#i have missed half of our practices and never exercise

[doobydoobydoowau]

The people tell me "you can't speedrun fitness. you'll hurt yourself and achieve absolutely nothing."

The people are wrong. Behold as I gain god tier muscle and stamina in less time than there is between Trump indictments.

[earthtooz]

fluff, apologising and making up after a 'fight' kind of drabble bc i miss suna <3

suna rintarou shows up to your university on the third day of the silent treatment.

the sight is a surprise, to say the least. your pro-volleyball player boyfriend standing outside your faculty’s building with his hands in his pockets, blending in with baggy jeans, a hoodie, and a cap. he looks the part of a university student, but you could never be fooled, not when he's 6'3 with an equally admirable stature from exercising.

amongst the crowd of outflowing students, the dark-haired spots you, olive eyes widening upon seeing you. he pushes himself onto two feet before walking over to where you stay rooted, dodging the students who just came out of the same lecture.

“hi,” suna greets, stopping just a few feet away from you. the sight of his lopsided smile is enough to get your heart racing again. you've missed him so much.

regardless, you cross your arms to keep up an angry front, not wanting to give in to his charms just yet no matter how good he may he at using them. 

“what are you doing here?” you ask bluntly, betraying the butterflies in your stomach.

his expression doesn’t falter at your iciness. “not happy to see me?”

you are happy to see him, very much so, especially when he has taken the initiative of literally showing up at your campus and waiting for your classes to be over to see you. he must be tired from practice as well and you know too well that mondays were never kind to him. 

so the fact that suna came all this way for you makes you feel a little special. 

he’s even wearing some of that cologne that you really like and unless it’s for special occasions, you know that your boyfriend is never bothered enough to wear any fragrance. he is so sly that you could kiss him.

“not particularly, suna.” you say in response, lying through your teeth.

suna clutches his chest like he’s been shot, making a gasp of offence at your statement. “babe, after i came all the way to campus? i thought i’d never want to come back here but i made some exceptions for the love of my life and this is what i get in return?” 

“suck it up, i guess.”

“-and who on earth is suna? never heard of him. can’t believe you’ve already forgotten my name after three days, i’m losing sight of reality, babe hold me, i might faint.”

“whatever,” you chuckle a little at his antics, eyes softening with a certain fondness that suna doesn’t miss. his lips twitch upwards at the sight of it.

this is his chance to win you back. he throws his line in in hopes of catching you hook and sinker. 

“let’s go to dinner tonight,” he offers, recovering from his previously downed position, voice contrastingly soft and gentle to smoothen his proposal. 

“what, so you can stand me up again?” you quip, instantly slicing the atmosphere to turn tense as the line snaps in half.

suna’s grin falls, morphing into a guilty frown. “c’mon pretty, that’s mean. you know how sorry i am, i didn’t mean to forget about our plans.”

you huff, letting your arms fall back to your sides. “i know, i know, but you standing me up just stung. it was frustrating because i made time for us that i could have used to study with instead,” you confess. “you know how stressed i’ve been with finals.”

the athlete stuffs his hands into his pockets awkwardly. “but i’m trying to make up for it.” 

“i know and i appreciate it, but now’s not a good time. i’m sorry but i can’t go to dinner tonight or any time soon, i have a bunch of practice tests to do that i can’t keep putting off.”

“then can i come over?” asks suna, a hopeful lilt to his voice.

“and watch me study? do you really want that?”

“i just want to be with you, i can order us takeout or something- on me.”

“guess i’m just irresistible, huh?”

“duh, do you know how much i suffered during the weekend? missed you so much, practically died from boredom.”

“oh so i’m just another person for you to bother? is that how it is?” you ask, unable to contain your smile. 

the dark-haired scoffs. “c’mon babes, you know you’re better than that. you’re the only person i can bother.”

“oh fuck off,” you whack his shoulder teasingly. “also for your information, you’re not coming between me and my education.”

“ambitious people are a turn-on,” he mutters with a shrug before pulling you in to kiss your cheek.

“ew get off me, freak,” you joke whilst shoving him, not rough enough to actually create distance but suna still stands his ground from the force. his hand goes to hold your other cheek as he smothers you with over-exaggerated affection. 

you laugh in his hold, holding on to his wrists for balance. “suna!” you yelp when he pushes too much weight onto you, causing the two of you to stumble sideways. “actually get off me.”

“can’t. won’t. don’t want to. this is what you get for not responding to me all weekend- what does  a man need to do to get a text back from the love of his life?” 

“easy. be a man.” you step out of his grasp with a satisfied smirk, beginning to walk away from your boyfriend who stares at you with his mouth hung open in disbelief. inevitably, suna runs up to you.

and as he encases you with his arms in the middle of the empty gardens of your university faculty, you know that the two of you will be okay. even if suna is the bane of your existence, there is no one else for you like him. 

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[soranihimawari]

I Missed You

Pairing: Oikawa x (gn!) reader

Word Count: tbd

Rating: Oikawa Tooru Fluff [otf]

Warnings: none// reader in timeskip becomes a doctor specializing in aging/older athletes and completing necessary check-ups before a match.

Note: I tried to not tie any gender-specific nouns when describing reader.

How I think OIkawa & reader hug each other after not seeing each other in a long time.

[23:45]

That’s the time stamp you receive on an old friend’s text. There are only three words which the message is comprised of. When you read them aloud to yourself in the comfort of your own home, you seem to repeat them like a mantra.

‘I miss you’

Simple hope draws from this in a way that can’t be described as you stare at your screen until you ultimately lock your phone. You close your eyes for a a few minutes when your brain decides to show you a highlight reel of the activities you used to do with the sender. Learning the rules of volleyball, joining in their team jogging paths, coming to scheduled matches, accompanying him to the nurse’s office when he landed on his feet wrong, etc. He was destined to be famous, just not here at home in Japan, no. Somewhere half a world away called out to him first. Argentina was distant, far, the most you’d ever be separated and even then, the times prior were literally at the start of up schooling lives.

Unfortunately, the last memory behind the closed eyes you see is a bittersweet one: the reality your friend, confidant, (and crush) hits you. You never did want to wind up fighting with him, but for once you’d want him to fight to stay here. With you. As his best friends remind you, you’d be holding him back from his true potential ever since he started practicing with the collegiate teams up the road from where you live—this was where the initial rift began to be drawn between you two.

During lunch one day, you visit his classroom, sitting next to him explaining (or rather complaining) the trouble you were having with a particular class and one of the assignments needed to be completed prior to a content exam.

“Do you ever shut up about schoolwork, yn?”

You pause, a disappointed look heavy on your brow as those within earshot suddenly fall quiet.

“I’m sorry not all of us have a righteous path carved in front of us, Tooru,” the tonality in your voice was one of annoyance. “Some of us have to work even harder to achieve our dreams other than hoping to skip town and follow in their idol’s footsteps.”

Ever since that brief conversation, you and one Oikawa Tooru, are now practically strangers come graduation day. You hear whispers via the third year rumor mill of his accomplishments and his ultimate defeat against both Shiratorizawa and Karasuno. Matches you weren’t there to show your support for, even if Iwazumi Hajime, the ace and vice captain, had invited you because, “it would be nice for him (oikawa) to see a familiar face in the crowd.”

Glancing back at Iwazumi’s moss green eyes and stoic countenance, “and if I recall, it would be nicer if I wasn’t there because it might distract him further. There are plenty of scouts heading to those matches. I’m sure he’d catch one of their eyes.”

“And if those scouts ask him to move to another country, are you really going to be ok with not saying your goodbyes when we graduate, yn?”

You aggravatedly sigh at him, muttering an annoyed, “Yes, Iwazumi-kun, even then.”

Many months later, post Oikawa's jog in the winter while watching the Karasuno v Inarizaki match, it is now springtime. You’re holding a bouquet of flowers from your parents who pose with you for pictures around the inner school gates of Aoba Josai’s campus. Your fellow classmates and club members surround you for more photos as well. This was going to be one of the final memories you have for your high school career. You were accepted into a university specializing in biomedical engineering with a strong focus on exercise science.

This was your dream, not necessarily the same path as Iwazumi’s to become an athletic trainer, no, however you had wanted to be a doctor whose focus would help restore and maintain older athlete’s bodies even post retirement. Helping those who had maybe one or two career setbacks was something which had captivated you the more you began to focus on the life sciences of your high school careers and with the help of those teachers, they had written for you a brilliant recommendations to boost your acceptance after passing the various university exams.

