#i kept taking the test but had no idea what i was writting as i was writing it

[ffeelann]

That´s how — Kageyama Tobio Oneshot

hi there!!!

I have english and spanish writing commissions open, I don´t do just writting, but translating and essays and stuff. So if you want, you can always ask!

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Internally, Kageyama had a big uncomfortability feeling in that moment. He had been rejected by Yachi, who always helped both him and Hinata with english tests.

Hinata asked for Yachis´s help too but, because of her lack of time, she had to choose between them.

—So, Yachi-chan?— Hinata asked her, while he was staring at Kageyama, who was by his side. Kageyama also gave himself permission to stare at his new english rival.

—I…— while she tried to speak, Kageyama stared at her now, unintentionally scaring her.

And, being honest, choosing between a sunshine vibes boy and someone who seems capable of cutting off your arm with just a look, just like Kageyama, there is a difference, isn´t it?

For Yachi, that difference was extremely clear.

—Kageyama-kun— she said, and Kageyama could feel that shining look in his own eyes. But Yachi kept talking— … I´m sorry, really— Hinata literally jumped in joy while screaming with exclamation, making everyone near them stare on the jumping guy. Kageyama just sighed in answer.

—Stop doing that, Hinata, you have everyone´s attention now!

So that conversation was highly in discussion later, with the club members. Everyone was talking about who could help Kageyama to not fail english again.

—Well, I don´t know. It´s not like you can just spin a rulette with every student and choose one of them— Suga said, while Daichi was looking pretty worried.

Yachi was giving all their respective bottles to the team, and then her brain just formulated a brilliant idea.

—Spinning…— Yachi said, loudly enough for everyone hearing her. Those who were discussing, took place between the other guys who were staring at the youngest manager.

—What´s wrong with that?— Daichi asked.

—Oh, nothing. I just remembered something. I didn´t said nothing before because I haven´t think about it, but…

—¨but…¨?— Kageyama asked.

—There is this girl on class, who has been given lots of extra credits because she is… super cool with lenguages in general— when she said that, Sugawara reacted.

—Are you talking about y/s y/n? I know her— The third year said, while he was making obvious signs to Daichi to understand, but he didn´t.

—I have no idea about it but…

—Oh! Is the sixth girl!— Tanaka said while looking at Nishinoya.

—Six… Sixth on what?

—Oh, there is just… sometimes we guys think about wich girls would we date, for me and my brother right here, she is the number six.

—Is that girl, that japanesse and english teachers use as an example, remember, Daichi? ¨Even when she is younger than you!¨ and such.

Daichi opened his eyes twice as before.

—No way! People says that she just never opens a book before those tests…

—How is someone who doesn´t study, helping me to study?— Kageyama asked, and he was right.

—Well, you can ask her for help.

—Would she help me? I just… don´t even know her.

—Of course she will!— or not. Yachi didn´t really knew that.

—Another question— Kageyama said— Why do you thought of her because of ¨spining¨?

That question was actually interesting, so interesting that everyone just stared at Yachi to know the answer. And this last one just started talking as it was so obvious:

—Oh, y/n-san is always spinning her pens, or pencils… or whatever. I don´t know but, it looks cool.

Everyone had a little smile on their faces, thinking about Yachi´s thoughts simplicity. She noticed this somehow, and started taking notes while noticing she was blushing a little.

—————

So, y/n was still at school that afternoon, and that was a true crime for her, because she didn´t want to be here but, she had to stay because she promissed to help some guys on her friend´s club.

Anyway, she finally was allowed to go home early if she talked with their titular teacher who was apparently in the school yard.

The question was, where in the yard, right? No one specified nothing and she was revising every place she went, but couldn´t find no one.

So when she saw a girl putting watter in lots of bottles, she couldn´t help asking.

—I´m sorry but, I haven´t seen nobody— the girl said with dissapointment in her voice.

—It´s fine, I´ll just keep looking, he has to be somewhere— y/n said.

—O-oh, y/n-san!

—Yes?

—Would you do me a favor?— y/n just stared at her for a moment, and Yachi kept talking— One of the volleyball club members needs your help to studying english… would you mind…?

She were so exhausted she couldn´t say no, somehow. And… what would you lose by helping someone?

—I guess I could— Yachi celebrated internally, and y/n helped her taking those water bottles to the final destiny at the volley club.

Yachi called Kageyama to introduce him to you. He went with both of you once he was replaced by Sugawara on the practice.

—Y/n Y/s— he called Y/n, just to make sure he remembered the name. And he stared at her long messy hair, thinking about that enormus bun wich was not tied by nothing but a pen. He remembered what Yachi said about that lenguage prodigy spinning pens.

—That´s me— she said. He was going to talk, but you did it first— Hitoka said you need my help in english; so, If you need my help, I could try to help.

What was that? why was this girl mixing lenguages, was she trying to challenge him?

—Eh?

—Nothing, I said I´ll help you as long as I can. And as long as you follow my exigences…

Kageyama made himself quiet but, he imediately started trying to talk to you again.

—Uh, do you want me to pay you? or…

—Oh, no. I´m just making my classmate a favor, why would I take your money? I was talking about you going to my house, I just need to know when we´ll start.

—Oh, fine.

—When is the test?

—In three days.

—Okay then, so we are starting tommorrow.

—So soon?

—So soon.

Finally, after that chat, Y/n decided to give him her Line code to contact him and make sure he did know where her house was. She didn´t had nothing but that old pen in her hair, so she used that on his arm to write her code.

And now, he was outside Y/n´s home, in front of a huge garden were the only presence between both teenagers were two big and pretty scary dogs and a medium one.

So… what now? He asked himself. But after two seconds he remembered he had her line and he could contact her.

He inmediately told her he was out of her house, so he could go there and… protect him.

He just needed to send that little message. After two seconds, that girl went out there and calmed down the dogs, impressing the tall one… She looksed that she always was so calm that she could calm anyone down.

A relaxing aura.

—Hey— he said, trying to say hello somehow, and also a little jealous of her being so magnetic and relaxing for everyone, but he was pretty clad for being the center of her attention that afternoon.

That girl was dressed up with a long slided shirt extremely oversized and just shorts… and som sort of flip flops. Kageyama thought she was just as relaxed as her school self.

—Come here, they won't hurt you if you are not afraid of them— she said to him, while she was holding her biggest dogs collar with her hands completely flexed. Tobio noticed this, and he thought for a moment that dog could bring her down to the floor if he wanted to— Come on, Kageyama.

He didn't want to desobey her, so he just walked into the house. That house was as simple as her, it was warm, a family home. Apparently, his new teacher had a huge garden. A lovely one.

While he wasn't looking, she put the TV on.

—I should have imagined…— Kageyama complained, but Y/n heard that, so she continued the conversation.

—Don't tell me… or better do, what have you heard about me?

—That you never study, or stuff like that. You know what? I don't think this is not…

—I don't, at least not like they do… but I don't think you should go, King.

He turned around for a moment, looking at her with no mercy in his eyes.

—Don't call me that, never.

She smiled at him, and also invited him to sit with her.

—You can tell me about it… in english. And I'll give you my own tecniques.

Kageyama raised an eyebrow, what was she saying? She knew he did not like that name? Or was she joking? What was he hearing from her?

—Want to pass that exam, Kageyama? You don't need to think about you, just… thnk on your team. Come on, man. Come here.

He showed her a frown, as he was telling her not to try to convince him anymore.

But she just winked at him.

—In my experience, talking to someone will help you like three times a book can. Trust me.

—Why sould I?

—Because… oh! Yes, because you need to pass.

Kageyama frown at first. but he immediately sigh at Y/n, when she stared at him with a smile.

—Mine are not empty words. Let me hear what bothers you, what do you think, what did you do at practice today… tell me all those things. Watching movies is also a better idea to learn lenguages, did you know?

—How would I learn like that?

She smiled and patted the empty place next to her. He felt like he was losing some sort of competition, but he just obeyed her.

—I'm not going to judge you at all... I'm going to tell you some things about me. I think we could be pretty good friends— Y/n said, with a pretty wide smile.

—Why do you say that?

—I like you, you apparently don't like me but you still came, just because of your team.

He ended up telling her lots of things, eventually the movies where left to the end, because they were extremely concentrated on talking to each other. Y/n didn't allow him to speak japanesse that afternoon, so he had to learn a couple of things.

After that day, he opened his text book, and he got surprised because of understanding a little more than before... was she the solution? Was she a genius?

He went to school pretty confident when he had that test. Because he had been studying hard with Y/n all those days... it was awesome somehow, he didn't understand most of words at first... but then, structures and grammar just came to his head and he started to recognise some sort of... algorithms.

He finally did it. Kageyama passed.

—Look at this, Y/n! I did it great!— he showed his 78 out of 100 in his english test, super proud of it.

You smiled to him, with lots of simplicity in her eyes. He felt a little embarassed.

—What did I told you?

—I'm... I'm sorry for thinking about you as an asshole at first. Really.

—It's fine. No one thinks I'm serious. But don't say anything to the teachers, they could do bad things to me...

—Bad things?

—Or at least give me, I don't know, more difficult tests.

Kageyama nodded with shine in his eyes.

—Don't worry! Even if someone told them, you would ace those exams too!

Now, you were a little embarassed.

[thefingdixon]

No way home - Shane Walsh x you - Chapter 1

Pairing: kinda ?? Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader & Shane Walsh x Fem!Reader

Setting: first seasons 

Summary:  U’re on your way to survive when suddenly, some people get on your way. Will those strangers be helpful or on the other hand will they try to take advantage of you somehow??  

Words:  1,377 (maybe expect more next chapters, this one is a test & first one like an introduction^^)

Warning(s): kinda Violence?? , Swearing, traumatic memories

A/N: Aye! I’m new writting here (not writting, tho) I also write on wattpad (but on my first language) anddd decided to give it a try here. I’m a bit tired of not finding more interesting imagines about Shane apart of the smut ones lol (He’s hot we all get it but... feels 2 me that Shane can be or could have been much more) hope you enjoy it as much as I’m gonna for sure enjoy this ride. I’ll think of writting more if y’all let me know that u like it. Happy reading pals!^^

It’s been days away since you left the safe store where you rest and now live; you were tired. Your legs almost feeling like could stop responding any moment now.

Also, starting to feel a bit desperated to go back with the bit of the things that you found... mainly cigarettes and some canned food, you saw the chaos that the apocalypse had formed on the main road, with all the cars abandoned..

‘Who the fuck would have thought that apocalypse movies could look or be this real??’ kept sounding in my head everytime I saw an apocalyptic scene but I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I’m getting used to it. 

What I wasn’t getting used to was to accept the fact that everything and everyone that I’ve once loved is actually dead. Wether I’ve seen it or not; I avoid the flashbacks of my fam as walkers drinking the bit of alcohol that I find, ‘’clever choice? probably not’’ when you’re trying every damn second not to get killed. I used to think that I didn’t care anymore if any walker came and just bite me, but now for some reason I do.

I wanna a place on this world no matter what it costs, I used to want to die every minute of my past life despite that I loved my fam, they weren’t the most sympathethic with what was going on in my head or how I was feeling. Now, an apocalypse comes and I suddenly want to live cause it gets to real fight against the dead to stay alive, not just my head.

No more thinking or sadness, I won’t allow me this, now. I was looking for some gas at some cars, most of ‘em had run out off it cause people abandoned em with the motor on because of the panic of the moment.

-There we fucking go — I said when I saw right in from of my eyes a big motorcycle standing still, so fucking beautiful. I caressed it like it was the curves of the body of a woman for a man — Gotta get all the gas outta you. -I said whispering to myself smiling when I heard voices coming at me—

I’ve fucked up.

-Hey! Ms.! U’re in serious trouble.  —A manly voice said getting close to me—

I attempted to run but I failed, strumbling right to the floor. 

-You alright? — Said another manly voice getting close—

-No, fuck off  —I said turning to my side, now seeing clearly that what I had next to me were two man; a sheriff and a Deputy police.

-Watch your mouth, alright? — Said the sheriff pointing at me with a gun — Are you bitten?

-Do I seem to?  —I answered not in the mood of dealing with the police... even in a fucking apocalypse, had to be a joke —

-Can you chill for a sec?  —Asked the Deputy seeming to be losing the bit of the patience that he could have remaining-.

-Okay, what do you both want. I’ll get my ass outta here I just wanna go back to where I came from with the things that I got.  —I said in a tired sound of voice —

-Yea, you know, sure. The problem here is... that u fucked up with that motorcycle. U have no idea who’s the owner.  —Said the Deputy looking at me —

-Is that a threat?  —I said upping my eyebrow looking at him standing up outta the floor without help —

-You can sue me if you want, but no. At least not by me. — The Deputy said with a bit of a smile on his face —

Damn sure he was handsome but he was a Deputy after all, he could be anything but someone who I would hang out in any kind of way. Too much rightness for me, I guess.

A dirty man with a crossbow appeared, showing such a mood. An angry mood. 

-Hey you fucking bastard ‘gotta enough gas now? ‘cause if ya don’t want me to beat the shit outta you you gonna give it back to me  —He said looking at me Clint Eastwood glance kind —

-Yea sure, then.. beat the shit outta me. You really gonna beat a woman? what a gentleman— I said face to face with him —

-Yea, listen do I fuckin’ seem like someone who wants to be a fuckin’ gentleman??  —He said kinda challenging —

-Well, well. Enough show for the both of you. She’s just a girl compared to you, Daryl, c’mon man. —The sheriff said looking at me —

-Damn sure she has some balls to talk to me like that — He said stepping back and grabbing the bottle that had the gas that I stole from his bike—

-I ain’t a little girl.  —I said also responding in a mood—.

-I SAID STOP. PLEASE. — Said again the Sheriff ���. You said you have a place? 

-Just an old store it’s a bit far that’s why I wanted to steal some gas, I’m exhausted. I walked all across the way to attempt to get anything  —I said sighing —

-We could get you there if you want, but stop looking for trouble doing that. U saw damn well that his bike was not abandoned, someone could kill you. — Said the Deputy looking at me up and down —

Rick upped his eyebrow noticing Shane’s glance at her.

-Sure but how do we know that she ain’t dangerous or that this is a trap by some group?  —The sheriff said carefully —

-You seriously think that I’ve got a group behind and that I’m gonna be sent alone out here??  —I said not believing his words, it sounded stupid in any way —

-You could be like that one  —Said the sheriff pointing at Daryl — He goes out alone many times cause he has such a mood that can’t stand people most of the times. He sure can protect his ass, and you seemed much alike. 

I sighed and rolled the eyes, Daryl did the same at being compared with a ‘’little girl’’

-Name, babygirl?  —Said the Deputy —

I smiled at him, cause the nickname. 

-Lillac. — I said —

-Like... you know, the colour?  —he said , I nodded- Such a curious name, eh? Rick and I used to hear a lot of but not like that one. — He said smiling sympathetically — Oh, eh.. I’m Shane, the sheriff’s Rick, the dirty one Daryl. He ain’t familiar with water, we’re sorry.

-I swear.. — Daryl was about to swear over all the possible god known —

-Don’t... well maybe you could pick up your things and join us if you want I mean, thinking bout it I feel a bit bad on letting you all alone. Must be hard to get here, I know what it is to be alone in this world. — Rick said remembering when he left out the hospital —

-Now, How do I know that you won’t take adventage on me stealing my things, that u ain’t bad people in disguise?  —I said putting my hand on my gun that I had hidden on my waist —

Shane handled me his iddentification, I smiled looking at his information.

