#got my engineering diploma yesterday !

[electricboogaloosstuff]

FIRST DAY OF MY LIFE AS SOMEONE WHO FINISHED HER HIGHER STUDY AND DO NOT HAVE TO GET JOB YET LIFE IS GOOD NO STRESS IN MY BODY YIPPEE

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Rigor Mortis (part 10)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 9, Part 11

summary: In the morning, Miguel reminisces.

warnings: smut! grinding, humping, alcohol, PIV, switch-y behaviour (what's new), aftercare, mentions of depression. 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: soft melty mig >>>

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 4.5k

Oh! and I finally made the series' playlists (very open to requests) <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

between your bodies;

You wake up with a headache and a lump in your throat.

Bleary eyes; and you rub away sleep, rosy and warm around the edges. Everything smells like him, is your very first thought. It's the kind of thing that has you reeling, tossing and turning in unfamiliar sheets before looking up at a mottled ceiling. Light creeps in from curtains cracked open, rays spreading like wildfire on everything it touches. Miguel's bed is by the window, and you can't help but curl up what little light spills in with your hands; palm upwards, slowly balled into fists. It's warm, and your hand feels a little different.

Oh.

Like a bolt of lightning, memories of the night before run up your spine; dancing up and down between the sheets. Miguel's hand in yours, his skin pressed up against you, a room spinning in the kind of way that seems romantic. Seems romantic; you note. It could've been the alcohol, but you had felt something between you two, yesterday. Something… different . Your cheeks grow warm at the thought of last night; drunken revelations and so much light, it burns.

I like the way your eyes scrunch up when you smile. I like the way you look in the morning, squinting at labels and cereal packets. You've got the prettiest lips I've ever seen, Miguel.

You burrow under the covers as you recall it; the memory of Miguel between your thighs, his head in the crook of your shoulder. The way he had half-laughed, heady and heavy and thick with want, low groans pooling by the shell of your ear. You're not too sure if you meant it; really, really meant it; and you're scared of what that means. Casual sex was the agreement, and you didn't think you had the capacity for much else.

Sighing, you stretch your leg out from under the covers, dipping a tentative toe on the rug. Bare, except for a T-shirt whose hem kisses your thighs. Mig's t-shirt, of course, and you tug it down as you slip out of his bed. The aftermath, things tossed off shelves and awards that had clattered to the ground, lies in last night's wake. Guiltily, you root around to pick up his things.

They're more personal than the things around the house. You notice a plaque or two from undergrad, his diploma  - biomechanics and chemical engineering with honours - and even a certificate from a middle school science fair. The image makes you smile: little Mig with braces and a distinct frown, handed a plastic trophy in front of a spotty crowd. 'First Place' it says, and knowing him his entry was less baking soda volcano and more miniature Hadron Collider . If he's anything like he is now; he was probably a mouthy little pain-in-the-ass, too.

You take a watch off of the floor, half hidden under his bed. A knee brushes past a clear box; that jostles and rattles around like nails in a metal can. From vague outlines, you can see a box of junk , in every sense of the word: scrap metal, wires, plastic tubing. A whole scrapyard under his bed, and you reach for it, curious.  Something knicks at your hand in the process. Glass, from a broken pane of a frame slipped under the bed. Softly, you hiss, sucking at the cut that draws blood.

More careful, now, you push the frame towards you, sweeping up the glass as best you can. In the lowlight, you can't make out much. Carefully, you hold it by a corner - an intricate thing, all twisted metal and brushed bronze. From out under the bed, you see it, or rather, him: Miguel, a little younger, surrounded by a couple of unfamiliar faces. A taller man, a much older woman - and they both smile in the way he does, crows feet and with the kind of warmth that reaches their eyes. In his arms (Miguel's, but not your Miguel) is a little girl. She is small; wide-eyed, gap-toothed; looking up at him, as if the camera wasn't there. The adoration in her face makes you smile. His sister, maybe? His brother, Gabi, and his dear mama ? 

Gently, you place it on the side table. You sweep up the glass into your hand, ignoring the sting that spreads to your palms. It's not a deep cut, but you head to the kitchen anyway, in search of warm soapy water and something to mop it up. 

Slipping past the doorway, it is deathly quiet. Morning spills in through a window, illuminating a lone figure - broad shoulders, tan and bare save for pyjama pants, hunched over the dining table. 

Miguel doesn't seem to notice as you get closer, finally able to hear slight noise and chatter from a tinny phone. Cup of coffee in hand, you watch as he scrolls, replaying the same video over and over. From over his shoulder, you can just about make it out: music that had deafened you at the time, loops with a pathetic whine. A video from last night, it seems, and you recognise the icon of Lyla's story. Bright lights, your dress sparkling and a pretty little laugh drowned out by Lyla's - he seems to replay the same couple of seconds over, and over, and–

“Mig?” He jumps, leaping almost 3 feet into the air, it seems. His phone shuts off with a clatter, slammed onto the table. Turning, he seems guilty, before flattening his face into something more socially acceptable.

“H-Hi. Morning.” He clears his throat, giving you an awkward nod.

“Morning,” Softening, you slink down to take a seat. He knows, of course: he knows that you know, that you saw exactly what he's been doing. But you're both going to ignore it, let it settle in the gaps between you - a gap that quickly shrinks, he notes. 

The chair drags across the floor, almost catching at a rug on the wooden slats. When you seat yourself by him; closer, closer, oh-so close; you can't help but brush your legs to his, addicted to the way it makes him shiver. Payback, you think, grabbing at his mug and stealing a sip before he can say anything. For all the times he's fucked with your head.

Miguel knows better than to protest, crossing his arms resolutely. He sighs - not maliciously, but with a tinge of defeat. You're too pretty, and too close for him to think properly; to even muster up the energy to argue. And so he doesn't, opting to chew at the inside of his cheek. 

“ Hey .” You say, hand coming up to cheekbone, stroking at it with your thumb. Miguel tries not to lean into it, to melt into the touch. “ Careful. Where'd you go?”

It makes him laugh, bitterly, ruefully - whatever you want to call it. Where'd you go? And you say it like you've got an inkling of all the shit that goes on in his head. He goes to the same place he always seems to be, these days. Somewhere that reminds him of you , of your nights together, of your nights apart–

“Did you sleep well?” You're asking, and it takes him a second to process it.

“Sure.” Shrugging, he lies, and you pretend to believe him. “Long night, I suppose.”

When he picks that moment to look at you, to bore into your soul, you take your hand away; feeling naked , feeling bare . 

“What about you? Did you sleep well?” 

And you hum, non-committal, in response.

“Can’t remember much.” It’s a bold-faced lie, and he knows it.

He chews at his lips, eyes dragged down to your figure. He’s shameless, lashes fluttering before he sighs - with the kind of tiredness that rattles at his chest - scratching at a 5 o’clock shadow.

He’s pinching at the bridge of his nose like he’s battling a headache - and losing miserably. Miguel; your Miguel, this time; looks so pathetic, with the countenance of a wet mop. It’s not a grimace, nor a frown, like always. It looks like melancholy - thinly veiled, bone-deep - and it makes your heart splinter.

You just… you just want to comfort him. To hold him in your arms and stroke his hair, to press kisses into the crinkles at the side of his mouth, his forehead: to be warm and soft and somewhere safe , for him.

It’s a compulsion you can’t fight, clambering over him to sit on his lap. His gaze flickers, pointedly trying to ignore you, but his hand rests comfortably on plush thigh. It sends a shiver down your spine; how tender his touch is, even when like this. 

“I…” You start, tracing a hand to his scratchy jaw and gently tilting him towards you. “I remember enough.”

 He can’t help it, hand travelling a little further up and eyes flitting to your lips. 

“... Yeah ?” And it comes with an unceremonious squeeze at your ass, wetting his lips with pink tongue.

That gap between you shrinks even more as you press your chest to his, with a hand at his shoulder. God, his skin is hot to the touch; lean muscle that tenses under your palm. He gets closer.

“What are you doing today?” He’s trying so hard, forcing himself to look you in the eye - betrayed only by a pounding heart and a lingering look to your lips. 

Coupled with the way he looks at you; kneading at your thighs, leaning into your gentle palm; it makes your throat close up. 

“...U-Umm, I think–”

“It’s Friday, right?” He hums, head cocked as if deep in thought. “You’ve got… stats and lab prep, today.”

You frown. “Yeah, actually. How did you–”

“You’re always complaining about Fridays.”

“I didn’t yesterday.”

“I’ve barely seen you all week, sweetheart.” 

“ And who’s fault is that? ” Muttering, you roll your eyes, trying not to show him the way it makes you melt.

“I listen.” He says, soft. 

“...sometimes.” You finish, but it’s half-hearted. You know, he knows; he listens . He always has. 

“I think…” You clear your throat. “T-Think m’gonna take the day off. I’m pretty–”

Tired. Exhausted. Ready to kiss your roommate if it meant he would look at you like that for a little longer.

“ – hungover .” He whispers, thumb stroking your hip as you snort; ready to bat him away. 

Wriggling, his grip tightens, slotting you closer as if in a trance. You’re laughing, a sharp retort at the tip of your tongue, but his wry smile seems tinged with something else. It’s a something that makes your heart skip a beat – but it’s his next words that have you reeling.

“I’ve got the day off, too.”

You’re taken aback. “Don’t you…? I-I mean I thought you’re taking extra hours at Alchemax…”

“Nope.” Resolute, he shakes his head. “We’ve got appraisals or something, today. Upper management only. I thought I told you.”

Brows kneaded, you give him a look he’s well accustomed to. And Miguel; because he’s Miguel, of course; counters it almost immediately.

“Don't give me that … You didn’t even know I wore glasses until yesterday.”

“That’s not fair , Mig.”

“You don’t want to spend the day with me? Dios mio, hermosa.”

“Mig–”

Dramatic, he tips his head back, clutching at his chest. “Am I that bad? You can’t spend a couple hours with me–”

“Mig –”

“Just a couple, sweetheart, and then I’m out of your hair, and you can complain about me to–”

“ Mig! ” You exclaim, giggling whilst you nudge his head forward to meet your gaze.

“You called?” He flutters his eyelashes playfully, with a hint of a smile. 

It looks good on him, you think; glad that he feels comfortable enough to finally let go.

There’s a gentle lull and he places hot palms at your thighs to hike you up even closer. You adjust yourself on his lap, watching the way he groans with his head in your hands. It makes you bold: the way he moves to clutch at your hand and dart under the lip of your shirt to press you closer. 

A roll of your hips makes him purr , eyes fluttering as he rocks up in thin pants. Quickly hardening, he’s wearing a dopey smile - one you return as you press your forehead to his. He angles his hips just right, causing little moans to spill out from pretty lips. The hand at his jaw travels to the nape of his neck, tugging in that way you know that he likes. You know him, and that makes your chest warm: the way he purrs and rumbles as you touch him in a way only you can.

Roughly, he swallows, head tilted up to catch at your cheek. 

“Do you remember what you said last night?” It’s whispered into skin, soft and barely-there. “What you asked me to do?”

Kiss me. Why won’t you kiss me?

Like something sharp and intense through your veins, the memory makes you shiver, leaning into Miguel so his clothed cock catches at your clit. Like this , you don’t want to look at him - you can’t. 

Ask me tomorrow.

And so you shake your head, nuzzling into his side with a weak whimper.

There’s a pause so imperceptible you might have imagined it. If Miguel is disappointed - or relieved, or frustrated - you can’t quite tell. Unceremoniously, he latches on, taking large handfuls of your ass and sucking ugly hickies into pretty skin.

“You asked me–” He says it between wet kisses, sloppy and hungry and quickly deepening. “You asked me to fuck you .”

You gulp, hips rolling as you close your eyes. 

“ Just the tip, you said.” He lifts you up slightly, rolling back plaid pants. He nips at your neck, all tongue and teeth and claws. “Do you remember now?”

He’s not even inside, teasing your bare folds with the wide head of his cock. Your head tilts to give him more access to that juncture of your jaw. A dry chuckle leaves your lips at his tone and countenance; asking if you remember as he does his best to make you forget even the simplest of things. And that’s the thing about Miguel O’Hara, saccharine-sweet, gorgeous -in-the-low-light O’Hara: he makes you feel so good, everything else falls away.

“ Fuck.” He heaves. “”J-Just the–”

Impatient, you shift your hips, slipping him inside with one delicious movement. You can taste it: pleasure , white-hot and building up just below your gut. Miguel separates with a wet pop, hands trailing up to rid you of your shirt – his shirt, you realise with a moan. Exposed, he eyes your pretty stomach and then the peak of your breast. He keeps you flush to his hips, right at the sharp cut of his v-line, tufts of hair leading to where you both meet. With the way his eyes flutter, you can tell: he wants to kiss you, slathering up your chest to collarbone, and then from collarbone to jaw. He gets close, pressing shaky kisses to the corner of your lips – threatening to break the promise you made to each other long ago. And God , with the way he pistons up into your cunt, you… you just might let him.

Then his hips shift, pubic bone at your clit in a way that brings pleasure to the burn. You’re stretched out, filled to the brim and then leaning back to press your forearms onto the grain of the dining table. Like this, his hands stay squeezing the flesh at the tops of your thighs; only able to watch as you take over. You use a bit of leverage to tilt your hips this way and that - eyes low, not leaving his.

“Feels good , Mig.” You’re whining, eyes locked onto his because you want to watch him fall apart - to watch as all his troubles melt away. “So good. Uhh –Always does. I remember… shit … remember this. ” 

And you take his hand, wrapping your lips around his index and middle finger - thick and large - with the memories of how they felt inside you only making you wetter. Gushing praise as best you can, you slobber and slather over his fingers, studying every twitch and gorgeous groan that he gives. He pulls his hand away from you; gentle, but cursing nevertheless; alternating from slapping your ass to tugging at the stiff peak of your nipple. It’s your turn to stutter, hips jumping as you cum - an orgasm so hard he bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from spilling into you. There’s blood in his mouth, he notes as he studies the way you look: beautiful, always beautiful; framed in the gentle pink and purple from a rising sun.

Miguel slips out of you, painfully hard. Still heaving from your orgasm, you lean forward to press his cock between your bodies: bare and gorgeously framed in morning sun. Writhing, you kiss his neck, trailing up to the shell of his ear, whispering sweet nothings.

“Want you to cum, Mig.” And you do… oh God , you do. “You close?”

All he does is groan, nodding fervently into the crook of your neck. Diligently, you wrap him up in your arms, crooning and sweet, carefully rocking into him so his cock slides up and down your soft skin. For once, he doesn’t complain, holding you just as tight. 

