulder and looked at the airport dining map on my phone. Einstein Brothers Bagels sounded promising, and after waiting in line for a shockingly brief five minutes my food was ready. I sat at a table, sucking down a thirty-two ounce Coke while starring down my bacon, egg and cheddar sandwich. I wasn’t at all hungry, but passing out in the airport sounded like it might be a hassle so I forced myself to eat it, trying not to gag as I did so. It was almost eleven-thirty when I finally finished, and I walked back to my spot. My phone dinged. It was a text from Simon.

Are you okay? – S

I had no idea if he knew anything, and if he did, what it was. I hadn’t mentioned a thing to anyone other than Tom via email as to what was going on.

Why wouldn’t I be? – M

Tom called us. – S

Well, then you know that ‘are you okay’ is, like, a totally loaded question. – M

Are you still at the airport? – S

Yeah. First standby was a bust, should know about the second one any minute now. I may or may not have puked in a garbage can earlier and I think airport security may have flagged me as a vagrant, drug dealing, prostituting terrorist. – M

Good to see you still have your sense of humor. – S

Sarcasm is my secret coping mechanism. When the humor goes, you’ll know things are really in the shitter, my friend. How much did he tell you? – M

Too much, like he always does. I’m sorry about your mother. – S

Don’t be. I’m not. – M

Marry me, woman. – S

Seriously, though. How are you holding up? – S

I’m sort of…not? But I don’t want to talk about any of it, just so you know. I need to deal with dead mother first, then I can try to sort out the rest. – M

You know I hear that, sister. Mothers. Bring you screaming into the world, and then they do their best to make sure you keep screaming. And screaming. – S

*virtual high five* - M

If you need me, honey, any time, I’m here, K? – S

Thanks. Love you. – M

Love you too. – S

Shaking my head, I wondered how Luke was handling all this and remembered my assurance that no matter what happened between Tom and me personally, the work would continue as specified and in a professional manner. I frowned as I took my tablet out of my bag and powered it up, checking to see if Tom had done what I’d asked. Everything was posted exactly as I’d specified. The sight of his countenance made my stomach queasy again, and I leaned my head back to let it rest on the wall behind me as I stared at the ceiling and attempted to convince my breakfast to stay put. As soon as the feeling passed, I put my tablet away and texted Luke.

Everything’s still on track for me being in London on the 20th, and I’ll be working wherever I am between now and then. If you need something, have questions, whatever, let me know.  – M

His response was immediate.

I don’t want you giving anything work related a moment of thought right now. Do what you need to do back home, and take your time doing it, all right? If there’s anything I can do to help in some way, let me know. – L

I sighed.

Thank you. Though I can’t help but work…I need the distraction. – M

I’m the same way. We’re here if you need us. – XO L & S

The PA system clicked on and I heard a woman’s voice say my name. “Maude Gallagher, please report to the check in desk. Maude Gallagher, please report to the check in desk. Thank you.”

Got called to check in…maybe this flight is a go. Thanks again, both of you. – XO M

As I made my way to the desk, the initial excitement at the prospect of getting the fuck out of San Diego faded and was replaced with panic as the grim reality of what was waiting for me in New Orleans began to settle in. There were three stations open, and I chose the one with two people in line ahead of me. When my turn came, I presented my ID to the clerk, a blonde woman in her late twenties, if I had to guess. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, and her makeup was perfection…just enough color to make her features stand out, but barely noticeable. And a lip color shade that wasn’t more than a decade old, too. I had the sudden urge to begin reading Vogue and Glamour again, then snickered to myself when I realized I could look up anything and everything beauty related online but had never bothered to do so.

She smiled at me, teeth blindingly white. “May I help you?”

“I was notified via the PA system to report to the check in desk…Maude Gallagher? I’m on standby for two more flights today so I assume you have news for me?”

Her eyes roamed over my ID and her face flushed. “Ms. Gallagher. Right. Follow me, please.” She stepped out from behind the counter and over to her left, into a small alcove at the start of the hallway to the security offices. The first thing I noticed was my luggage piled up against the wall.

I gently grabbed her shoulder. “Wait, why is my…”

And then I noticed that there was someone standing next to my luggage. My brain froze, my heart stopped and my arm slipped from the clerk’s shoulder and fell back to my side. He was wearing his black sweatshirt, hood up, with jeans and those filthy white Vans. Sunglasses hid his eyes from me, and I was torn between wanting to embrace him or punch him in his pretty fucking face.

Seven steps closed the distance between us, and I reminded myself that we were in public and that it was Comic-Con weekend and he was very recognizable, so I’d best try to not make a scene.

I snarled, and my voice came forth in a hiss. “Why the fuck are you here? And what are you doing with my luggage?”