-Shane Walsh. — I muttered smiling —

-Wanna come with me?  —Shane said blinking an eye to me —

-Don’t attempt to flirt on me in an apocalypse with ur sheriff-companion by ur side and a filthy guy, weirdo  —I said smiling and giving him back also a blink —

He twisted a bit his head, just amazed by the answer. He knew damn well he’s handsome, so didn’t expected that she came up with that.

-Wanna come with me? Seems u liked my babygirl  —Daryl said going to his bike putting the hand on it waiting-.

-Yea, looks cooler than a police patrol car. -I said giving Daryl a smile —

I could feel the jealousy on Shane because of how things turned. Now she was going to be in that ‘trip’ with Daryl and not him. Rick was busting in laughter because of the way his mate was rejected in just mere minutes.

Daryl put the gas back on his bike, looking at her.

-Gotta any cigarettes so it makes worthy the ride??  —He said with a raspy voice, that made him a really interesting guy appart of his attitude —

(To be continued on next chapter..;

[crystalessenceswrites]

Burden of the Survivors- Chapter Two

Burden of the Survivors

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader Rating: T (at the moment- subject to change) Warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence *no spoilers- takes place in Season 1 timeline* Summary: Mando works alone- except for when the absolutely can’t. There are few people Din trusts – trusts as in he doesn’t expect a viroblade in the back the second he’s turned around. She’s one of them. Just as cautious and nearly as tight lipped about her past as he is, Din doesn’t mind her around too much. A/N: My inspiration is a fickle thing, I’ve been swinging back and forth between Shadows and BotS for a few weeks now. Finally got enough to sit down and finish this chapter, so cheers to that.

[Masterlist] [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] Cross-posted to AO3

Chapter Two

When Vero found you, you were nothing but a pickpocket on the lower-level streets of Coruscant-the byproduct of the horrors of the Clone Wars and the rise of the Empire. You were nearing sixteen and beginning to lose your touch. When you were younger-and smaller-it was easier to weave through crowds and avoid attention. Puberty and a growth spurt made it much more difficult for the teenage you to blend in. You made it work, you had to if you wanted to get by, but it took twice as much work to get folks to look the other way. Ever observant Vero caught on quick but said you had potential, just not as a street thief. The alabaster skinned theelin approached you with a job, a job that paid more than you could scrounge up in two weeks selling your stolen treasures. All you had to do was deliver a small parcel to a pilot friend of his at a docking station a few levels up without getting caught by the city guard before the pilot was scheduled to leave in two hours. It seemed easy enough and you desperately needed the credits. The last thing on your mind was what was in the package you carried. You knew better than to stick your nose where it did not belong, especially when you were getting paid. That decision changed your life.

The job was a test to see if you were capable and trustworthy enough to bring on for a real job as a runner, and you passed with flying colors. Vero took you under his wing and had you running smuggled goods and other products all over Coruscant. It was a reckless job, you knew that-even as a child-but it kept a roof over your head and food in your belly at a time in your life when you had forgotten what that was like. You were one of many street kids on Coruscant that had to turn to life in the underworld to get by, but you thank the Maker you ended up with the one crew on Coruscant that had some small sense of morals.

Vero worked for Shan Tillis, who had grown up on the streets of Corellia himself. Shan was sympathetic, smuggling had been his way out of the gutter, and he offered you that same opportunity. It had not taken long for Shan and the others to realize you were too smart and too quick on your feet to just move goods, that you and your brain could be used elsewhere. So, they taught you. Kom and Redarr, Shan’s lead muscle heads, taught you how to fight and how to fight dirty. Sola bought you your first proper viroblade (you’d nicked one years ago but it was made for hands much larger than yours so you’d always been rather clumsy with it) and taught you every trick in the book she knew, every weak spot on the body, how to wound but not kill and where to bleed someone out the fastest. Her lessons were always your favorite. Tala taught you how to pilot every kind of ship you could get your hands on, and how to hotwire a landspeeder- Vero was not thrilled when he discovered that lesson had been performed on his precious baby.

Everything that made you into the infamous bounty hunter you were now had been taught to you by that crew. Every cautious tick had been drilled into you by Kom and Vero. Redarr had schooled you on blasters, made you practice in-between jobs on how to take them apart and put them back together with your eyes closed. Zena taught you how to read people and how to know when a deal was about to go south.

Shan imparted you with the most practical wisdom of them all. How to know when you’re fucked.

This job seems pretty fucked to you.

The Mandalorian is silent as the two of you settle on the ridge above the compound. Scope out, he looks over the cluster of buildings. Even from a distance you’ve already counted ten nikto out and about, and you can safely assume they’re all heavily armed.

You tighten the various straps and holsters on your person before slipping your tactical mask into place. The contraption covers the lower half of your face and has always been more for the intimidation factor than much else. Redarr had gifted it to you all those years ago as more of joke than practical gear but you’d grown attached. Between the mask and its voice modulator, your hood and dark, nondescript clothes you could remained relatively anonymous when you wanted to, which was most of the time.

“If we come along the east side I think I can make it up to the roof without being seen, provide you with a little more cover.” You did always prefer the higher ground.

Mando nods, continuing to scan the scene, “there’s two on the northwest corner you’ll have to manage.”

Your scoff crackles through the modulator, “they won’t be an issue.”

He grunts before his head snaps back towards the edge of the compound, “shit. Bounty droid.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You whip out your own scope, focusing in on where Mando was watching. Sure enough, you spot an IG unit bounty droid making its way up to the group of nikto lingering outside.

“Subparagraph 16 of the Bondsman Guild Protocol Waiver compels you to immediately produce said asset.”

You roll your eyes as the shooting starts. Droids had to have figured out by now it was never that easy. If it was, anyone with a blaster could join the guild.

The droid has a handle on the gunfight, but you groan as you watch the compound go into lockdown, all the blast doors slam shut before the last shot is fired.

“Droids.” Mando snaps as he stands, one hand clenched around the hilt of a blaster.

You jump up, following behind him. Again, with the acting first, thinking second.

As you approach the encampment Mando jerks his head up, “you take the topside.”

“Gladly.”

You scramble up the side of the building with relative ease, there are plenty of odd pipes and vents that make convenient grips as you haul yourself and up over the lip of the roof. When the droid had ruined any chance at a surprise attack, you’d lost sight of the two guards on the roof. You keep your rifle aimed in their last known direction as you settle onto your stomach, ready to cover Mando as needed.

“Subparagraph 16 of the Bondsman Guild Protocol Waiver compels you to immediately produce said asset,” the droid repeats.

Maker they really have no learning curve.

“IG unit! Stand down!”

The bounty droid has split second reaction times, shooting at what you can safely assume is Mando when he groans from somewhere down below and out of view. “We’re in the Guild!”

“So I suggest you stand down before you take a bolt to the brains, droid.”

Your quip draws the droid’s attention to your vantage point on the roof.

“You are Guild members? I thought I was the only one on assignment.”

“That makes two of us,” Mando grumbles. “So much for the element of surprise.”

That was a kriffing understatement.

“Sadly, I must ask for your fob. I have already issued the writ of seizure. The bounty is mine.”

“Unless I’m mistaken, you are, as of yet, empty-handed.”

“This is true.”

You have to restrain your eye rolling to keep monitoring the roofline.

“I have a suggestion.”

“Proceed.”

“We split the reward.”

How many people was he going to offer to share your credits with? This was beginning to get out of hand.

“This is acceptable.”

Well considering how much Mando hated droid he at least knew how to manage them considerably well.

“Great. Now let’s regroup, out of harm’s way, and form a plan.”

You were sorely doubting that the droid was capable of forming a decent plan or following whatever you and Mando came up with, but it was worth a shot considering the situation had become even more fucked thanks to him.

“I will of course receive the reputation merits associated with the mission.”

“Is this really the time?” You shout down at the pair.

Mando seems to have the same idea, “can we talk about this later?”

“I require an answer if I am to proceed-”

An orange head pops into view on the roof across from you, “we’ve got company!”

The nikto takes a shot at the droid, “oh, no. Alert. Alert. Alert.”

Whole lot of help this one was. You land a headshot just as the doors of the compound slide open, more soldiers swarming out, blasters drawn.

“Let’s go!” Mando dives for cover and the droid follows after.

Your spot affords you a decent line of sight into the courtyard but there’s more of them then you thought there would be out in the middle of nowhere guarding who knows what you were after. It takes you picking off three of them before they realize you’re shooting at them from above. There’s a flurry of shouting and pointing in your direction and Mando makes a run for the main set of blast doors at the back of the courtyard. You were going to have friends on the roof soon. Lucky you.

Rolling back you jump to your feet, taking a couple pot shots into the courtyard as you make for the far end of the roof. The droid is a decent shot, covering Mando’s mad dash while you focus on the nikto popping up across the roof. One hauls himself over the edge to your left, making a swipe at yours leg with his blaster. The loud crunch of your boot to his skull cuts through the blaster fire around you as the body falls into courtyard. Gross. Two more appear out of thin air, their shots barely missing your head. Losing your blaster you duck and roll, knocking both over as you draw a viroblade from your thigh holster. Neither have time to react before you’re on them, each taking one clean slice to the neck.

Mando and the IG unit have made it to the main door as you duck behind some ventilation equipment at the northwest corner of the building. You appear to have control of the roof for now, but you can see the soldiers in the courtyard beginning to regroup. They have Mando and the bounty droid pinned. Shit. You can hear Mando’s modulated shouts from below but you can’t quite make out what he’s going on about. Hopefully he’s chewing out the dumbass droid who go you into this mess.

The IG unit steps out again, laying out a spread of blaster fire that doesn’t seem to do much. The nikto have plenty of coverage behind debris and the series of pillars lining the courtyard. Their numbers also seem to be steadily growing. Just how many of them were set up out here? Who needed this many bodyguards? It was nearly a small army. The IG unit cannot keep up with the incoming blaster fire, even with your help from above.

Your stomach drops as you catch sight of another incoming nikto on a hover blaster at the encampment entrance. You were all fucked. All you can do is hope Mando’s found good cover down there as you drop to your stomach, bracing behind the ventilation unit. The nikto lets it rip, covering the area with a spray of bolts. Most sound like they’re striking below you, focused on where you assume Mando and the droid are hiding.

Then as suddenly as it started the gun stops. Poking your head out you watch as the nikto is flung backwards and Mando yanks the blaster to him. You thank the Maker for whatever good fortune he earned for that to work. It takes only moments for Mando to swing the blaster around and mow down the rest of the small army.

“Well done,” the IG unit cuts through the eerie silence following the blaster fire. “I will disengage self-destruct initiative.”

“Wait, you guys can self-destruct?” Seemed a bit counterintuitive.

Mando’s visor snaps to where you’re hanging over the edge of the roof, looking for a spot to climb down. He wordlessly offers you a hand and you toss your pack and blaster down to him. Its not too high up so you simply ease over the edge and drop to the ground, ignoring the harsh jolt to your knees.

“Manufactures protocol dictates I cannot be captured; thus I have a self-destruct initiative.”

So the droid could have killed you all if had deemed the situation too risky. Great. You’re glad you hadn’t been aware of that during the shootout.

Mando helps the droid back to its feet. “You know, you’re not so bad. For a droid.”

Had hell frozen over? Mando was as droid adverse as they got, and now he was complimenting one? The universe must be ending.

“Agreed.”

“That blaster hit looks nasty. You okay?”

“Running a quick diagnostic… it has missed my central wiring harness.”

“Is that good?”

“Yes.”

Mando glances back to you, “good?”

“Never better,” you grin. This could have gone significantly worse, so you had no room to complain at the moment.

“Well, now we just need to get the door open.”

The way Mando’s helmet whips back to the large blaster makes you groan. There were easier, less messy ways to go about things. You don’t attempt to talk the hunter out of it, he most likely wouldn’t listen to you anyways. It almost looks like he has fun shooting out the blast door until in collapses inwards.

You all take tentative steps inside the compound. One head appears around a far corner to the right. Mando’s quick draw has him downed before anyone blinks. “Anyone else?”

As if any survivors were going to offer themselves up to be shot.

“I’ll clear the west side,” you offer and Mando nods before heading off with the bounty droid in the opposite direction.

An unnerving silence settles over you as you stalk down the halls of the mysterious compound. The small army camped here had been prepared and well supplied. There are crates upon crates of food stuffs, weapons and ammunition. Some places are nearly packed floor to ceiling with it. What exactly was going on out here? How did they get all this out here in the middle of nowhere?

You worry your necklace pendant with one hand, an unconscious gesture you have yet to train yourself out of. Something was not right about this job, or at least more than normal. Over the years your own morals had morphed to accommodate your line of work. You worked for the guild and were often paid by unsavory individuals, but that was what you did to survive, and you refused to let that get to you. This however was picking at an old wound, long forgotten.

Another shot echoes through the compound and you find yourself racing back towards Mando and the droid, blaster held at the ready. Swinging around a corner you find Mando standing over a small floating pod, the bounty droid smoking out of its “head” on the floor. Maybe he didn’t want to split the bounty after all.

“Mando?” Your voice seems to cut through whatever trance the hunter was under, head snapping back towards you. “What happened?”

His shoulders drop, the tension seeming to fall away at your appearance. “He was going to kill the bounty.”

“I thought you said the client specified they wanted it alive if at all possible.”

Mando nods, “they did say that.”

That gnawing sense of dreads returns. Stepping up next to Mando you glance down into the pod-which appears to be functioning as some kind of traveling pram-and are greeted with wide dark eyes and pointy green ears.

Oh Maker no…

[thedc-verse]

Spreading The Love (Harrison “Harry” Wells x Reader x HR Wells)

Summary HR, Reader and Harry wake up in the same bed.

Warning: F-Bomb, implied sex, swearing, talk about sex

Note: Found some old request that I thought I had posted. Sorry it's taking me 500 years. Shits happened. Also I'm considering writting for Supergirl and Batwoman. I know I've been mostly flash and DC Lot but I'm finally expanding... Slowly.... I'm sorry... I wish I was more active. I genuinely do. 💔.

 ________

You're not sure how it happened but you, Harry, and HR had woken up in the same bed. Your bed. You would have never known the two men were laying next to you in your queen-sized bed had it not been for the loud crack of thunder that awoke you that morning. The rumble was explosive, setting off car alarms all down the streets of Central City. The thunder waking you with a jolt, you sat straight up momentarily confused by your abrupt consciousness. When you fully grasped at what happened you heard a small yet clear groan from the floor, you had managed to knock Harry out of bed. Not a moment later HR stirred. "Harry?" You asked confusedly. "Why are you in my house?" He sat up still on the floor, he looked past you at a sleepy HR. "HR?" He asked now even more confused. You raised a brow and followed his line of sight. Your eyes widened at the shirtless HR. "What the f-" Lightning truck the ground outside your window. With the momentary burst of light, you noticed the rest of HR was just as bare.

Quickly turning away from him you look at Harry, also naked and exposed you averted your gaze. Quickly you clutched your sheets to your chest but it was no use. Your chest had been exposed far too long to leave anything to the imagination. The three of you sat for a moment, no one spoke or looked at each other. You panicked, trying to recall any of last night, but it was as if last night hadn't occurred. As if you all had the same idea at once, which you most likely did, you all stood up ignoring each other and start searching for your clothes. The awkwardness was unbearable.