[13:43]

In your office nearly a decade later from high school graduation, sits your newest patient. He comes from Argentina, like your nurses tell you, but the rumor that he had come on a friend's recommendation is what actually piques your interest. Well, to be fair, two of your friends' personal recommendation are what causes you to raise your eyebrow. The nurse on duty that day takes his vitals as normal, asks him the routine questions before giving him the proper spiel of, "sit tight and the doctor will see you in a few minutes."

Oikawa Tooru has come home for several reasons. The only one on the top of his list is coming home for an exhibition match game he was invited to by the former captain of Nekoma and now representative of the JVA. However, when word reaches Iwazumi's camp in the national team's gym, he smirks, sending a text halfway across the world. Your name is thrown into the mix of doctors who are willing to examine older, closer to retirement age, athletes. Considering this was not how he had wanted to spend his second day back in his home country, Oikawa Tooru asks to book this appointment to get an all clear before playing the V-League exhibition match Kuroo talked him into attending.

You are reading over the file of the new patient outside of the room in the hallway. You scan over the various ticks he had made on the questionnaire along with your nurse who says that his young son looks up to Oikawa-san as a professional volleyball player.

"Repeat that one more time, Sato-san," you clear your throat when Sato-san repeats what he had said earlier.

"My son is as huge fan of Oikawa-san," he points to the name at the top of the document in your hand.

Right there, next to Sato-san, the nurse's pointer finger, is the kanji of the name of a person you thought about since your high school, university, and medical school graduation days. You clear your throat, thanking Sato for his time measuring the vitals of the next patient in the room you're about to enter.

"No prob doc," is all Sato says when he walks back to the nurse station leaving you to enter the examination room where an old flame sits.

You take a deep breath prior to knocking and entering. You open the door and you see OIkawa bent over on the examination bed, reading something on his phone. His hair is cropped shorter, his shoulders are a bit broader, his skin a bit tanner, and for lack of better words, his muscles quite filled out the rest of him. He's still humming a tune you're unfamiliar with until your shoes enters his field of vision.

"Hello Tooru," your voice causes him to freeze and immediately causes his eyes to avert away from his phone. "It's been a while."

Oikawa's coffee-colored eyes study your face and the recognition hits him like a truck. Although he is dressed in a sky blue buttoned blouse and dark jeans compared to your teal scrubs and white lab coat, he stands up, arms extended to crush you in a hug. His patient file falls to the floor when you hug him back.

You hear him for the first time since that argument long ago, voice wobbly and all, "I missed you."

[serickswrites]

Vengeful One II

Part 1 Part 3

Villain had been so excited when Mentor said that they, and Hero, were ready to begin combat training. Villain was delighted to be able to begin to hone their powers that they had concealed for so long. They wanted nothing more than to show Mentor how worthy of training they were. 

“Again,” Mentor called as Villain reduced the sand bag to smoldering embers. “And try to do better next time. Do you see how much is missing?”

Villain stared, mouth hanging open at Mentor. How could they do better? There was nothing of the bag left. They had reduced bag after bag after bag to ash and embers. And yet Mentor had not been satisfied. “I don’t understand. What exactly is left?”

Mentor glared at Villain. “If you have to ask me that question, you’re not ready to continue your lessons today. I want you to practice this until you know what is left. Then come find me. I have others that learn better to attend to.”

Villain glared at Mentor’s retreating back. It had been much the same since they began combat training. No matter how much Villain tried, they could never satisfy Mentor. Could never be enough. Mentor always found something lacking, something missing from their work. They only ever critiqued Villain. 

But not Hero. They never critiqued Hero. 

Hero’s form was perfect. Their execution perfect. They did exactly what Mentor asked, or so Mentor said. Villain didn’t understand because, as of yet, Hero had barely been able to draw flame from the air. Had barely been able to show any power. 

And yet Mentor could not stop singing their praises. “You would do well to learn from Hero, Villain. They know exactly what they are doing. Perhaps they can tutor you.”

Villain merely glared in response. This was growing old, fast. 

“I would love to,” Hero said quickly. “Go and rest, Mentor. I’ll start Villain’s lessons now.”

Villain opened their mouth to protest, but the look in Hero’s eyes had them snapping their mouth shut. Once they were alone, they felt free to speak. “And what exactly are you tutoring me in?”

Hero shook their head. “I haven’t the faintest clue. But I knew arguing was going to get you nowhere.”

Villain crouched next to the latest training exercise: slicing a dummy in half with only their mind. Villain had sliced through twelve in the time it took Hero to dent one. “I just don’t understand what I’m doing wrong. What I could do better.”

Hero crouched next to Villain. “You’re doing nothing wrong. Nothing at all. But maybe you just need to apply our studies, all the lectures, to what your doing to make Mentor happy.”

“To what end? They said slice the dummy. I sliced the dummy. They say freeze the lake, I froze the lake. They say burn it down, I—“

“Burnt it down,” Hero finished for them. “I think there’s more than just results, Villain. Mentor wouldn’t have spent all that time lecturing us if it didn’t matter.”

Villain jumped up, no longer wanting to be alone with Hero. “Yeah, well, that’s easy for you to say because you’re perfect.” They spun on their heel and stalked towards the door. 

“Villain! Wait! I—“

“Save it,” Villain called over their shoulder, “there’s nothing you can do to help me. I’m useless, apparently.”

Tags: @pigeonwhumps @j-is-gonna-write-28 @starzabove @wolfstar123456789 @diamond-flavored-whump

[cadet-aviator]

Normal life (1)

When we got back, things were pretty quiet and normal, for a while. I didn't feel all that confused anymore. Dad paid more attention to me, but then his work took over, and I was on my own again for a few days, then a week, then another week. I was fine with it. Mrs Lee took care of me, and I did my own laundry and ironing anyway. There was school, as always.

I had missed a Saturday morning drill at school and the regular Tuesday and Thursday drills, I had also missed fulfilling disciplinary service at the barracks at Saturday afternoon, Monday afternoon and Wednesday afternoon - 8 hours altogether. I had permission from school cadets, but I was given a fairly normal punishment anyway, I copied out the cadet manual once again, took me all Sunday afternoon.

And even though the Army Cadets had consented in giving me 'leave', I still had to catch up with those hours I missed. They slapped an additional 10 hours of service on my old 240 hours, because I had been out of cadet uniform, in Thailand, where I should have been properly dressed.

As you can imagine, by now, none of that seemed unfair or wrong; I was being disciplined, reprimanded, I understood it, accepted it, welcomed it. That's how my mind worked, at the time.

I realise that this ‘digested’ account of my childhood years might give the impression that I was under a lot of pressure. I wasn’t, or I wasn’t always.

For starters, I went to a really good school, with lots of bright teachers, excursions, trips, theatre, games, and my classmates were generally really nice, I had friends there too.

And if you think it was odd that after school hours I didn’t hang out in the mall, or went for a smoke behind the bike shed, or played football on the school yard until dark, it wasn’t all that strange: most kids had a well-organised life, strict rules at home, planned activities. We all did what we were told.

The school cadet program was intense and asked a lot from the cadets – to the point of being inspected at home - but it wasn’t more strenuous or demanding than, say, the school rugby eleven or the swim team (those boys had their first practice at 5.30 every morning). The school was popular (and expensive) precisely because it provided structure. I didn’t know any better and I fitted in.

And yes, I always wore my school tie in a perfect knot, never showing the top button, and my shirt was always tucked in correctly, and I may have been a bit more fanatic about that than other boys, but wearing uniform as ordered was just normal. All boys complied.

One of the best moments of the day was that half hour before drill started, when we got together in the school dressing rooms, to change from school uniform to cadet uniform.

There was always a good buzz, there, as friendly as boys that age can get, joking about a bit, but also making sure our uniforms looked fine and we were all on the same page when it came to the exercises of that afternoon.

We were pretty ambitious too, planning to do really well in these regional drill competitions, hoping to go on to the nationals.

So in that half hour we made sure we looked the part.

And the sergeant came in, for a formal check (possible demerits), and then we would fall in. And get silent.

And then we’d march out, for our endless exercises.

It was mandatory. Some kids just did it, went through the motions.

I loved it.