He removed the shades, and his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, tearing up as he tried to meet my gaze. “Maude…I…I know that I’m the last person you want to see right now…”

“Um, no, you aren’t the last. Second to last, probably. Either way, I sure as shit have zero desire to look at you, yet here you are.”

He swallowed and wiped away a tear that had carved out a path through the stubble on his cheek. “I’m so, so sorry. But I had to come. It couldn’t let you sit here waiting and waiting to go do what you have to do when I’ve found a way to get you where you need to be, on time.”

I rolled my eyes as I crossed my arms, subconsciously protecting myself. “Thomas, there are no flights out of here other than my two stand-bys, so unless you have a magic carpet or your own private jet…oh, fuck ME. A charter. Don’t tell me you chartered a fucking jet. Why didn’t I think of that? What a fucking moron I am…I could have been there already.” I put my hand on my forehead, looked down and gazed at a crack in the tile floor.

He reached out to touch my arm, and I yanked it away, glaring at him. His bottom lip quivered, and he inhaled sharply as he tried to rein in his emotions.

“Yes. I chartered a flight. It will depart from Landmark Aviation whenever you’re ready to leave. There’s a car waiting outside.”

As mortifying as it was, desperation easily won out over my anger, and I knew that even if I’d had to sell my soul, if I possessed such a thing, there was no way I was passing this up. The sooner I got to New Orleans, the sooner it would all be finished. Finally finished. I could close the chapter once and for all and move on, though I was now much less sure of what I’d be moving on to than I was twenty-four hours ago. I unstacked my luggage, situated the handles and prepared to head out. “Don’t think for one second that I’m letting you pay for this…I don’t need your fucking charity.”

“Maude, it’s already taken care of, and please, it’s not chari…”

“Fuck you. Email me a bill and I’ll send you a check. Where’s the car?” He tried to take the bags from me. “No. I can schlep around my own shit. I’m not fucking helpless. Speaking of, how did you get your hands on these, anyway? They told me they’d stay checked and go out on the direct flight at four PM and be waiting for me at Louis Armstrong even if I wasn’t on board.”

He put his hands in his pockets and began walking to the main doors, head down. “One of the clerks is a fan. She pulled some strings.”

I didn’t reply, instead dropping back so I could follow his lead. He held the door for me, which I permitted, and walked down to the waiting limousine. I shook my head as the driver leapt out of the car to open the door, then gathered my belongings and placed them in the trunk. As I buckled in, the door opposite me opened and Tom climbed in. My jaw clenched as I turned to him.

“What are you doing?”

“Coming with you.”

“To the airfield?”

“Yes. And then to New Orleans. Because regardless of anything that’s happened between us, you shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

My eyes narrowed. “I shouldn’t have to do this at all, and if Anne hadn’t given the hospice my number I wouldn’t be.”

He frowned and shook his head. “Why wouldn’t they already have your information? Did you not know she was ill?”

“Yes. I knew. Anne told me almost two weeks ago.”

His brow furrowed, and it was obvious to me where this was going to end up.

I sighed. “Yes, Tom. I knew she was dying. And I didn’t go see her. And guess what else? I still don’t want to fucking see her.”

His eyes widened, shocked at my statement and disgusted by my coldness. “But Maude, she’s your mother.”

I could feel my face contort into something ugly, something horrible, twisted with pain. “She may have given birth to me, but she was never my mother, and she’s already been dead to me for a very long time.”

He gasped softly, but said nothing. I stared straight ahead and remained that way for the eight minutes it took us to reach Landmark Aviation. The driver opened my door, then Tom’s, and another employee arrived with a cart for our luggage, which they whisked off to the waiting Learjet 35A. The office area was open plan, two floors with a modern design and floor to ceiling windows. I sat in the waiting area while Tom completed all the paperwork, joining him only when the clerk requested my presence so he could obtain all the required identification information. He walked us to the jet, where we were greeted by the pilot who advised it would take approximately four hours to reach New Orleans. I climbed the stairs into the cabin, which consisted of seven seats in dark brown leather. Two chairs faced each other, two were in the rear across from a bench seat, and another bench seat was up front beside the facing chairs. There was a refreshment area with a mini-fridge and microwave, as well as a bathroom. I walked all the way to the back and strapped myself into one of the bench seats, my messenger bag next to me to prevent Tom from sitting near me. I needn’t have worried, as he sat up front with his back towards me.

Our takeoff was perfection, and the pilot announced that we could unbuckle ourselves and move freely about the cabin shortly thereafter. I undid my seat belt but stayed where I was. Tom blew his nose, got up, walked back to where I was and knelt in front of me. He’d taken off his hoodie, his well-worn blue V-neck nearly see-through in the harsh interior lighting. It was obvious that he’d been crying, his eyes bloodshot and still damp.