“How did this happen?” Harry grunted as he grabbed his pants and slipped his right leg in them. You tried to turn on the lamp but nothing came on. The electricity must have gone out. You couldn't see well and you didn't want to walk across the room to get new clothes while naked.

Moonlight shining threw your bedroom window was the only source of light. You finally found your shirt on the floor. It was almost completely under the bed. “Psst.” HR whispered. "Hey," He whispered a little louder to get Harry’s attention from the other side of the bed. He had put on his shirt and scarf and now held up a pair of pants in his right hand. “Harry.” He whispered again. “What!” Harry snapped breaking the trend of whispering. “Those are my pants.” He pointed to Harry who had the jeans halfway up his legs. “What?” Harry paused his movements. “These are yours.” HR raised his hand that held the pants. "Harry well that makes sense. I knew these were too tight." Harry glanced down at his legs contemplating if he should take off the skinny jeans. “. . . Fuck it.” He shrugged pulling the jeans up to his waist. His double watched slightly surprised, after all, Harry did hate skinny jeans. Once Harry zipped up the pants HR shrugged putting on the more breathable pants.

”What happened to your face?” Harry asked finally looking at him. “What happened to yours?” HR retorted seeing the black around his eye. You pulled your shirt over your head before reaching further under your bed and blindly slapping your hand around until you felt a familiar plastic handle. You smiled to yourself pulling out your camping lantern and turning it on, your loft glowed insignificantly brighter. You frowned slightly remembering it was brighter during the last blackout.  

“What the hell happened?” Harry whisper-yelled at HR. “Me? What makes you think I know?” Hr placed a hand over his chest defensively. “Because whenever something goes wrong it's usually your fault!” Harry argued, to this HR rolled his eyes, shifting so his back faced Harry. 'They act more like brothers then doppelgangers.' You thought with a sigh as you grabbed your pants. The two men bickered as you put on your pants. You were getting a headache from all this chaos. You rubbed your temples as you walked downstairs. “This is ridiculous, Harry. I did nothing wrong.” You heard HR protesting voice fade as you made your way down the steps.

'No, what’s ridiculous is waking up in bed with two men, or was it one? Same man different bodies. . . I need an aspirin.' Walking into the kitchen section and opening the fridge you grab a water bottle. As you opened the medicine cabinet you made a mental note to reorganize it. "What a mess." You grumbled finally finding the aspirin. You heard quick footsteps come down the stairs as you swallowed the capsule. You glanced at the clock on your stove curiously. The clock was blacked out. "Great..."

“So I’m guessing you don’t remember last night either?” HR asked entering the kitchen. “Not really... All I know is that the three of us must have had sex . . .” You squinted at them not liking how that sounded. Nor sure if that was the best way to word it. "I mean doppelgangers are technically the same person... so was it actually a three-way?" Harry averted his gaze to stare at the floor, hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Well yes and no..." He trailed off. You handed placed both the aspirin bottle and your water on the countertop for them to use. HR wasted no time grabbing the medication and taking two tablets. He tried to hand the bottle to Harry but he pushed it away annoyed. “Gross. I’m not drinking after you.” He spat. You patted his shoulder tiredly. “No telling what you did last night. Just drink it.” You said heading to the couch. HR offered then now disturbed Harry the drink again. Harry glared at HR while he ripped the bottle from his hand harshly. He rolled his eyes as he drank from the bottle. After he finished his drink he opened the front door and left. HR grabbed his hat and followed after him.

________

You were running late. You overslept big time. 'I knew I shouldn't have tried to squeeze in a nap. I rest everything but the alarm clock. Smooth.' You scolded yourself. As you stepped onto the elevator your phone pinged.

New Message from Cisco: WHERE ARE YOU!!!!

"Oh great." You muttered hitting your floor on the elevator. You glanced at the clock as you typed a response back. 'Holy shit. 8:40. I'm two hours and forty minutes late. That's almost three hours! Three! That's way too many. Can I get fired? But I love this job! My friends wouldn't fire me, right? Barry is kind of too nice and a push over...No, of course, they wouldn't fire you. Just calm down. You're only freaking out because of what maybe-no-definitely happened last night...' You stepped off the elevator and headed to the Cortex.

As walked in you were greeted by Cisco. “Hey, Y/N," He said smiling cheerily as he slings an arm around your shoulder. "Let’s threesome this afternoon.” You stopped walking. “I’m sorry, what?” Barry, Caitlin, Harry, and HR turned around curiously. In doing so you could now fully see Harry's deep black eye and HR's bandaged up nose. “Let’s do something this afternoon?” Cisco repeated confusedly, his voice going high pitched as he let go of you. “Oh, No thanks I can barely stand.” You said walking to your desk. You placed your work files and laptop on the desk. “Why can you barely stand?” He asked rather loudly. You paused again, internally swearing, you glanced at the doubles before turning around to face the others fully.

HR suffocated on his coffee gasping for air at Cisco's words. Harry squinted questioningly at HR not sure why he had suddenly inhaled if favorite beverage. You saw the connection click in his eyes as they both turned to you. “How come I what?” You raised a brow, playing dumb. This time Barry spoke up. “You said you can barely stand. Why?” You glanced from Barry to Cisco to Barry. The speedster made a face as if asking, 'Are you gonna tell us?’ as he shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. “No, I said I can barely stand... today. As in if I’m this tired now, how would I have any energy to do anything tonight. I'll tell you how." You pointed at them. "I won't. I’ll be dead asleep.” You laughed awkwardly. "Anyways we need to make up for the lost time. Barry, hurry up." You attempted to change the topic smoothly, but when Cisco opened his mouth to question you, you grabbed Barry's hand and dragged him out of the room.

You just wanted the day to be over and you would like as little questioning as possible. Even if you wanted to answer, which you didn't, you couldn't remember anything anyway. For all, you know the three of you decided the room was too hot, took off your clothes, and then passed out drunk. Maybe nothing happened and this would make for a funny story later. You think back to this morning. After the doppelgangers left without a word you sat on the couch for an hour trying to make any sense of the situation. Part of you wished you'd just stayed asleep, you'd have never known anything happened and life would be fine.

Once you had entered the speed lab Barry couldn't help but ask, “What was that about?” You glared at him as you took your position behind the monitor. “Just run.” He raised a brow curiously but did as he was told. While Barry was running you tried to focus on his speed but your mind kept drifting off. A few laps into the test you started to remember bits of last night. It flashed through your head so fast and on loop until the fragments made a story of what had actually happened the night before.

HR had shown up at the bar where yourself, Caitlin, and Cisco were drinking. He must have a bunch of coffee because he was talking way to fast to understand what he was saying. You honestly couldn't remember a word he said. You vaguely remember ordering a drink before Harry showed up. His hair was ruffled as if he'd been running, his cheeks were red and he was out of breath. His chest puffed in and out clearly taking deep breaths as he scanned the bar rapidly. He looked determined. His eyes met yours and then suddenly the three of you were at your loft. 'HR was kissing me or was it, Harry? . . . It was HR. He was wearing a scarf.' The three of you managed to get up the stairs without falling, 'I was laying on my bed and... HR and Harry got into a fight? What were they saying? Leave? Just tell her?' Tell me what?' HR pushed Harry onto the bed, his back hitting the mattress. They wrestled, Harry got on top for a brief second before HR flipped them over... 'Kind of looks like they were... oh god! Wait-! Where did Harry’s shirt go? Where are my pants? Harry’s pulling me to him...HR’s taking off his shirt behind Harry.

“/N. Y/N!” Barry yelled as he walked out of the track. “Are sure you're ok?" He asked. “I’m fine.” You huffed. You might not remember what happened after that but your body did. It was reacting in ways not safe for work. You crossed your legs instinctively.  

________

It was now the end of the day and you had to work up the courage to get the work you left in the Cortex, which is where both HR and Harry would most likely be. When you walked in you were alone, the cortex being completely empty was rare so a quick beeline for your desk was suitable. No one around to question why you're in a hurry and you didn't want to waste this opportunity. HR popped out of nowhere, you flinched in surprise at his bright smiling appearance. Which at this point shouldn't be a surprise, showing up out of nowhere was his thing. “I remember.” His smile grew. “What?" Both you and Harry blurted. Jumping again at the sound of another voice entering the conversation. Your face flushed embarrassed your not a jumpy person but clearly, you were more on edge than you thought.

“You told me you didn’t remember,” Harry growled as he approached you both. “Well when you asked me if I remembered, I thought about it and it started coming back to me. I don’t see what the big deal is you almost died when you got your memory back. Muttering “I’d never do that.” and then you glared at me.” He shrugged. Your head snapped to Harry. “You remember? How much?”

“You say that like you want to know.” Harry scoffed turning to leave. “I remember how you got your black eye and how HR broke his nose.” You smirked crossing your arms over your chest. "How did either of you explain that to the others?" Harry turned to face you. His mouth opened but HR cut in. “And what happened next was quite a sight-” “Don’t!” Harry's voice cracked as held up a hand to his doubles mouth. “Oh, so you remember that too?” HR smirked, 'Since when did he smirk?'

“I’d rather not,” Harry grumbled as he stared at the floor. “So where does this leave us?” You asked. “What do you mean?” They asked in unison. “Aren’t we gonna piece the night back together, figure out what lead to this?” Harry glimpsed at the entrance. “It was a one night stand.” Harry deadpanned. "A one time mistake." He stated firmly before brushing past you.

You watched him leave.

[artificialqueens]

Level Up, Chapter One (Branjie) - Holtzmanns

“Vanessa, Brooke’s going to be your partner.” Kameron throws a haphazard arm around Brooke, and Vanessa has to hold back a laugh when Brooke rolls her eyes. “Careful, though. She won’t go easy on you.”

Brooke. So that’s her name.

“I don’t think she wants me to.” Brooke’s lip curls up in a smile as she gets closer, and Vanessa has to try hard, really, not to fidget. To stay cool.

Because she’s cool. Right?

“I won’t go easy on you either then, Miss Thing.” Vanessa sniffs.

Her bravado is going to get the best of her eventually, she knows that. But how’s Vanessa going to be the shit if she doesn’t convince herself of it first?

What do you get when you pair a retired boxer with a new girl who has something to prove? Another holtz multichap special, that’s what.

AN: Hi again!! It’s been awhile since the last multichap. This one isn’t as prewritten, and may take a little bit longer to post because of real life happenings. That being said, I hope you enjoy it! To whoever sent me a million asks on tumblr telling me to post it now rather than waiting: I love you. Writ, as always, is the best for betaing <3 Enjoy!

“I’m not going in there.”

“Like hell you aren’t. If I have to pick your ass up from the station one more time ‘cause you can’t stop picking fights with people twice your size, I’m gonna lose it.”

“How’s a musty boxing gym gonna help with that?”

Vanessa slouches in the seat of her sister’s car, crossing her arms, because the whole thing is stupid.

It had been Rob’s idea, anyway. Alexis’ boyfriend. Also the cop who’s kept her from etching ink onto her criminal record. Doesn’t make his idea any less ridiculous.

Alexis sighs, and the sight is reminiscent of their mom’s expression when she’s overworked and impatient and coming off a twelve hour shift. “Because you need to channel whatever… this is, properly. You can’t keep blowing up at people, ‘cause I’m not always gonna be around to bail your ass out.”

“He deserved it.” Vanessa mutters under her breath, because the guy did. “He wouldn’t stop harassing A’keria even though she told him she had a boyfriend, why wouldn’t I sock him in the jaw?”

“Because the cops had to come and break the fight up and the makeup on your face is doing absolutely nothing to hide your black eye.” Alexis’s voice is flat, and Vanessa looks in the mirror and scowls, because she hates that her sister is right. “All I’m saying is, there’s other ways to do things. Such as not punching strangers - even if they deserve it.”

“So coming to…Hytes Boxing is going to change that?” Vanessa wrinkles her nose as she reads the name on the side of the building. The fluorescent lights behind the sign are flickering, withering out, and the surrounding air has a faint odour reminiscent of gym socks.

Hell, the holding cell at the local station smells better. Vanessa’s had to spend the night there enough times to know.

“Maybe letting out some punches on purpose here means you won’t explode on people when you’re all worked up and mad. Worth a shot. And you owe me, ‘cause sooner or later Rob’s gonna get tired of me begging him to let you off without even a fine.”

“Getting into a bar fight isn’t a reason for a fine.” Vanessa mutters, because it’s not, or at least she thinks it isn’t. She should know the law better, for how much she likes to tow the line on it.

Alexis raises an eyebrow as she pulls the keys out of the ignition. “Here’s how it’s going to play out. You’re coming in here and looking around with me, or I’m telling cousin Linda about the time you coloured all over her white purse when we were kids and she never found out it was you who did it-”

Vanessa groans, holding up a hand to make her sister stop talking. “Jesus, fine. Lead the way into gym sock central.”

Looking around, Vanessa’s not sure if punching a bag is as satisfying as socking a douchebag in the face, but the sweat soaked athletes with their hands wrapped in bandages look like they’re enjoying it enough, from the way that they keep letting loose hit after hit. It feels almost cultish - the way the coaches are cheering their athletes on, the way that they wear the sweat dripping down their skin like a badge of pride.

Vanessa’s not sure if she wants to get herself that dirty, or smelly. Hell, she manages to keep her lashes in place most of the time she has to go off on someone to defend her girls. Though there are women in sports bras with braids running down either sides of their heads working out all over the gym, and it’s almost enough to make Vanessa change her mind.

A girl dressed similarly, but in a full tank top, waves from the front desk. She’s covered in tattoos, blues and greens lighting up her neck and chest and shoulders and Vanessa would get a closer look, really, if it didn’t mean that she’d be staring at the woman’s boobs.

“First time here?”

Vanessa chances a look down, spotting the woman’s name tag. “That it is, Kamer-”

“-So do y’all do anger management classes or something? ‘Cause my sister could use them. Or at least know how to throw a punch without breaking a knuckle. She’s done that.” Alexis leans across the counter, sticking out a hand for Kameron to shake, and she does with a grin on her face.

A real good first impression. Vanessa wants to disappear.

“Shut up, Alexis.” Vanessa grumbles, because there’s no way she’s coming back now, with Alexis embarrassing her at any given opportunity.

Not that Vanessa would expect anything else.

“We don’t have the first, but we can teach you how to throw a punch. Not that you look like you need much guidance.” Kameron looks Vanessa up and down, and it makes Vanessa feel better, really, for accidentally looking at her tits earlier. “You look scrappy. Who gave you that shiner?”

“Doesn’t matter. I can throw down a little.” Vanessa’s not gonna deny the truth, who is she to do that?

“Just a little?” Kameron raises an eyebrow, a smirk on her lips and it makes Vanessa scowl.

“Why, wanna test it out?”

“Seriously? Relax, Vanj.” Alexis holds out a hand, lets out a deep sigh. “Just take a class here. Don’t fight this nice woman.”

“I ain’t fighting anyone.” Vanessa mumbles, crossing her arms. Not yet, at least.

Kameron, for her part, looks more entertained than anything else, as she pulls out a flyer from behind the front desk. “Lucky for you, we have a sale on beginner classes right now, too. Think about it.”

“She doesn’t need to think about it. She’s doing it.”

“Shut up , Alexis.”

The fatigue in Brooke’s muscles and tendons only become noticeable once she’s out of the ring, once the adrenaline in her system gives away to a feeling of lead that drags her down, her feet like anchors on the ground that want to bring the rest of her body with them.