“M’gonna… o–ohh ffuck …”

“Cum, Mig. For me.”

You’re firm but gentle, pressing your tits up against him and making sure his cock gets that well needed friction. As such, you can feel it almost immediately; hot cum slathered over your tits and body - leaving so much glistening on your skin. 

With a rough gulp, he heaves, eyes screwed tightly shut. You can’t help it, brushing away stray hairs from his face, leaving soft kisses in your wake. And maybe, just maybe, you hear him sob - muffled whimpering and whining with every slight shift of your body against his. And oh . It makes your heart melt when you realise, still carding your fingers through the nape of his neck.

He’s overstimulated. It’s too much.

Limp, he stays wrapped around you for a while, muttering nonsense into your skin.

“ Sorry. ” Shakily, he says – like he even has anything to be sorry about. “M’really— fuck. I just need a moment.”

You hum. It makes your heart heavy that he thinks he needs to be ready now , that he thinks he doesn’t deserve more than a moment to process his pleasure. You want Miguel to feel good, you always have. But with the realisation that you want him to be happy ; to feel safe, to feel loved; well…

…it scares you more than anything.

~~~

Aftercare .

Miguel admits, he’s not too familiar with the term.

It’s not something he’s proud of. With many a one night stand under his belt - even, occasionally seeing a girl more than once - he’s never been too good at it. He’s tried, definitely. Tried so very hard to stick around a little longer, to stay curled up in bed and guide his partner through their comedown. Unfortunately, it doesn’t quite come naturally to him - oft susceptible to a glass of water by the bedside and a gentle nudge to an Uber. That physicality: the cuddling , and kissing, the sappy, wholesome, relationship-adjacent thing? He’s never had that desire after sex, much too stuck in his own head for that.

So why does this feel… so good?

You’re taking care of him. He’s not stupid; knowing that your bedside manner is much better than his. You’re merely doing the right thing and helping him past such an intense orgasm: and that seems to come in the form of his head on your chest, limbs tangled up together on your beat up old couch. This doesn’t count , he’s convinced himself: all those rules and boundaries you’ve both come so close to breaking - a little cuddling doesn't even scratch that surface. And if it feels so good to have your hand playing with his hair, to ground himself with the steady thump-thump of your heart, then who is he to complain?

He’s just a man, he decides. A mere mortal, unable to resist that taste of heaven he’s been given - unable to say no . Absentmindedly, you’re humming some stupid song you’ve had stuck in your head for at least a week, now, eyes trained towards a cheesy soap on the TV. There’s a mug of coffee on the table - it tastes like shit, but Miguel is more than happy to gulp it down if  it makes you feel better - hot and steaming as you tug the blanket so it covers him a little better. 

Unknowingly, you’re lulling him to sleep - the very same sleep he’s been chasing for the past couple of hours. Tossing and turning at night, but barely 10 minutes in your arms and his body only seems to listen to you , for some reason. Traitorous bastard, he thinks, fighting to keep his eyes open. 

You’ve cleaned the both of you up - even though he had insisted otherwise. Let me take care of you , he had slurred, and you just laughed ; that pretty, infuriating laugh, with that pretty, infuriating smile – the very same one he’s wanted to kiss off of you since the beginning. Weakly, he protested, following you into the kitchen only to make a nuisance of himself. 

It’s like you're drunk, Mig.  

In some ways, maybe he is. You had steered him away, and onto couch cushions. Which must have been quite the feat, he notes, able to control all 6”5 of his sleep-deprived, hefty limbs. But he supposes, yet again, his body doesn’t quite listen to him anymore. Only you.

Was it that good? Did I fuck the fine motor skills out of you?

He remembers groaning. He remembers trying not to be drawn in by that lilting giggle, covering his ears with a rough blanket. Most of all, though, he remembers the feeling of your body on his, slipping on top of him to dig him out of that heap.

Miguel? Baby, it’s a joke! I’m kidding, I promise.

He had poked his head out. Baby. He likes that, likes the way his name sounds out of your mouth. It anchors him to this mortal plane like a sharp hook, cutting through the brain fog and burying itself into his chest. You had clasped your hands around his face, steadfast despite his wriggling.

…Oh God, even worse. I think I fucked the common sense out of you instead.

He remembers wanting to kiss you. Your lips curled up into that stupid smile, clearly so pleased at a shitty joke. It makes him warm, thinking about it now. Or maybe, it’s just the blanket you’ve tried to suffocate him in. 

“When did you sleep?” You ask, and he has to blink up at you to collect his thoughts.

“Late.” He says it simply. 

That answer doesn’t satisfy you, and you’re poking and prodding at his face, gently pulling at slowly deepening eyebags.

“ No fucking wonder .” You mutter. “You’re turning into me. No more late nights, Mig.”

When he frowns, you stick your tongue out, gleefully watching as his grimace deepens. 

“Or what?” 

“Or we stop having sex.”

That makes him rocket u pwards, indignant. “ You can’t just– ”

“I can do what I want.” Slowly, your face morphs into what must be worry. At least, he thinks it does, not too familiar with someone worrying about him like this. “No more late nights, please”

You say it so softly his heart might break. He clears his throat of its cobwebs.

“That's not really up to me, sweetheart.” Thesis deadlines. Tutoring. Taking on more hours at Alchemax in preparation for a big event. Slowly, his plate mounts, and it takes everything in him to keep going.

“I know,” You settle his head onto your lap, now. Absent-mindedly, you wrap one of his curls around your finger, hand in his hair in a way that feels more intimate than the past hour, days, weeks spent together. “I just wish you'd take care of yourself better.”

It's not said to chastise him, and you don't sound disappointed ; not tinged with the same flavour of guilt that his mama has over the phone, or that Gabi has when he hits him with that deep sigh. It's pure, selfless, plain-and-simple worry. He doesn't deserve it, he thinks.

He looks up at you. Beautifully oblivious, your gaze is still pinned to the TV. It’s domestic, comfortable in the afterglow of sex. That’s what it must be: contentment and bliss settling over him like a warm blanket. The aftermath of being in your arms, of your body on his; purely physical , that follows the kind of euphoria that he imagines can only be found in a needle. Honestly, he’s still expecting a sharp decline, a rough comedown that tastes like regret, or despair, or deep, deep empty. It doesn’t come.

Always the pessimist, but Miguel can’t help it, really; he’s been chasing something just out of reach for too long. 

“You’re gone again.” You say it so quietly he almost misses it. You give him a weary smile, hand clutching at the fabric that pools around him. He watches as you rearrange it by his shoulders, pinching the folds with a kneaded brow. Finally satisfied, you look him in the eye. “Like Ophelia. ”

He doesn’t sigh. He doesn’t scoff, or roll his eyes, or any of the half dozen ways he’s learnt to repress difficult emotions. Slipping under the water - the makeshift waves made of a ratty blanket - passive to his own suffering. You don’t say it, and he hasn’t even told you the half of it; but somehow, you see it . You see him.

He remembers the first time he met you. Thundering and clattering through his space; bulldozing every carefully placed wall he’s spent years putting up. And then he remembers the first time he actually met you; behind the sharp tongue and quick retorts, finding you watery and forlorn on the floor of your shared apartment. Beautiful, of course – always, always beautiful. But that time, the kind of beauty only found in a painting: tragedy captured in oils, careful brushstrokes muddied by time, by loss, by hurt. You’ve been hurting for a while, he thinks, well before any mention of shitty ex-boyfriends and missed lectures.

Miguel recalls late nights spent trying to still his heart, fixated on a sudden, betraying question that rattles around in his head. Are you like him? Do you understand ? Born with something missing, a tick-tick-tick of the count, radioactive and broken and–

Your hand drapes lazily across his chest, tapping and pointing at something on the screen. He hums, non-committal, the words out of your mouth barely registering. It feels familiar. It feels warm. It feels like nights spent on the couch trying not to laugh at your frustratingly witty remarks. He remembers holding his breath when your leg brushed against his; stealing careful glances to his side; trying not to stare at the way the gloom of the TV looks ethereal against you, snug to the slope of your features, cut this way and that.  

But more than anything, he remembers wanting to kiss you. God. Maybe he always has. 

_

_

_

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[khodorkovskaya]

21.04.23

two things!

1. i got accepted into the masters program i applied for!!! no more maths! im gonna be an econ major now lol. to be fair, ive complained about not wanting to do this for so long. but now that ive been accepted, im relieved. sure, im not passionate about economics, but at least im gonna have a masters degree.

also the funny thing is, i thought they didn't even consider my application bc on the website it said that if your application is incomplete they're not even gonna get back to you. and for mine, i didn't provide any proof that i speak english (i don't have like the toefl or the cambridge exam or whatever it's called that's required) and they asked for a logic text (gre) to which i replied with "umm i do maths 💅". so my application was very much incomplete. but i guess my cv and cover letter blew them away lol. i have to say, my career does look quite impressive on paper.

but now the next question is, do i really want to do this program? because on one hand, yes, it's very prestigious. like it's very much lse vibes, like rich kids in polo shirts and moccasins kinda vibe. and it probably will look good on my cv. but at the same time like it's really not my vibe and it's super theoretical so idk if it's gonna be useful to me personally. like from an outside perspective, yes, it's great to have a masters degree from this school. but is it gonna provide me with the skills im looking for for my dream career in particular?

(but at the same time most people who have my dream career are engineers. but i feel like im too superficial to be an engineer. so idk.)

another school im looking at is not prestigious at all, but it has a very practical approach that's gonna be more useful to me specifically. but also is it gonna be more useful? because the practical approach is basically you have to learn everything yourself + they require an internship as a part of your diploma. so there's very little theory at all and i do need theory. so idk. lot's of questions.

2. im getting my very own ice skates tomorrow from the super professional skating shop in a different city! we're going on a road trip with my student and my bestie and we're also gonna get like all the accessories necessary and maybe even costumes lol. im so excited!!! like i literally couldn't sleep because ahhhhhhh !!!!!!!!

i'll show you guys the skates im gonna get! they're gonna like measure my feet and customise them for me and everything, like im gonna be a professional skater! i wanna get the brand that sasha trusova has so that i can boast about it to my cousin but i'll see what fits me best.

also we had a really interesting meeting yesterday and it made me think a lot about like... how do different types of people present themselves and is the way you present yourself a sort of dogwhistle for certain groups of people. idk it was quite eye opening. like if im an econ major is it gonna give off a certain kind of message to the people i meet? what is it that i want to signal to people?

also i went to the back doctor bc my parents think that my back is crooked and i need to wear a corset. but shocker, my back is completely fine! the doctor said that im a bit asymmetrical, which is natural for most people. but i have good posture, no tension and everything's looking good. and the exercises i do for figure skating (because of course i told him that i skate lol) are good for me. my mum still doesn't believe it lol.

i had a dream about B. i was going to the rink (can you tell im obsessed with skating yet lol) and i got out of the tram and he was there on his bike. and he grabbed my hand like "i miss holding your hand" and i was like aww and he felt very warm. and then i got on the bus but it started going backwards. and i called B like "i still have some time before skating, wanna grab a coffee together" and he was like "jacky, it's not the same as before, do you understand? we can't have coffee together". and was like ouch. and then i went skating (in my dream i already had my new skates) and then i woke up.

[elidokie]

i’m so scared that i’m faking being happy but at the same time i know i’m not because happiness is a choice (and also not a destination) and i choose it every day.

even though right now i have to urge to go, i know it’s all temporary. i keep imagining myself. when i die, all my stuff will go to Mar. even my 3DS, and even my copy of soul silver.

yikes. i hate feeling like this. i feel so icky and gross whenever i do. cmon eli! this isn’t you! you’re supposed to be happy and full of joy on the time! think of all the tender mercies! you fucked up bad yesterday, and God still let you get another chance! mom made breakfast! dad went out to buy us a drink at the new gas station they built down the road! and Mar is in the living room waiting for us to go outside and tell her about the new book we are reading!

cmon! think of how much you love being alive! because you do.

i have a hard time accepting the bad feelings as feelings of my own. my brain is so frustrating sometimes. it feels like it’s not mine.

i miss being little. i miss being 14. my parents were mean, and i didn’t have any friends, and i had the ugliest hair cut in the world — but i was 14 and i played my favorite video game for the first time, and all Mar n I had to worry about was our stupid Government class that we were taking for college credit.

Mom was really happy when we told her that we got accepted into the dual enrollment program, even though she didn’t understand that dual enrollment was for the students that were smart enough to be looked at as a waste. It’s a school in south Texas, with only 15% of the students actually going on to get a degree after graduation. Even if it was only for the numbers, it really did help out.

I didn’t think I was going to go to college. I get frustrated when people say that a Bachelors is the same as a HS Diploma. I didn’t decide I was going to college until my junior year. At most, I thought I was going to just finish off whatever I had left of classes at the community college I was already attending during high school. But then during the state exams, Mr Austin looked at Mr Sowell and went, “You are looking at the two brightest minds of the 21st century.” (referring to me and Mar), and even though it’s not true, because I’m just a 19 year old girl, it still gave me a sense of hope.

Mom never went to middle school (secondary school I guess) and has a 5th grade education. I do everything for her. We told her about World War 2. It’s crazy that she doesn’t know anything about it. Then we tried telling her about outer space, she doesn’t know much, but she knows about planets! we told her that there is a myriad of planets, and we told her what galaxies are, and how galaxies can collide, and how stars can die beneath their own weight.

i feel like that sometimes.

she says it’s too late for her, but i don’t think so. i’ve been trying to teach her english, but she doesn’t care to learn. she can order at the drive thru by herself and she can have a conversation with Bailey’s parents. that’s enough.

dad first told me he loved me during graduation. he hugged me too. i miss the feeling of dad being proud of me like that. i know moms always proud of me, but it’s in a different way.

i like seeing dads face light up. i hate the stigma that i have to take care of my parents once they get older, or that children of immigrants live for their parents, but it’s so true. dad always looked so happy after i performed.

when i passed my drivers test (after going to the DMV like 4 times) he hugged me and was like “i’m so proud of you!” and i think about that a lot. i told him how i was planning on going to UT (my literal dream school and i’m so glad to God that i even got accepted) for aerospace engineering. and he was so happy. then i ended up “following my dream” and going to liberal liberal arts school in Texas for fucking ENGLISH. and he still was so happy. i cried when they dropped me off at my dorm, and i still cry thinking about it.

andrew was so right when he said that moving away from your parents for college is some white people shit. i’m still grateful to the universe for the experience though.

when i came back home during the winter break, i think he could tell that my depression was coming back. maybe that’s why he was so supportive about me dropping out. i had 4 days left until i had to move back to Denton when i had decided to withdraw. fuck, i was so scared. i remember asking him over and over what he thought i should do, and he just went “whatever you want mija, it’s your life not mine” until i ended up actually withdrawing. i know that he knew i was scared.

the next day he took me to dallas to pick up my stuff. a 6 hour drive, 2 hours to pack, 6 hours back — and he didn’t complain. i was so miserable the whole spring, which sucks because it’s my favorite season.

we would take Mar to class 2x a week (Mar can’t drive, she’s too scared to, so dad would take her and i would tag along) and then sit in the Circle K parking lot for two hours until her Latin class was over (the drive to her uni was 45 minutes, so it made more sense to just wait there). He’d buy me an horchata and a hot dog, he was always like “these are good today!” and i would agree, i never told him that i don’t like hot dogs, but it’s okay because i think he was always trying to convince himself / trying to make me feel better about not being in school.

sometimes we would go to Taco Bell, or to Costco. it was always the same thing. me being miserable about having to be at a uni i don’t attend, and him trying to make me feel better without knowing how. i’m grateful though.

i told them i was going back to school in fall. they never asked me about it. that’s the only thing i’m jealous of white people for, that their parents know how to do all the college stuff. they wouldn’t check up on if i was caught up in the paperwork, or if i had talked to the school, or if i did my financial aid — they just assumed that i would do it on my own. and i did do it on my own, because i knew that they wouldn’t know how to help me.