“It was very, very wrong of me to pass judgement on you like that. Especially after…” He closed his eyes briefly. “It’s just…my mother and I are so close…but I should know better than to assume that everyone is so fortunate. If yours was ill enough to be in hospice and you didn’t want to see her then and don’t want to now, you must have good reason for feeling as you do.”

I turned away from him. He shifted so he was in my line of sight again.

“If you don’t want to be with me any longer after this…” He swallowed. “I…I’ll understand. I won’t want to accept it, but it’s my fault and I’ll do whatever you wish me to do because I love you. But please, let me help you through this. Don’t shut me out.”

I met his gaze, my heart full of ice and my head full of sorrow. “Oh, sure, right. Because letting you in has worked out so well for me.”

He broke down then, right in front of me, placing his hands over his face as he tried to stifle his sobs. He wept until he retched, then got up and went to the lavatory. I heard him vomit several times, and he finally emerged fifteen minutes later and returned to his chair at the front of the cabin. Great, puking all around today. This love stuff is the best.

As I stared at the back of his seat, it crossed my mind that he might be just as broken and lost as I was, and I needed him to know why I was. Right now, even if it was too late to make a difference. I rose and walked up front, then slowly lowered myself into the chair across from him and attempted to put it all into words.

I spoke softly, emotionless. “Tom, we fell into this so very fast, and neither of us reached the point of revealing all we’ve been through. We’re both intelligent enough to know that what happens in someone’s past affects them in the present, no matter how hard they try to deny or avoid it. If you really want to be with me through this, there are things you need to know in order to fully understand me, so you don’t think I’m a monster for not seeing my…mother…when she was dying in hospice, and to help you decide if you want to remain in this relationship.”

He looked at me, a faint smile on his lips at the mention of there still being a relationship to remain in.

“Don’t take that the wrong way…I should have phrased it differently.” His face fell. “I’m not certain where we stand, because I don’t know what I want to do about what occurred last night. But, from an emotional vantage point, I’m one hundred percent certain that I’m incapable of dealing with it at the moment. What I do know is I that can’t let you be a part of this if you’re still completely unaware of everything that…happened. For now, I just want to say my piece and for you to listen. Is that all right with you?”

He nodded.

I leaned back in the chair and began, hands shaking as I tried to keep my voice evenly modulated.

“My parents met in February of 1977, in a pub in Dalkey, Ireland, my father’s hometown. His name was Sean, and he was born in Dublin but grew up in Dalkey. His family wasn’t flat broke, but they were far from what you’d consider middle class and he was bartending at the pub to make ends meet. He was nineteen. My mother, Mary Clarke, was born and raised in Manchester, England. Her father was a prominent solicitor, her mother distantly related to the royal family. Or so she claimed. Either way, they were quite wealthy and had a summer cottage in Dalkey. She was eighteen years old, engaged to an Earl who was in his last year at Oxford University, and due to be married in May of that year. Her and her girlfriends decided to take their last holiday as singles over Valentine’s weekend, staying until the following Sunday. She was Protestant, my father was Catholic, and she felt inspired to sow her wild oats with what she considered to be a ‘bad boy’. He fell madly in love with her after their week together, and she left him high and dry and went back to Manchester. Two months later, she discovered she was pregnant, which was problematic as she had yet to sleep with her fiancé. The engagement was called off, her family publicly disgraced, and her father sent her packing to Dalkey and forced her to marry my father lest she be completely disinherited. They married and immigrated to the states, my maternal grandfather having used his connections to find him a position with Exxon, working on an oil rig off the coast of New Orleans.”

I paused, and Tom reached over to the mini-fridge and handed me a bottle of water, which I cracked open and drank greedily.

“Thanks. She hated New Orleans, but her narcissistic personality disorder made her want to not only fit in, but stand out. Her father paid for the trip over and got them set up in a two bedroom apartment, but after that he cut her off completely. Even more than New Orleans itself, she hated being ‘poor’ in New Orleans. She often spent all the funds designated for bills on clothes, which meant my father was never around, because in addition to his week-long shifts he worked overtime on the weekends to make up for her expenditures. She desperately wanted to live in the Garden District, but settled for being a big fish in a little pond, working her magic to impress the women who resided near our apartment building, even adopting a southern accent so she could pretend to be native to the area. When I came early on Halloween, she was thrilled that she’d had a little girl and began habitually dressing me up and showing me off to all her new friends, but that didn’t last long. One of the first things I remember is her combing my hair roughly as she tried using some smelly product to straighten it, telling me she wished it was red like my father’s and straight like hers, instead of this dingy brown bird’s nest of unattractive curls. I couldn’t have been more than three.”