But it’s a feeling that’s reassuring, helping to remind Brooke that she’s alive. That she’s gotten to this point because she’s capable of pushing her body like this, that hit after hit and the light shuffle of her feet are all that she really needs to reach greatness.

She knows it’s not true, but it’s nice to live in delusion sometimes. She needs it these days.

Unrolling the wraps around her knuckles feels like she’s unwrapping an unlikely present every time, though her knuckles are calloused enough that a little bit of blood doesn’t bother her anymore. A cold rinse under the sink, a shake of her hands before she washes her face and she’s good to go.

Brooke still uses the lockers like she always did when she was a kid, and it feels too strange not to do so now. Doesn’t matter that she owns the place and easily could use the private bathroom.

It makes things too real.

She’s about to push the door open, hurl the towel into the laundry basket that sits just outside the entrance, but she stops. Someone’s watching her.

“Can I help you?”

Brooke raises an eyebrow, because the girl’s meticulously done hair and tight jeans don’t exactly fit in with the rest of the gym. Nor does the layer of makeup on her face, even though it does make her glow a little bit.

“Your hands get that bloodied up and nasty every single time?” The girl looks mildly impressed. Brooke holds in a smile.

Brooke smirks. “Doesn’t exactly fit with your manicure, does it?”

“Please.” The girl rolls her eyes, holding up her own hands with healing scabs along the knuckles. “You’re not that special, blondie.”

Huh.

“I stand corrected.”

Brooke likes her. Mostly because she’s the only person who’s stepped foot in this gym with enough balls to say something back to her. Everyone else is still hung up over the legacy of her dad, over treating her differently because she’s his kid-

-used to be his kid.

It isn’t easy when everyone walks on eggshells around you.

So maybe it’s a little refreshing to meet someone who has no sweet clue about the history of the gym, and no idea that she owns it now. She doesn’t necessarily need to know it, either.

“Don’t your nails break off when you throw a punch? That can’t be comfortable.” Brooke has to hold herself back from making a face at the long nails, dark red and making clacking noises against the wall that the girl’s hand is resting on.

“You think I got money for acrylics? These are press ons, mama.”

“That’s more like it.” Brooke leans against the wall, lets go of the door, if only because she’s enjoying the woman’s company. “Now what are you doing in a place like this?”

The girl holds up the flyer. “Thinking of trying a class. Not that I got a choice with my bitch of a sister.” She scowls, crossing her arms. “Since you go here and all that, would you recommend it? This shit fun?”

Brooke has to hold in a laugh. “It’s okay, yeah. I’d say it’s worth a try.”

She isn’t about to hype up her own gym but it’s fun, seeing what someone else thinks of the place without holding anything back.

“Maybe I’ll do it, then. Do y’all gotta pay for your own gloves and wraps?” Vanessa gestures to the items in Brooke’s hands, makes a face at the blood and sweat stains on them. “Hope that shit goes in the laundry.”

Brooke grabs the end of her wrap, starts to roll it up. “You have to buy them, but I have a feeling you’ll like it. They’ll be an investment for someone like you.”

The girl makes a face at Brooke, her nose wrinkling. “What makes you say that?”

“You seem like someone who can’t resist a challenge. There’s plenty of those here. Unless you want to let them go, of course.”

Sue Brooke, she wants to see what this girl is capable of, despite the fact that she looks like she’s never stepped foot in a boxing gym before today. There’s something about her that Brooke can’t help but be entertained by, despite the fact that she doesn’t even know her name.

“Let them go-bitch, I’ll be taking a class, don’t you worry your sweet little head about it.” The girl sniffs, running a hand through the waves on her head and Brooke’s reminded, for a second, of how sweaty and gross she must look next to her.

But hey, the girl’s still talking to her, so it’s a win.

“Good to hear.” Brooke can feel her lips curl up in a smile. She’s got this girl figured out already, and she likes it.

“Also I didn’t catch your name, Mohammed Ali. You a regular here or something?” The girl cocks her head, crosses her arms.

“You could say that. It’s-”

“Hytes, come over here!” Kameron’s voice echoes across the gym, and Brooke has to suppress a groan when she sees the redhead looking stricken in front of the cash register, which has probably broken down again. They really do need to buy a new one.

“Hytes?” The girl makes a face, her eyebrows raising on her forehead. “Ain’t that-”

“See you around, newbie.” Brooke pushes past her with a wave, heads for Kameron, because she can let the girl come to the realization by herself. She doesn’t need to be there.

Besides, Brooke has a feeling that the girl’s going to be back. She can find out her name another time.

“Vanj, I swear to God if you’re not in the car in the next thirty seconds-”

“What are you, a military sergeant? Relax! I’m coming!”

Alexis is scowling by the time Vanessa skids down to the car, sliding into the passenger seat mere milliseconds before Alexis presses down on the gas pedal.

“What took you so long, anyway?” Alexis chances a glance over at a red light and Vanessa shrugs, before pulling down the passenger seat mirror.

“No reason.”

Vanessa had absolutely not been trying to get her braids to look like those of the girls at the gym as they had been about to leave. Nope.

Not at all. Even though that’s exactly where Alexis is dropping her off.

She’s kinda succeeded, though. Almost feels like she’ll blend in with them.

Except that it’s a bit of a rude shock when they reach the gym, and Vanessa’s confronted by all the muscle. The guns. The quads. The abs poking through. All of the athletes are built, really built, and it’s enough to make Vanessa shrink back against the entrance every second a punching bag rattles, or a body hits the floor.

How’d she ever think before coming back here that she was gonna cut it?

But the hole in her bank account left by the deposit for the beginner boxing class is hard to forget (sweet jesus, she needs payday to hit again). So Vanessa heads towards the change rooms, pushing the heavy doors open because she doesn’t really have any other choice.

“No, wait, wait, I wasn’t ready! We gotta start again, girl.”

“Not my fault you can’t hold a handstand. You snooze, you lose.”

“I’m gonna push you over-”

“You wouldn’t dare-”

Vanessa has to try hard to hold back a laugh at the mess of limbs in the middle of the change room, two girls having fallen on top of each other yet somehow still bickering. She scoots around them but can’t tear her eyes away, especially as their argument continues while they go back into handstands.

“You play dirty.”

“Do not. All is fair in love and war, baby.”

“They’re always like that. Don’t mind them.” The voice in Vanessa’s ear makes her jump, as a girl in a purple sports bra and leggings walks up to her, starts putting bobby pins into her hair. “Pretty standard.”

“Mind them? I’m loving this free sitcom. Is it always handstands?” Vanessa tilts her head and watches as one of the girls tries to walk in her handstand. The sight is impressive, admittedly.

“Yesterday it was cartwheels across the hallway. I swear, one of ‘em will break their wrists doing stupid shit before they ever hurt it while sparring. Not that it isn’t entertaining as shit.” The girl beside Vanessa shrugs, sticks her hand out. “Asia.”

“Vanjie.” She’s not sure how hard she needs to shake Asia’s hand, if the girl is judging her handshake strength, but Vanessa doesn’t get to mull it over much before the girl is pulling her hand away, pointing to the two girls in the middle of her room.

“Is that your real name?” Asia raises an eyebrow and Vanessa shakes her head, snickering.

“You think my mom would look at my bald newborn head and name me Vanjie?”

“I got a cousin named Eunice, so you never know.” Asia shrugs, before pointing to the two still wrestling on the ground. “These two bozos are Monet and Monique, respectively.”

Monet pushes her braids away from her face and waves. “I’d shake your hand with mine, but I was trying to push Monique over and I’m pretty sure she farted on it-”

“Bitch, what-”

Asia shrugs when Monet and Monique start to wrestle on the ground. “See?”

Vanessa snickers. “Y’all are wild. Real wild. I love it already.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, girl.” Asia shrugs, starts wrapping her knuckles. “So, you joining the class?”

“Something like that.” Vanessa shrugs, and there’s so many things she wants to ask, all the curiosity building up inside her about what’s going to happen but she keeps it back. Doesn’t want to look too keen already. “What’s it like?”

Asia cocks an eyebrow when an announcement begins to blare on the overhead speakers. “You’re about to find out.”

It doesn’t take long for Vanessa’s intrigue to fade into breathlessness, a desire to collapse on the matts because she’s about to pass out, truly pass out, only fifteen minutes into the class. Or at least her legs and arms are going to collapse on her from all the hell she’s putting them through, trying to keep up with Kameron’s barking orders that seem specifically designed to torture her.

“Give me another set! Twenty burpees, let’s go!”

“I thought-this was a boxing class.” Vanessa pants out the words in between gasps for breaths, looking over at Asia who is equally as sweaty.

Asia shrugs before dropping down for another burpee, nearly falling on her own arms. “Can’t punch someone if you don’t have the strength and endurance to back it up. At least, that’s what our lovely dictator up there says.” Asia lets out a groan, rolling her shoulders before her next rep. “Crazy bitch.”

“What was that, Asia?” Kameron raises her eyebrows from her spot at the front of the room, and Asia wastes no time in shooting her a dazzling smile.

“Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Vanessa’s not sure if she catches Kameron winking at Asia, but the ache in her arms is more important for her to focus on right now. The last few reps of burpees make Vanessa feel like she’s going to throw up, maybe die before she makes it to the end, from the way the sweat is dripping from her brow and her legs are shaking and-

“Water break!”

Finally.  

Vanessa practically stumbles to the bench, grabbing her water bottle and collapsing onto the seat in one fell swoop. Asia plops down beside her, wiping her sweat on the back of her hand as she leans against the wall, while Monique and Monét traipse over almost leisurely, as if Kameron hadn’t just attempted to murder them all through exercise.

“Shit. No wonder y’all are fuckin’ built like you belong in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue.” Vanessa rests her head against the wall, stares up at the giant ceiling fans that do little to circulate the stale air around the gym.

“We actually have to try for it! This one over here,” Monet exclaims, pointing to Monique, “already has a natural six pack. Freak of nature, jesus.”

“It’s called eating well.” Monique sniffs, tossing back a sip of water.

Monét raises an eyebrow. “You had an entire pizza for dinner last night. Not half. A full pizza. And your stomach is rock solid.”

“The lord just blesses some of us, that’s all.”

“C’mon back, guys.” Kameron’s voice calls out, and Vanessa can’t help but let out a groan, closing her eyes.

She can’t keep going. She’s too weak. Her muscles are fully jelly and-

“Hey!” Vanessa yelps when Monique and Monet each grab one of her hands, pulling her up into a standing position.

“C’mon. The fun part of class is only starting now.” Asia tilts her head towards the punching bags that Kameron is steadying, the mats that she is pulling out of the closet against the wall. “No more burpees anymore.”

Now this is a setting Vanessa can vibe with. She follows the other girls in grabbing her hand wraps, tries not-so-subtly to watch how Monique and Monet wrap theirs almost effortlessly. Even Asia ties hers off with a flourish, and Vanessa has to fight back some choice words slipping from her lips as the wrap on her right hand keeps coming loose, the fabric slipping whenever she wiggles her fingers.

“Alright, I’m gonna need a volunteer to help me demonstrate-Asia, look at you raising your hand so nicely.” Kameron’s grinning as she beckons to Asia, who’s sitting on the mats with a mock offended expression on her face, her mouth wide open.

“My hand is all the way down.” Asia crosses her arms, but Vanessa can see a small blush rising on her cheeks.

Kameron raises an eyebrow. “Should I ask someone else?”

Asia pauses. “Nah.” She scrambles up, joining Kameron at the front of the class, and Vanessa can tell she’s satisfied.

Vanessa’s not sure of the vibe she’s picking up between the two of them, but she’s intrigued. Way intrigued. Enough that she misses out on Kameron calling for the class to find partners, and she’s left by herself when Monique and Monet pair up and the rest of the attendees in the class find their own counterparts.

Shit.

“Who doesn’t have a partner?” The question is unnecessary, really, when Kameron zones in on Vanessa in a second, and it nearly makes her shrink back.

Vanessa feels like she’s the last one being picked for a team in gym class, the one that nobody wants in their group. This class isn’t really like that, she knows, what with three girls being nice to her already, but it’s hard not to feel like a fish out of water when everyone already knows each other. She fiddles with loose threads on the mat underneath her, tries to ignore the part of her that wants to disappear.

Kameron jogs over to the other side of the gym, and Vanessa cranes her neck to see where she’s going as she pokes her head into the makeshift office in the corner. “Hytes! Stop fiddling with Microsoft Excel and get over here.”

Hytes?

“The work isn’t gonna get done on it’s own, Kam.”

The familiar voice makes Vanessa draw in a breath, and she has to keep herself from shifting on the mat when the blonde walks out, the same one that Vanessa had met on her first visit to the gym, the one whose eyes are lighting up in recognition upon spotting Vanessa.

Except the girl can’t be looking at her. Can she?

“Vanessa, Brooke’s going to be your partner.” Kameron throws a haphazard arm around Brooke, and Vanessa has to hold back a laugh when Brooke rolls her eyes. “Careful, though. She won’t go easy on you.”

Brooke. So that’s her name.

“I don’t think she wants me to.” Brooke’s lip curls up in a smile as she gets closer, and Vanessa has to try hard, really, not to fidget. To stay cool.

Because she’s cool. Right?

“I won’t go easy on you either then, Miss Thing.” Vanessa sniffs.

Her bravado is going to get the best of her eventually, she knows that. But how’s Vanessa going to be the shit if she doesn’t convince herself of it first?

“We’re gonna do some simple drills today. Help drill them into all of your heads, if you will.” Kameron grins, and Vanessa has to hold back a laugh at how proud she looks of her own joke.

“Booo.” Asia brings her gloved hands to her face, makes a faux microphone that she points towards Kameron, who rolls her eyes.

Vanessa raises a brow, nudges Monet as Kameron explains their first few combinations. “Are they…?”

“Nope.” Monet shakes her head. “Not together. But Asia’s been taking the newbie level classes with us for ages despite taking the intermediate ones too, only because Kameron teaches both of them.”

“This is some juicy tea for my first day.”  

Monet grins. “Stay tuned, bitch.”

A psst makes Vanessa spin in place, turn back towards Brooke who’s looking at her with a raised brow of her own. “Are you planning on trying these drills out today, or…?”

“Yeah. Totally am. See?” So maybe the words leave Vanessa’s mouth a little too eagerly as she bounces in place, but it doesn’t matter, because Brooke’s already holding her own gloves up, beckoning Vanessa closer.

Vanessa replays what Kameron had demonstrated earlier as she tries the movements out against Brooke’s gloves. “Jab, jab, cross-hey!”

Because Brooke blocks them, lands a light jab of her own and it’s not fair, it really isn’t, not when Vanessa had no idea it was coming.

“That’s not part of the drill!”

“Nothing is in real life. Gotta be light on your feet, always on alert, Vanessa.” Brooke’s grinning, and Vanessa can already hear Monique and Monet cracking up behind them.

Vanessa has to resist the urge to pout, cross her arms - not that her gloves would even let her do so, anyway.

“C’mon, try again.” Brooke holds her gloves up, and Vanessa is wary, because what’s Brooke going to do, now?

But Vanessa has never been one to back down from a challenge. So she goes for it, throws the first jab but counters with her opposite hand a step before she’s supposed to, raising her dominant hand to block her face. It’s enough to avoid Brooke’s jab, land one of her own, and sure, it’s not in the drills, but the look of surprise on Brooke’s face is satisfying, especially when Monique whoops from behind them.