i pushed myself.

after finally doing all the stuff for the school here, and finally setting up my classes and everything (thank god), i told dad how i was thinking of switching my major. i told him i was gonna switch to architecture. his only response was “that sounds like a reliable degree!”

i always switched up what i wanted because i want multiple things. but the one thing that i know for a fact i want, is to write. so he was still as happy when i told him that i was going to keep doing english, but i’m dropping the education courses. im switching to creative writing.

then we talked about grad school for a bit and i told him that i was planning on going to Utah or Minnesota near Juni. i think he’s more supportive of Utah, just because it’s closer to Cali. Mar is going to Cali for law, she takes all her law exam shits later this school year, and then is probably going to talk to grandma about moving in to the little studio in the back. grandma is obviously going to say yes.

dad also didn’t care that i stopped working. i mean, i know a part of did, but he never said anything. i like to think that i did a good job hiding how i was doing mentally, but every week dad would ask if i wanted to get a slushee from Sonic, which i know is his way of trying to make me feel better.

i stopped with the TEFL program i was doing. i know i’ll pick it up sometime later. right now i have to worry about getting an internship, grad school, applying for the study abroad program, and this upcoming semester. the fact that i’m graduating next winter feels like a sin. i just started college. maybe i should be more appreciative of the fact that i’m finishing early early.

also getting a job. but i have confidence that God has something better for me planned. i have enough money to pay for my car bill next month, and just barely enough for the one after that (i might have to ask dad to help a bit). the only reason i feel bad leaving the school in dallas, is because i was on a full scholarship. i think my parents paid like $1000 the whole semester and that was for the room i was staying in.

i don’t expect mom and dad to pay for this semester, especially since it was my choice to move back home. so i know i have to pay for it on my own. i’m okay with working 24/7 if it means they don’t have to worry about it. but, i know how dad is. he’d go into debt if it means i get to go to college.

Mar and i are on our own for grad school though, they made that VERY clear LMAO. i might check out that women’s only university that Ms. Burger told me about. she got her M.F.A there and said she loved it. she was a crazy woman, talking about how she lived in London, how she’s okay with being 57 and single because she has her dog, how she wrote her thesis on Little Women.

anyways, i feel like i’ve written enough. even though nobody reads this. it’s like i’m bothering my future self for whenever i do reread this. i talk a lot. i only really took notice of it because of how often i keep YAPPING to 26y/o. he said he doesn’t mind, but i’m scared that he does. because why would he want to hear some stupid 19 year old vent about stupid shit. either way i’m appreciative of it.

yesterday we played fortnite. he’s really good lmao. we won most of our games! it was really funny. the dynamic of our relationship is really funny. there’s like a 7 year (about to be 6!!) age gap between us which for the most part doesn’t really matter. but he’s experienced so many more things than me, and it’s very obvious at times. like when i talk about uni and my future, and then i realize that this mf already has his shit figured out. like, he’s GROWN. it’s really funny though. i made this grown man play fortnite with me. and it was fun!

ugh, i said i was gonna stop this text post but i always have to much to say. i miss juni. so so so very much. he’s literally my soul partner. i dream that im at his house sometimes. in the living room, i’m laying sideways on the couch and he’s laying on the recliner. his parents in the kitchen making dinner. his younger sister in her room playing roblox. i always feel at home when i’m there, as strange as it sounds. i’m eternally grateful that his family accepted me so easily. and that his mom loves me. it’s july there too.

i miss mn. i’m not going to be going there anytime soon, because juni is coming here in september. so i probably wont be there until december. which sucks because it means that i’m going to have to get a new job. since i’m taking 2 weeks to go to mexico, 1 for mn, and then 1 to go to georgia to visit Cav. so that’s like, the whole month! i’ll stress about it later.

none of these things are permanent so why stress? im just 19 (ugh i’m gonna keep saying this even after im 20.).

20 is so close and its scary. i feel like a baby. my dad still has to drive me around the city, and mom still eats dinner with me.

i think mom knows that my eating is getting worse again. she’s not very (i forgot the word but it has the same meaning as “slick with it”), as she’s always calls me during her lunch break to go “oh what did you eat for breakfast?”

that’s the only reason i have lunch with her sometimes. to ease her worries i guess. juni is more normal about it, he ask “did you eat?” like once every few days. i’m glad he’s like that but it also upsets me. i don’t think he understands my mental health issues, or my issues in general. he told me he didn’t care to learn about it because i’m a human and not an animal. which i understand. but also like, this is a part of me that isn’t going away.

i feel like we are at two different places sometimes. which is crazy because of how close we are, literal soul ties. i’ve known him all my life.

anyways. i think i’ll end this here. i’m sorry if there are any typos or inconsistencies in my writing here. i use this as a diary, i guess. i graduated with a 4.3 and got so many scholarships to write (because woo! there’s a lack of representation when it comes to latin authors getting published in the US! especially women!) so how jarring would it be for me to say that i never paid attention during english class. i don’t know what a preposition is, i don’t know how to properly structure sentences sometimes, but that’s okay!

i lied again. i did pay attention to english class. i just forgot almost everything i learned.

i’m getting hungry. i think i’m gonna get boba later. anyways. goodbye, i love you.

[lucywrites02]

They aint got no money, her clothes are kinda funny, his hair is kinda wild and free... OH BUT LOVE GROWS WHERE MY LUCY GOESSSSS🎶🎶 (I literally don't know how to start these anymore). This poem is beauuuutiful and so so sad. It's from 1957!!! So I had no comments from the poet about the poem, but I think the poem itself will suffice. I hope you're having a wonderful day and take care <3

Things We Carry on the Sea

By Wang Ping

We carry tears in our eyes: good-bye father, good-bye mother

We carry soil in small bags: may home never fade in our hearts

We carry names, stories, memories of our villages, fields, boats

We carry scars from proxy wars of greed

We carry carnage of mining, droughts, floods, genocides

We carry dust of our families and neighbors incinerated in mushroom clouds

We carry our islands sinking under the sea

We carry our hands, feet, bones, hearts and best minds for a new life

We carry diplomas: medicine, engineer, nurse, education, math, poetry, even if they mean nothing to the other shore

We carry railroads, plantations, laundromats, bodegas, taco trucks, farms, factories, nursing homes, hospitals, schools, temples…built on our ancestors’ backs

We carry old homes along the spine, new dreams in our chests

We carry yesterday, today and tomorrow

We’re orphans of the wars forced upon us

We’re refugees of the sea rising from industrial wastes

And we carry our mother tongues

爱(ai)，حب  (hubb), ליבע (libe), amor, love

平安 (ping’an), سلام ( salaam), shalom, paz, peace

希望 (xi’wang), أمل (’amal), hofenung, esperanza, hope, hope, hope

As we drift…in our rubber boats…from shore…to shore…to shore…

I absolutely love how you start those asks 😂 It’s literally the best thing even I'd you talk nonsense.

The poem is very beautiful 🥺💖

[elsanna-shenanigans]

February Contest Submission #3: Did You Know

words: ca. 3700 setting: Modern AU lemon: No cw: Language

“Did you know that Frost Museum aims to achieve LEED Gold certification within the…”

Anna nods off, her coffee forgotten. Work orientations are the worst. 

A few minutes later, a soft cough from somewhere over her left shoulder stirs her. Anna sits up and blinks, looking around for the source. Her cheeks redden as she realizes she’s been caught falling asleep on her first day of her new job.

“Behind you,” a soft voice says.

Anna turns in her seat, and the flush to her face deepens as she is met by the most gorgeous woman with white-blonde hair and a flawless pale complexion. Dressed in a light gray business suit and blue blouse, Anna surmises that she’s one of the bosses and immediately stands up, ready to beg her to let her keep her new job. She smooths out her own wrinkled black skirt and opens her mouth to grovel when the woman speaks again.

“You, um…” The woman wipes the corner of her mouth with her index finger.

Anna’s brows furrow, and she raises her hand up to her mouth. Finding wetness there, her eyes widen.

“Oh, shi-” She stops herself from further embarrassment as she wipes at her face with the sleeve of her green blouse. Drool is embarrassing enough as it is.

The woman smiles softly and says, “Orientations are never fun. I actually arrived a few minutes late. Don’t tell anyone.“ 

Anna gapes. Of all the things for this woman to say, she did not expect that. “Yeah…” 

“I’m Elsa.” The woman extends her hand and waits for Anna to introduce herself, that soft smile never leaving her face.

It takes Anna a second to stop staring and shake Elsa’s hand. “Anna. It’s nice to meet you, Elsa. So, what’d I miss?”

Elsa giggles, and it’s the most melodious sound Anna has ever heard.

“We’re taking a ten minute break. There are some breakfast items outside if you’d like to join,” Elsa nods to the doors of the plantarium where they’ve spent the last hour learning about Frost Museum, one of Miami’s biggest museums and their new workplace.

“Yeah.” Anna picks up her now-cold coffee cup. “I didn’t have time to eat earlier. I was already afraid I’d sleep through my alarm.”

Elsa giggles again. “ I’m glad one of us didn’t.“ 

Anna smiles easily, happy to have made a new friend on her first day. Not to mention that Elsa is attractive.

“Shall we?”

As Elsa leads her out of the planetarium, Anna can’t help but glance at her backside. This woman is insanely beautiful. Her hips sway as she walks confidently in black stilettos, and all Anna can think about is how she has legs for days.

So caught up in Elsa is she that Anna doesn’t realize they’ve made their way to a table where Elsa is offering to get her another coffee from a disposable coffee container. Elsa tilts her head and lifts an eyebrow curiously.

“Earth to Anna.”

“Hm?” Anna’s eyes focus on Elsa’s cool blue eyes that definitely match her blouse. Anna glances down at it again. Yep, they match. Anna wonders what it’d be like to unbutton that blouse and bites her lip as she imagines the pale skin beneath it.

“I asked if you’d like another coffee. I imagine that one is too cold to drink by now,” Elsa nods her head toward the cup in Anna’s hand.

Anna looks down at the cup. “Oh, yeah. Please,” she smiles and walks to the trash can to dispose of her old cup.

As Elsa pours them both steaming cups of mediocre coffee, Anna tries to think of something more to say.

“This place has money. I’m surprised they can’t spring for something better than a cardboard container of coffee.” Anna mentally slaps herself for saying the first thing that came to her mind.

Elsa hands Anna a cup with a smile before . “Maybe they need a barista on staff.”

“Yes, exactly! All jobs should have baristas on staff. Did you know that Disney has baristas on staff at their animation studios?” Anna grins. Disney is her favorite subject.

“Really?” Elsa smiles back.

Anna takes a sip of her coffee and makes a disgusted face. “Uh huh,” she says as she grabs two packets of sugar to put in her drink. “If you watch the credits at the end of every movie, they mention their names. They’re just baristas, but they have film credits!”

“That’s very cool,” Elsa says. “Do you-”

“Elsa, there you are,” a middle-aged man walks up to them with a jovial smile and crows feet hiding behind thick-rimmed glasses. “Sorry to interrupt,” he says acknowledging Anna. 

Anna nods. She knows this is the CEO of the museum. She met him during her last interview, but she can’t remember his name.

“It’s good to see you again, Frank,” Elsa smiles and shakes his hand. Anna notices that her smile is tighter; it doesn’t reach her eyes like her previous smiles have.

“Likewise. Is orientation almost over? We’re ready to have you upstairs in your new office crunching numbers.”

Elsa blushes and looks embarrassed. “About another hour." 

“Surely we can get you out of it,” Frank chuckles. “After all, no one knows the Frost Museum like the Frost family.”

Anna’s mouth hangs open. Elsa is Elsa Frost? Related to the museum’s Frost family? Her name is literally on the building! Suddenly she feels very out of her league. Elsa is clearly a big deal, whereas she is just a new janitor. What’s more is that her best friend Kristoff got her this job after another guy quit suddenly, so she really wasn’t even a choice. They needed to fill the spot quickly, and Anna was qualified enough. As qualified as a college drop-out needs to be for manual labor. 

Anna realizes she is zoned out when Elsa turns back to her with an apologetic look on her face. 

“Sorry about that, Anna. You were saying?”

“Hm?” Anna looks at her. “Oh, umm… nothing. Never mind. I better go back and grab my seat.” She hurriedly leaves Elsa staring at her back.

Back in her seat, Anna covers her eyes with her hand and leans over. “Shit, shit, shit. Anna, what are you thinking? She’s so clearly out of your league. She’d never be interested in you.” 

For the rest of the orientation, Anna thinks of all of the fancy parties Elsa must go to on the regular. She imagines Elsa lives in a mansion on Star Island and is probably a VIP at all the best clubs. She probably has a rich boyfriend named Hans or Alfred or maybe Charles Van Buckingham III. And he takes her on trips to London and Paris and Fiji. He gets to see Elsa in a bikini; not Anna. Never Anna.

When the small group of new employees is finally dismissed, Anna does not dare look at Elsa. She leaves the planetarium quickly and practically runs to the engineering department where Kristoff is monitoring the water flow to the aquarium’s tanks.

“Hey, there she is,” he grins. “How was it?”

“Awful,” Anna sits in a chair next to him and takes a look at his computer. “Have you heard of Elsa Frost?”

“Yeah, HR sent an all staff email out letting us know she’d be joining the staff as the new head of finance. She’s apparently super smart and hot as fuck.”

Anna snorts before groaning. “I made a complete fool out of myself in front of her.” She recounts being caught sleeping, nerding out about Disney, and feeling like nothing next to the blonde woman.

“Anna, you’re not nothing,” Kristoff says with a frown.

“I am compared to her, Kris. She’s… she probably has a million college degrees, and I don’t have any.”

“That does not make you nothing.”

Anna sighs and stands. “It doesn’t even matter. She probably has an equally hot as fuck boyfriend, and they live in the lap of luxury.”

“Anna-”

“I gotta go see my new boss. Can you show me where maintenance is? I kinda forgot.” 

Kristoff gets up. “Okay, but don’t put yourself down, Anna. Any woman would be lucky to have you.”

—

The next day, Anna gets a full tour of the facility. Around lunch, she finds herself on the fifth floor cleaning the administrative offices. Poking her head into an empty office, she determines that the coast is clear to empty the trash.

She rounds the desk and searches for a trash can but can’t find one. Pursing her lips, she mutters, “Come out, come out, wherever you are, trash can.” She turns around and faces a wall where multiple diplomas hang. She sucks in air as she realizes whose office she is in.

“Oh, hi, Anna,” Elsa says from the doorway, causing Anna to jump and turn around. 

“Uhh, hi. Sorry, I was just… “ Anna swallows. “I was looking for your trash.”

“Oh, well, I haven’t really made any yet, but if you come back in half an hour, I will.” Elsa smiles that smile that seems to be reserved for Anna as she holds up a container.

“Yeah… I can do that. Enjoy your lunch…” Anna starts to walk out only to come face-to-face with Elsa, who has not left the doorway.

Under the blue-eyed gaze, Anna feels small, and it isn’t just because Elsa is wearing another pair of stilettos. Navy this time, to match a silk navy button-up shirt under a white suit.

“Excuse me,” Anna mumbles to the ground.

“Anna, did I do something yesterday?”

Anna whips her head up to discover that Elsa is biting her bottom lip.

“What? No! No,” Anna shakes her head. “No, you didn’t.”

Elsa can’t look at her now as she lets out a breath. Her shoulders, which Anna realizes were tense, seem to relax. 

“Okay. It felt like I did when you felt suddenly during the break, and then when you left orientation really fast,” Elsa says quietly. “If I did, I’m sorry.”

Anna feels horrible now. “No, Elsa, please. You don’t have anything to be sorry about. I just wanted to go say hi to my friend Kristoff. He works in engineering.”

“Oh,” Elsa says. “Well, in that case…” She closes her eyes for a moment before opening them and looking directly at Anna. “Would you like to go get a coffee one day this week?”

Anna’s mouth drops open. Elsa Frost, who has a business degree and a master’s in finance, wants to get coffee with her? “Coffee? With me?”

“Yes. If you want,” Elsa chews her bottom lip again, and Anna decides that is endearing even if it does seem to stem from Elsa being nervous.

“I want!” Anna says a little too cheerfully. She tells herself to tone it down. “I mean, yes. I would love to.”

—

Anna clocks out and turns to her best friend. “She is so far out of my league, Kristoff.”

“But she wants to get coffee with you. That’s something,” he cocks his head and gives her a haughty look.

“I need to wow her, Kris. I need her to know that I’m smart too.”

“You are smart, Anna. You don’t need to prove that to her or to anyone,” Kristoff says seriously.

“Yeah, but this is Elsa Frost we’re talking about. I need to go into this coffee date ready to dazzle her with everything I know." 

Kristoff sighs. “Anna, just be yourself. I’m sure that’s why she asked you out for coffee anyway.” 

“Maybe, but I still gotta be prepared. But anyway, I gotta go. I’ll see you later,” she grins and walks to her used Toyota Camry. If she’s going to go on a date- is it even a real date?- with Elsa, she needs to start studying up on potential topics.

That evening, Anna watches a National Geographic documentary on Disney+ that succeeds in putting her to sleep half an hour in.

—