(All images are AI-generated)

[sexynetra]

Hi! LATAM queer here that doesn't have English as a first language writing this just so you understand the importance of your work:

I haven't been active in tumblr for like almost half a year now, but I literally just logged in today to see if you had post any RAWNSYF update/new dialogue that I might have missed. I had no ideia what was going on on twitter when I logged in today. And I'm so sorry that you got exposed like that. If it is any consolation, RAWNSYF is one of my favorite fics ever written. Def my fav anarcia fic. To me, fanfic in queer spaces is a way I can read about the queer experience and relate to my own life. That is what I love about RAWNSYF, I have a past love experience that is really similar to what Anetra is going through in your fic. By reading it, I can help my 18 year old self heal. I'm not sending you this to necessarily encourage you to post a new chapter. After all that happened yesterday, I'll totally understand if you never update. I'm telling you all this so you know that your work matter. Your fic might be one of the few media work that I've ever felt so represented. Fanfic is important to queer people like us because of this: we don't have much representation in the wide media. So we turn to our own community to see ourselves being represented in this kind of spaces. Because of this, I ask you with all the kindness that I have inside of me: if you don't want to post an update, I'll totally get it! But please, PLEASE, don't ever feel guilty for what you've already wrote and posted. It means more to people that never saw themselves in media that anyone who's not queer could ever understand.

Hi there <33

This has just been sitting in my inbox because every time I went to respond I started crying again 😅

This is the sweetest message I have ever received and I cannot even possibly express just how much it meant to me to read this.

I started rawnsyf out of a desire to see the stories I wanted to read about being shared. (Well, technically I started rawnsyf as a 2am writing practice that was never supposed to be expanded upon but here we are) I honestly never thought anyone else would actually read it 😂 it was just a little story that had all my favorite story tropes in it. That was it.

But then rawnsyf grew. It grew in the scope of what I was writing about, and it grew in its reach. Suddenly, people were reading it, and it was connecting with them on a level I never anticipated.

Rawnsyf started as a fanfic about two queens I enjoyed, but I hand on my heart believe that it has grown to be so much more than that. This story, that was originally just a fun little writing exercise and a cute little love story, has become something that people really feel a connection to, and feel represented by.

I honestly never expected that, it’s beyond my wildest dreams. I think anyone who creates content hopes that it will resonate with people, but I never expected the scope it would have (which sounds braggadocious but I never expected the story to really become important to anybody besides me, and over and over again the amazing community on here has proven me wrong).

It started as a story about two queens I love, but it has grown beyond that. The characters in the story have lives of their own. They exist beyond the drag queens that inspired them. And this message, maybe more than any other, reminds me just how powerful those characters can be.

I am so infinitely grateful that you took the time to send this message, and even more infinitely honored and touched that you have allowed me to express myself through my writing and taken it onto yourself. Nothing will ever mean more to me than people being able to feel seen and find healing through something I’ve created.

Rawnsyf is not over, and it’s all because of the love people like you have shared with me for this story.

I hope I can do you justice with this story and my heart is so full <3333

I am crying again so I will end this here but my heart just feels so full. Thank you for sending this to me and being so honest and vulnerable. It means more to me than you could ever know

[vexxerveesvoice]

The Kabbalah of Writing: Chapter Three Writing Exercises

As a Jewish writer, I've been wanting to explore more about how to connect my writing to my spiritual and religious practices. As a first step towards this, once a week I will be responding to each of the writing exercises provided in Sherri Mandell's The Kabbalah of Writing. For the sake of being careful of copyright, I will not be posting the questions themselves. I encourage fellow Jewish writers to follow along.

Instead of including my free writing here, I will state that I've been writing "gunk" pages in my notebook every day for a while now to get the "gunk" out of my brain before sitting down to really write and it's been helping a lot. I've transitioned to having these be more morning pages instead of "gunk" pages directly before writing practice both to spread out my writing time and to allow myself to start the day fresh.

I wish I'd visited you in the hospital. The news of your death came to me as impersonally as it could have - an apologetic email from the school district, probably derived from a form letter for just such an occasion. I wish I'd taken the time to tell you how much you meant to me, how much your love and support and encouragement helped me along my journey as an artist and as a writer. I wish I didn't have to live with the guilt of knowing I never visited you one last time, the fact that I didn't have the courage to face you when you were dying. I wish I could have shared more life with you. I wish I could still go back to the old tech building and see you there, in walking student artwork to your little orange car to arrange at art shows around the county. I wish you were here. I wish you could see how much I've changed, how much I've matured, how much I've grown since you last saw me. I wish I could hear you say you're proud of me. I wish I could hug you one last time. I hope you know how much you're missed. I hope you can see us still and that you know how much we care. I hope you know I see you at every art show and festival, every time I pick up a pencil or paintbrush. I hope you know you are loved and deeply, deeply missed. I just wish I could tell you in person.

What I didn't say was "thank you." Or at least, I didn't thank you enough. Gangly children squashed into blue plastic seats, huddled in on ourselves in our jackets for warmth in the poorly-heated morning ride to school. You handed me a little gift bag full of your homemade cookies, wrapped closed with a ribbon and a beaming smile. I never appreciated you enough. We ended up in vastly different social circles, years later, but you never failed to extend me invitations to parties or conversation. You shined brighter than the meteorites you wanted to watch on that school rooftop. What I didn't say was "I wish I'd gotten to know you better." "You were the kindest person I've ever met." "I'm sorry I wasn't a better friend to you." "I wish I could have told you how much you and your cookies meant to me."

In another life, I would have gone to Kenyon College. I would have pursued writing full time. I would have never lost my voice to you to begin with. I never would have sequestered myself and my heart to a tiny portion of my life and twisted what remained to fit into a puzzle piece beside your own, only to be discarded when I couldn't fit quite well enough. I would have applied to Ivy Leagues, just to prove that I could, that I was smart. I love the friends I gained following the path that I did, but I regret not sticking to myself and what I knew I wanted out of life. I have no one to blame but myself, but I hope you know what I sacrificed to make you even the slightest bit happier. I hope you know what I lost to keep you. Now I question if it was even worth it to begin with.

I wish the cedars grew as wide as before. I wish the salmon spawned in their home rivers. I wish the rain fell as often as it used to. I wish this town didn't grow half so big. I wish I could make even a tiny difference to shift the terrible future we face. I wish I didn't feel so guilty just for being part of the human race.

In my father's other life, he owned a ice cream shop bookstore and wrote children's books on the side. In my father's other life, I started working at the shop as a teenager, learning the ropes to take over when he retired. In my father's other life, he volunteered to teach students how to read at the local elementary school. In my father's other life, he had enough time to sleep more than four hours per night. In my father's other life, he never had to move back to the east coast for his wife. In my father's other life, he had the time, space, and resources to air his grievances healthily, through therapy or journaling or something other than bottling things up forever.

I tore the pencil-scratch letter from my little, child-sized notebook, a plea for help and understanding from parents who couldn't see the intense suffering, confusion, and loss I felt. I slipped it beneath your closed bedroom door, hoped for the best, and turned back to my room, closing my own door. Or did I leave the note beneath a closed door? It felt more like leaving a small offering at a solid stone wall, hoping that a deity beyond understanding, beyond reach, beyond words or touch or anything human, would come down from on high and grant forgiveness, peace, a hug, anything to soothe the brokenness I felt. I see you now, all these years later. I see that your note went ignored. I see that you went ignored. I see that your parents abandoned you at a time when you felt most vulnerable. I see the solid wall standing between you and them, that you still have yet to fully deconstruct. I see your pain, and I want you to know that you are loved.

A writer sits in the corner of the cafe, twirling a pen between their fingers. They've paused in their reflection, mind empty. "What're you up to this time?" The barista smiles, cleaning the espresso machine's milk frother. "Anything interesting?" "Oh, not really," the writer stretches. "The words aren't coming to me today." "That's a shame. Anything I could read this time?" The writer glances down at their barely-scrawled-upon page. "Not really, unfortunately. And what's here is all nonsense anyway." "Well, I doubt that. Your standards tend to be higher than mine," the barista raises an eyebrow. "Care to share a bit?" The writer bites their lip, just a bit, but acquiesces. They read the paragraph or two they've managed to produce, tone hushed so as not to disturb the other patrons, and glance nervously back up at the barista, who hums thoughtfully. "Well? What do you think?" "You've definitely got something there," the barista nods, then walks out from behind the counter. "Let me take a closer look." The writer passes the notebook and pen over nervously. The barista taps the pen against the page, jots a few notes, and hands the materials back. The writer takes in a sharp inhale, reading over what the barista had written. "You just solved my whole problem. Thank you." "Not at all! Glad to be of help. Would you like a top-up?" "Not yet - I've got to get things down on paper before they leave me." The writer beams, twirls the pen one last time, and begins vigorously writing again.