“She’s a spicy one!” Monique nudges Monet as she says it, and Vanessa can’t help the shit-eating grin that grows on her face, even as Kameron walks over with a raised brow.

“We’re doing drills for a reason. No freestyling, not even from you, Hytes.” Kameron taps Brooke’s shoulder as she walks away, but Brooke’s eyes are lit up with something Vanessa can’t quite recognize.

Intrigue? Respect, maybe? Vanessa’s not sure.

But she knows she’s definitely caught Brooke’s attention now, if she hadn’t done so already.

Vanessa’s arms are aching, her body covered in sweat and she feels like she’s going to collapse once she sits down, but…

She’s never felt more invigorated in her life.

She wants to go back to the class, have another turn against Kameron’s punching gloves, maybe practice the combinations she’s just learned. She wants Brooke across from her again, looking at her with those eyes that she wants to unravel, get to know more. She wants to learn, she wants to get better and better, because whenever she starts something, she wants to build on it. Become an expert, become the best.

Of course, life isn’t that easy. Most of the time, when Vanessa starts something, she abandons it not too long after, because sticking with things is hard and her attention likes to jump around, find a new target.

But something about channeling her energy for a reason, being strategic on purpose, had felt nice in the class. Sure, she’d felt like a damn fool as the other participants followed the combos with a practiced hand, a familiarity, while she’d initially stumbled through, but things are going to change. Vanessa feels it, because she wants to stay.

“I’ll give you twenty bucks if you can jump from this bench to that one across the room.”

“Better get your wallet out.”

Vanessa cracks an eye open, and Monique’s tentative look across the room as she stands on the bench makes her raise a brow. Monet looks entirely too pleased, and it’s not too hard to figure out that she’s set Monique up.

“How the fuck do you both still have any energy right now?” Vanessa doesn’t get it. She’s tired to the bone, heck, she’s probably never going to get up from the bench again.

“‘Cause I have to always prove her wrong, that’s why.” Monique sniffs, as Monet shakes her head, rolling her eyes.

Vanessa likes them. They’re the same brand of insane as she is and it’s almost as if she’s watching her very own sitcom, from the way the two of them bicker all the way to the showers.

Vanessa kicks off her shoes, leaning herself back against the cool metal of the lockers and she can’t hold back the sigh that escapes her lips. It’s a wonder that the heat emanating from her skin isn’t visible steam because she feels like she’s on fire from the inside, like the sweat dripping from her brow, along her shoulder blades is never ending. She’s gonna need a long shower.

Pulling off her gloves makes her hands feel so much lighter, able to move. Vanessa opens and closes her fingers, makes a face at the sight of the wraps around her hands that have already begun to unravel, coil on the bench in a heap. She hadn’t exactly known how to fasten them properly before the class, not that she does now, either.

Oh, well. She has time to improve.

“Your arms feel like they’re gonna fall off yet?”

Brooke. Looking just as sweaty as Vanessa feels, as she tugs out the braids in her hair and sits down beside her.

“No.” Vanessa raises an eyebrow.

Brooke smiles. “Good. Bodes well for your next class then, doesn’t it?”

“What makes you think I’m coming back?”

Vanessa’s always entertained by people like Brooke. The ones who look put together, all calm and collected even though they can be anything but. She wants to see what makes Brooke tick, feel out her buttons. See if she can catch her interest, whether it be through annoyance or enjoyment.

“Please.” Brooke snorts, looking Vanessa up and down, and it’s hard not to feel exposed. “I saw the way you were out there. You were having the time of your life, you can’t even deny it.”

“I was not.”

She was. But Brooke doesn’t need to know that.

“I know you’ll be back.” Brooke winks, rises to her feet, and Vanessa has to try hard to keep her eyes on Brooke’s face, rather than let them drag down lower. “Girls like you always are.”

“Girls like me - hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Vanessa stands on her tiptoes, watches the way Brooke disappears towards the showers.

Brooke shrugs, raising an eyebrow before turning the corner, and Vanessa has never wanted to follow someone more.

“See you around, Vanessa.”

[afaithy]

43 for Koumi?

I think this might be my first time writting a Kuomi piece, so I hope that it turned okay?

Once again, this take’s place in the same universe as my other drabbles so this one in particular has references to this drabble and this one

If you enjoyed it, don’t forget to send more asks HERE.

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 43. Frost the damn cupcakes 

“Love is like a good cake; you never know when it's coming, but you'd better eat it when it does!”

― C. JoyBell C

Koushiro was a smart boy. If I had syntax, code and commands, I could handle it with no problems. Things were a little different when it came to more "mundane" things like relationships.

He wasn't exactly a social person, but he'd been fortunate to find a group of understanding and loyal friends and a girlfriend, no, a fiancée, whose temperament couldn't be more different than his.

According to her friends, that was an advantage, since Mimi had all the chivalry and mischief that Koushiro lacked, while he had all the patience and logical reasoning that she often lacked. Both parties complemented each other and iIt goes without saying that Koushiro was the brake on the relationship, while the girl with the rose hair was the full-power engine of the relationship. 

Sometimes, however, Koushiro couldn’t understand why Mimi made him do some of the things she made him do. At this time, the girl had managed to drag him into this silly couple cooking competition  even though he had clearly stated that he knew nothing about cooking. 

“It will be fun, so stop complaining, already.” Mimi said, tying up her brand new pink apron. She had custom made them for the occasion and hers had a cute patchwork of Palmon, while his had a tentomon. 

“Mimi, neither of us are prominent cooks. THe odds of us even making it through the first rounds…”

“No, stop it right there. I’ve told you so many times, Koushiro. Don’t tell me the odds.”

“But…”

“You owe me this one after that little escapade you had with the guys. Don’t think I don’t know what happened that night.” Mimi pouted “Jou can be a miraculous doctor, but he sucks at lying.”

Koushiro swallowed and said nothing. To be fair, Koushiro barely remembered what had happened that night. He had recollection of the beginning and of the aftermath, but what transcended in the middle was a complete blur of blankness. He had learned of the atrocities of that night  thanks to “Bachelor’s party present” from Takeru. His friend had written him a full notebook with the tale of the night. The notebook was tucked in his safe box for fear that anyone aside of him would ever come across it. 

“Besides...it’s just baking. How hard can it be?”

“Baking has a pretty high level of complexity…”

“Koushiro...what did I tell you?”

“Right...sorry.”

Mimi was pretty excited about the whole baking thing and Koushiro was simply content with seeing her smile, so despite all the potential things that could go wrong, he shut his mouth and followed her lead. 

“Ok...we need  a recipe…”

“Sure, I can find one…” Koushiro shrugged “What did you have in mind?”

“I was thinking of something...original.” Mimi said, rubbing her chin in thought “My mother always said that recipes were for fools.”

Koushiro had his own thoughts regarding the lack of a recipe, especially considering that neither of them knew anything about cooking.  Not using a recipe sounded more like a path to disaster.

“Eh...ok. I admire your creativity, but maybe we should try with a basic recipe...as base?”

“We need no recipe. I mean...it’s a cake…” Mimi said, winking at him “Flour, sugar, eggs, milk...voila!”

He was sure that a cake mix was more than just adding the ingredients into a bowl, but with Mimi’s temper, he needed to find a way to tell her that without actually contradicting her. 

“You wanted me to help, and I want to help. You know...searching stuff is pretty much my thing, so...why don’t you...let me find one? Please?”

“Ah, fine. Get one then…”

Koushiro smiled. At least he had managed to convince her to let him do that. It was a small thing, but maybe the whole baking experience wouldn't be as bad as he thought.

“Why did you suddenly feel like entering this contest?”

“No reason in particular. I was talking to Sora and Hikari, and it sounded like a good idea to bond.”

“To... bond?” Koushiro asked dumbfounded “What?”

“I read somewhere that going through challenges is an excellent way to create a strong bonds when you’re a couple.”  Mimi said. She was rummaging through the cupboards and taking out anything that she considered potential ingredients. 

“Koushiro -han...I don’t think tuna goes into a cupcake recipe…” Tentomon muttered to his partner and Koushiro sighed. 

“Mimi...I think saving the world from malicious digimon counts as enough challenge to create a bond.”

“Ah...it’s not the same. We need stuff we can tell our grandchildren! Funny stories.” Mimi pouted “ Not creepy stories about how a psychopath digimon tried to kidnap innocent kids to turn them into dukes of darkness. I don’t want my grandchildren to have bad dreams...”

Grandchildren, not children. Koushiro noted. He chuckled and stared at his fiancee with a grin.

“I don’t see why not? What child wouldn’t want to hear how his grandmother beat the bad guys into a pulp?”

“I don’t want them to see me like a violent woman!” Mimi pouted “hence why I went for the baking contest.”

“Ok…” 

Koushiro could see her reasoning there, but there were plenty of other “family friendly” activities to which they would be more suitable. 

“But...why baking?”

“Mmm… it sounded about right.” Mimi shrugged “Hikari and Takeru cook together all the time.”

“But they didn’t enter a contest did they?”

“Sora is still single, so she doesn’t have much advice to give on the topic.”  Mimi shrugged “Taichi and Sora should stop dancing around each other and get at it already. Uh,,,maybe I will turn that into my new project after all the wedding is over. I can always use the distraction.”

“Like you did trying to hook up Hikari and Takeru when they were in highschool?”

“Hey! For starters...I needed to do that or Taichi would end up hooking you  with her. Besides...everyone knew those two had something going. THey’re really their brothers’ siblings.”

Koushiro laughed and rubbed his fiancee’s back caringly.

“Ok, ok...as long as you’re happy. So have you decided on the ingredients for the cupcakes?”

“Yup!” Mimi said triumphantly “Tuna, mayonaise salad with a frosting of mayo and sweet milk.” Koushiro stared at her in silence. That combo couldn’t be right, but he knew Mimi and once the woman had made her mind, nothing anyone could do would ever change it.  All he could do was to follow her lead and try, as best as he could, to persuade her to dropout some of the exotic ingredients on the way. 

The baking session went on better than he could have asked. True, the kitchen was a mess with flour, cake mixture and dirty utensils scattered over the table and sink, but for a first attempt of baking in their lives, the results were actually good. 

Forty minutes later, the kitchen was filled with an odd mix of sweet and salty  scent. The famous cupcakes had turned out pretty well, at least at first sight. Color was pretty, it was well cooked, and puffed well enough.  

“Aha! Told you it couldn’t be that hard!” Mimi said triumphantly “I might actually have talent for this!”

“You’re an extremely talented woman. I never question that, but maybe we should check on the flavor before we make that assumption.”

“True...Alright. Frosting time!” 

Mimi pulled out the frosting bag. the mixture did not have the most pleasant appearance, or the most beautiful consistency. The color was a little dull and Koushiro had some reservations about asking what things she had added to it. He had seen Mimi rummaging through the cabinets again a while ago, but he’d been keeping an eye on the baking pastries and had not seen what she was doing. 

“Eh...this is?”

“Heh...this...is my new creation. Mayo-Marshmallow-Sweetened milk merengue!”

Ok...aside from the mayonaise, it sounded rather normal.

“I added up some cayenne and pepper to give it personality, too and curcumin for color.”

He stood corrected.

“Eh...Mimi, I am not sure about….”

“Oh shush. Shut it and frost the damn cupcakes!” she said, pushing the bag to him.

“What? Me?”

“Yeah, I made the mix...it is only fair that you frost them.”

“I don’t think…”

“Just do it.” Koushiro sighed. The first cupcake was a pathetic attempt.The frosting was thicker than he had thought and apparently way too sticky. THe mix kept getting stuck on the tip and he couldn't make a proper shape, which caused Mimi to burst into laughter. 

His second attempt went a little better, it wasn't perfect, but it looked a lot more like a normal cupcake. Things kept improving as he proceeded to the rest of the cupcakes until the infamous frosting was gone. 

“See? Wasn’t that bad, was it? I bet you had a fund...”

“I must admit, it had certain therapeutic effects…” Koushiro chuckled and he heard a soft click. Mimi had just snapped a photo of him.

“What was that?”

“Nothing...you’re all covered in frosting, so I wanted this as a keepsake” Mimi smirked, winking at him. 

“You’re one to talk...have you seen yourself?”

“I think I am rocking the baker style though…” the girl said with a flirtatious gesture.

That was true, Koushiro had to admit. There were very few things that could make Mimi look bad. The flour on her cheeks highlighted her eyes and the mixture stains on her apron looked more like a print than stains.

“Well, we did it Mr. Odds…” Mimi smiled brightly “Now the fire test!”

The rose haired woman picked one of the cupcakes and settled on a plate. She grabbed a dessert spoon and scooped a generous portion of the cake and handed it to her fiance. 

“Say ah!”

“Wait...you want me to test it first?”

“Well, duh. You’re supposed to give the first bite to the person you love, no?”

Koushiro blushed. Part of him felt extremely touched by the gesture, but another part, a tiny one, felt a little scared about what the exotic thing would do to his stomach. 

He took a deep breath and took on the piece of cake he’d been offered. He had expected a disaster, but to his surprise, the mix of saltiness from the tuna, the sweetness and fluffiness of the cake and slightly tangy flavor of the mayonnaise blended well together making the flavor unique. 

He took his time to chew and swallow, while Mimi watched him expectantly.

“So…?”

“It’s good. Like incredible and surprisingly good.”

“Hah, see? Told you. I’ve got talent for this.”

“Another thing you’ve proved me wrong.” Koushiro smiled “but why did you come up with these ingredients?”

“Because…”Mimi smirked “They are different...just like you and I, but when they’re together, they simply work.”

Koushiro chuckled. He was, once again, defeated by his fiancee’s logic.  

[icharchivist]

Would you share an awkward/embarrassing yet funny story with us?

my whole life is awkward and embarrassing, take a pick

I have no idea what prompted this ask but i’ve also never really shyed away from all those i think.

There’s a few i can think of i’ve already mentioned once or twice on my blog (two stories involving two very different mangashop, the fight and the internship stories) but if anything... 

Okay i have a lot of very dumb stories that are ways too embarassing, but one that isn’t too bad - once we had a Sociological & Economy exam and I hated the hell out of that class and i didn’t study anyway and my best friend, who was sitting next to me, hadn’t either, and we were both guuuh over it. 

And, because it was our thoughtprocess At All Time (we were famous with the teachers for being some chaotic likeable disasters) we were singing to ourselves this german song (The Schnapi) (i remind that we are French) and we were laughing so hard about it that before the exam happened, so we dared each other “hey let’s write the chorus (in german) under our names”

Which we did. 

But we didn’t stop there because my friend, oh so clever, then turned to me and told me “hey do you remember the Willy Wonka’s intro song” (from the Burton’s movies) and so i wrote it down for her on the table. And she looked at me and went “i’m going to write it in my exam.” And I went, okay, fair enough, i’m game.

So basically we made a cheatset there for this bullshit and we both decided to completely bullshit our exams, like i think i’ve mentioned in my test that the fall of sells from a shellshop was because the shells had rebelled against humanity and all. 

And there was a big essay we were supposed to write about basically how market could be affected by different factors and such, so i super seriously wrote about the economy of Wonderland and the fact the Mad Hatter couldn’t continue his business while all head were being cut down right? And my friend wrote a full story about the Willy Wonka factory and how the workers decided to rebel (here she put on the song) and threw Willy Wonka into a chocolate thing and cooked him and the economy prospered thanks to canibalism.