Elsa’s work keeps her busy for the rest of the week, but they make a plan to meet at the Starbucks on Biscayne Boulevard on Saturday afternoon.

Rain pours as Anna arrives early with index cards ready. She stayed up Friday night taking notes after doing some googling on Elsa and finding an old college newspaper interview in which she mentioned liking Egyptian history.

She places her order, grabs her coffee when a barista calls out her name, and sits down at a table, waiting nervously.

Less than five minutes pass before Elsa walks in and shakes off the rain. Anna gazes at her as she takes off a long raincoat and brushes her hand through her damp bangs. Then Elsa looks around for her.

She waves and calls out, “Elsa, over here." 

With a grin that could light up the world, Elsa makes her way over to Anna. “Hi,” she says breathlessly.

“Hi,” Anna smiles back. “I already got a coffee, but if you want something, I can get it for you.” 

Elsa shakes her head. “No need. I can grab it. I’m not really in the mood for coffee today. When it rains, that means hot chocolate.”

Anna laughs. “I should have waited for you then. I love hot chocolate.” 

“It’s my favorite,” Elsa grins and drapes her raincoat on the back of her chair. “I’ll be right back. Don’t leave.”

“I won’t.”

When Elsa seemingly makes sure Anna won’t leave, she walks up to the counter, giving Anna time to watch her. 

Elsa’s demeanor changes as she steps up to the barista. Anna remembers when Frank came by to talk to her on their first day. It seems that Elsa isn’t very comfortable in social situations. That much is confirmed when Elsa lets out a deep breath when she is done paying for her drink. And, thinking back on their week, Anna realizes that Elsa only ate lunch in her office. She knows because she picked up Elsa’s trash every afternoon, and there was always an empty container in the bin. Anna wonders how a super brilliant finance lady could be introverted. Don’t you have to do projects and give presentations and stuff in college? Surely, Elsa realizes that she has nothing to worry about with Anna. She’s clearly the more classy, educated one. Anna is the dumb one who has to worry about making a good impression.

When Elsa returns, hot chocolate in hand, Anna shakes herself out of her thoughts. 

“So,” Elsa sits down. “Did you have a good first week?”

“I guess,” Anna replies. “It’s not hard work.”

Elsa tilts her head. “It’s not? I saw you lifting a giant bag of trash into the dumpster. It must have been heavy.”

Anna shrugs.

“Well, I couldn’t do it.” Elsa smiles and lifts up her arm, flexing it. “I’m not exactly the strongest person.”

“It’s not that hard to do,” Anna repeats. “It doesn’t take a brain to do it.” 

Elsa’s face falls slightly at the bitter response. “Oh.”

Anna winces and mentally berates herself for being stupid. “Sorry. I just mean that the work you do is probably more exciting.”

“I suppose,” Elsa smiles briefly. “Numbers make sense to me.”

Seeing an opportunity to turn the conversation around, Anna looks down at her index card quickly. “Did you know that the ancient Egyptians had a decimal system using seven different symbols?”

Elsa looks confused for a minute. “I…”

“And the symbol for 100,000 was a frog or a tadpole,” Anna continues. “That’s kinda funny, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Elsa takes a sip of her hot chocolate. “I used to have a pet frog.”

“That’s cool,” Anna says. “But did you know that the Egyptians’ symbol for 1000 was a lotus plant?”

“Anna-”

“And the symbol for 10,000 was a finger.” Anna holds up her index finger. “How weird is that? You’d think they’d use their fingers for one through ten, but nope. They used strokes for that. So one stroke was for the number one and two strokes was for two, and three stokes for three, an-”

“Anna,” Elsa interrupts with a soft smile. “That’s all fascinating, but I’d really like to get to know you.”

“Oh,” Anna blushes. “What do you want to know?”

“Anything. Did you grow up in Miami?”

Anna shakes her head. “I’m originally from Atlanta. I’m surprised you couldn’t tell. Everyone usually tells me that I have a distinctly Georgian accent.”

Elsa giggles. “I can hear it now; but, honestly, I didn’t pick up on it before." 

“Well, I have lived here for the last ten years. My parents moved here for work. What about you? I mean… you are probably from here, right? Since your uncle and aunt are, ya know, the Frosts.”

 “I did grow up here, but I moved away for college. Decided I needed to experience proper seasons so I went up north to Harvard. What about you? Where did you go to college?”

Anna’s face falls as she shifts in her seat. “I didn’t go.” It isn’t a total lie, but it’s easier to say than “I dropped out after half a semester.” 

Elsa’s eyes widen for a second before she says, “That’s okay. It isn’t for everyone.”

“You don’t have to say that,” Anna says. “I know that’s what educated people say when they meet people like me. You try to make us feel better, but like… it doesn’t.”

“Anna, I’m sorry,” Elsa says softly. “I didn’t mean…”

“You don’t know what it’s like. Employers ask me why I don’t have a degree, and I always have to justify myself.”

Elsa remains silent as Anna continues.

“And then people like you exist.”

“People like me?”

“Super smart, sexy CEOs who have everything and couldn’t possibly see anything in a college drop-out.” Anna replays the sentence in her head and nearly groans at having said “sexy.”

Elsa looks like she’s on the verge of tears as she all but whispers, “Anna, I’m sorry that you think that, but I… I am very interested in you.” Her arms come up and wrap around her abdomen. “I’m sorry I brought school up; I was just trying to get to know you better.”

“Well now you know that I’m not good enough for you,” Anna mutters.

Elsa’s lip quivers, and she shakes her head. “No, I don’t think that." 

“I can’t offer you anything beyond picking up your trash.”

“No, Anna.” A single tear falls down Elsa’s cheek and she quickly wipes it away.

“This was a mistake,” Anna sighs and pushes back her chair. “You deserve more than me.”

Anna hates herself for leaving Elsa at that table in Starbucks, but she knows that Elsa is better off without her.

—

Over the next couple of weeks, Elsa is noticeably gone from her office when Anna arrives to take the trash out. She gets it though. After getting home and thinking about how badly she messed up, Anna feels like she deserves Elsa’s silent treatment. She wouldn’t want to see herself either if she treated herself that poorly.

Even Kristoff told her she was an idiot. In fact, he reminds her daily when she visits him to let him know that she still hasn’t seen Elsa in her office.

“What am I going to do, Kris? How can I fix this?” Anna says into her hands one afternoon as she sits in a chair in the engineering room.

“For starters, you could have a little more self respect, Anna,” he says bluntly. “I know you have confidence and charisma, and you’re brave and blunt. But when it comes to this, you’re so damn afraid that people are going to judge you for not having a college degree. And it sounds like Elsa really didn’t care.”

“I know, but I fucked it up so badly. I let it get to me. I mean, you’ve seen her; you know. She’s pretty and smart, and how can I compare?”

“Jesus Christ, Anna, you’re pretty and smart too,” he says brusquely, as though the tone of his voice will finally drive the point home. “You are very intelligent; you just don’t ever give yourself any credit.” 

“It’s… hard to,” Anna admits. “I feel like not getting my degree is this big weight on my shoulders, and I just feel like I’ll never amount to anything.”

“Amounting to anything isn’t limited to a college degree. I’d say having a loving partner and friends amounts to something. I’d say that loving yourself amounts to something.”

“I know, I know. Easier said than done though. And Elsa… I’ve already fucked things up with her,” Anna sighs.

“Do you really think that?” Kristoff asks, eyeing the newest engineering department guest that stands behind Anna.

“Obviously. I mean, I get it. I made her cry on our first date, if it even was a date. Would you give me a second chance if I made you cry?” 

Kristoff considers his answer for a moment. “I would, provided that you apologized big time and promised to have more faith in yourself.”

Anna rolls her eyes. “Yeah, okay, but it doesn’t matter since I haven’t even seen her since that day.”

A soft cough from behind her causes Anna to freeze in her chair. She turns slowly, and her eyes widen when she comes face to face with Elsa.

Elsa looks slightly terrified and definitely vulnerable as she licks her bottom lip. “Did you know that I don’t care about whether you have a degree? That I saw you that morning and instantly knew I needed to get to know you? Numbers have always been my thing, but I was hoping… am hoping still… that you might be my thing. Sorry that sounded weird, but I’m not good with people normally. I usually talk too fast and don’t make sense, which I would have told you at Starbucks, but I didn’t get a chance. I just… want to get to know you, Anna. Please, let me have the chance.”

Anna opens and closes her mouth for a couple of minutes before she stands up. “I’m sorry, Elsa. For everything. I’d love to get to know you.”

[3shag]

August 1

This month, I am hoping to learn on how to focus on myself. I badly need to focus on my review for the upcoming board exam. Also, I’m hoping that this month would be a healing month and a fresh start for myself since I’d been really busy focusing on my family this past few months.

I pray for knowledge and wisdom.

I pray that I’ll be able to discipline myself not to easily be distracted.

I pray for a productive day everyday.

At the end of this month, It’s a new me. All these things are for my better future. So help me God 🙏🏻

August 2

Actually, I don’t know. The month of July was filled with pain. Still, looking at the positive side of this month was that I’m thankful that I’d finally received my two diplomas.

August 3

What love taught me so far was to be brave enough to let go someone you really love and just continue life. It’s been 6 months since we’d broke up, less than month since my grandma, and our dog left. I can say that I’m not that fully recovered yet because I still recall all the heartbreaking days happened. But, I can also say that I’m fine and fearless enough to go on with life.

August 4

My favorite non-work activity I did this past month was to try workout in the morning, read a fictional book in Wattpad, and chill with family like netflix and drinking beer with them.

August 5

I’d read a fictional story from Wattpad entitled “Chasing in the Wilds”. It’s a love story of a CEO and a civil engineer. This story really inspired me to work hard in achieving my goals. How I needed to focus on my review, work for my family and future, and I know someday I’ll find my living fictional character that every girl would dreamed of.

August 6

I feel normal again. Not so sad, not so happy. Just the neutral feeling. I guess the best feeling I had these past few days was to feel motivated on the things I wanted to do or achieved. I feel so bad when I got nothing to do. It’s like everyday should be an improvement day. I guess, I’m already tired of doing nonsense. Maybe, Its time to focus more on myself.

August 7

Actually, I did nothing on this day since I am having a body pain. But, one thing that brought me a sense of joy was that I have this body pain because I really miss playing badminton and that made me happy that I played again despite of this pandemic.

August 8

The best memories I had when I was a child was that I am able to play outside the house with my childhood buddies. No gadgets, just the usual traditional 90’s games.

August 9

The biggest lesson I’ve learned so far from this week is that time is unstoppable, so, why waste time to nothing. Everyday should be a learning process day. Trying to have productive day and rest if I have to.

August 10

I can be present to someone if I am to hear or listen to all their rants/problems in life. I may not be present physically, but virtually I am trying my best to make them feel better.

August 11

I really don’t know actually. But, I think the plot twist happen in my life right now maybe the days I felt so broke. So lately, I am trying to be resourceful on the things that aren’t not going to be used but has value, so, I tried to sell it online. It’s just a temporary income, so, I probably need to save too and discipline myself. But I’m glad I am not that so broke anymore.

August 12

My past self was too busy on school. Less time on my family and close friends. I can tell now that I’m proud of myself because all those sacrifices I did before when I was on college we’re all worth it.

August 13

The grace I am receiving lately I think my extra income in shopee. At least this time I can now save money for my basic needs and be wise on spending for my wants.

August 14

That everything happening right now is just at the right time.

August 15

Lately, me and my sister have planned to have this “beaded accessories” business. So yeah, I enjoyed doing it and makes me forget my worries temporarily.

August 16

Calming and Relaxing. It made me feel like I’m not worrying anything.

August 17

I pushed myself so much today. I haven’t applied to rest for a while. Maybe because I didn’t prioritize all my task this day so I clutched up everything.

August 18

The moment that they pressured me on my review. I am already pressured by myself and the moment they pushes me even more, it’s totally suffocating. The only courageous words that I am holding onto is that everything happening in my life are just at the perfect time. Mistakes and delays are meant to happen. All these problems are preparing me for something good.

August 19

I am still breathing

I have complete and happy family

We are healthy

We have food to eat

Few close friends but the realest ones

Blessed to buy wants and needs

I graduated college

My family / relatives / friends are safe

Comfortable bed to sleep and rest on

God is always with me

August 20

In today’s situation, all the public servants, front-liners especially from hospitals, volunteers, food drivers or any public transportation drivers, and others who continues their businesses just to serve the needs of others. They are the ones who’s helping and sacrificing theirselves to our community. What I have learned from them was to take good care of ourselves and showing our kindness to them because seeing them tired was really heartbreaking.

August 21

When I didn’t hesitate to ask and comfort my auntie (Ate Lita). The moment I saw her crying while fixing her things, I felt how lonely she was in her life. Everything we’re going through right now, I wanted blame the pandemic. Everyone’s suffering from mental health. Yes, it’s safe being at home but It’s also not healthy anymore being stuck in a house.

August 22

Faith in God. Everything that is happening right now, I always trust in him. No matter how slow my progress is, I know everything’s planned.

Discipline. I always feel guilty when I didn’t review or waste my day to nothing. It’s a good thing because I know that I have a responsibility to do at the end of each day. It’s an add up routine for me to discipline myself to at least review per day. Also, it helped me minimize the use of social media accounts, use of phone, or watch netflix.

Strong. I know that I am strong because I am not giving up. Lately, I am being pressured on my review. I panicked and palpitated when I am stress. I cannot think properly. I know that my anxiety starts attacking me. I pray. I pray. I pray. And after that breakdown, the next day, It feels like I’m totally okay again.

Soft-hearted. I’m glad that I am still that kind of person. I don’t have that so much pride. I know that I am still humble and the kind person you still know.

August 23

1. To put God first in anything and everything.

2. To learn how to use your emotions to think.

3. To learn how to rest and treat myself.

4. Everything is just at the right time.

5. I deserved better. Don’t settle for less.

August 24

It’s okay to feel whatever you’re feeling. So much question on your head and a lot of insecurities on yourself. But you know what, you’re still growing. There’s so much things planned for you. Everything that you questioned about yourself, they’re all just temporary problems. Take it as a challenge for you to surpass. You still have so much things to be learned and you shouldn’t miss it. Just keep on moving forward because there’s a lot of opportunities ahead for you.

August 25

Trust is something that would take you for years to gain it and just a second of mistakes for you to ruined it. It’s one of my most important value in this world. Once I give you that trust, it means I am safe with you and I have no doubts for you. If you break it, I’ll always doubt in you and hard for you to have it back.

August 26

Yesterday. I’m not in a good mood. My body doesn’t want me to do anything. I feel guilty when I am not doing anything productive. But, its a recharged for me. Maybe, yes, I really need that rest for a while for me to think and relax my mind. Reminding myself to take good care of my mental health as well. Resting for a while is healthy, but too much chill can be unhealthy as well.

August 27

The positive changes that happened to me now would be my self-worth. It’s good to be single again. Less worries and problems. Maybe, God really planned this. He knows that I will carry much more pain when I am still in a relationship. This time, I’ll focus more on my personal problems firsts.

August 28

Recently, I am learning to plan all my tasks to do which truly a helpful for me to be more motivated to finish all my tasks. Also, I am reading an inspirational book before I start reviewing my lectures. It also helped me to be calm and inspired at the same time. It’s a slow progress yet it’s still a progress. Trying to not be so hard myself this time.

August 29

I am dreaming about acing that board exam.

I am dreaming about how my future would be.

I am dreaming about giving back to my parents.

I am dreaming about traveling to my dream places.

I am dreaming about buying all my wants.

I am dreaming about a contented life.

All I am dreaming is about my success. Success for me is something that I’ll overcome someday with all these present-day problems. It’s just all dreams but I know it’s not impossible to happen if I work hard and never give up no matter how life throws me curve.

August 30

Maybe, the new builded relationship with my sister. We are trying to start a small business which was her idea and I just support her. We don’t know how to grow and run a business, so, we have misunderstandings. But, we’re also happy on what we are doing because it’s something that you will not get bored or unproductive in a day. We both love arts, maybe someday, as we grow older, we’ll understand each other ever more.

August 31

I cannot believe that I made it. I am somehow healed on all that July heartbreaks. I can say that I’ve overcame all those previous problems because it’s all different now from all my current worries. I am now worrying about passing the board exam. This is what I wanted to happen, to be more focus on my review. I always have a productive day and I even learned to plan my duties to do at the end of each day.