I swallowed, hard. “I wasn’t what she expected, I guess. Puberty began early for me, when I was around eight or so, and I put on some weight, as most girls do. She made fun of me in front of anyone willing to listen, called me fat, forced me to diet and exercise, and told me that she was disappointed I’d turned out to be so ugly, that I embarrassed her and made her look like a terrible mother.”

He cringed, and I saw his hand reach for me, then retract.

“By that time, my father had moved up the ladder at Exxon and was on his way to being an executive, so he was home with us most evenings and weekends instead of being out on the rigs. She’d always been a drinker, but mainly socially. His being around so much seemed to trigger something in her, and just like that, we were living with a full-blown alcoholic. Every day began with a swig from the bottle of vodka she kept on her nightstand, and I rarely saw her without a drink in her hand. She’d rage around the house at all hours, coming into my room in the middle of the night to scream at me for something I’d done that had offended her in some way, sometimes dragging me out of bed to rectify whatever mistake she thought I’d made. My father would try to reason with her, but she’d threaten to divorce him and he’d back off and leave her to her own devices. She was the love of his life, and he would have done anything to keep her. We wound up being asked to leave our apartment building because of all the complaints from the neighbors, and my father found a single family home for us to rent in an attempt to cover it all up. That’s just what people did then, I guess. Keeping up appearances, hiding the truth.”

I got up from my chair. “Sorry, need to use the bathroom.”

After peeing and washing my hands, I splashed some water on my face but refrained from looking in the mirror, afraid of what I’d see staring back at me. He was pacing when I came out, but sat down again as I did.

“In 1988, my maternal grandfather died and my mother inherited a sizable sum of money. She lost herself in the process of buying and remodeling our home in the Garden District and the drinking diminished significantly…at least until she realized that no matter how expensive her clothes were or that we had a live-in housekeeper and a French chef, the women of the neighborhood who’d been there for generations would never accept her as one of their own. When Anne met my father at a Sunday service, my mother suddenly wanted to convert to Catholicism, hoping ties with one of the area’s most famous residents would improve her standing. She changed her mind when she found out that Anne was sober and had no qualms about pushing those around her to live the same lifestyle. The drinking escalated again, and by the time I was thirteen I was spending every moment possible at the New Orleans Public Library, or at Anne’s, or wherever else I could go that wasn’t home.”

Tom offered me another water, which I accepted. I’d been trying to avoid his gaze, but his hand grazed mine as he handed me the bottle and our eyes locked. We stared at each other briefly, then quickly looked away.

“School was a blessing for me in many ways, in spite of the fact that I was teased and bullied frequently. I was smart, weird, and chubby…not exactly a winning combination. By the time I entered high school, I started to come into my own and stand up for myself amongst my peers, but at home I was still meek, always walking on eggshells. If I got a ninety-nine on a test, she wanted to know why it wasn’t a hundred. If I got an A, why wasn’t it an A+? Nothing I did was good enough. Ever. No matter how hard I tried, there was no pleasing her. I started hiding out in my room after I conned our chef into helping me put a slide bolt on the inside of the door. That was my sanctuary, where I read, I drew, I danced, and I sang. For my sixteenth birthday I asked for a computer instead of a car, and it changed my life. I tore it apart and put it back together again, learned everything about it, inside and out. It became my passion, and knowing that I could do something that not many others could was such a powerful feeling. The real turning point came at the start my senior year when I was awarded the full scholarship to NYIT. She was adamant that no daughter of hers was going to go away to school in New York City and study such a stupid subject that was meant for men. It was the first time I lost my shit on her, and the first time that my father backed me up. She refused to contribute any money, so he sold some of his Exxon stock and bought me an apartment in Manhattan so I wouldn’t have to stay in a dorm. Or, I should say, my apartment. Because I still live in it. Sometimes.”