And we’ve actually turned in our exams. With those bullshits written on it. All seriously.

To say that we failed this class would be an understatement but that was without thinking about the fact the Teacher well. had Questions. And when he turned in back all the copies, we were kind of flustered thinking about what the hell have we done, and the teacher said loudly that he wanted to see us after class for our copy.

By then most of the class knew what we had done because we were a very gossiping class. a few people actually waited outside hoping to hear what the teacher told us.

that was super embarassing and very difficult not to be laughing at his face considering he was a really, really sweet guy, we just really sucked and had zero self control and he didn’t know us well by then. 

Because see there’s that too: others teachers did know us well and laughed with us a lot over our bullshits, but he didn’t know us. So when he ended up receiving those bullshits of exams he went to see our main teacher who did. copies. of the exams and spread them around with our teachers. We had our cinema teachers at least laughing their asses off hearing about it because “yeah of course those two would do that”

But more embarassingly that i’ve heard in another class is that before he gave us back our copies, he actually stopped by one of his class which had a German student and he asked her to translate what we wrote in German under our names, thinking it was a code or an insult toward him. And the girl had to read us basically writting nonsense and say “no i mean it’s from the song about the little crocodile, i have no idea why though”. But we’ve learnt about that bc we had a friend in this class who knew it was us and she obviously went to tell us right away that “huh he’s asking around why you wrote in german in your copies”

I don’t even remember how we explained it to the teacher, he let us go by having us retake a serious exam instead and i mean i don’t even think we passed this one by being serious (was better than our original grades but that said with our bullshit exams at least my friend got a better grade than a friend who studied and SHE didn’t repass her exam so yaknow)

But therefore by the end of the year our teachers had organized a picnic to celebrate the end of the year and such and we all gathered and there was our Economy teacher there - there was our Cinema and Main teachers i think, all who knew us a little more and all - but so for the picnic the teachers were going around laughing and joking with us, i’m pretty sure our Main teacher mentioned something to us about the exam incident but a ha ha ah,

and anyway so still with my friend we’re doing our usual stuff we kept doing by all time which was to go through our favorite OST of movies (like i think we sang “It’s tough to be a God” from El Dorado in French for hours) and at some point we had the “wait what are the lyrics of La Carioca again” and so we were sat on the grass, looking at the lyrics on my phone and singing them (and it’s a french song but i really need to mention it’s one of the dumbest song ever from one of the best dumb French comedy, it’s the best thing ever) and we were dancing sat down, y’know the usual

Until we suddenly catch our economy teacher, who was talking music with others students nearby us, and heard him go “no girls i do like your music there, aT LEAST YOURS ISN’T COMPLETELY STUPID” and we’ve suddenly felt that he was looking at us, middance singing La Carioca, also knowing VERY WELL he was judging us for the German song. 

I’m almost certain then he talked to us and went “so it wasn’t just a stupid prank, you’re both just like that H24.” and i still have nO IDEA what it is supposed to mean but wELL. I GUESS.He didn’t hold any grudge it seems. He kept copies though.  He apparently talked about those weird exams he got to some of his others classes so huh. Legacy and all.

Anyway since then i’ve heard that a few teachers had actually kept copies of those exams so there was no escaping the fact everyone in this highschool knew we were That Dumb. (i mean people knew bc we were doing crack movies for our cinema courses that was projected during a week and all, but that was a specific brand of dumb).

So basically this is perhaps the Peak Dumbass from my Highschool years which means a lot because we were.. doing this sort of things a lot, it just happens that this one time it happened against a teacher who wasn’t used to it and it backfired.

I have no idea if this is the sort of stories you hoped to find but here it is: peak of my life, 15yo me being an idiot. Hope you at least enjoyed the read.

I wish you well ;O

[doomedandstoned]

Closer To The End (part III)

I contend that human beings are not suited for the world we've fashioned for ourselves. Cases of anxiety and depression are practically ubiquitous, and suicide in all age groups is once again on the rise. Some will suffer mental afflictions that last years -- perhaps even for a lifetime. This is the third and final part of my story.

~By Billy Goate~

Cover art by Ruso Tsig additional art by Karl Briullov

I'm so tired of hearing that I'm wrong Everyone laughs at me, why me? I'm so tired of being pushed around I feel like I've been betrayed

We take each other's love, forget to give back Isn't it a pity, how we break each other's hearts I know we're only human and not to blame But who the hell are you to cause so much pain Why...

MEDICATION

My parents have been anti-establishment for as long as I can remember. In the climate of the 1980s, the institutions of the day were being called seriously into question. One of them was the authoritarian nature of public education (there's a reason why Pink Floyd's "Another Brick in the Wall" resonated so strongly with people). It's no surprise that my family got caught up in the first wave of the homeschooling movement. Other areas of modern life began to be called into question, as well, taking the family down a dark, windy road that led into conspiracy culture, extreme libertarianism, and religious dogmatism.

This distrust of the "experts" put us at odds with the medical establishment, too. "Doctors only know how to do two things," mom would often proclaim loudly in one of her famous rants, "cut you open or prescribe you pills." Natural medicine held the keys to recovery from all ills, be it cancer or the common cold. "All those chemicals aren’t good for your body," she insisted. "God put everything we need for healing in the ground." I’m not here to knock naturopathy (I was an ardent follower of this way of life for years) nor my mother for her convictions, but there are some things that can’t be cured by Saint John's Wort and herbal tea -- major depression being one of them.

At one point, my anxiety, melancholy, and a generalized feeling of social isolation reached such a heightened state I turned to hypnotism, enamored by an obscure radio program hosted by Roy Masters and his Foundation for Human Understanding. I was too young to understand the significance of most of the bullshit he was spewing, but it was the comprehensive approach to life that appealed to me. I wanted answers -- all of them. About the only thing I got out of it, though, was learning how to make my own arm go numb through self-hypnosis.

Later, I'd get caught up in a movement of Biblical counseling that rejected psychiatry altogether. "Christ has given us all things we need for life and godliness," says the holy writ, ergo we need none other than Jesus to cure our mental ills. Furthermore, the thesis said, since "God has not given us a spirit of fear" it must mean that the root of depression and anxiety is ultimately sin against God. The answer? Confess your sins and walk by faith, not by sight. In short, pray the sadness away. All of this had limited effectiveness in coping with the claustrophobic cloud of melancholy that was constantly with me.

Cough & Windhand: Reflection of the Negative by Windhand

The stigma of psychiatry and modern medicine kept me from treating my depression for damn near a decade. Somewhere in my late twenties, after a prolonged and particularly dark depressive spell, I decided to talk to my medical doctor about antidepressants. He started me on the industry standard, the well-known and well-marketed Prozac, which became a household name in the '90s. I took the first dose at bedtime and when I woke up, I was seriously hating the daylight. Feeling extraordinarily fatigued, all I wanted to do was sleep. I called in a rare sick day from work. The next day I was feeling groggy, but well enough to return. Giving it the good ol' college try, I took Prozac for several weeks as directed, but the side-effects just weren't worth it for me. That’s when I was referred to my first psychiatrist.

It was a weird feeling sitting in the waiting room for my appointment. I felt like I’d joined the ranks of the fragile, broken, and confused, perhaps even the insane. It was hard for me to see myself sharing anything in common with the others that shared the tiny lobby. The psychiatrist who greeted me looked like a regular chucklehead -- you know, one of those sidekicks from a sitcom that's not coming to me now. (It just came to me: Glen from the Tom Green Show.) A paunchy man in his 30s with wavy dirty blonde hair parted to the side donning wire-rimmed glasses, the shrink pulled out a notebook and started asking me about my background, while he busily took notes. Turned out, the man was very methodical in his approach. Over the course of the year, we cycled through all kinds of drugs -- Paxil, Effexor, Wellbutrin, Lexapro, Zoloft, and a lot of other names I'm not remembering, before finally settling on Cymbalta.

Certainly, this was something I didn't want to share with my coworkers, much less mom and dad. The first time I told my brother I was taking antidepressants, he was outraged. “You don’t need that stuff in your body. You don’t need pills to feel good.” I don’t know what it is about antidepressant medication that offends people so badly, but some people feel it is their personal mission in life to get you off of them. Why all the evangelical fervor? Are they secretly afraid they are "nuts," too? It’s not like I’m trying to get everyone else to take my medication, but suddenly these people, well-meaning or not, are trying to get you off of your meds.

I’ve seen YouTube videos from a guy claiming that God has cured him of his bipolar disorder and he flushed all his pills down the toilet (bad idea, by the way). Then a month later, he comes back online crying uncontrollably, talking about how he feels like God is testing him and asking viewers to pray to stop Satan’s onslaught. Moral of the story: It's dangerous to let people's religious opinions and untested hunches drive the agenda for our mental health.

I'm very reluctant these days to talk to anyone about my depression, because of all the rush to judgement involved. Ironically, it's this breakdown of community that I believe is at the heart of much of our mental health issues as a society. Look at the comments on any confessional video addressing burnout, depression, or anxiety and you'll find everyone is suddenly an expert who knows so well the precise and perfect solution to your problems. Well-meaning or not, it's incredibly annoying and I'd rather not have trouble with it. Hell, it took me two years to finish this article.

Depressed people are often viewed with the same cynical dismissiveness ascribed to angsty hormonal teens. "It's just a phase, you'll get through it," you're told with the reassuring wave of a hand. Besides, they remind you, "Happiness is a choice!" Because they are feeling chipper today, they have little patience for you dampening their mood. Others call you edgy when you say the pressures of life are so great that you feel like just turning off the lights on all of it. Still others will view you as selfish for leaving the family reunion early (or not wanting to participate in holidays at all). When you spend the whole weekend in bed sleeping, they'll accuse you of being indulgent, not realizing sleep gives you a respite from the hurt, guilt, and regret of painful memories or the misery of an unstable home life. Or the well-meaning "It Gets Better!" It doesn't always get better as life moves on.

Then there are those who try to talk you off your meds, entirely (cue: the ridiculously overwrought Facebook posts). We've all been privy to those conversations that strike a conspiratorial tone about how it was really the pharmaceutical companies that led to Chris Cornell's death. "You should just get off the stuff," they argue -- be it from noble intentions or just pride from clinging to an opinion they've stubbornly invested in.

Then there are those who are convinced that since Jesus (or Buddha, Allah Oprah, Jordan Peterson or juicing) gave them an escape from their depression, certainly it is the universal cure for all that ails you. Understand that I was a committed Christian for decades. I know what it is like to feel spiritually serene and I value many of the things the church gave me as a young adult, namely the fellowship, tolerance, and love. I know the feeling of peace that comes from believing in someone who reigns over the chaos and cares about your every need -- an ultimate being who will make sense of the nonsense one day.

I don't wish to diminish anyone's faith or diminish your personal experiences. The fact is, however, that major depression is as much a physical illness as cancer is. Certainly, there are transitional feelings of unhappiness, emptiness, and despair that come from facing situations that seem out of one's control -- the nightmare roommate, being laid off from a job, losing a loved one. It's also true that in most cases, this sadness can be overcome by a new perspective, trying better strategies, or simply allowing the passage of time to do its healing work. Depression can be impacted by one's beliefs, but there is a kind of depression that exists independently of one's perspective on life.

SUICIDAL TENDENCIES

Apart from this series of articles (which took me a good two years to publish), I've stopped sharing my depression with other people. It's annoying, because most people don't know how to listen and empathize. They want to jump in with a solution that, if implemented by nightfall, just might make a difference by daybreak. It's just more hassle than it's worth. Over time, I've gone from being someone with an intense need to belong, to not caring what people think about me at all. I'll often go out of my way to avoid anything deeper than transactional relationships. Once a social butterfly, you'll find me quite the hermit these days. As a consequence, while I was once open to sharing my feelings of loneliness and despair, I rarely mention them any more on social media and practically never to my IRL friends. I would be the last person to call a suicide hotline, by the way. Judge me if you wish, but I'm just being honest. If you want to know what is going on in the head of a severely depressed person with suicidal ideation, here's a least one brain you can peer into.

There's a general consensus that suicide is a selfish decision, even a cowardly act. This was a casual opinion of my own for years, as well. Not until suicide touches someone in your life -- or when you enter its despondent realm yourself -- does the ridiculousness of that notion becomes apparent. Understand that for a person to commit suicide, they have to overcome the brain's own strong predilection for self-preservation. It's not so easy to take the step of ending your life. Something has gone terribly wrong with the brain's ability to convincingly cry, "STOP!" for that to happen.

In my worst bout of depression, following the demise of long-term relationship, I reached the point where every waking moment was sheer misery. Some call this anhedonia -- the inability to feel pleasure. Normally, when we are feeling blue, we seek out something to stimulate our pleasure receptors. That's why ice cream, chocolate, and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups are popular go-tos for the bummed out. For me, it's always been music and movies. On this particular week, though, I had somehow lost the capacity to find any joy whatsoever in the usual pastimes. Anything that attempted to pacify my mood met with my contempt. The only thing I could do to escape the agony of just being alive and conscious was to sleep...and sleep I did. At first 8 hours a night, up from my usual 7. Then it advanced to 9, 10, 11, 12 hours. When dawn came, a wave of misery washed over my mind again.

Once, I woke up feeling so despondent that I knew with absolute clarity that I could end my life. Today, I could actually do it. Immediately upon this realization, I wept bitterly. I've not cried like that before or since. If anything, I've become more stoic about the idea of suicide. Don't get me wrong, my internal sense of self-preservation is still quite strong. The problem is that in moments of severe depression, that instinct is dampened. You'll do just about anything just to get rid of the feeling of misery making it unbearable to be awake.

DOOM AWAKENING

One of the most important developments in treating my depression, besides medication and therapy, was the discovery of doom. There's an old expression that misery loves company. I don't know about you, but when I listen to music it's not generally to cheer me up. No, I want my tunes to have a certain level of commiseration with what I'm feeling and going through at the time. When I discovered (quite by accident) Saint Vitus, I knew I'd found my soul food. I can't fully explain that eureka moment when Dave Chandler belted out that first downtuned note on the guitars on "Born Too Late" or when Wino joined with plaintive lyrics for "I Bleed Black." This resonated with me powerfully. It brought chills. This was medicine for my weary head, a kind of mental morphine to dull the pain. I'd come to the Roseland Theater for Down and left with Saint Vitus.

As a funny aside, my roommate (who accompanied me to the show) and I rehashed the bands of the night, giving our two cents on this or that. One thing he said still makes me smile a little inside. "What did you think of Saint Vitus?" I asked. "I don't think they're the kind of band that will withstand the test of time," he remarked. "Well," I rejoined, "they have been playing now for over 30 years and were the co-headliners on a national tour, so their sound must be resonating with a good number of people." Sure, it wasn't for everyone, but on that night my doom had come.

Every song on 'Born Too Late' (1986) so perfectly captures the malaise of the deeply wounded soul, not just in lyrics but in the whole vibe. There's a thick, smoky haze permeating the record and it reminds me a lot of what it feels like after you've poured out your heart until you've got no more tears left to cry. Come on, don't pretend you're so macho that normal human emotions elude you. It's hard to put doom into words, but I'll try: on the one hand you feel emotionally exhausted because you've emptied out all those pent up feelings of loss, fear, regret, and frustration, on the other hand there's a feeling of "reset" and it often makes things much clearer to sort through. For me, when I've exhausted all my emotional resources, I'm left with a feeling of blithe acceptance. A sense of being dealt a set of cards by the impartial hand of fate. That's the kind of vibe that Saint Vitus captures perfectly for me on this record.