~~~~~

Lord, Thank You. I know that you guided me. You helped me push myself to do better each day. There are downfalls, yes, but you never failed to be so good in me. It’s just a one month, but it truly helped me mold myself even more. I learned a lot from this month of August. I love you, Lord. Thank You for not leaving me.

[radio-ha-ha]

hey folks, yo chick is an engineer now

I had the last presentation of my Bachelor's just yesterday, and I actually got an awesome job as a process engineer

I cannot wait to get to uni with a big "fuck you" sign, get my diploma and blow that place up

[lo-mindpalace]

26 - Walk of Shame

Alternative Universe: The characters are young adults and they are studying in The University of Kansas in Lawrence.

 (SAM’S POV)

I looked at my watch. He was late. My brother was always late and it was annoying me. It was the last year of College for Dean, he was studying Mechanical Engineering. He was more interested in his drawing class and practicing sport rather than the studies but he was good at it anyway. As for me, it was my first year at College, I was in Law School and it was exactly how I imagined it. I was really enjoying this campus and student life, far away from my parents. I was sharing a big apartment with Dean and Charlie – our best friend, but Dean was often outside, dating girls, having one-night stands, … My brother was very popular, he always was. In high school, now in College. And I am known as “Dean’s smart brother” or something, but I don’t really care.

Dean, Charlie and I were supposed to eat together every Tuesday and Friday noon. This Friday, Dean was late and didn’t even text me. I looked at my lunch and sighed again.

“Hey Sam!”

I raised my head and saw Charlie sitting in front of me, in the campus yard.

“Hello, Charlie. How was your morning class?”

“Meh. I was a bit bored so I played League of Legends.” Charlie pouted.

I shook my head. Charlie was doing a bachelor of science in Information Technology. She was very, very talented with computers. She could hack a system in only a few minutes. Somehow, I was proud of her but she scared me sometimes. We met in High school with Dean and since that day, we’ve been best friends. She is such a wonderful person, always here to help. She is very attentive and such a geek. My redhead friend looked around and raised an eyebrow.

“… Where is Dean?”

I sighed and shrugged. Charlie seemed to think and then made a little “Oh.”. I raised an eyebrow, not understanding what was going on. She nodded to herself and looked at me.

“We are on Friday right?”

“Huh… Yes?”

“He was supposed to have a date with Mister Cute Guy yesterday.”

“Oh.” I said. “Castiel.”

We both looked at each other and sighed in amusement. Right. Of course, Dean was late. It was logical now. Dean met Castiel last year – when my brother was in second year and Cas in first year, and in the last five months they were turning around each other, flirting from time to time. My brother figured out he was bisexual when he was at his first year of College. He never really dated a guy, just flirted with them. He always said it was different with a man, he preferred doing things slowly whereas with a woman, he was always ready for a one-night-stand. Maybe he was afraid of judgement? I didn’t know. But the good thing was that no one mocked him for who he was, because Dean was so confident and cool. At least, that’s what Dean wanted to show. I knew the real Dean, the real anxious and vulnerable brother. But even if he was anxious and not self-confident, he was still a cool brother and a good friend.

Castiel was a Western guy, from San Francisco. He had a rich family with a lot of brothers and sisters and cousins. He always had what he wanted and had always obeyed to his parents. After High school, when he was awarded his diploma with high grades, he said no to his parents for the first time ever. They wanted him to become either a vet or a high-ranking business man. But he didn’t want that. He had always had a passion for art and science. So, he left his family to move to Lawrence and start his studies in the Liberal Arts & Science school. His family was against it at first but they didn’t have a choice. Moreover, Castiel’s older brother Gabriel did exactly the same, and the other brother Balthazar moved away one year after Castiel as well. He was a passionate guy, doing History and Art History studies but with many options such as Ecology, Foreign Languages, Anthropology and even Philosophy. This guy always wanted more and more knowledge. He was such a good student as well. His parents sent him money every month but he gave half of it to charities. Castiel didn’t need money thanks to his parents, but he wanted a normal life so he was working at the campus library.

He met Dean when Castiel was trying to find his Art History class and ended up in the Drawing Class. Dean helped him and then my brother offered Castiel to help him for his first year, showing him all the buildings in the campus, even some good spots in Lawrence, and so on. They gradually became friends, obviously, and I became friends with Cas. He was so happy to have friends. He always had either rich friends who were uninteresting, or fake friends who were taking advantage of him just for his money. Dean and I were from a modest family. Our father, John was part of the United States Marine Corps before becoming a mechanic in a garage in Lawrence. The garage was one of Singer’s branch. Bobby Singer was a good friend of John and we considered him as our uncle. Our mother, Mary, was a housewife when we were little and now, she was working at a Café. I guess it was pretty different from Castiel’s former “friends”. But he was happy and I was glad to have a friend like him. He was always embarrassed about his family and situation so he never talked about it, and we respected that decision. But I could see that sometimes he felt uncomfortable when someone was talking about money issues.

Dean and Castiel kissed each other five months ago during the Halloween party. They were both drunk but they liked it and they couldn’t stop thinking about this moment afterwards. So, they were flirting a bit from time to time, analyzing the other. I became tired of their games and Dean knew what I was thinking. So, when he said Cas and him were going on a real date yesterday, the only word that came to my mind was “Finally.” I remembered my brother rolling his eyes, blushing a bit. I didn’t want to know what they did because it wasn’t my business but when I finally saw my brother in the distance, I was certain about one thing. Someone got laid. I nudged Charlie so she could look at this funny show. Dean was walking weirdly, wearing the same jeans and the College jacket, shirt but this scarf wasn’t his. I smiled even more when he saw us and walked toward our table. Gosh, he was so tired, dark rings under his eyes, his tousled hair. He sat next to us and yawned, scratching the back of his neck.

“Sorry, I’m late.” He said with a husky voice.

“Hey Charlie, did Dean just do the walk of shame or am I dreaming?” I said with a hint of amusement.

“Nah, you’re right Sam. I think he did.” Charlie smiled widely.

Dean looked at us with wide eyes.

“Is it that obvious?!”

“Well, first of all, you are wearing the same clothes as yesterday except this scarf.” I said.

“Then you look so exhausted as if you had a partied the whole night.” Charlie said.

“Can we talk about your messy hair?”

“Nah, dude. Can we talk about that big ass hickey?” Charlie said.

Dean blushed beet-red and tried to hide the hickey.

“I… Uh… Well I spent a good night with Cas…” He said with a sudden shy voice.

“Well, I’m sure about that, and I’m sure all the people that saw you coming here are aware about this too.” Charlie said with a chuckle.

“What do you mean?” Dean said.

He looked around and saw some of his friends, the quarterbacks and some of his class winking at him and nodding like the proud friends they were. Dean swallowed hard and gave them a little smile before turning his face to us again. He closed his eyes and mumbled something. I wanted to add something just to annoy my brother but I saw Castiel with a classmate going to a building. He saw us and waved at us with a shy smile and Dean looked at him. They both glanced at each other, Castiel blushing and making an adorable face. Dean smiled and winked at him. Cas entered the building and Dean was still smiling like an idiot before noticing that Charlie and I were staring at him. He cleared his throat and took a sandwich I bought him. He began to eat without saying a word. I rolled my eyes.

“Tell me, Dean. Tell me you are finally officially dating Castiel Novak.” I said, crossing my arms on my chest.

Dean swallowed what he had in his mouth and looked at me and Charlie.

“What a pain in my ass you are, Sammy. Yes. We are officially dating. Now, give me a break. I need to properly eat, drink water, take a shower and go to class. And then, after all this, we can talk about that.”

Dean made a surprised face when I high-fived Charlie. Our redhead friend gave me a bit of money while chuckling.

“Damn, dude. You rock!” She said to me.

“You guys had a bet?!” Dean said.

“Yup. I bet you and Cas would finally officially date and get laid. Charlie didn’t believe me because, well, you took so much time to ask Castiel out.” I said.

“Your brother was right. Congratulation, Deano!” Charlie said while patting Dean’s shoulder.

My brother pouted and shrugged. He made a little amused smile after all, our good mood was too contagious. He blushed a little, probably thinking about his wonderful night and I chuckled while rolling my eyes. I swear… My brother is something. We ate happily until it was finally time for me to go back to class, leaving my best friend and my mushy older brother.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Hope you liked it :)

[verai-marcel]

The Light That You Shine (RDR2 Fanfic, John Marston x F!Reader, Chapter 2 of 6, 18+)

Tags, Warnings, & Notes in Chapter 1.

AO3 Link is here.

Chapter 2 - Love Blooms

Word Count: 2333

You lugged the last bucket of fresh flowers off the delivery truck, placing it with the others at the back of the shop. Wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your gardening glove, you walked back to the truck to say goodbye to the driver. 