I'm sorry that I couldn't support you as a partner. I'm sorry to have abandoned you when you needed me most. I'm sorry to have hesitated when you asked for my help at your most vulnerable.

Dear S, I'm sorry that I didn't keep in touch with you. You were my strongest friend. I'm proud of the work we did together and grateful for the time we spent by each other's sides. I wanted to stay in contact, but I think somewhere along the line the magic died, even though we didn't want it to. I hope we can reconnect someday. I miss you and hope you're well.

Dear L, I'm sorry that I stopped putting in effort to keep our body well somewhere along the line. You're resilient for staying alive and as well as you have been for so long despite the difficulties I've presented you. Thank you for being patient and forgiving of my missteps. Thank you for surviving. I'm grateful you've given me grace and so many chances to make up for lost time.

I love acting I love swimming I love taking care of my body I love sweet things I love being human I love reading I love writing I love hanging out with my siblings I love volunteering I love caramel macchiatos and london fogs I love colorful pens and fun stickers I love planners and journals I love books I love the mountains I love the Puget Sound I love cedar forests and dear reader I love you.

[winderlylandchime]

15 QUESTIONS, 15 (or whatever) TAGS

tagged by @lostcol ily bb

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYBODY?

Nope. Family lore is that my mom and dad went through a baby name book and my mom circled all the names she liked in red and my dad circled all the names he liked in blue and mine was the only one with two circles. My first middle name is the name my mom wanted to give her sister when my aunt was born. And my second middle name is my mom’s maiden name.

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?

When my spouse and I were on vacation abroad and our flight home had been cancelled and we got scammed trying to get another flight and had to cancel our credit card and still find a way home. I very rarely cry (except when watching stupid things on tv) but I sobbed I was so stressed out. And on my period. Which y’know made traveling home super fun.

3. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?

Childless by choice (I love being an auntie to my nieces and friends’ kids though!) (I hate that I worry people will assume I hate kids because I’m a woman who didn’t want them!)

4. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT?

No, never. 😉

5. WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED?

I played basketball for one memorable season in elementary school. I ran cross country for one memorable season in high school because it exempted me from gym class (joke was entirely on me when I realized being on the track team meant actually exercising more than going to gym class. And I used to be a (very very slow) runner (a whole slew of half marathons, 5 and 10ks, and exactly 1 marathon). My body doesn’t work like that anyone. But I miss it.

6. WHAT'S THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT SOMEONE?

Their smile. What they’re wearing.

7. EYE COLOUR?

Blue like my mama.

8. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?

I don’t do scary. I definitely prefer happy endings…but a good story is a good story.

9. ANY SPECIAL TALENTS?

I have a freakishly good memory for personal details. Like I will pretend to have never heard something about someone before to avoid freaking them out. It does come in handy at work though!

10. WHERE WERE YOU BORN?

New York, New York baby!

11. WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES?

Reading, writing, watching drag (on tv or live), going to concerts

12. DO YOU HAVE PETS?

2 dogs, 2 cats

13. HOW TALL ARE YOU?

5’9” yes I can grab that for you

14. FAVOURITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL?

In HS: AP US History and Latin (because my teachers for each were incredible - shout out to Ms Favretti and Dr Polsky!)

In college: Fairy Tales, Abnormal Psych, Mythic Imagination, and that seminar where I got to read Timothy Leary’s research

In grad school: Psychopathology I & II and Social Bases for Behavior

15. DREAM JOB?

I do not dream of labor. But if I must work for a living, I literally have it. When I went to grad school my hope was to be part of a group private practice and voila! I am clinical director of an awesome practice with incredibly talented folks. And my hours permit me to also do some consulting work with CMSC which is also a dream.

no pressure tagging: @flowerswehadgrowntogether @bartbarthelme @sheisraging @headbandsandflats @provenance

[muraenide]

send me 🕯️to hear my character's inner thoughts about your character. → { NO LONGER ACCEPTING } 🕯️ // either wonderland au or canon verse 🤔 — @splitcards

Wonderland AU because we love pain.

Floyd and I have seen more than five Hatters over the course of ten years. We have been careful to keep it as subtle as possible, but the reason why we have taken up residence in Wonderland was because we are looking for Hatters.

Do you wonder why? *chuckles* It is because in the letters Mother left behind, there was a frequent mention of a Hatter. Mother said the Mad Hatter is someone we could trust. He was the one who accommodated her back when she visited Wonderland as a child.

And so here we are, looking for him.

The letters only began to make sense after we found Wonderland. The "Mad Hatter" is only one of the twelve Hatters in this place. Floyd and I ran into the "Happy Hatter" on our third day. Call it a stroke of instinct if you may, but the moment we laid eyes on him, we knew he was not who Mother mentioned in her letters.

Disappointed, Floyd and I continued our search. We picked up the occupation of a magician as Leander Elddill because we heard that all Hatters share a love for strange and curious things — things that could make them forget reality and temporarily submerge themselves in a false sense of fantasy.

It worked. To date, we have met the Hatter of Happiness, Woe, Anger, Contempt, and Fear, but the Hatter mentioned in Mother's Letters was nowhere to be seen.

As of late we've come to know of another Hatter: The Hatter of Madness.

It was not easy to find the path that led to his tea party, but I somehow managed. Truthfully, it almost feels like the Mad Hatter had opened up his secret path out of his own will, and not because I've somehow managed to force my way in.

Cater Diamond. I knew his name before I came. Doing our due diligence before involving ourselves in unfamiliar territory is always wise. However, the real person was someone I was not expecting to meet. He is different; a lot more than the other five Hatters I've encountered.

He always seems sorrowful, his madness barely keeping him from erupting at bay. Of course, someone who was not born here such as myself would never understand how Wonderland works even if I have lived here for more years than I have in my own birthplace.

"Are you expecting someone?" I always ask him whenever I see the same empty chair at the end of the dining table. I noticed it's an odd practice that the Hatter of Madness exercises. It's always the same chair, the same spot at the table. It cannot be a coincidence.

I eventually came to the conclusion from my own hypothesis. Slowly, I tried changing my words. "Are you missing someone?" Missing. Expecting. It's strange how those words meant the same thing but somehow produces very different effects when used in a certain context.

That was the first time I saw some kind of life in Hatter's eyes. It was everything I needed to confirm that I was indeed correct.

"You need to stop," I add, surprising even myself.

I was not usually known for harboring affection for anyone other than my other half. After all, the moment we were born all we had were each other. Were it not for the pendant I carry on my neck, I would not even have known what Mother looked like.

But somehow, I think I care about Hatter to some extent, after meeting him for a few times. "It's not healthy like this."

It feels odd. Lecturing someone older than me. It feels wrong to do so without knowing what he had gone through with whoever he is missing.

A bell chimes from somewhere far away and Cater yells "It's 6 o'clock!" It is the same chime that snapped me out of my thoughts, realizing that my 'lecture' only happened in my head, that I'd never said those words no matter how much I wished to.

I suppose it would be cruel to forcibly wake him up from a dream he never wishes to wake up from. I understand this. It is why I knew that I would never forgive myself if I ever woke him up.

[doctors-journal]

17 August

I saw John today.

It was too rainy for football—neither of us was too keen to recreate our muddy practice matches—so instead we met at that pub we used to go to for lunch.

John greeted me with a familiar shout of, “Sol!” He eyed me for a moment. “You look…”

“Yeah, I know. You look good, healthy,” I said as we sat down at the bar.

He waggled his eyebrows. “You like? I’m trying out a new exercise and diet regime of sitting in the office and ordering in. Though I could swear we ate way worse at school.”

John’s the same as ever. He’s always been broad and he’s filled out a bit. He’s certainly not in football shape anymore, but he still looks good—if not my type.

Still, the only answer to that was, “Think Maria would share?”

John grinned.

We each ordered our usual—it’s been so long since I’ve had fish and chips. I don’t know how I used to finish the whole thing.

I could see John watching me pick at my food.

“I’ve gotten used to subsisting,” I explained. “My appetite still hasn’t bounced back.”

He nodded along sympathetically. “When’d you get back?”

That was the question I’d been dreading. “March.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise it’d been so long.”

“I was in London,” I said, as though that justified it.

Thankfully, he jumped on it. “Oh, really? How’s the big city treating you?”

“Well, I’m back here, aren’t I?”