I smiled sadly, remembering how proud he’d been of me, and so happy that he’d been able to help me on the path to making my own way in the world. “College was…amazing. I was away from my mother, spending every day learning in the company of people who were like…me. I put on my ‘freshman fifteen’ and then some, but no one cared. We were all nerds, and what was inside was far more intriguing than what was on the outside. I met Erik Lund in my Comp Sci I class, and over the course of the first semester we became very good friends, taking in all that New York had to offer when we weren’t delving into the wonder that was the World Wide Web. It was 1995, and the hacking scene was exploding…god, we had so much fun trying to crack codes and get in through back doors, even if all we wound up finding was someone’s resume. It was if a new world had been created, one that belonged solely to us. Over Christmas break, I came to the stunning realization that I’d developed feelings for him, and when class was back in session he confessed that he felt the same way. We fell in love, a little bit at a time. I invited him back to New Orleans for spring break, and he couldn’t wait to see where I’d grown up. I guess I’d pushed all thoughts of my mother out of my mind, forgetting what she was capable of. From the moment he walked into the house she began criticizing everything about him. He was stocky, his hairline already receding, and, like me, he didn’t really give a remote shit about what he wore. And I thought everything about him was…beautiful. Right in front of him, she told me that even an ugly fat girl like me could do better. We left immediately and spent the rest of the week in my apartment in the city, slept together for the first time, and he officially moved in three weeks later. I took a summer class so I wouldn’t have to go home, but I’d agreed to be a bridesmaid for a close high school friend who was getting married over Labor Day weekend, so I had to fly back for the wedding. I wanted Erik to come with me, but my mother would be in attendance and I didn’t want to subject him to her insanity again, so he went back home to upstate New York to spend time with his family instead.”

I could feel my heart starting to race, and I closed my eyes and bit my lip, trying to calm myself down.

“I got a phone call the day after the wedding from one of Erik’s friends. He’d been killed in a car accident the night before, hit by a drunk driver doing eighty miles an hour in a forty-five mile an hour zone who crossed over the middle line.”

My mind took me back to that moment, how I’d said no, that can’t be right, it must be a mistake, how I’d fallen to the floor as the truth sank in, wishing I’d died with him. And later, how my mother had smirked when I told her the news.  

“I flew to New York for his funeral, and two weeks later I found out I was pregnant. My mother tried to convince me to have an abortion, but I refused. It was the last thing that remained of him, a living piece of himself he’d left behind for me. His legacy. I decided to quit school, stay in New Orleans and raise the baby on my own. A few days later, I miscarried.”

Tom sniffled, and I looked up to see tears flowing, his hands gripping the armrests as he fought to stay in his seat. I wanted him to hold me, more than anything else. But I just…couldn’t.

“My heart was broken. I felt like there was no point to anything anymore, and that’s when I started drinking. First, I snuck booze from my mother’s stash. Then I had a fake ID made and started going out to bars every night, staying past close and staggering home to sleep the day away. I wasn’t eating, so I lost a ton of weight. My mother made it a point to compliment me on how thin I’d gotten. During Mardi Gras of 1997, I met Will Bonaventura. He had long, dark curly hair, dark brown eyes…Spanish creole, going back three generations. I was drunk and singing karaoke, and after he heard me he asked me if I wanted to sing with his band. He played lead guitar, and I figured it was a great excuse to party. You know, ‘hey, I’m not a drunk, I’m an artist’. I moved into his shitty apartment and continued my binging. That’s really all we had in common…partying. That and music. One weekend we decided to drive to Las Vegas for a Battle of the Bands, and I drank so much I blacked out and woke up with a ring on my finger and a photo of us with the Elvis impersonator who’d married us. He said he remembered everything that had happened, that I said I’d loved him, but it was all…blank…for me. Once we got back to New Orleans and he met my family the abuse started. Just verbal initially, constantly belittling me, accusing me of cheating, calling me a slut, telling me he was going to find someone better. My solution was to drink more. I started when I opened my eyes and didn’t stop until they closed. Time just passed, and I…slipped away. More than a year had gone by when he finally hit me. It was early in the morning so I wasn’t totally blotto yet, and got in his face after he started his shit and told him that usually people who accuse their partners of cheating are the ones who are being unfaithful, and he punched me in the face and called me a worthless whore.”

I watched Tom’s grip tighten, and thought he was going to rip the armrest right off the chair.

“I hit him in the head with a rum bottle, and he left for a few days. He never touched me again, for any reason. A month or two later, my father came over to the apartment. He told me I needed to stop drinking, that I had my whole life ahead of me and that he didn’t want me to wind up like my mother, that I needed to get away from her and New Orleans, that I was brilliant and I had to go out and make my life mean something. He apologized for letting his love for my mother blind him for all those years as to how much she hurt me. We embraced, and he was gone as quickly as he’d come. The next morning Anne called me to tell me that he’d killed himself. My mother found him in his study. He’d shot himself in the head with a revolver.”

Tom opened his mouth and started to speak, but I held up my hand to silence him. I was almost there, almost done.