"See you tonight, Uncle George! Thanks for the help!" 

"No problem, sweetpea. Maddie is making lasagna tonight to celebrate."

You squealed with delight and waved goodbye as he drove back to the nursery that he and your aunt owned. As you walked back to the shop, you reminisced on the road that life had taken you. 

You grew up with plants, knew how to take care of just about anything that grew from the land. When you were in ninth grade, you decided that you wanted to open up a flower shop, and while your parents wanted you to go to college, you were stubborn. Reading about starting your own business and working your summers at the nursery, you finally convinced them to let you follow your dream. 

But on the day you graduated from high school, when you should have been walking across a stage to accept your diploma, you were instead in an ER waiting room, being told, in no uncertain terms, that your parents did not survive the car crash.

Two years later, the pain was still fresh. But they had taught you to live your life by moving forward and doing your best, to love the world, and to see the good in everything, even when things were down. 

So you moved on with your life, determined to not let your sadness get you down. After all, you knew that they'd want to see you thrive.

But some nights were worse than others.

Your parents had willed you everything, and with those funds, you rented a live-work unit with a small shop downstairs and a studio apartment above it. You were planning to put your all into your business, marketing on social media and researching floral trends to stay up to date so that you could stay ahead. 

You stayed so busy preparing to open your shop, in fact, that you didn't have time to be sad. No time to think meant no time to be depressed. 

It helped that Aunt Madeline, or Aunt Maddie as you usually called her, and Uncle George immediately came over after the accident and helped you sort everything out, from supporting you emotionally to aiding you in figuring out the estate sale and everything else in between. If not for them, you would have been in a far worse place, mentally, financially, and physically. You had been living with them two towns over until yesterday, when you finally finished moving everything over to your new place. It had taken a week of steadily packing and moving and unpacking your things, but you were done with that part. 

Now for the exciting task. 

You looked around the empty shop, seeing in your mind's eye where your displays were going to go, what colors you were going to make the walls, where your work table would be set up, everything. 

Stretching your arms above your head, you put your headphones on and got to work. 

***

John loved the open road. Driving between towns where there was almost nothing but farmland and blue skies, he felt free. Glancing at his mirror, he saw Arthur following him on his Indian Scout, a content look on his face.

He must be enjoyin’ himself, he thought as he revved his engine and took the highway exit. It had been a long time since he had passed through this small town. He wondered if one of his favorite fast food places was still around.

Arthur followed, giving him a ‘what the hell’ look as he pulled up next to him at the stop light.

“Felt like lookin’, s’all!” John yelled.

“You wanted a damn burger, more like!”

“You don’t have to come!”

“I ain’t missin’ Buffalo Joe’s!”

The light turned green and they sped off.

***

You were in the middle of washing your store windows when two men came walking up to you, looking confused.

“Can I help you with something?” you asked kindly, though their tough exteriors put you slightly on guard. Can’t judge by how they look, you reminded yourself.

One of the men had on a cowboy hat and five o’clock shadow, with eyes the color of an atoll island. He looked at the other man, with his leather jacket and torn jeans, looking like he stepped out of an 80s music video. His shoulder length dark brown hair looked thick and luxurious, and his warm grey eyes looked around before they came to rest on you.

“Uh, excuse me, miss, but was there a burger place called Buffalo Joe’s around here?”

You blinked. His voice was like electricity running through your body; you hadn’t expected that reaction and had to pause a moment before replying. “Sorry, that place closed a year ago,” you said. “It was here though.”

The man cursed.

“John!” the other man mumbled angrily.

John looked back at you, his eyes softening. “I’m sorry, just…”

“Miss the place?” you offered with a smile.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Well, the owners opened up a new restaurant two blocks down the road called Triple Patty’s. Same burgers, but dressed up a bit.”

He lit up at the news, and his smile immediately charmed you. Despite his rough get-up, he suddenly looked younger and more innocent. “Thanks for the tip.” He turned to his friend. “C’mon Arthur, you can buy me a burger.”

Arthur snorted. “You ain’t pretty enough for chicken nuggets, let alone a burger.”

You laughed at John’s offended expression. “Have fun, you two.”

John waved at you, shooting you a cheeky grin as he left with Arthur, and you found your eyes following the shape of his back as he walked away.

***

“Hey. Earth to John.”

“Huh? What do you want?”

“You been spacing out since we got here, you still thinkin’ about Dutch?”

“What? No. Can’t do nothin’ about him.”

“Then… oh. I see. I see what’s goin’ on here.”

John put down his burger and glared at Arthur. “And what exactly is goin’ on?”

“The girl.”

He picked his burger up and took a couple more bites before speaking again. “What about her?”

“You wanna talk to her again."

John's shrug was anything but nonchalant. "She was cute. Who wouldn't want to talk to her?" 

Arthur's chuckle was equal parts teasing and sympathetic. "Go talk to her. I'll meet you back at the club."

John blinked, surprised. Then he narrowed his eyes. "What's the catch?" 

"Can't I do anything nice for you without arousin' suspicion?" 

"No," John answered flatly. He finished his burger, glaring at Arthur. 

Arthur laughed. "Go on, get goin' before you miss her."

John gave him one final glare before he took off without a look back.

Arthur waved down a waitress and paid the bill. As he left the restaurant and walked back to his motorcycle, he looked in the direction that John was headed.

“Good luck, kid.” 

***

You were carrying a large box when you heard a voice from outside the shop. You set the box down on the back counter and turned around. 

John waved, a sheepish grin on his face. 

Coming back to the entrance, you opened the door. "Hi!" you said cheerfully. "Did you want a different restaurant?"

"Ah, no, that place was great! I just wanted to thank you again…" He trailed off as his eyes took in the disaster zone that was your shop in progress. "You, uh, need a hand with anything?" 

"Oh, no, I got this," you immediately replied, not wanting to trouble a complete stranger with some of the hard labor that you had planned. 

"Please," he said, stepping closer. His earnest expression tugged at your heart, and you found yourself unable to tell him no again. 

"Well, if you insist, then could you help me carry a couple of boxes from my car?"

***

Somehow three hours passed before you knew it, and as John helped you move the last display case into place, you noticed the sun was setting. 

"Oh my god, I didn't realize how late it was!" You turned to him, about to ask him something when you caught him stretching, his arms pulling at the tight shirt, showing his muscles bulging. A bead of sweat glided down his neck, and you suddenly had a strong urge to lick it. Then he turned to you, and you discovered that his eyes were a unique mix of grey and hazel; caught in the beauty of them, you were stunned to silence.

“What?”

You quickly pulled yourself back to reality. "Uh, I really appreciate all your help today. Can I buy you dinner?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," he said with a wry grin. "You beat me to it."

You laughed, utterly charmed by him. "So I win?”

“I guess so.” He came closer to you. Your heart started to beat faster as you realized that he really was a very attractive man. “How about I buy you dinner first, then you can buy me one. Don’t feel right getting two meals in a row.”

You grinned. What a sly fox, getting you to agree to two dates at the same time.

Wait, was he asking you out on a date?

You froze. You hadn’t had much time to date, not since your life had changed so drastically two years ago. And even in high school, your ‘dates’ were just going to the movies with a boy and then going home right afterwards. You looked at John, his poise full of self-assuredness, as if he walked through life knowing his place in the world, and wondered for a split second what it would be like to get close to a man like this.

You were so deep in your own mind that you hadn’t noticed when he had taken a few more steps closer to you. Now he was within arm’s reach of you. He called your name out softly, his eyes focused on you.

“I, uh, yes. Two dates. I mean dinners. Two dinners. Sounds good to me,” you stammered.

He smiled knowingly at you; he had heard your faux pas and had commited your words to memory. “Great, glad to hear it.”

***

You gave John one of your newly printed business cards, too excited about the fact that you had business cards to worry about how silly of an act it was. But he took the card and drew a heart on the back of it as he wrote down your personal phone number. After adding your number to his phone and texting you so you had his number as well, the two of you planned for a dinner date the next night, and he took off. As you watched him ride away, you wondered if you were wise in following your gut rather than your logic. 

Locking up your shop, you got in your car and drove to your aunt & uncle’s house, looking forward to Aunt Maddie’s lasagna for dinner.

***

You spent the next day working on the orders that had already been placed, mostly by friends and relatives who wanted to support your business. You were grateful for their support and worked diligently, mulling over your designs again and again, agonizing over every choice. It was their orders that you were going to use to start your social media accounts to advertise, so you wanted to make sure they were absolutely perfect.

You were so wrapped up in your work that you didn’t notice how fast time had flown.

“Hey,” John said casually as he walked through the double glass doors.

You poked your head up past the half wall that separated your work area at the back of the shop from the retail area. You saw him looking quite cleaned up, dressed in a dark green button up short sleeve shirt, which he wore open over a plain white shirt, with faded blue jeans.

And you promptly panicked.

“Oh my god, I forgot the time, I’m so sorry!” You started to clean up your tools, but when you looked back at the bouquet you were working on, you started wondering if you should’ve added that tiger lily or not.

“Are you in the middle of work?” he asked, coming closer. He looked at your bouquet and tilted his head.

“What do you think?” you asked.

“Looks a little too orange,” he said bluntly.

You looked back at the bouquet. He was right. You took out the tiger lily, setting it aside. 

“You didn’t have to change it,” he said as you turned the bouquet on its lazy susan, observing it from all angles.

“No, you were right, it seemed a little too warm. Needs some cooler colors to balance it.” You grabbed some bellflowers and added them around the edges instead. “Perfect.” Turning to him, you smiled, happy with your work. “Thanks!”

John smiled and looked down at his feet. “You’re welcome,” he mumbled. He looked up again. “Shall we go, my lady?”

You laughed. “Wow, a gentleman.” You looked down at yourself; you were wearing a dumpy black T-shirt with a pair of bright purple denim shorts, all under your florist apron.

“Um, can you give me some time to shower and get dressed?”

John leaned in and sniffed your neck. “You smell like flowers. And you look good.” He pulled back, unaware of the effect his action and his comments were having on your heart. “But if you want to, I’ll wait.”

You looked at the clock that you had hung on the back wall. You looked back at John, who was looking at you like he wouldn’t care if you were wearing a potato sack, he would have still said the same thing. 

“Nah, fuck it, let’s go.”

-------------------

Chapter 3

[ecto-american]

Photo Finish

For the Phic Phight, for @axoltheaxolotlqueen

Summary: Engaged to be married, Danny and Sam sort through some old photos for the wedding slideshow. D/S TransDanny and TransSam

On FFN and AO3

Rating: T for boob mention

Inspiration: Phic Phight

Pairings: Danny/Sam

Warnings: Some mild sad

Other Notes: For Axol, who requested "Trans!Danny fluff" and also Tucker is genderfluid in this bc I said so. Also x2: this is lowkey for trans visibility day, but UhhhHH couldn't post it yesterday on the actual day since it's for phic phight lol

123456789

"God, you looked like such a dork," Sam teased him. Danny turned to see what his fiancée was referencing.

It was a photo of them, on their first official date, to homecoming their freshman year. He was still pretty lanky and scrawny then, his hair still at an odd, shaggy length but still gelled for the occasion. The suit fit him a tad awkwardly, but he still remembered the excitement of wearing one for the first time. God, he was so proud then, but now it was just embarrassing to see.

Sam on the other hand, seemed to never have that awkward phase, and she didn't have a hint of it then. In a dark purple and black dress, heels, she stood taller than him with long hair that was curled. She looked stunning, makeup already perfected.

The photo in question was picked out and set aside on the table Sam sat at in their apartment. Four boxes of photos, open and being sorted through for photos to be sent to Tucker, so he could put the powerpoint together.

"Hey, I was like, thirteen," he defended himself, and he reached over to try to take it out of the pile, but Sam slapped his hand.

"No!" she scowled. "I want that for the wedding slideshow Tucker's making."

"You can't pick anything where I look less dorky?" he complained. Sam grinned, shifting through more photos.

"Oh, is that a challenge?" she asked. Danny narrowed his eyes at her.

"Don't you dare," he threatened. Sam's grin only widened, and she looked faster before pulling a photo out. Danny leaned across the dining room table for her, only for her to lean back into the couch and holding the photo out of reach. "SAM!"

"Come on, it's funny!" she replied.

She turned to show him the photo, of Danny waving around his binder in one hand, a margarita in the other. It was the backstory that made it funny to her. Danny, drunk as a skunk, was forced to take his binder off by his girlfriend. If he didn't then, he would never do it later and risk getting hurt. He spent the remaining hour he was allowed to roam free showing it to people, saying that his tits were freed from prison but that they were scheduled to be executed soon.

"Sam, your grandma's gonna be at the wedding, you really want her to see?" he protested. Sam snorted.

"Ida's seen it, she thinks it's funny," Sam gave a wicked smile.

"SAM!"

"Oh, Danny," Sam cooed, changing the subject. She pulled another photo from the pile out to show him. "This is one of my favorite pictures, we have to include this."

Danny glanced at it, and his heart instantly melted. He slipped into the seat across from her to take the photo, staring at it. By random chance, their surgeries were on the same day. Sam having breast implants, and Danny having his top surgery. It started a joke that Danny was giving his tits to her, or that Sam was stealing Danny's for herself, and the hospital had allowed for the two to share a room. It was against policy of course, but it hadn't stopped Sam from sneaking out of her bed to slip into Danny's. The couple were cuddled the best they could and napped from an exhausting day when Tucker had taken the photo for them.

"Mine too," he replied softly. "Tucker was the best." The techno geek, the couple could never thank their best friend enough for it, spend nearly two weeks taking care of the two and helping them out. "Okay, but if we have that, we need to also have like, the one of Tucker helping me."

Sam burst into giggles as she watched Danny look for it, eventually producing the image. Ida had taken it, finding the situation hilarious. Danny was nervous as hell about proposing to Sam. And Tucker, man they were such a bro, had volunteered to let Danny practice on them. Tucker had dramatic tears, hands on their cheeks in a fake scream of joy with Danny on one knee, trying to keep from rolling his eyes as he practiced the big question.

"Absolutely," she agreed with a sigh. "We have a lot of time we can fill, especially since we're not doing baby photos."

Ugh, absolutely not. There was no way Danny was going to show the extensive list of guests photos of him as little baby [redacted] Fenton, in a dress or skirts. Nor was Sam interested in having photos be shown of baby [redacted] Manson in a dorky sailor suit, as per rich person family tradition.

"We can do our graduation photos, like college," Danny suggested.