He chuckled. “You and me both. I’m still amazed Maria agreed to settle here, of all places, after sunny Portugal. What were you doing in London? I heard through the grapevine that you had a breakup.”

“Yeah.” I sighed. “I was seeing an amateur detective.”

“What? Like Sherlock Holmes?”

I nodded, resigned. “The very same. It was supposed to just be a flatmate situation, but he decided it meant I was his assistant.”

John laughed. “Really?”

“It was… interesting. I think I saw all of London, and then some.”

“So, you investigated murders and that sort of thing?”

“Not so much murders, thankfully. Missing persons, breaking and entering, embezzlement.”

“Was he working with the police? I can’t begin to imagine what kind of legal nightmare that would be.”

“I know! It was a good thing he was just working on his own, with his methods, I don’t know what a judge would have made of it all. He did help people though. We found a missing girl. You should have seen her mum.”

“I can believe it. Actually, Maria and I have been talking about having kids.”

“Oh, congratulations.”

“No congratulations yet, but maybe next year.”

“Wow, that’s… soon.”

John grinned. “I know. It’s hard to believe, but Jim and Emma’s daughter is turning seven this year.”

“Seven? Already? But she was just a toddler. Has it really been that long since the team has gotten together?”

“A few of us meet up on the weekends every now and then, but it’s hard with jobs and wives and kids. I know you’ve had more than enough of your exes lately, but I heard Alex married his long-time partner—Arthur?—last year. Actually, I think they’re in London.”

“Everyone else really has settled down…”

John gave me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “You were always the adventurous one, though I’ve heard Bill is doing pretty well for himself in China.”

“I hope his Chinese has improved since school.”

“How’s your Arabic?”

“Ana atakalam suri bikhayr,” I retorted, though my accent was atrocious.

We didn’t stay at the pub for too long. John generously footed the bill.

When I tried to protest, he said, “How much is your stipend again? I think the firm can cover this one.”

“You’ve started charging your clients?” I replied, not that he’s wrong about the stipend.

“Only the rich ones. We’ve all got to pay the bills somehow.”

“Except Justin…” I muttered as we stepped out of the pub into the rainy afternoon.

John led the way down the street back to his car. “Mum and dad putting him up? No offence.”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure he never charged anyone. Half the time they didn’t want us investigating at all. And that flat couldn’t’ve been cheap. He must’ve been paying more than he told me.”

“No wonder you stayed with him for so long.”

“I guess…”

John stopped short of getting in the car. “I know it probably sounds rich coming from me after everything I did to get Maria over here, but there are other fish in the sea.”

He finally unlocked the door and went around to the driver’s side.

“I didn’t even want to go fishing,” I grumbled as I got in after him.

From the pub, we went back to John’s place. “Maria’s out with her girlfriends,” John said fondly as he unlocked the front door. “When she saw the forecast she promised she’d be sure to stay out to give us some time to chat—not like she needs the excuse.”

John and Maria have a nice little house. They moved in right around when they got married, so I didn’t have a chance to see it more than once or twice, but there are some things I recognize from John’s old room; his old football trophy in the corner and the shiny record player on the shelf for his Beatles albums.

I had to say, “Still listening to boy bands?”

John groaned. “They revolutionised rock and roll.”

He got out a couple of bottles of cider and for a little while we just sat on the sofa and drank in companionable silence.

And then John remarked, “I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you… It’s hard enough up here, trying to help people rebuild after their home, their town, even a whole city has been destroyed. They have to find work with missing limbs, and are trying to move on while they don’t know what’s happened to the rest of their family. There’s only so much I can do, and I’m not even in the thick of it…”

I took another swig of cider, itching for a cigarette. “Maybe I should’ve gone to law school with you and we could’ve started the firm together. It’s not like I’ve made much of a difference on the ground.”

“I don’t believe that. Do you know how many lives you’ve saved?”

I shook my head. “It sounds terrible to say it, but it doesn’t matter. I may save one person, but it’s always at the expense of someone else. There’s never enough supplies, enough time, enough people to go around, and it doesn’t do anything to improve their situation.”

“Wasn’t that the idea? Go where the need is greatest?”

I shouldn’t’ve snapped, but it was too much. “I know! I should be back there! But I can’t do it! I still hear the bombs, I have nightmares about trying to operate in the dark—it’s too much!” I let out a long, shaky breath. “Damn it.”

“Hey, hey, Sol, it’s alright. There’s always a need for doctors, even in London.”

“You know that’s not why I became a doctor! Shit, I’ve wasted so much time…”

“Hey, just because they’re not in a warzone anymore doesn’t mean everything’s suddenly fine and dandy,” John retorted. “You should see some of the clinics in the city I’ve dropped by to help some of my poorer clients.”

I sighed again. “You’re right. You work with them, you’d know. It’s just…”

“I know, we had all these big dreams about saving the world, advocating for all the downtrodden.” John shook his head. “But somehow, it takes everything I have to just get one refugee the help they need, and somehow I never make it before the UN or even Parliament.”

“Yeah, that just about sums it up.”

John and I talked for a while after that, mostly work. Things are so different here, but you get a lot of the same stories everywhere. John gets it.

I left when Maria came back for dinner. They both invited me to join them, but it was time to go back home. I had a quiet dinner with mum and dad and spent a little while in the living room with them afterwards, listening to the patter of the rain and watching it roll down the windows. Eventually, I broke out of my daze and I stepped out for a smoke, before coming back to my room. I really should quit.

I have a lot to think about that I would rather not.

[nackseo2]

Passion for Progress: Practices Fitness Trainers Swear By

Ever since I joined Näck, I’ve had the pleasure of diving into the world of fitness and wellness more in-depth than ever before. I meet inspirational fitness trainers and coaches now and then - some have the charisma of a stand-up comedian who turns universally hated burpees into a laugh-out-loud session; some are like fitness versions of Albert Einstein (only with solid abs), armed with a treasure trove of knowledge; some are simply so stunning, they make you want to cry and hit the gym at the same time. Regardless of what they specialise in, all of them seem to have this relentless drive that propels them forward in their quest for optimal health, and this ability to push their clients to be their best selves, physically and mentally.

I started to wonder, what is it that motivates fitness trainers? What inspires these workout wizards who inspire everyone they meet to be better versions of themselves? I spoke with some brilliant fitness trainers and coaches, whom we are proud to call members of our Näck community, to find out their secrets to unyielding commitment and boundless energy; let’s hear it from them, shall we?

Swetha Subbiah, Fitness Trainer And Co-Founder, Sisters In Sweat

“The one thing I swear by is making exercise or sports such an integral part of your lifestyle that if you went too long without it, you’d feel in your mind and body that something is missing. I’ve programmed myself to need to move every single day in order to just feel happy and healthy. Just making sports and movement a daily habit is enough to win the battle.”

Sports has been an integral part of Swetha’s life since childhood. Her mother is a Sportswoman too. “Growing up, it was very important to my parents that sports is something we stay connected to.”, she says. She played field hockey in school and for the Karnataka under-16 team. After studying economics, and two years of a corporate job, Swetha figured that the corporate world wasn’t for her. Sports and fitness made her the happiest! She got her first certification in the UK and started her personal training career at a gym that she helped set up. Three years into it, she became a Nike athlete and there was no turning back. Today, Swetha is a fitness consultant and runs Sisters in Sweat, a Bangalore-based sports and fitness community, solely for women with over 5000 members!

Partha Varanashi, High Performance Coach And Poly Extreme Sports Enthusiast

“I wake up early and drink 1 spoon of cold pressed coconut oil which is rich in MCTs - multi chain triglycerides with 500ml of warm water. It tastes great and helps me keep my energy up till midday and to get my work done fast without any lag or jitter. This is a practice common amongst long distance athletes. I’m a man of science - a molecular biologist who now trains athletes, so everything I do is based on science. Lipid metabolism produces 120-130 ATPs, much higher than aerobic or anaerobic glycolysis, which is why cold pressed coconut oil works. ”

Suhail Mohammed , Instructor And Co-Founder, Academy Of Strength

“I was overweight and unhealthy for more than half of my life and I didn’t like that feeling; my past is a constant reminder to keep my shit together in the present and future”. Suhail looks at training as a necessity in life and not a choice, just like brushing your teeth. “Motivated or not, you still brush your teeth everyday right?”

Suhail says he does nothing out of the box. He tries to meet his protein goal for the day and to not miss the veggies and fibre he needs. “Consuming water is very important. I never drink water out of plastic, instead carry a water bottle everywhere I go. Water first thing in the morning is so important.”