I spent entire weekends on those long, wonderful rabbit trails of discovery. "Dying Inside" led me to Trouble's "The Tempter" with its oh-so-tragic central riff. Lyrically, the songs I was running across could not have been more apropos.

Pentagram, The Skull, and Candlemass were not lingering far behind. Then came the more recent monoliths of doom: Electric Wizard, Windhand, High on Fire, Burning Witch, Khanate, Pilgrim, Serpentine Path, Usnea, Demon Lung, Ancient VVisdom, Dopelord, and the NOLA sludge scene, along with lesser known but equally as powerful acts like Undersmile, Shepherd's Crook, Reptile Master, Purple Hill Witch, Witchthroat Serpent, March Funèbre, Beldam, Hooded Priest, Regress, and 71TONMAN (listen to the Spotify playlist).

Doom metal spoke to me with a sharp realism that I connected with immediately. When you have no strength left to get angry at the world, you switch your listening habits from Car Bomb to Cough. You can say, I suppose, that doom was my salvation. It kept me hanging on a little while longer. The salve of those slow, low riffs gave me a strange feeling of consolation. "We know life sucks, too. Welcome to reality." It's like being awakened to the Matrix, but feeling there's not a damned thing you can do to change any of it. Your fate is sealed. It's an honesty that is both refreshing and freeing, I suppose, though one does wish to reclaim the notion of hope.

Believe it or not, even after writing all of this, optimism is my default mode. When I'm feeling well, and even when my depression is at low levels, the needle always leans towards inspiration, creativity, even a mischievous sense of humor and an aw, shucks smile that people tend to notice. I don't want to be depressed. The problem is that severe depression can make you feel, illusion or not, like you're paralyzed from doing anything about it.

As I've experienced more and more cuts and scrapes of life, I've become increasingly numb to it all, like the massive build-up of scar tissue. Things that upset me easily in the past might still hurt, but I've come to expect them, so they have the impact of a dull table knife. Perhaps I'm becoming a nihilist, despite my optimistic tendencies. It's hard not to be. Don't worry about me, though. If anything, I want to stick around to see what's going to happen next. It's the inborn curiosity we all have inside of us -- the same thing that I imagine kept Stephen Hawking going for decades after being wrecked by a disease that cruelly mangled his body into its famously misshapen form, stealing away his most basic expressive freedoms -- save for the power of his eyes and the thoughts behind them.

I've also made a deliberate attempt to pursue treatment (both psychiatric and psychological care) for my depression, which I urge you to do if you are likewise laboring under its crushing weight. The perspective of time, coupled with a remedy for mind and body can have a significant impact on your perspective, if not your life circumstances.

THE WINDY ROAD AHEAD

Learn from your mistakes, don't dwell on them. Repeated affirmations like this one may seem trite, but they are ultimately true. You can be free from the chains of guilt and move forward, as one performer puts it, "from strength to strength."

Don't kill yourself (literally or metaphorically) for someone else or for someone else's decisions. It may bum you out that a roomie decided to take your money and run or that you were rebuffed by a long-time crush or made jobless through corporate-wide cuts. You don't own that, they do.

Walks

Get off the couch, move that bod. Something as simple as a walk down the block or a drive out of town can do wonders for your perspective. As a homeschool teen living under the strict rule of a radical fundamentalist household in rural East Texas, my one salvation were those long walks in the open field -- especially when my parents started having loud, intense fights related to my mom's own mental health. I sorted through so many of life's problems (most of which seemed much larger then than they do now) through those solitary, hour-long strolls.

I really miss that where I live now, in a more congested neighborhood, so I have to find other ways of getting away from it all (getting up and out a half-hour before the other walkers, for instance, helps). Even if I don't want to rustle myself awake and move around to do as simple a task as taking out the trash, sometimes the feeling...let me revise that...quite often the feeling follows after the decision has been made and the body is in motion.

Projects

Another piece of advice I have for coping with depression is to channel your frustrations in projects. When I'm depressed, I throw myself into my work. Hell, Doomed & Stoned started because I needed a project to pour myself into. My counselor asked me once, "If you woke up tomorrow without depression, what would be different about your world?"

She encouraged me to start with the things that were in my immediate vicinity. "Well, there wouldn't be mail strewn all over the floor. My dirty clothes would be in the hamper, my clean clothes folded and put away. I'd take the time to cook myself a meal, instead of running out the door eating a quick bite out of some package."

Good, let's make a list and start there. Do at least one of the things on your list between now and the time we meet again next week.

Talks

Despite my isolationist ways, I begrudgingly admit that talking often helps, too. Though I'm an introvert and am horrified at the idea of sharing my feelings with others, I've reached points in my depression where I was compelled to tell others about it. It's as natural to do that as to cry out when your body is experiencing jolting pain. I'm one of those verbal processors that tends to sort through my problems by talking to someone else. Often, pride or shame or lack of trust gets in the way of sharing with our family and friends, so at the very least the much talked about Suicide Prevention Hotline could actually help you gain perspective on your situation.

Journals

If you don't talk, at least journal. Again, I'm not a journaler and this is the first time in almost three decades that I've written about anything related to my depression. Role play with me. You're a scientist studying the human psyche. How would you describe those feelings you call depression? When I was first asked to describe it to a counselor, I found myself at a loss for words. She helped me with prompts:

Can you tell me what it feels like?

"I walk around feeling like a dark, thick raincloud is hovering all around me all the time."

Do you feel it in a part of your body?

"Well, yeah, I guess. The head. And the chest. It feels like there's pressure building from all around me, like my head is going to explode. My heart feels like it's going to leap out of my chest."

What's happening around you when these feelings arise?

I'd then go on to detail some recent happenings. She'd press me further to describe the kinds of thoughts racing through my head in these situations. All of this was really helpful in getting me to define this nebulous, gray malaise that was following me everywhere I went.

I don't keep a journal, per se. Something about it feels needlessly egotistical, a vain attempt to reinforce the illusion in our YouTube fame crazy world that my life is worth discovering and remembering at some point in the distant future. And yet, writing down one's thoughts can be another effective way of untangling that anxious ball of feelings that keeps me from thinking rationally about the depression I'm feeling.

Today is my birthday, but I couldn't care less. It's not about getting old. I stopped caring about that 10 years ago. It's something about celebration, specifically when the attention is on me. I can't adequately describe how contemptuous I find it. My last birthday was spent alone in an empty house and a bottle of Scotch, catching up with past seasons of Game of Thrones. I was so glad it was over and the happy birthday wishes stopped. There's nothing special about this day for me.

At some point, my family stopped celebrating birthdays and holidays. I'm not sure when it happened or why. Certainly not for religious reasons, more probably for financial ones. I grew up in a family that barely scraped by, so birthdays seemed a luxury we couldn't afford. Now, it just feels indulgent. More than that, it feels sad. It reminds me of all the disappointments, hurts, and failures of the past year. It's not as though it's all bad, of course. If nothing else my birthday gives the illusion that a chapter has turned, with new possibilities for the future. I also have to come to terms with how many people out there actually seem to care about me, maybe even love me.

And later that day, I forced myself to go to a show I was quite enthused about, but didn't factor in depression being the party pooper.

I can't account for what it is that comes over me. There are people here that genuinely like me, who probably even want to get to know me better, but I push them away. Not so much directly, but indirectly, by excusing myself to use the restroom and then changing my mind midway and just leaving the venue -- without even the courtesy of a "goodbye" to friends or a "great show" to the bands. I feel awful about it afterwards, but in that moment it's like a flood of emotional pain washes over me and it feels like I'm carrying an anchor chained around my neck. I feel the great urge to find my way to unlit corners. To look busy and preoccupied. Would it hurt me to say hello? To smile? Perhaps not, but right now my psyche is tingling like some kind of Spidey Sense telling me, "Get out of here! Just get your shit and leave...NOW."

As dour and hopeless as that may feel, just the act of writing it down afforded me a release, which incidentally I did not feel until the writing was all said and done.

Hope, a new beginning Time, time to start living Just like just before we died

Hurt, falling through fingers Trust, trust in the feeling There's something left inside There's no going back to the place we started from.

ONE MORE THING

For those of you who are wondering what you can do for a friend, family member, coworker or just someone you know casually from shows you both frequent, I couldn't say it better than one of my longtime fellow travelers in doom, who offered up this advice:

"While it's all very well and fucking dandy that there are so many people telling those who are struggling to reach out to them, I don't think people are quite understanding just how mental illness works sometimes. People quite often don't reach out, because those that are suffering from mental illness, at times, feel like they are a burden by unloading their shit onto someone else, despite the invitation to do so. It's generally the same concept that leads on to suicide.

I obviously can't speak for everyone, but I can speak for myself when I say the last thing I want to do is reach out to anyone because I feel like I am a burden and everyone would be better off without me -- and that is ultimately why I don't reach out. The point that I'm trying to get at is if you see someone struggling YOU reach the fuck out. If you don't see someone who used to be around, YOU reach the fuck out. Think about it. It's not that hard."

Well said and completely on the mark. At the same time, if you're feeling alone and uncared for, you may look at people’s lack of inquiry as more confirmation that you are worthless trash. You may interpret a busy person's slight as utter rejection. Don't worry about what others may or may not think of you. You need to take care of you, for you. The future is fickle. Your fortunes can change on a dime, so why base your self-worth and your decision about whether to live or die by how you feel right now? Ride it out, seek out help, get a game plan in play.

I say this as someone who knows how hard it can be to get mental health. I was double insured -- through my employer and the Veterans Administration -- and I couldn't get a god damned psychiatric appointment to reevaluate and adjust my meds. I called all over town trying to get in with someone. "Sorry, we're not accepting new patients" was the universal refrain. The VA would just be too many month's wait, I told myself, based upon how long it has taken me in the past to get a conventional medical appointment. In desperation, I called up my primary care doctor who asked if I was suicidal. For the first time in my life, I knew with full certainty the answer was yes. The more miserable I felt, the more I contemplated dying. If I did it, it would be something quick and sudden, I would daydream in my most despondent moment. "You need to check yourself into the hospital now," she told me adamantly. I did exactly that. I walked into the ER and told them I was suicidal. They led me to a room, had me take off all my clothes, and put on a hospital gown. I stayed in a padded room waiting for a social worker to see me. It was a desperate move, but it did pay off in getting me fast-tracked to see a psychiatrist.

One thing I learned about medication from my new psychiatrist (because he was very caring, very careful, and hence very effective at his job) is that everyone’s brain chemistry is uniquely different. There can be other issues impacting mood, too, such as thyroid, environmental stressors, sleep problems, vitamin deficiencies, and so on. Again, it’s often hard to see whether the cart is leading the horse or the horse is leading the cart, in terms of the mind-body connection. Long story short, this doctor adjusted my meds to near perfection to get me through the rare summer-long depression I was experiencing.

Just a few months later, he got hired away to work for the County and I was left back in the same boat once again. I got a great referral, but didn't realize until bills came in I couldn't pay that the doctor was out of my insurance network. Believe me, many people prefer to go without care entirely than to go into debt and I was one of them (truthfully, I still am). I went another year until I couldn't take it anymore and this time in my desperation reached back out to the VA. Surprisingly, they saw me within a week and prioritized my suicidal depression. I'm now in a good spot as a result, but it was a long, windy, uncertain road getting here. I know it's hard to find help. Sometimes you don't know what's available to you until you knock a little louder and get people's attention.

The older I get, it seems the more stubborn I am, particularly when it comes to reaching out and asking for help. Perhaps I've always been that way and am only now realizing it's become a liability. After taking off three weeks during the holidays to catch up with the many projects that were piling up around me, I realized that my depression was sometimes stronger than my will to power through and do my best work. I would find myself sitting at the computer for hours trying to get started with a story, trying to edit audio for a podcast, trying to prepare a team member's submission for publication, and every time I would find myself coming up against something painful, perhaps similar to the long recognized creative crimp known as writer's block. I describe it as an inhibitor chip in my brain that sends pain signals to my psyche whenever I contemplate moving forward.

Of course, rationally, I know it's all just a matter of the will, right? That's what those who aren't experiencing depression will tell you, at least. They don't want to go to the gym, but they make the choice to do it anyway, so why can't you just "man up" and do what needs to be done? Well, those aren't so much the messages other people give me, as they are my own conscience. The guilt itself from a day coming and going without results adds its own layer of complication to my mood. Thankfully, I have a wonderful counselor who understands and is helping me to tackle this with cognitive strategies. This, coupled with sensible medical treatment, has at least helped me to find "even flow" again.

Finally, you're going to have some bad days where you may even want to be productive, but your body feels like it's in revolt. As a creative person who loves to pour myself into as many projects as I can when I'm feeling good, it can be extraordinarily frustrating to not even feel the will to check email, open a letter, or listen to a stitch of music. Most days, I'm trying to work in concert with my body's natural rhythms. I'm more of a morning person and get my best work done between 8AM and 11AM. Anything after that is going to be hit or miss with diminishing returns. With that in mind, I have to hold back from starting new projects before the ones already on my plate are finished, because when I'm feeling good, I think I can take on the world.

This is all a part of me rediscovering what it's like to feel balanced, bright, and in love with life. It can be frustrating to have that feeling back, only to watch it wither away as the week progresses. Since I have very high expectations of myself, it's natural for me to heap guilt upon guilt for all the missed opportunities, but beating myself up only compounds the problem (it took me a long time to really get this about myself, too). Every day is a struggle, but I've decided I'm staying in the fight for the long haul.

In short: Be patient with yourself. Be fair with yourself. Be good to yourself. Remember, this too shall pass.

"Someday you're going to die, just like some day I'm going to die. But until then, you fight like hell to stay alive, you get that?!"

-- William Holden, The Earthling (1980)

[moonyinthestars]

Stop texting me weird stuff so late at night! (Peter Parker x Avenger!reader)

This is for @mr-delmar, for your 1K followers writting challenge!

Prompt : “Stop texting me weird stuff so late at night!”

Words : 2558

Summary : You really have the worst best friend. Who else would drag you to the pool at nearly midnight?

Masterlist 

If you want to be tagged in what I write, just send my an ask!

Also, I’d love to hear what you thought about this! 

Spread back on your bed, a pillow shoved under your head supporting a messy bun of wild hair, you were scrolling absentmindedly through Instagram, checking the new pictures your friends had posted today. A quick glance at the top of your phone indicated you that it was already 11 p.m. Dropping it next to you, you stood up and grabbed your pyjamas, heading to the shower.

“Friday, play the last album of Panic! At The Disco, please.”

“Sure thing, miss.” Responded the artificial intelligence as the first notes of High Hopes were echoing through your room and attached bathroom.

Today had been a good day, you had gone to school as usual then trained a bit with Natasha, and the whole team had had dinner together. Of course, it had ended in laughter, punctuated with “language!” escaping Steve’s mouth, nerd jokes from Peter, Clint and Sam throwing wads of bread at each other, Natasha rolling her eyes while Tony was once more talking very loud and Bucky frowning at all the scientific vocabulary he was employing. They were people you kept dearly in your heart, your weird and protective family. Getting along with everyone was easy, but you were especially close to the spider boy. When you had joined the Avenger a couple of years ago, Peter had immediately tried to learn more about you, as he was fascinated with the power that you had. Actually, you had been offered to join the team when your friend Wanda had managed to find you thanks to Tony’s technology, after you had been separated from her and her twin before the attack on the HYDRA base in Sokovia. You had been away from your red head friend for six months when she rescued you among with the team, and it had been one of the best days of your life. However, Pietro’s death had been a hard one.