"Oh, absolutely. I looked so great in that, I finally had actual hips," Sam agreed immediately.

"Same, my beard was finally growing in," Danny nodded. He finally found it, and he took it out the photos for them to both look at.

Danny and Tucker had graduated together, their diplomas held in computer science, Danny, with a full beard, in mechanical engineering. Sam still stood with them, but in a dark purple dress and her famous black bat purse. Sam had graduated a year after them due to her double major in business and animal science, both of which she held proudly in her photo with Tucker and Danny in nice suits, on either side of her. By Sam's graduation, Danny had finally given in and shaved, staying clean shaven ever since. Nobody told him having a beard was going to be so much work. Who knew you still had to trim and shave certain areas lest you began looking like a crazed mountain man? Maybe one day he'll try again, but for his wedding, he was going to be facial hair free.

"Can you believe it's just two months away?" Danny asked, mostly wondering aloud to himself.

"No," Sam confessed. Her attention was on a photo she had found. Danny immediately knew based on her expression that it was a childhood photo. "...Honestly I'm still surprised sometimes that I made it this far."

He gave a nod of understanding, his throat tightening. They were the lucky ones. They had families that loved and supported them from the start. But even then there was always that horrible gnawing feeling, that loathing of the time you lost. The crippling self doubt after the mandatory therapy and evaluations of doctors. There were times he was surprised he made it this far too.

"...Yeah," was all he could think to say.

His hand moved across the table, and Sam's had immediately met him halfway. Their fingers interlaced, and they remained silent, mourning briefly the lives they could have had if things were different. Of course, they were happy now. But sometimes…

He cleared his throat with a small cough. Things were the way they were. The past didn't matter. He was here now, presenting as he wished, and he had built a life worth living. It was still more than the hundreds of thousands of people could ever imagine having.

"But I'm glad I'm here with you now," Danny told her. She looked to him with a warm smile, and he knew she had the same thoughts as him. The circumstances were not ideal, but both of them had made the best of it.

"I love you," she spoke softly before lightly tapping her thumb against his hand. "I think I'm gonna make some pasta. Want some?"

"I would love some pasta, Mrs. Fenton."

The term made her visibly brighten more, and with a quick peck, she got up to make lunch.

[bitter-13-suite]

UN(H)ARMED

If you are having a good day and do not wish to read about potentially depressing -- but real -- things, please do scroll down.

Do you all remember that famous factory in Chernobyl that bounced away like dynamite in the Eighties (1986)? Perhaps you were not born then or too little to comprehend what was going on in the USSR at the time, but everyone, young or old, is at least a bit informed about what resulted from the explosion: 

R a d i o a c t i v i t y -- everywhere,

a reactor blew up, releasing about 5% of its radioactive contents into the Eastern European air, therefore leading to many deaths, in a span of time more or less long, as well as forever contaminated people, soil, buildings, cattle and even their own children and the ones that were born afterwards.

WHY CHERNOBYL, PRAY TELL?

Well, as some of you know, I am French and currently live in France.

I moved out of my mum’s house to settle in Rouen, Normandy for some years, in order to learn music theory in more depth and get a diploma ticket out of the ride.

I was born in this town in the vicinity of Rouen, a few decades ago, and I couldn’t wait to go back here, after all this time in the much too warm South-East of the country.

The rainy and grey weather’s lovely, especially once compared to the dry, aggressive and hot weather I’ve had to suffer every Summer for most of my life. I like being here and walking down the streets to the sound of Mötley Crüe, DethkloK or Wintersun in my ears as I feel the gentle wind blow on my face.

However, as I woke up this morning, ready to go to class to do some ear training with my teacher, my mum and my best friend both sent me startling messages, telling me to check whether I was to go to university or stay home until further notice because they had read startling things.

A factory, based in the Left Bank of Rouen, exploded at about 2:30am on September 26th. One of the numerous factories run under the Lubrizol name.

(Hang on in there, I’ll explain why I mentioned Chernobyl earlier in this post a bit further down.)

For those of you who don’t know about the brand, they basically make specialty chemicals for transportation, industrial and consumer markets. They also make additives for engine oils etc.

Well, one of those things exploded at about 4 miles from my flat (or 6.5 km for those in the know). A huge, dark, smelly & toxic cloud of smoke took over 12 towns in the vicinity of Rouen, including the one where I live and where I go to school, to the point where the area’s Prefecture told people to either stay home or stay in the closest building because of a very dangerous explosion and the then rather unknown risk for people. One of the very first things that the authorities ordered was a 500 meter perimeter to be drawn around the burning factory, and evacuate each and every one of the people who were in the aforementioned area. Nothing about the potentially radioactive quality of the toxic cloud.

I turned on the radio a bit later, sipping on some very much welcomed tea that I had brewed before I got the messages, and the reality of it all hit me; the explosion produced a huge noise, black rain was falling down on people’s houses and vegetable gardens, and everyone there was told to be extremely cautions and limit their movements to the world of the outside to important things. Even bus drivers had to stop working, a bit later in the day.

Also: I was told not to go to class for the whole day, due to a generalised shutdown until further notice. I had never known such a day in my life before yesterday, where I was told to stay home rather than go to school.

I kept myself informed throughout the day, using too much of the 4G data that I have left until next month, and tried to keep myself busy by watching films that I have stored on my external hard drive.

(Hold on a bit longer, almost there.)

Then, at something like 9pm, my bedroom started to smell of motor oil. I picked up my red scarf and tied it around my face to make a mask sort of thing out of it, and wondered if the other rooms in the flat also reeked of car chemicals.

The bathroom turned out to be smelly, but the kitchenette-living room was the worst; the smell pierced my eyes and nose like huge needles, and I had to shut the door to that area of the flat again. Still no info regarding a potential risk of radioactivity & suffocation, despite the cries of many people whose throats were on fire, and whose eyes were watering from the pain.

About two hours ago, I decided to check the other rooms again, taking care to shut the doors after I was finished gathering info. The bathroom was smelling less badly, but the living room reeked of this motor oil kind of smell so much that I almost had a coughing fit. The acrid smell prickled my eyes, and I had to get away from it. Back to my bedroom. No more info on anything radioactive, and I saw that the University campus would be reopened, starting from tomorrow morning, despite the obvious risk and terrible smell passing through every wall and every window there. One of my teachers cancelled his music history class, a really interesting one at that.

Apparently, university students are immune to toxic vapes!

There is a Lubrizol factory in Rouen, but also in Le Havre (meaning harbour, [safe] haven -- the irony), a grey, sad-looking port town in the very North of the Normandy region. The latter exploded about three weeks ago, no victims, no answer as to how and why it did. Not much coverage and I discovered that something that serious had happened only a day ago.

Yesterday morning, the second one of the whole region followed in its steps, spreading more toxic fumes and horrid smells, for a reason that remains officially unknown. No victims, no one physically harmed, but people have been exposed to a health risk that was undermined by... the death of one of our former Presidents, Jacques Chirac.

Only the local media covered the happenings of yesterday whilst still broadcasting a few music tracks to allow people to take a breather.

The bigger money-makers focused on Chirac’s death. Don’t get me wrong -- despite his questionable actions throughout his presidency, I liked him too, and I grew up with him -- but it was still less important than keeping people informed and safe.

Maybe the cloud of smoke stopped before it reached the University campus in my area, as the radioactive cloud in Chernobyl did by stopping at the French frontier -- we’ve literally been told so for so many years.

Still nothing about the possibly -- even slightly -- radioactive fumes that thousands and thousands of people have inhaled.

Here we are, physically unharmed (?), but mentally harmed, hurt and disappointed.

The media pulled a Chernobyl again, and here they are, still talking about a famous grampa’s passing.

[jjco128]

The different time. Ch.1

It has been ten years since Rosa died and Michael took the blame for it. After the incident, Michael decided to go to college, because he realized that he cannot protect Isobel and Max if he kept staying in Roswell. He needed to learn more about the space and the universe. He needed to find where they came from and how to go there. He still remembered vividly the day he left for UNM, Isobel was crying from the day before. Max hugged him politely but didn’t look at him into the eyes. Michael threw himself into the study. He only went to a few parties and didn’t join any clubs. All he cared about is to get what he needed to know and find a way to go back home. He has taken full course loads and extra courses during summers. Four years later, Michael graduated with PhDs in astrophysics and mechanical engineering. He was supposed to go back to Roswell after graduation. However, when the time he got his diplomas, he didn’t want to go back. He was scared of going back to the place where his dream and loves were broken. So, when he found an opening at NASA in DC, he took the chance to escape as far as possible. Then, four years turned into ten. Finally, after a decade, Michael caught the wind that the Air Force is going to collaborate with NASA in New Mexico. He felt that it is his chance.

It took Michael three days to drive from DC to New Mexico. Michael took his time to let all the excitement, worries and fears to set in. When he sees the “Welcome to Roswell” board on the side of the highway with alien singles on it, Michael can’t help but smiled. It looked likes nothing has changed. Nither Iz nor Max know he is coming back. Michael decided not to tell them, so Iz would not throw him a party.

Michael heads to Max’s place first once he arrives Roswell. While approaching Max’s house, he can feel the warmth in the chest. He rings the bills and waits. He hears footsteps and then the door opens.

Max stands beside the door, staring at Michael for minutes. The silence is long enough to make Michael uncomfortable, so Michale breaks the ice.

“Hi.” He said.

“Hi… Michael?” Max replies with uncertainty in his tone and is still processing the situation.

Max’s reaction amuses Michael, and he rolls his eyes “Of course it’s me, who else looks like this?” Michael points himself.

Max laughs and steps forward to give Michael a tight hug “It has been a long time. Why didn’t you say you are coming back?”

It’s a relieve to see that Max happens to see him. They have grown apart since that night.

“It’s a bad time? I can come back later.” Michael says

“No, no. Come on in. Iz is in here too.” Max steps aside, letting Michael in.

Isobel is lying on the couch with a bottle of beer in her one hand and her phone in the other.

“What makes you that long. I thought you are adopted by aliens,” she says while still typing something on her phone.

“Good to know you still have your humor, Iz.”

Isobel immediately lit her head, surprised. “Michael? what are you doing here? When you came back? Why didn’t you tell me? And you have not called me for two weeks already.”

All Micahel can give her is a big goofy smile. He is not a fan of being questioned by anyone, but Isobel is an exception. Luckily, Max saves Michael in time.

“Why don’t you set down. Do you want a beer?” he offers.

“That would be great, thanks. ” Michael says.

Max nods slightly and moves toward to kitchen, and Michael sets down beside Isobel. Isobel stares at Michael with an expression that is mixed of amusement.

Michael gives her a side eye “Stop staring at me like that. I came back from Washington, not from death.”

“Well, you didn’t come back for the last Christmas and Thanksgiving. I thought you were not coming back for the reunion either”

“What reunion?” Michael is confused.

“The high school reunion. It’s next week. I sent you the invitation weeks ago.”

“I must miss it.” Michael murmured. He has been busy packing stuff and taking care of his works in the DC office.

“Wait, if you are not here for the reunion, why are you here then? No offense. I am glad you are here.” Isobel says and Max is coming back with beers.

“I decided to come back…. Hm….. permanently.” Michael lays back on the couch and makes himself comfortable.

Both Isobel and Max’s eyes widen. “You mean you are moving back? ” Max asks.

“Yep. that is the plan. Hope I am still welcome here.”

“Of course! It has been forever. I thought you were never going to back here. ” Isobel says excitedly while hugging Michael.

Max hands Michael his beer and sets down across them. “Glad to hear, Michael, we miss you.” he smiles fondly. “So, what is your plan?”

Michael takes a sip of his beer and says “I transfer to the NASA center here and….. Also, Air Force hires me as their consultant. ”

Both Isobel and Max look at Michael with worries. “Air Force. Are you sure about it, Michael?”

“They have no reason to suspect. I am just a consultant.” Michale assures them.

“Anyway, we are proud of you, Michael,” Max says and Isobel nods with a smile.

Michael looks at them fondly. Their approval means a lot to him. He has been worrying that they would be mad at him for leaving for a decade.

“I can’t forgive you for not calling ahead, Michael.” Isobel points a finger at Michael “and your hairs are significantly worse.”

They all laugh.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The second day morning, Michael wakes on the couch. He rubs his eyes and looks around. He still in Max’s house. Three of them chatted until midnight with beers and finally, they were all too tired and too drunk to drive anywhere. So they all slept in Max’s place. Michael stands up, but he is still disorientated. He balances himself on the side of the couch while Max comes out from the bathroom.

“Hey. you look like shit” Michael smirk.

“So do you. Take my shower if you like. I need to get ready to work.” Max says.

“ Thanks for the hospitality. I will make myself out after I get clean up.”

“You are more than welcome to stay, you know.”

“Thanks, I will better find my own place since I am going to stay for the long term,” Michael says and walks toward the bathroom.

Michael feels like to check out Faster Ranch first. He bought an airstream a few years back and Mr. Faster didn’t mind him to camp at his ranch. Whenever he came back, he would spend a couple of nights. He always feels safe when he is there, feeling close to his home. When Michael approaches the Faster Ranch, he realizes there are movements around his trailer, which is unusual. Expect some tourists, locals don’t come here during the days because it is hot and nothing else to see. When he drives closer, he sees a couple of men in military uniforms.

Michael jumps out of the car and stops Mr. Ranch just finish talking to them. Mr. Ranch also sees Michael coming.

“Michael. Just about time. I was going to call you.”

“What’s going on here?”

“Air Force is acquiring the land, you got to move the trailer” he pats Michael’s arm and walks away.

Michael looks back to his trailer, there is someone standing right in front of the door trying to peek into his trailer from the window that is covered with paper. Michael does not like people to touch his stuff. Where he was used to working, there was even a rule “Don’t touch Dr. Gurien’s stuff without permission.” Although it’s not a good idea to piss off your future colleges, Michael does not really care anyway. He walks toward the man and grabs his arm.

“Hey! That is private property…..”

His voice dies down the second the guy turns around. Alex, Alex Mance, in the air force uniform, without his eyeliner and nose ring. He looks different, but still the same. Michael subconsciously tightens his grip. He stares at Alex’s face, feeling like the time has stopped. He does not move an inch, not until Alex’s eyes fall upon his hand. He quickly releases and tries to hide his shaky hand behind.

“Alex.” Michael doesn’t know why he still calls him the first name, probably thought that he doesn’t need to call his name ever again unless it is in his dream. He continues,

“Finally a real Manes’ man, your father must be proud.” He eases out the sentence as his eyes linger to the man behind Alex, his father.