Anuj Srivastava, Founder And Coach, Troop

Anuj is a strength and mobility coach, and founder of TroopFit based in Bangalore. He helps people get stronger and resilient so they can move well and perform better even outside of the gym.

“What keeps me motivated? It’s the end results that my clients achieve. Since I do rehab specific training as well, I take great pride in my work when my clients get pain free and live a better life.”

“A good warmup/ mobility routine is something I religiously follow whether I’m in the gym or out. I prioritise sleep. I believe in forever progressing my own journey and attend movement workshops even now to expand my knowledge. One thing which I swear by is to learn as much as possible from others around me. It makes me a better human being and a coach.”

To Know More https://nack.life/blogs/news/passion-for-progress-practices-fitness-trainers-swear-by

[s3raph1c]

Some things to put in order before I start working again:

Write down recipes in very clear, foolproof detail

Do a bit of deep cleaning

Plan out how I will avoid falling ill and bringing sicknesses home (herbal supplements, lifestyle, daily practices

Start pumping and having my husband give our son at least one bottle daily to get him used to it.

Finish knitting my husband his sweater (I only have a sleeve and a half left. If we drive to my family for Christmas, I can probably finish it on the car rides. But otherwise I'll really have to carve out time.)

This is very vague, but make a plan to stay in good spirits and avoid burnout. I'm thinking things like my approach to my job (just there until I give birth vs now I'm working to support my family) and waking up with time to spare in the mornings to spend time with my family before leaving, and getting exercise. Also I think prepping and packing lunches will help a lot. The food there is hit and miss, and I didn't like rushing to buy something on my breaks (and also the cost of that). I think having little treats on a semi-regular basis will be good though.

I want to really step up this time: learn the things I never bothered to because I knew my time was ending soon, take more responsibility to make sure things run smoothly, and try to be a bit more social with my coworkers.

[serickswrites]

Vengeful One II

Part 1

Villain had been so excited when Mentor said that they, and Hero, were ready to begin combat training. Villain was delighted to be able to begin to hone their powers that they had concealed for so long. They wanted nothing more than to show Mentor how worthy of training they were. 

“Again,” Mentor called as Villain reduced the sand bag to smoldering embers. “And try to do better next time. Do you see how much is missing?”

Villain stared, mouth open at Mentor. How could they do better? There was nothing of the bag left. They had reduced bag after bag after bag to ash and embers. And yet Mentor had not been satisfied. “I don’t understand. What exactly is left?”

Mentor glared at Villain. “If you have to ask me that question, you’re not ready to continue your lessons today. I want you to practice this until you know what is left. Then come find me. I have others that learn better to attend to.”

Villain glared at MEntor’s retreating back. It had been much the same since they began combat training. No matter how much Villain tried, they could never satisfy Mentor. Could never be enough. Mentor always found something lacking, something missing from their work. They only ever critiqued Villain. 

But not Hero. They never critiqued Hero. 

Hero’s form was perfect. Their execution perfect. They did exactly what Mentor asked, or so Mentor said. Villain didn’t understand because, as of yet, Hero had barely been able to draw flame from the air. Had barely been able to show any power. 

And yet Mentor could not stop singing their praises. “You would do well to learn from Hero, Villain. They know exactly what they are doing. Perhaps they can tutor you.”

Villain merely glared in response. This was growing old, fast. 

“I would love to,” Hero said quickly. “Go and rest, Mentor. I’ll start Villain’s lessons now.”

Villain opened their mouth to protest, but the look in Hero’s eyes had them snapping their mouth shut. Once they were alone, they felt free to speak. “And what exactly are you tutoring me in?”

Hero shook their head. “I haven’t the faintest clue. But I knew arguing was going to get you nowhere.”

Villain crouched next to the latest training exercise: slicing a dummy in half with only their mind. Villain had sliced through twelve in the time it took Hero to dent one. “I just don’t understand what I’m doing wrong. What I could do better.”

Hero crouched next to Villain. “You’re doing nothing wrong. Nothing at all. But maybe you just need to apply our studies, all the lectures, to what your doing to make Mentor happy.”

“To what end? They said slice the dummy. I sliced the dummy. They say freeze the lake, I froze the lake. They say burn it down, I—“

“Burn it down,” Hero finished for them. “I think there’s more than just results, Villain. Mentor wouldn’t have spent all that time lecturing us if it didn’t matter.”

Villain jumped up, no longer wanting to be alone with Hero. “Yeah, well, that’s easy for you to say because you’re perfect.” They spun on their heel and stalked towards the door. 

“Villain! Wait! I—“

“Save it,” Villain called over their shoulder, “there’s nothing you can do to help me. I’m useless, apparently.”

Tags: @diamond-flavored-whump @wolfstar123456789 @starzabove @j-is-gonna-write-28 @pigeonwhumps

[moodyblue2014]

A Note on Cognition

It's 4 pm and I'm back home. It's been two days since I returned. I generally feel uplifted at the thought of travelling back after spending time away, and especially so after ending this horrid internship. To be perfectly honest, however, I didn't end it - I didn't have the willpower or assertiveness to do anything of the sort. But I did wish to, and both my own views and those of my supervisor's soon aligned after my performance review.

The circumstances of my internship only got worse - I was performing poorly compared to the other interns as I had zero practical experience in the clinical setting of an equine hospital. I was expected to handle foals on my own. I had never laid eyes on a foal in my life. My fellow interns talked behind my back - along with the nurses that supervised me. I was expected to do what a nurse would do. My university rotations didn't equip me well enough to perform in this way. I should have went to TAFE.

But did I have to feel bad about my evaluation and fundamental inaptness as an equine intern? After learning that I was basically cheap labour - no, I did not. In most cases, people can alter the way they feel about a situation. That is the gift of cognition.

I had learned to justify and accept my poor performance based on my lack of experience. Plus - I found a mentor in some of the senior vets who advised me to ease up on myself. The only way I could change my situation was to be as involved in the workings of the hospital as I could possibly be. But would weathering the difficulties of such a learning curve prove helpful in this context? After all, this hospital was a business - and according to several rumours, the clinic was bleeding money. A major part of our cognition is adaptive functioning - problem-solving in order to devise alternatives, to make a choice and evaluate an outcome.

So, despite gradually building the resilience to be able to cope with the hospital's caseload (I found myself immersing seamlessly into the busy rhythm of administering treatments and presenting each case after waking at 6 am) I found myself left with 4-6 weeks to improve my performance or risk termination of my internship. I sought guidance and support from the intern coordinator but how much could they do realistically? Besides, the fundamental yet unspoken quality of an intern is their resilience, their stiff-lipped acceptance of mountains of work, of seemingly insurmountable tasks and their lighting-quick ability to prioritise goals and manage their time. All skills which I was particularly weak at.

In the span of the forthcoming month or so I had to improve significantly. And, although I did - by the time I was called abruptly for a meeting with the coordinator and practice manager, I had already accepted my fate. Through a logical analysis of the situation I knew I wouldn't be able to meet the benchmark. I knew I had bitten off more than I could chew. But I had a million other doors to open. I left my two and a half month internship behind in Newcastle, but found myself exercising my cognitive abilities in the most resilient of ways. Something so natural as an adult, yet so difficult and painstaking to develop when you aren't quite fully one.

I missed a lot of marks during my tenure as an intern and made countless oversights and mistakes - but I landed every stepping stone in reappraising my surroundings, my limits and the immediate possibilities that can spring forth from them. And most importantly - I learned what my next step was.

And I knew, for once, it was acceptable to not know what to do in four or five years, but to know intimately what to do tomorrow.

[plscallmeeren]

2   D   A   Y S   A   N   D   D   A   Y   S

'The dirty leaves are sailing

On a hot wind ocean

And the summer comes and the summer goes

And always has and will

And something, somewhere that you said

Goes ricochet all through my head

And flashing like a neon sign, the time stood still

Hours of forever

Running all together

Like the crossroads of a minute

And you and me were in it

And I never saw it coming

Never saw it fade away

Today, today, today

Days and days

And still the whining of the wheels

Is closest to the way I feel

And winter comes and winter goes

And always has and will

Another hour, another day

Another year you pissed away

Remember walking in the rain

I'm walking there still

Like every heart to beat before

And every wave to kiss the shore

I'm not the first, I'm not the last

And soon to be your past

But every morning

When the light comes

Creeping in around my eyes

Another future falls behind

The one I had in mind

Days and days'

- Concrete Blonde

I slowly packed my things into my bag, sliding my notebook between my history books, then my planner...