“I haven’t taken another drink since that day. After the funeral, Will was nowhere to be found. My father had left me all of his remaining Exxon stock, which of course pissed my mother off to no end, and I decided to cash it in and move back to New York a week after we buried him. I already had a place to live rent free, and I wouldn’t need to worry about money for a while. I packed up what I wanted to bring with me, which didn’t even fill an entire suitcase, and headed over to what was now my mother’s house to confront her about being such an evil cunt my entire life before I left. When I got there, the door was unlocked, so I went inside. I could hear her moaning and screaming and chanting ‘oh god yes, yes, harder, harder’ and it was like someone flipped a switch and I saw red. I ran up the marble staircase and could see that the door to their…her bedroom was open and as I got closer I yelled ‘He hasn’t even been dead for two weeks and you’re already fucking someone else you enormous piece of shit?!’. When I stepped into the room, there was Will, naked and on top of her. He rolled off, grinned at me, and she said in her stupid fucking fake southern accent ‘Actually, we’ve been fucking for months already. See, Maude, that’s the thing about women like you. Sure, y’all might manage to get yourself a man, and hell, he might even stick around for a little while, but you’ll never be able to hang on to him. They’ll always leave you the second they find someone prettier. And thinner. Always.’. That was the last thing she ever said to me. I left town, and I found out from Anne that she’d told my father she was having an affair, was in love with Will and wanted a divorce, which is why he killed himself…he’d mailed his suicide note to Anne because he knew if he left it at the house, my mother would have made it disappear. I filed for divorce immediately, and as soon as it was final two months later, in August of 1998, Will married my mother. I didn’t know it until last night, but they divorced in 2007, which is why I’m the only remaining next of kin.”

I took a deep breath. “I guess the thing that sticks out most is that I have not a single memory of her touching me, holding me, or telling me that she loved me, unless someone else was watching. I was just a pawn for her, an object, just another thing to use to get what she wanted. And when that didn’t work any longer, she focused all of her anger on me, blaming me for everything that had gone wrong in her life, and what she then wanted more than anything else was to see me fail. Over and over again.”

I raised my hands, palms up. “So, there you have it. That’s who I am, what I am. The progeny of a narcissistic alcoholic and her love blinded enabler who’s already been pregnant, married and divorced. Used goods, broken down, badly damaged, always waiting to be replaced. Reasonably acceptable for fucking, but thoroughly unsuitable for an actual relationship.”

As I stood, he leapt up from his chair and tried to embrace me. I shook my head, put my hands on his chest and pushed him away gently, then went to sit back on the bench. He sat back down, head in his hands, sobbing again. I took out my iPod, put in my earbuds, cranked up the volume and leaned my head on the window. I stared blankly out at the sky, my self-imposed isolation the only thing preventing me from losing control of myself and falling apart. Which I refused to do. Because it was the only thing I had left to hold onto.

********************************** There was darkness, and I felt arms reach around me, hands on my lower back and below, fumbling, searching. They found what they were looking for, and I felt something slide along my back and then up around my waist. A strong scent hit my nostrils, one I recognized but couldn’t place. I inhaled again. Tom. A click from down near my belly button. I tried to open my eyes, but the lids were just too heavy. Then, the feel of something soft and warm being pulled up over me as I drifted away.

A loud voice saying ‘We’re now approaching MSY, landing in ten.’ jarred me fully awake, my eyes flying open. I was unsure of where I was for a brief span, but then everything came flooding back at once. I looked around in a panic. A pillow had been placed between my head and the window, and a blanket covered everything but my feet. I pushed it off me, then glanced to my right and saw my iPod and earbuds resting next to my messenger bag, along with a bag of Lindor truffles. Then my eyes found Tom, seated in the chair across from me. As I studied his face, his shirt, his hands, his knees, all of him, a cyclone of emotions overwhelmed me and I realized that I was no longer numb.

The left corner of his mouth turned up in a sad half-smile. “Hope you don’t mind that I took your headphones out and gave you a pillow and blanket. You fell asleep almost immediately, and I figured you needed the rest and didn’t want the music to awaken you, or for you to wind up with a stiff neck, or be cold. And I apologize for touching you without your permission when I buckled you in…the pilot announced…”

And just like that, I saw him again. Tom. He knew everything, and he still cared for me.  

I shook my head, interrupting him. “It’s all fine. Thank you.” I pointed at the blanket and pillow. “For these.” Then at the truffles. “For those.” Then waved my hands and ran my gaze around the cockpit. “And this.” My eyes met his. “And for wanting to be here. And for listening.” I pointed at the truffles again. “But especially for those.”

He laughed softly, and I smiled, then bit my lower lip.

“Tom, how did you know I’d still be at the airport?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t.”

“What was your plan if I hadn’t been there?”

He leaned forward, hands on his knees. “Take the jet myself and wait for you to arrive at Louis Armstrong.”

“I might not have gotten there for another day. Or two.”

“I had no intentions of ever leaving that airport without you by my side.”

What I wanted to do, what I needed to do about last night became abundantly clear to me.