“Three-quarters of one” Alex bends down to knot on his right leg, making the sound that definitely does not belong to human fresh.

Michael feels his stomach drops as the sound echos in his head. He feels sick and the emotion is hitting so hard against his physical body that Michael can feel the pain. But he has to push it down, knowing if he let anything fly around with his power in front of Air Force will be the end of everything.

“Gurien.” Alex let out a heavy breath “what are you doing here in this trailer. Definitely doesn’t look legal.”

“It’s my vacation home. A lot of weed, casual sexes and, oh, plan to overthrow the government ?” he says with a quick smirk.

“I thought you left Roswell,” Alex says quietly

“I came back yesterday. And I will be your guys' new consultant.”

“Really? ” Alex asks with disbelief.

“Yep. Dr.Gurien, head engineer of NASA. I am looking forward to working with you. Airman Manse.”

Alex straightens his posture and shakes Michael’s hand “Glad to meet you, Doctor.”

They do not break eye contact and stare at each other until someone approach Alex from the back.

“Captain Manse, we finish up here.”

“Ok, thanks,” Alex replies and looks back to Michael.

“I better get going. I will come back to move this thing later.” Michael starts backing up and gives Alex the last longing look before he turns around.

“Gurien. I will see you around? ” Alex calls out behind Michael.

Michael turns his head around and smiles. Although he really wants to kiss Alex right now. He decides not to do it because Jesse Manse is staring at them intensely. He would probably try to arrest Michael for AFD.

“So here.Captain.” Then he reluctantly walks away.

[sayurimiyako-blog]

Something new…

“Why is it important to start new now and let go of things that I don’t need on my way forward, whether they are good for me or are just another stone in my way to the top of my goals?”

Yeah I got my diploma from the German kind of High school about three weeks ago and believe me I had three awesome weeks. But some of my friends are leaving already for internships and universities ore for one year abroad. And they all know what they want and what they want to do and I feel lost

The last three weeks were kind of a mixture of a completely turned biorhythm, party s till 6 am and some really serious talks about the future. And it was awesome but reality hit me right now. One of my best friends left yesterday and we spent a lot of time there to film some scenes for a short movie he is doing for some contest and his energy and passion about getting the perfect shot hit me very hard. I started thinking all over again what do I want to do?

Of course I got some plans, I’ll go to Australia in autumn around October or November, haven’t figured it out yet. Do some work and travel, explore the world, live some incredible experiences.

I hope it will work. But after that...

I’d like to study some kind with engineering but I got a problem. I live in a small village near a town which is kind of big but not big enough. For me there are two options: I’ll go to a university in Munich and stay in Germany or I’ll try to get in a college in the US.

Because I have an indescribable desire to live there although I’ve never been there before. And now I’ve been researching and thinking for a while what I really want and I don’t know it yet. I don’t know what I can afford and one other thing is the long distance relationship to my boyfriend. I can’t stay here forever I want to go and see something new. And I hope I will find it.

But writing this down feels good. And I got some weeks of summer left, it all has just started.

I’ll write

Sayuri Miyako

[littlewhiteumbrella]

A Very Late Eulogy

My father was named after the prestigious Oscar Awards. And my grandparents could have had never been more right because he was in every aspect, an Oscar. He was an overachiever, a superlative, a star.

His was a life of taking chances, defying expectations, making a dent in the right places - he sometimes did all these even before the sun rises. It sounds like a ridiculous exaggeration - but no. I wouldn’t even be close to exacting the man.   

But for the life of me, I will try.   

At age 9, he started helping my grandma by selling cigarettes and newspapers on the streets of Pasay. He was a grade 3 student in Raphael Palma sing-song shouting “Manila Tiiiiiimes, Bulle-tin, Manila Tiiiiiiimes”. He would tell us this story like it was yesterday, demonstrating the chant with a high pitch tone (piyok), a lopsided face and arms carrying an imaginary box (kaha) filled with cigarettes, Stork and that day’s news.   

He was the best storyteller.   

He had a powerful speaking voice too - clear and crisp - the kind that commands a room and does not need to repeat itself. He had an even better singing voice. Two traits I unfortunately didn’t acquire (thanks, Ma). My father can sing any song in tune, play the guitar (self-taught) and his s old oak Yamaha that still hangs in our house had once seen endless days of finger-twisting intros to Stairway to Heaven and Hotel California. He was a big collector of VHS and DVD live concerts and the reason why I knew about Queen, Paul McCartney, Simon & Garfunkel, Bread, Engelbert Humperdinck, The Eagles, Rod Stewart, The Bee Gees and of course, Tom Jones. His version of My Way was my first encounter of the song and with all due respect to Tom Jones, and for that matter the rest of the Filipinos, I think his way was best.   

None of his talents I got. But I’d like to think I got some of his work ethics. My dad never knew how to be lazy. He would always say, if you have two hands and two feet, you have everything you need to do what needs to get done. He was the middle child who was not afraid to take charge. He went away for a while to work in Saudi Arabia, rolled up his sleeves, grew his hair long, wore a furry trench coat. He looked even cooler in faded sepia photos, showing no traces of hardship as an OFW, away from family, away from the motherland. He said wherever we go, we should “do what the Romans do”. Learn and respect - “respetar, anak”, he would say - do that and you would be fine and respected too.   

Even in Spanish, he was right.   

My father didn’t graduate with a university diploma. It was unclear why he dropped out of Mechanical Engineering on his third year but that didn’t deter him from having a successful career. At one point he was captain of a fleet of ships in Cebu, travelled the country from Batanes to Davao, got funny salutes and was called ‘chief’ by men bigger and taller than him. He was an operating manager, a general manager and an owner of a bus company. At one point, he was giving speeches every Sunday to about 80 employees, without a microphone. It must have been very exhausting but he kept on going.  He was working from age 9 to 59 - him and my mom both. By working hard, they gave us the best life, best family vacations, best education - this while also putting many of my cousins, even distant relatives to school. They shared their fruits of labor and did so with very open hearts. And I would like to think life had been pretty generous to them too.   

When my dad had cancer, he was not expected to last a year. As with any other stage 4 CA, hope was a stretch. But we hoped anyway. My dad lost all his hair some of his physical state, but not his spirit or humor. Sure he had some bad days but he would still make jokes with the doctors and nurses, still make silly faces with me in Photobooth, and in the exception of his last night in the hospital, still making plans.   

He was a fighter – a real one. It wasn’t just about beating cancer. It was everything. It was the everyday difficulty that he made to look easy. He took those sharp breaths, braved those weak walks and smiled when he probably knew what was to come. He made us feel like death was ”fake news” and encouraged us to go on as before. He showed us how. He bought flowers for my mom, took us out on dates, didn’t cave to my sister when she wanted to quit her job in New York - and even bought me a suitcase so I can pursue my then offer to go abroad.  He relentlessly fought for a normal life - for all of us - when everything else inside his body refused it. He wasn't a man who died from cancer. He was a man who lived with it, remarkably, game face on, with a tune or two. 

He was our warrior.   

I would like to close this piece by sharing how my dad loved to wake up early. That too, he made to look so easy. He was up at 4, drinking coffee and listening to music at 5. While the rest of us slept, he started his day. He was already sweeping leaves in the yard, watering the plants, putting the house in order...we often think now, had we imbibed that habit of waking up early, we would have had more time with him, a few more hours of stories from the past, some more songs to know how to sing (off key), more shared laughs, more shared grief, more Oscar. 

 Truth is - time is never enough, but what he was is.  

[ecotone99]

[MS] Waking Up in a Strange Place

Logline: A man wakes up in a stranger's house, no clothes, no cell phone, no recollection of how he got there; all he wants is to get home, but he has to solve this puzzle first.

_____________

Norman Mallard slowly opened his eyes, woke up, caught a glimpse of a painting on the wall; he did not recognize it.

"What's that?" Norman is now fully alert. Eyes wide open, he looks around and doesn't recognize the room he's in, at all. Norman leaps to his feet, wearing t-shirts and boxers, "Where am I? Where are my clothes?"

Norman leaves the bedroom to find himself in a stranger's home. He quickly makes his way to the front of the house to the front door; he doesn't know the neighborhood either. A woman across the street is watering her lawn, seeing Norman in his boxers; she gives him a slight eyebrow raise. Norman begins to back-up and back in the house. He's looking around for a phone, "No landline, welcome to modern times."

There's a wedding picture on the wall, the couple looks familiar, but he doesn't know where from. Norman stares at the image for a minute or so, trying to get his recollection,

"I've seen them before." Curious, Norman starts to dig through drawers and cabinets, listening attentively for people coming home.

"Nothing with a name, a bill, junk mail, parking ticket?"

Norman finally finds a math assignment done by a child, on top of the paper is the name Liam Ventura.

"Ventura, where have I heard that name before, Ventura?"

Norman had worked on the police squad for 30 years; he was to retire next fall. Maybe it was a criminal that he busted, looking to get back at him, was he drugged, kidnapped,

"Was I drunk last night." If he was three sheets to the wind somewhere, and someone took him in, afraid he was going to drink and drive, that'd be ok. Norman can't remember anything that he did yesterday, it's like someone erased his brain. He thought to himself, though, it wasn't like anyone was holding him here, he was free to go. After searching most of the drawers and cabinets in the kitchen area, he couldn't find any evidence as to what happened last night.

Norman decided that he would borrow a pair of pants, head home, and look into it another time. He entered the main bedroom, where there was men's clothing in a closet, the shirts embroidered with the letters V and V, that stood for Vic Ventura,

"What a schmuck." Norman knew that name from somewhere; he didn't know where, though.

As it would turn out, the pants were a little too tight; he didn't care, he put on the pants, a snug fit, borrowed a pair of sneakers, and left the house. The neighborhood was familiar yet strange to Norman, it was like he had been here before, but he couldn't recollect where or when. He walked about 10 feet from the house and saw a guy sitting in his car down the road, looking at him.

"What is this guy looking at? Are you looking at me? I'm being watched." Norman decided to call a taxi. He would have called his wife or daughter, but, of course, all of the numbers were saved in his cell phone, which he didn't have. He was probably better off, Norma, his wife, is going to chew him out for not coming home last night.

"She's probably worried sick."

Norman quickly walked across the street and knocked on the neighbor's door.

"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you, could I borrow your phone, I need to call myself a taxi," Norman said as the lady pulled out her cell phone and let him dial.

"Do you mind, could you look up the number for me, I don't know how these dam smart devices work," Norman said. The lady, probably in her early fifties, used the search engine device to look up a number of a taxi company. Norman placed the call.

"Hi, I need a taxi," Norman said into the phone as he looks at the lady for an address.

"265 Mapleton Road," the woman said as Norman repeated the address into the phone.

"I'm sorry I don't have any money on me, but I have some money at the destination, I'll gladly pay you with a large tip when we get there, Ok, thanks," Norman said as he handed back the phone,

"It's been a tough day, thanks for the help," Norman said.

By the time Norman finished the call, the guy who was watching him had driven away or had changed locations. Norman didn't give it much thought and patiently waited for his taxi curbside.

Norman looked at the mailbox, inside there was a bill addressed to Natalie Ventura. The only thing he knew at this point, was this house was owned by a couple named Vic and Natalie Ventura, and they had a son named Liam. Norman figures he may never solve this puzzle, and it'd be best if he just goes home. He pauses for a minute on the name Natalie; it makes him think of his daughter because his daughter is named Natalie, she's off at college now.

The taxi finally comes, Norman gets in and gives his address,

"35 Dexter Street," he says.

"Dexter Street? I don't know that one, what town?" The driver asks.

"Toledo, why, what town is this?" Norman asked.

"You're in Kalamazoo, sir," the driver said.

With that, Norman got out of the taxi; he wasn't about to pay $200 for a cab ride home. He went back into the house; he was determined to wait it out, wait for someone to get there, finally have someone tell him what the hell happened last night.

An hour went by, and Norman's mind started to race, how did he end up in Kalamazoo? He decided to look deeper into the house; there has to be something that connected him with the Ventura's. As Norman was digging through some old boxes in the basement, he stumbled upon photos of his family, his daughter, his wife when they were younger. He starts to think; these people have been stalking me. They had his daughter's high-school diploma, her Honor Society letter, photos of her and her friends, all buried in a box in the basement.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Norman was sure that this couple had kidnapped his daughter, locked her up somewhere, or God forbid, she's already dead. Norman becomes paranoid, he wants answers to questions, and he wants them now. He starts digging around the house for a weapon, so when they come back, he's ready.

Armed with a little league baseball bat from Liam's bedroom, he waits, minutes turn into hours, Norman's about to doze off, when all of a sudden a car pulls into the driveway. Norman's wide awake now, a woman gets out of a Jeep, and enters the back door, Norman is waiting for her.

As the woman enters the house, Norman jumps out, scaring her half to death.

"I want answers right now, where is my daughter?" Norman screams.

"Oh my god, dad, you scared me half to death," the woman says.

"Dad?" Norman says. This woman has to be at least in her late forties, "my daughter's at college, who are you?" Norman asks.

"Oh no, not another spell, Dad, it's me, Natalie, your daughter," Natalie says as she begins to cry.

"I don't believe you; you have her locked up somewhere, it's all connected to this Ventura thing," Norman says.

"Dad, Ventura is my married name, I've been married to Vic Ventura for ten years, don't you remember you were at the wedding," Natalie says.

Norman is trying to recall, but he can't, the last thing he remembers is his daughter going to college. Norman drops the bat and has a seat in the kitchen. The previous 25 years of his life, gone without a trace from his memory. He wants to speak to his wife, Norma, but she died a month ago.

Norman was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's last week when he was arrested in Toledo, trying to enter a house he did not live in. 35 Dexter Street, his residence when he was in the police force. After he was released from the hospital, Natalie and Vic took him in. She spent the afternoon traveling to Toledo to retrieve personal items, clothing, toothbrush, and other amenities for him. She didn't realize it had gotten this bad; she would never have left him alone if she knew he couldn't remember where he was.

Norman did not accept that Natalie was his daughter, so he convinced himself that a plot was going on. Norman was troublesome the rest of the night, and when Vic and Liam came home from a baseball game, he was determined to discover the truth and even threatened Vic with a baseball bat.

Norman was admitted to a 24-hour nursing facility; the Alzheimer's had advanced too rapidly for Vic and Natalie to take care of them on their own. Memory is our reality; it is the foundation on which we understand our position in the world. It's a reference point to people, locations, and moments in life. Without recollection, every day is like waking up in a strange place, trying to find out where you are today. The worst part of it is that your loved ones are affected the most because they watch slowly as you forget who they are.

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