I was in the state again. That state of derealisation where you have no fucking idea what's going on, you're pretty sure you're dreaming, and nothing matters and you're at total peace with everything.

What were the gods thinking when they created Pisces?

"Miss Crown, would you hurry up, please? I have places to be, you know," the shrill voice of my maths teacher sounded, annoyance lingering in her stare after her words were fully drenched.

"Of course," I replied quietly, feeling nothing as I slung the worn leather bag over my shoulder and picked up my folder, gliding over the floor to leave the room.

That teacher was difficult. Certainly, she had suffered trauma via loss. Most likely the death of a child or much younger sibling. She's just one.

The halls were busy, students chattering and gossiping and complaining like any of it was important. Strange. Why did they care?

In the end, we were all on a single planet in one solar system in one galaxy in one of endless universes which is completely unimportant, and even if it were, you are a single person in the mind-boggling endlessness of time, with a single problem or matter of distaste or new relationship that will make absolutely no difference to anything.

Strange.

'This is the strangest life I've ever known'. Jim Morrison said that. Smart guy, though he needed the drugs to realise it, often.

But I do it, too. Worry about things. Worry about people. About myself and how I look. No point denying it. We all do. Whether for ourselves or others.

My feet had wandered less aimlessly than I had thought, leading me to the forest surrounding our school like a comforting blanket hiding the lunatic assailment it felt like.

The first leaves had already descended to their early disconnection. I liked to think of them as hitting the ground, hitting reality. Like before they were transformed, they finally understood. I hoped that's what happens to humans, too.

I watched my shoes as I walked along the thin path that was hardly a path anymore due to lack of use. Crappy, plastic, black boots that reached my ankles. One of the three pairs of shoes I owned. I used to think they looked like DocMartens. Now I didn't think anything of them, whatsoever. I simply didn't care.

20 minutes later I was sitting at the bench Eddie and I had practically claimed, listening to Concrete Blonde and doing some of my mind exercises. I was half broken out of the state, but it would take talking to someone or having them talk directly to me for me to wake up. I didn't really want to. It was so peaceful in my mind for once.

"Hello, beauty," Eddie's voice drawled, circling the wooden table in a mesmerising fashion. It should have woken me up. But somehow... his presence made the world more ethereal than before.

"Hello," I breathed, noticing as the word left me that the circle was cracking, ancient safety and understanding that I had claimed thoughtlessly tumbling away, fraying at the edges.

"What are you...doing here?," he asked carefully, eyebrows raising as he stumbled around.

I didn't answer, just looking at him, watching, remembering, feeling. But it wasn't the bad kind of feeling I was used to.

"Hello? Raven? You good?"

My head rolled once around, its weight tolling on my neck as my tongue poked out between my lips momentarily. My head lolled to one side and then another lazily as I hummed the opening of Tomorrow, Wendy quietly, Eddie giving up on his questions as he sat down beside me.

It is complete now, 2 ends of time are neatly tied - A one way street; She's walking to the end of the line - And there she meets; Faces she sees in her heart and mind; They say, good try. Tomorrow Wendy is going to die.

"Beautiful," I whispered, staring at the sky as to not drown in Eddie. And drown I would.

"The sky?," he questioned, sounding a little confused but accepting, accepting of my strange behaviour.

"No," I denied, my gaze finally wondering down to meet his.

"What then?"

"You," I said simply, smiling gently as his eyes widened a little.

"Me? I'm beautiful? Nah," he disagreed, his face leaning close to mine. It broke.

"You can't run from the truth forever," I saved myself, relishing in all the human emotions I was cursed and gifted with anew.

"Oh, the truth? So this is an objective observation?" he grinned, twirling a strand of hair around his fingers.

"Yep," I chucked, no longer able to sound serious. How could I?

"Well, okay, then. Guess that mystery's solved." He smiled widely, adoration clear in his eyes as he looked at me. I only knew one other person who had ever looked at me like that. But even with them... it didn't overwhelm me quite as much. Not really.

It made me feel giddy with love, being looked at like that. I savoured the moment dearly. That is, until I realised I was looking back the exact same way.

"Well, fuck me if I'm wrong-"

"You're wrong," Eddie interjected, making me scoff in joking disbelief as he looked at me innocently.

"You did not just- okay. Sure. Sure. But I'm not wrong," I glared, watching him blush profusely. Not so shamelessly confident after all.

"Now I've forgotten what I wanted to say," I groaned, throwing my head back dramatically.

"Then I guess you were wrong," he smirked, playfully draping an arm over my shoulders.

"I never made this deal, love," I reminded him, placing a finger on his lips as he leaned in teasingly, pushing him away gently.

"Don't you wish you did?"

"Man, you are one step ahead of your past self, ain't ya?" I smirked incredulously, shaking my head as I spoke.

"C'mon, you can't tell me the sight of these hands doesn't turn you on," he countered, holding them up as if to prove it.

I couldn't answer, laughing already at the truth of his hands being a sight for sore eyes.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," he finalised, leaning back with a triumphant look on his face.

"O...kay," I drawled, "let's just move on from that theme, kay?"

"Do we have to?"

"Yes."

...

"How are you so tense?" I questioned incredulously, squeezing the spots just over his shoulder-blades thoroughly.

"How are you so good at this," he countered, leaning into my touch more and more as I found a sore spot.

"That would be called experience," I pushed down on the muscle just beneath his arm, making him yelp. "Found the motherfucker."

"Yep," he wheezed, holding his sides defensively. I laughed quietly, resting my chin on his shoulder.

"I'll just finish this bit and then I'll stop, 'kay?" I offered, Eddie reluctantly nodding.

"I still think it'd be better if I took my t-shirt off."

"I still think I would agree if you didn't say it with such a suggestive undertone," I countered, slipping my hands back under his shirt to continue.

"That's an opinion."

"Romeo and Juliet being a tragedy is an opinion."

"Damn."

I sighed, sitting down behind him with one leg on either side of the bench: "Apologies for the scornful metaphor, I'm just reading it at the moment."

"What, Shakespeare?" he asked, puzzled, looking even more confused as I nodded.

"But- We're doing The Prince in English at the moment, remember? Why are you reading Romeo and Juliet?" he turned his head backwards so that he could look at me.

"God, I love that book. But believe it or not, you can read outside of school, as well," I teased, ignoring the eyes squinting at me as his head fell forward again.

"No, I know that. I read stuff for... never mind. But why Shakespeare?" he pressed, disbelief caressing his words.

"Because there's a reason people liked him in the first place. He's good," I defended myself, withdrawing my hands from his back. He turned around quickly, grabbing my hands so that I couldn't pull them back.

"Hm. But it's all so sad." His eyes shone as he looked at me, but I could tell his mind was far away.

"Not as sad as The Prince. Power has a way of doing that," I added softly, tracing endless lines over his hands with my free thumbs.

"What do you mean?" His eyebrows furrowed adorably, wonder taking the place of the former distance in his eyes.

"Well, the book's about power. How to gain it, how to keep it, how cruel you have to be. Politics, basically. And there's nothing as sad as politics," I explained my thought process, my eyes wandering his face like it was a new world to explore. A foreign one, yet one that still felt like home, like a beautiful stranger. I didn't mind exploring for once.

"At least in America," he grinned, and I couldn't help but chuckle.

"At least in America," I agreed, nodding with raised eyebrows and a smile.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

Our gazes met, and I felt whole for a moment. Like how I felt earlier, but with emotion. Is that... happy?

No, I'm happy all the time. Often. It doesn't feel like this. This is strange. Different. Mesmerising.

"Do you like girls?" he asked finally, gulping visibly as if this might offend me.

"Would you mind if I did?" I countered unsurely. He didn't strike me as homophobic, but then again, many people wouldn't until you tell them. Tess.

"No," he replied, but there was a definite hesitance in his voice. Mind you, a hesitance I was not naïve enough to think of as homophobia or hatred. More like disappointment.

I contemplated. I waited. This was no easy thing to say. Such hatred had ruined possibly one of the most important things in my entire life for me. But it was Eddie. How could I not trust him? It would be distasteful. Disrespectful after all we had been through.

"Then yes, I like girls. Do you?" The quizzical but earnest look on my face apparently caught him off guard, because he started laughing a little.