“Did you book a room yet?”

He looked down briefly, then back up at me, face red. “Yes. At the Prytania Park Hotel. I chose a double queen, in case you preferred to not sleep with…to have your own bed. They’re separate, one on the main floor and the other up a spiral staircase so you’ll have…”

I interrupted him again. “How about a car?”

“Yes. A rental. I won’t know what make and model until we get there.”

“Thanks for taking care of it all. After we land, I’d like to go directly to Passages Hospice and get…that…over with. Once we’re checked in to the hotel, there’s something I want you to do.”

His jaw twitched, then he nodded. “Anything.”

“I want you to tell me why. Why you reacted the way you did after we ran into Norman. Why you got so drunk. Why you said those things to me. And, most importantly, I want you to tell me why it is that your life became so dark.”

He paled, folded himself in half, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. After a few moments he sat up and ran his hands through his hair, then began touching his neck. He was breathing through his mouth, fear in his eyes.

“Maude. I…I..” He shook his head. “I’m afraid if I tell you, I may lose you.”

I put my hand on his knee, and he looked frantically back and forth from my hand to my face, shocked at my touch.

“Thomas, you’re definitely going to lose me if you don’t tell me.”

As the jet touched down I removed my hand. He was looking down, eyes darting to and fro. The cabin door opened, the steps lowered. I unbuckled my seat belt, put my iPod and the truffles in my messenger bag, then headed for the door. Tom followed.

As I stepped outside, the oppressive humidity and smells of the city washed over me, drowning me in memories. I proceeded down the stairs, and as my feet made contact with the tarmac it hit me that I was…back. In the place I’d vowed to never be again. The place that had taken from me so much more than anyone should ever have to give. The place where I’d lost everything. I could feel the panic rising, and as I lifted my hand to place it on my chest in an attempt to calm down, Tom took it in his. I stared straight ahead as our fingers intertwined, then stepped forward as he squeezed gently. I squeezed back, and we slowly made our way toward the gates, the pilot pulling our luggage on a cart behind us.

[incathoots]

Akaashi’s Perfect Buns - BokuAka

I wrote this ages ago for @wasterella ... and then forgot about it. Thought I should post it now before I forget again. (AO3)

Contrary to popular belief, Bokuto was not a morning person. But who could be at four in the morning. Early morning practise was a stupid idea. No one was ever completely conscious, and at least once every practise, someone got tangled in the net when they walked into it. Usually Bokuto, but who was counting? 

Okay, most of the team was. There was a tally etched into the side of a locker in the change room.

So, at four in the morning, half asleep, Bokuto staggered out his front door, still tugging on his jersey and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He needed a jolt of caffeine, and quick.

On the corner of his block there was a little coffee shop run by a young couple. They mostly hired college students looking for work, and Bokuto liked their mochas. The perfect amount of chocolate and espresso. Straight coffee was just too bitter, and people tended to frown and wrinkle their noses when he added twenty packs of sugar to his coffee.

The bell over the door jingled when Bokuto pushed into the shop. He shuffled into line, watching his sneakers scuff the floor as he stifled a yawn.

That’s when he saw it; the most glorious pair of buns he’d ever seen.

Bokuto couldn’t help but stare. His eyes were glued to the perfectly sculpted ass encased in a pair of pressed black dress pants that left nothing to the imagination. Each cheek was a beautifully rounded swell that called to him.

Before his conscious mind caught up, Bokuto’s hand had already reached out and cupped one cheek. It was firm and athletic, and just as perfect as Bokuto thought it would be.

Bokuto froze, hand still cupping this strangers ass, and blinked in shock at the perverseness of his own action. He had officially become one of those disgusting men on the train that groped women.

Letting out an embarrassed whine, Bokuto looked up into a pair of stunning eyes wide with shock. “So pretty...” he murmured. His hand squeezed, but he quickly realized what he was doing and dropped his hand.

The stranger turned around fully. He was a few inches shorter than Bokuto with short, curly hair, and the dark suit looked amazing on his slender, but still obviously well-defined body.

Bokuto followed the path of the pink tongue that darted out, wetting the plump lips, and his attention immediately darted back to the intensity of those haunting eyes. The stranger cocked an eyebrow.

Bokuto jumped back with a loud squawk and arms flailing. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I haven’t had my coffee and my brain isn’t working, I mean, not that it ever is, or so my teammates tell me, and practise at five is such stupid idea. The coach is insane.”

The entire shop was watching him now. A few office ladies were tittering politely behind their hands, and the workers seemed stuck between shock and amusement. The stranger seemed unmoved. His perfectly manicured eyebrow, gloriously perfect just like the rest of his body, was still arched.

“I swear, I’m not a pervert,” Bokuto cried. He sank to his knees and clasped his hands together, begging the beautiful stranger to forgive him. “I don’t go around groping women on trains. Really, I don’t. I swear.”

The stranger was clearly unimpressed with Bokuto grovelling on his knees and huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Your butt is so perfect. So round and... and I don’t know what happened. I had the urge to touch it just to see if it was as firm as it looked, and it is. It’s amazing. Your butt is so perfect, and you’re so pretty, and oh my god, please don’t kill me. I’ll buy your coffee. As much as you want. For the rest of your life even. I’m the worst. I’m terrible. I’m a pathetic excuse for a human being, you should let me die.”

“Then how would you buy my coffee?

“I...” Bokuto paused and looked up. The stranger’s cheeks were lightly coloured with a pretty pink flush. For several long seconds, Bokuto blinked up at him in awe. “Buy coffee? You want... Oh!” Bokuto leapt to his feet. “I’ll buy your coffee!”

“You did offer.”

Bokuto paused. “I did?”

The stranger looked torn between amusement and annoyance, a conundrum Bokuto was all too familiar with from past experiences. Not everyone could handle him, and he was only running at half speed this early in the morning. His energy levels spiked later in the day.

Clearing his throat, the stranger hid a smirk behind his hand. “Somewhere between worshiping my butt and self-deprecation, I believe.”

“Ah, well, in that case. Bokuto Koutarou,” Bokuto said, thrusting his hand forward in offering.

Instead of accepting the handshake, the stranger reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and produced a crisp, clean business card. “Akaashi Keiji,” he said, extending the card with two hands and a small, polite bow.

For a few seconds, Bokuto blinked owlishly at the card in Akaashi’s hand before he eagerly accepted. “Your name is so pretty too,” he crowed, inspecting the card closely. “Oh...” His shoulders fell. “I don’t have one to give you. I mean, I have business cards. Kuroo made me order some, but I always forget them at home. They’re really cool though, and say Bokuto Kotarou, wing spiker, Ace! He only made them for me because Kenma won’t let him make any for him, even though he should. I don’t know how his work hasn’t made him, but he hates all the stupid rules and gets annoyed when you call him by his family name. Kenma that is, not Kuroo. Kuroo’s name is Tetsuro, and sometimes I call him that, but it’s weird because it’s Kuroo, and I’ve always called him Kuroo like how Kenma calls him Kuro and-”

A quiet laughed halted Bokuto’s rambling, and he stared open mouthed. It was a beautiful sound, even if it could barely be heard above the morning chatter around them.

“We should probably order,” Akaashi pointed out. While they had been talking, the line had progressed, and the cashier was politely waiting for them to step forward.

Shoving the business card into his jacket pocket, Bokuto grabbed Akaashi’s wrist and dragged him to the counter. “One caffe mocha and... and anything he wants! Do you want breakfast? I’ll buy you food.”

“Coffee is fine, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, glancing down at where Bokuto was still tightly gripping his wrist. His cheeks were a little pink.

Bokuto babbled away while they waited. Their orders came quickly, but Akaashi continued to listen, patiently nodding and humming in agreement when appropriate while Bokuto gave an overly enthusiastic rundown of his team and why being a spiker was so cool.

“That sounds wonderful, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said with all sincerity, and Bokuto beamed at him, puffing up his chest a little with pride. “You must be very talented. Maybe I’ll come to a game some time, but if I don’t leave soon, I’ll be late for work.”

Bokuto squawked in horror. “I’ve made you late! I’m the worse. I’m terrible,” he lamented. His entire being drooped with sorrow. “You shouldn’t talk to me anymore.”

“I’m not late yet,” Akaashi pointed out. “Besides, I have rather enjoyed our... conversation, even if you did grab my ‘perfect’ butt in the middle of a coffee shop.”

“Really?” Bokuto dared to glance up, but his posture remained slumped.

“Yes. Text me. My number is on my card,” Akaashi said, patting Bokuto on the shoulder as he passed him on his way to the door. “I rather look forward to you buying me coffee for the rest of my life.”

Bokuto’s jaw fell slack as he whirled around. “Ehhhhh?”

[overcaffeinated-creative]

Change of Pace for Tonight

I have a bunch of Star Wars nerds here (and like seven really confused blogs) so tell me:

How do you envision yourself in Star Wars? A Jedi? A smuggler? Which era?

Answer on or off anon! Or DM of your real shy. I just wanna know how others imagine themselves?

[overcaffeinated-creative]

New Ask Game Idea

Give me random scenarios, statements, or whatever really for my OCs to react to! Either specific who you want in particular or I’ll just pick a random handful of them and go from there.