"Yeah. Yeah," he nodded hastily, smiling widely as he continued, "but you like boys, too?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Uh, don't think so. But who knows, right?" he smiled, which set off the inevitable domino effect that had me smiling, too.

"Can I ask you a question?" His expression morphed in surprise, but he quickly nodded.

"How is it you were never scared of me? I sent a kid to hospital on my first day here, I've beat up multiple since, my reputation proceeds me as a psycho or something... and if that's not enough, anyone else was scared off by the fact I actually dated Billy Hargrove for years. But none of it ever seemed to bother you." My head tilted to one side as we held eye contact, and an irreparable sadness seemed to settle in his eyes, invisible tears celebrating their treachery silently.

"I was never afraid of your beauty," he answered after a few moments, his voice barely a whisper as he held my hands even tighter. "If anything, I'm less afraid of you than of anyone else at that damn school."

His tone was mocking, yes. Of course, otherwise he couldn't afford to say something like that.

A ghost said that. Or was it the Ghost? Or will they? He wouldn't understand.

"Even less than Gareth or Jeff? 'Cuz that's actually pretty hard to manage," I jested, his laugh lighting up my mood even more. That wasn't supposed to happen. That only happened with-

"Okay, maybe a bit more than them. But only because I care what you think of me." He smiled softly, a gesture I reciprocated.

"You don't have to worry about that. Not if you're being honest now."

"I am. I promise."

"Don't promise me anything," I pleaded quietly, "it won't work. The promise doesn't- I don't make promises. And I certainly don't accept them. Except for when they're from Brynn. Because I need that reassurance she won't put salt or pepper in the social worker's coffee." I chuckled lightly, easily brushing off the darkness I had hauled upon myself. I wonder if it only felt so dark to me.

"Who's Brynn, again?" he questioned curiously, his head moving in all the perfect ways so that his hair framed his face better than a painting could show. The glint in his eye no camera could capture. I was the only one who would ever see him exactly like this in this exact moment.

"Um," I stuttered, realising I had been staring for too long, "she's my youngest sister. A mischief-maker. She likes being called Loki or god of mischief, she's uh- Yeah. She's trouble, but very loveable."

He smiled. "She sounds great. Brynn. Hm. I'll have to remember that. Who are your other siblings again? I know about Miriam. She's one of the ones who always graffiti everything with good quotes and stuff."

"Yeah, she's cool. She's the eldest after me. Then there's Evangeline, who's... practically an angel. She's, well, perfect, basically. And Brynn is one of the twins, the other being Favian. He's, uh, he's a sweetheart. Gentleman. He'll be one of the best people out there one day. They all will." I felt extremely proud talking about them. They were all so great. Maybe I was proud to be related to them. Maybe it's because I practically raised the younger three. Who knows?

"I'd love to meet them...?" Eddie suggested carefully, leaning forward to catch my fallen gaze.

"Yeah, someday... shit! The time," I cried out, almost falling over as I struggled to jump up, running out of the clearing faster than Eddie could even comprehend what was going on.

They can wait. They can wait, it's okay, I tried to calm myself, but the anxiety was kicking in. I didn't know why it mattered that I was there on time. It just did.

"You could never look after them the way I do!"

My heart was speeding in my chest, a buzzing filling my ears that I could almost feel as my head filled with scenarios where I'd trip because I was running so fast, not to mention not being on time.

"Wait up!" Eddie was calling from behind me, but I ignored him, free will or no.

"Wait," he panted as he caught up with me, catching my arm in his grip, making me try and rip free of his hold, but the uneven breathing had me weak.

"What's wrong? Why is it so bad if you get back late?" he urged, shaking me slightly as he asked.

I didn't answer, instead furrowing my brows in confusion. Why was he stopping me when I obviously wanted to go?

"Is something wrong? Is it your siblings? It's only 15 minutes late... Why do you need to get back so bad-"

"Because I need to pick the kids up," I seethed, glaring him down as I finally broke free from his grasp.

"If you need someone to talk to-"

Before I ran off again, I whirled around to face him, breathing: "Don't worry, there's no one else in the world I could turn to."

And with that I was off, leaving a very bewildered Eddie standing there, saddening words catching him thoroughly off guard.

...

I tried to keep my breathing under control and stopped myself from panting as I sat in my car, sweating slightly and not seeing clearly enough to know when or who was around.

"Hey, Raven," I heard a voice call casually, my stomach turning at how bad his timing was.

"Yeah?" I answered with some difficulty, putting on a perfectly crafted smile and looking at where his blurred form stood.

"You wanna meet up some time?" he called, seeming to be somewhat in the distance.

"Sure. I've got second period free tomorrow," I answered, silently hoping he would just leave it be, no matter how much I wanted to see him.

"That's not what I meant, but sure. We can make up another time then. See ya around," he sang the last part, charming as always. My lucky day. That was fucking fast.

I heard the boot open just as my sight started focusing. The unmistakable sound of schoolbags being thrown into the back was heard and next thing I knew Evan was sitting in the back, speaking to me importantly, yet in a slightly disproving manner.

"You've got to stop spending time with him. He's not good for you. Do you have any idea what he does to Max?" she lectured, sticking her head out between the driver's and passenger's seat.

"Yes, actually, I do. You know that, Evan. But I've known him longer than Max has, and we have a very different relationship, okay? And I appreciate you looking out for me, but it's okay. Seriously. I'm not an idiot," I comforted her, even though I think she thought I was the one who needed comforting.

She looked wholly doubtful, but sat back with a scoff anyway, giving up, for which I was very grateful.

I raised them well. Did you?

3103 words

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[survivor76612651041]

Has Beens: Trying ti stay fit and active after the excitement of youth athletics

Im a has been yall I gotta admit it its time I can except it. Back when i was younger I was hesitant but at 38 years old it's been manyyears since I even touched a basketball or football its official. I'm not losing my athletic juice I lost it almost completely actually on. the road to recovery right 2 years ago was all-time low in conditioning.

When we were younger it was all so easy . I had tons of time and energy to burn we were still just growing into our bodies. Many of us felt we were in the lottery of some sorts getting calls and letters asking us to play collegiate sports and some of us even going pro. We al played in the top high-school leagues and played against future college, NFL and NBA stars it was an amazing time. I played three sports in high-school varsity in 2 and even got the chance to play college something I never even dreamed of but took the opportunity cause it was better then class and better then doing nothing in the hood played 3 years varsity d3 football I'm maybe could of went a division higher but I wasn't even recruited as a athlete I was actually a brain I got in private school for my test scores not my athletic abilities. But years of sports made exercise incredibly easy. If you never trained to be in the best shape you ever been in you don't know what your missing. It's worth it just beimg trained so strictly and proffesionallly people would pay for that experience and they were sponsoring us playing. Got laundry, food, clothes, got to travel and train all for free actually. that people invested in hellping you meet your physical peak. Its a very good deal a no Brainer to me. So I rarely missed practice, man practice was the best time of the day actually playing a game and now I'm faster, stronger and In better condition then ever. It was like that's untill about 22 and when it was all over it was so traumatic actually. Like the end of a dream training every summer through the fall was a regular and best part of the year many times. My youth was over and soon after college was over and it was back to the slums for a reality check.

I began working 2 jobs that year a d soon stared to gain a dose weight. I wasn't getting paid much so Ioften worked 2 jobs to make ends meet. So after working 14 hours day sometimes , no more sports training, no body to work out or be accountable. I began the up and down training and diet cycle. I had to work out alone, had to pay to work out , my time is gone I spend all day at work , I get off work all people do is drink and try to escape for a few hours then right back to work. It's getting hard to maintain. So I go through cycles of being in shape abd out of shape gaining 50.pounds losing 50 pounds focused working out to not having time or money to work out ..inconsistent pay and inconsistent work ruined mrle the worst working weird shifts no work stability for years working place to place for 2 weeks to.the longest 3 months longest any 1 place 1 years living a crazy lifestyle for years

So now here I am.what everyone fears middle aged and just burnt up. I really need the help and support to get healthy excessive to live a decent life I need ti be able to walk 1 mile for my whole life its been gettiing tougher abd tougher

So I'm starting a weekly workout group for other has been we are looking to meet 2 to 3 times a week to do group workouts together tomimimc being on.the too boring ass tread mill fir a half hour workout. Something fun or exciting to keep the other has beens motivated.

The mission begins now . I'm ready I'll be giving a few mothers reports on has been activated like Frisbee golf adventures abd swimming on the beach for a hour . Something new to keep a burn out like me inspired .