HYDRA had also experimented on you, but to them you hadn’t been as successful as the twins: your skills weren’t of direct use when it came to fight on the battle field. Indeed, your sight had been modified: you were able, in case of any injury, to see through the layers of skin, muscles, tendons and bones to fix what had been damaged. With the help of Bruce Banner, your powers had developed a lot: you could now heal the others even faster, and with your special sight came an in-depth knowledge of the human body. When you were focused, you could now force the cells to contract and do whatever you wanted even when he person in front of you wasn’t hurt. One day you emitted the idea that you could maybe help Bruce to transform back from the Hulk thanks to your new abilities. After a lot of convincing from Tony, Bruce had finally let you test your hypothesis. Peter had been the first to volunteer to protect you just in case things went wrong. As you were now both eighteen, your friendship had grown a lot and you were happy to live with him and the team at the compound.

As your muscles stretched under the hot and steaming water, you knew that a good relaxing shower had been exactly what you needed. Focusing your gaze on your biceps, you were absorbed into a microscopic word composed of cells, blood and many complicated molecules. There it is, you could see the lactic acid accumulating in your cells, causing the cramps you were now having. Funny thing that it was to be able to perceive such tiny and minuscule things!  Shaking your head at the weirdness of your thoughts, you finally got out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your chest. Singing along with the song that Friday was playing, you slipped on a large red hoodie that you had probably stolen from Stark with your grey pyjamas shorts. You brushed your hair, putting it in a less messy bun than before and headed back to your room after brushing your teeth. Jumping on your bed, you asked Friday to stop the music and subdue the lights as you slipped under the warm sheets. Grabbing the book that was laying on your bedside table, you made yourself comfortable, leaning on the many pillows your bed was provided of. Sighing in content, you began to read, escaping in a total different universe. Turning the page, a ringing sound took you out of your world. Reaching out for your phone, you raised you eyebrows when you saw that it was already 11:30 p.m. Who could send you a text at this hour?

Hey, I have an unsolved problem and I need your help.

Peter, your best friend.

Of course, you began typing immediately. What’s wrong?

Now worried, you watched the little dots undulating at the bottom of your screen, indicating that Peter was texting back.

Spider boy: Well, I have been thinking for the past hour, and I just can’t seem to find a solution.

You: Peter what’s wrong?

After a short moment, you burst out of laughter when you read the new text he had sent you.

Spider boy: Do you think that my webs stick under water?

Shaking your head smiling you answered him quickly, thinking that after all, you weren’t the only one to have crazy thoughts crossing your brain.

You: Omg Peter, stop texting me weird stuff so late at night!

Spider boy: But I can’t help it! I need to solve this or I won’t be able to sleep, you know me, Y/N.

You: Peter I’m tired.

Spider boy: But you’re my best friend!

Spider boy: Please Y/N!

Spider boy: Y/NNNNNN please

You: What do you want me to do about it? You’re the scientist, I’m not!

Chuckling under your breath, you lied back on your bed. Not even a minute later, there was a knock on your door. Knowing perfectly who it was, you opened it.

“Hi Mister Parker, what can I do for you?” you asked with a smirk.

“Come with me? Please?” pleaded the spider boy standing in front of you with his puppy eyes, his hair just as messed as yours. He was in his pyjamas too, his web shooters already attached to his wrists.

“And where would we hypothetically be going to?”

“To…”

“To?”

“To… the swimming pool?” he answered hesitantly with a light grimace on his face.

“Really Peter? The pool, when it’s nearly midnight?” you burst out laugh.

“Come on, it’s gonna be fun, you know it!”

“Of course I’m coming, you replied with a grin. Let me just get my swimsuit.”

You had noticed that your friend had already traded his pyjamas shorts for swimsuit shorts, so you hurried up and went to your cupboard to retrieve your own. You quickly put it on and added Stark’s red hoodie on the top of it but let your shorts of the floor, as your hoodie was reaching your mid-thighs.

“Let’s go web the entire pool Parker!” you exclaimed as you climbed on his back. “Come on, you want this, you’ll have to carry me all the way long!”

Arms securely wrapped around your knees, he exited your room toward the elevator, answering: “Okay, no problem. But I don’t wanna hear you complain if I’m going too fast”, he grinned mischievously.

“Me? Complaining? You mumbled, where did you get this idea?”

“Careful, back there, you wouldn’t like me to drop you, would you?” he mimed the action of letting you go

“Peter! Don’t you even dare!” you replied seriously with a slap on his shoulder.

“Sh shh, darling, he chuckled. You’re gonna wake the whole building up.”

Pinching his cheek with one of your hands wrapped around his shoulders, you shot a look at the both of you in the mirror of the elevator. You wished you had taken your phone with you, because it would have made a beautiful picture. The doors finally opened to reveal the training level, where was located on of the two pools of Anthony Stark, the other being on the roof. Peter suddenly broke into a run, a light laugh escaping his lips while you were trying to repress your surprise squealing, holding tighter onto his neck. He pushed open the glass doors separating you from the gigantic Olympic-sized pool and as if a lightening had struck you, you realized what your best friend was about to do.

“Peter, don’t you DARE JUMP IN THE POOL RIGHT NOW!” you shouted in his ears, the grip of your legs tightening around him in the feeble hope that it would stop him.

But, it was too late, and the only response you got was his laugh echoing through the big area.

Water splashing everywhere, you instantaneously let go of Peter when your body hit the cold liquid at the same time as his. Your big sweater floating around you, you couldn’t help yourself but laugh when your head broke the surface.

“You big idiot! I accept to help you and that’s how you thank me? My hoodie is all wet now!”

In front of you, Peter was grinning like mad, very proud of himself.

“Say something instead of staying there laughing at me!” you splashed water in his direction.

“Oh you want the war Y/N?” he replied with a hand placed in front of his face to avoid the water.

“You’re the one who started the war in the first place, darling.” You smirked back with a devil glint in your eyes.

And with a solid battle cry, the fight started. Pushing and splashing all the water you could toward him in all the possible ways you could imagine, you tried to get closer to him in order to make him surrender. However, your sweater was slowing down your movement although you knew that you couldn’t risk pausing to take it off if you wanted to win this crucial battle. But Peter hadn’t said his last word either, and he suddenly plunged under water to grab your feet.

“NooOOBLBLblbb!!” you cried as you were dragged under water, your hands slipping on the wet edge of the pool.

Kicking in every direction you could, you started to panic when you suddenly weren’t able anymore to dissociate your feet one from the other, as if they had been glued together. Without your feet you couldn’t move as efficiently as before, even if your arms were doing all they could to compensate this unpredicted loss. Feeling Peter’s arms around your waist bringing you to the surface, you chocked all the water your lungs had absorbed as you were at last able to breathe again.

“Well, I think that I have my answer”, he said with his arms still holding you close to his chest, smiling.

Frowning while still trying to recover from your brief trip under water, your hands knotted on Peter’s shirt, you mumbled:

“What are you talking ab- PetER YOU FITLTHY LITTLE TRAITOR!”

Your fists repeatedly hitting his cheat that was resonating with laughter, you couldn’t help but join him.

“UNWEB ME THIS INSTANT!”

“Okay!”

And he dropped you.

“No, Peter DO NOT LET ME GO!”

“How do you want me to take off the webs if I’m busy holding you?” He smiled deviously, his hands finding their way back around your stomach, under your hoodie.

“Well get me out of the pool you dumbass! And he calls himself an Avenger!” you said loudly.

After getting you out of the pool, he sat you on one of the benches nearby.

“How are you going to take this off anyway?” You wondered out loud

“Well, that’s the problem.” He grinned sheepishly.

You threw him a dark glance.

“You see, I’ve never had this kind of problem. I usually just wait for them to dissolve.”

Breathing in, you prepared yourself for what was next.

“And how long does it usually take Mister Avenger?”

“Do you want a towel? I’m going to get you a towel, you must be freezing! See, even I am cold so you should be cold too, ain’t you?” he quickly started rambling, walking away from where you sat to find you these precious towels.

“Peter! Tell me!”

“Here is your towel!” he said happily, wrapping it around your shoulders.

“Just tell me already! “

“Well it-usually-take-two-hours but given that the webs were shot under water it probably affects their solidity and how long they’ll last and the way they’re going to dissolve so it may take more or less time but once again I’ve never done this before so I can’t be sure-

“God, Peter...” You said with a sigh.

He glanced at you guiltily, barely looking you in the eyes, and you burst out of laugh. You really couldn’t be mad at him.

“You are really the worst friend” you continued to laugh.

“But you love me anyway?” he said with a knowing smile flourishing on his lips.

“Keep telling yourself that, you chuckled while giving him a bump with your shoulder. Well… if I really have to wait two hours, I’m not doing it here, and neither in these wet clothes.” You stated.

Staring at you with an unmotivated expression, you stared back into his brown eyes.

“Does that mean that I have to carry you again?”

“Do you really expect me to bunny hop all the way back to my room?”

“I guess I deserved that” he chuckled.

“Oh come on, don’t expect me to believe that you’re not enjoying this.” You replied with a smirk.

“As you wish!” he exclaimed, quickly taking you bridal style into his arms.

As Peter was carrying you, you were pretty sure that all the way leading to your room was now wearing his wet footprints and the drops of water from your soaked hair, but you didn’t mind. After all, it would all be dry by the morning. After Peter had dropped you in your bathroom, going to his own room to change, you started to take off your hoodie and realized that you no had another problem. How the hell were you supposed to get rid of your bottoms if you ankles were tied together? Shaking your head, you tried to dry as much of your body as it was possible, wrapping a towel around you to cover your bare chest.

“Peter!” you shouted through your room.

He came running in, hair still wet.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, I figured that since you’re the one who made my hoodie impossible to use for tonight, you owed me one of yours.” You replied grinning.

You spent the next twenty minutes in one of Peter’s hoodie in your bathroom, while he was carefully drying your hair thank to the blow dryer. The heat had helped to dry your bottoms as well, so that you were now sure that any excess water had left the surface of your skin. Peter carried you again all the way toward your bed, and after convincing him (which hadn’t been complicated at all), he also came to lie under the covers next to you after that he had turned the lights off. Comfortably wrapped in his arms, your head against his chest, you chuckled:

“Peter, you know that you could just have asked Karen about your webs, right?”

“I know, he chuckled back, just figured that it’d be funnier that way.”

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

11th February >> Mass Readings (Europe, Africa, New Zealand, Australia & Canada)

Monday, Fifth Week in Ordinary Time

     or 

Our Lady of Lourdes

     or 

Saint Gobnait, Virgin (Ireland).

Monday, Fifth Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: Green)

First Reading

Genesis 1:1-19

God saw that it was good

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was a formless void, there was darkness over the deep, and God’s spirit hovered over the water.

God said, ‘Let there be light’, and there was light. God saw that light was good, and God divided light from darkness. God called light ‘day’, and darkness he called ‘night.’ Evening came and morning came: the first day.

God said, ‘Let there be a vault in the waters to divide the waters in two.’ And so it was. God made the vault, and it divided the waters above the vault from the waters under the vault. God called the vault ‘heaven.’ Evening came and morning came: the second day.

God said, ‘Let the waters under heaven come together into a single mass, and let dry land appear.’ And so it was. God called the dry land ‘earth’ and the mass of waters ‘seas’, and God saw that it was good.

God said, ‘Let the earth produce vegetation: seed-bearing plants, and fruit trees bearing fruit with their seed inside, on the earth.’ And so it was. The earth produced vegetation: plants bearing seed in their several kinds, and trees bearing fruit with their seed inside in their several kinds. God saw that it was good. Evening came and morning came: the third day.

God said, ‘Let there be lights in the vault of heaven to divide day from night, and let them indicate festivals, days and years. Let them be lights in the vault of heaven to shine on the earth.’ And so it was. God made the two great lights: the greater light to govern the day, the smaller light to govern the night, and the stars. God set them in the vault of heaven to shine on the earth, to govern the day and the night and to divide light from darkness. God saw that it was good. Evening came and morning came: the fourth day.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 103(104):1-2,5-6,10,12,24,35

R/ May the Lord rejoice in his works!

Bless the Lord, my soul!

Lord God, how great you are,

clothed in majesty and glory,

wrapped in light as in a robe!

R/ May the Lord rejoice in his works!

You founded the earth on its base,

to stand firm from age to age.

You wrapped it with the ocean like a cloak:

the waters stood higher than the mountains.

R/ May the Lord rejoice in his works!

You make springs gush forth in the valleys;

they flow in between the hills.

On their banks dwell the birds of heaven;

from the branches they sing their song.

R/ May the Lord rejoice in his works!

How many are your works, O Lord!

In wisdom you have made them all.

The earth is full of your riches.

Bless the Lord, my soul!

R/ May the Lord rejoice in his works!

Gospel Acclamation

John 8:12

Alleluia, alleluia!

I am the light of the world, says the Lord;

anyone who follows me will have the light of life.

Alleluia!

Or:

cf. Matthew 4:23

Alleluia, alleluia!

Jesus proclaimed the Good News of the kingdom

and cured all kinds of sickness among the people.

Alleluia!

Gospel

Mark 6:53-56

All those who touched him were cured

Having made the crossing, Jesus and his disciples came to land at Gennesaret and tied up. No sooner had they stepped out of the boat than people recognised him, and started hurrying all through the countryside and brought the sick on stretchers to wherever they heard he was. And wherever he went, to village, or town, or farm, they laid down the sick in the open spaces, begging him to let them touch even the fringe of his cloak. And all those who touched him were cured.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you Lord Jesus Christ.

—————————

Our Lady of Lourdes

(Liturgical Colour: White)

First Reading

Isaiah 66:10-14

Towards Jerusalem I send flowing peace, like a river

Rejoice, Jerusalem,

be glad for her, all you who love her!

Rejoice, rejoice for her,

all you who mourned her!

That you may be suckled, filled,

from her consoling breast,

that you may savour with delight

her glorious breasts.

For thus says the Lord:

Now towards her I send flowing

peace, like a river,

and like a stream in spate

the glory of the nations.

At her breast will her nurslings be carried

and fondled in her lap.

Like a son comforted by his mother

will I comfort you.

And by Jerusalem you will be comforted.

At the sight your heart will rejoice,

and your bones flourish like the grass.

To his servants the Lord will reveal his hand.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Judith 13:18a-19

R/ You are the highest honour of our race!

May you be blessed, my daughter, by God Most High,

beyond all women on earth;

and may the Lord God be blessed,

the Creator of heaven and earth.

R/ You are the highest honour of our race!

The trust you have shown

shall not pass from the memories of men,

but shall ever remind them

of the power of God.

R/ You are the highest honour of our race!

Gospel Acclamation

cf. Luke 1:45

Alleluia, alleluia!

Blessed is the Virgin Mary, who believed

that the promise made her by the Lord would be fulfilled.

Alleluia!

Gospel

John 2:1-11

'My hour has not come yet' - 'Do whatever he tells you'

There was a wedding at Cana in Galilee. The mother of Jesus was there, and Jesus and his disciples had also been invited. When they ran out of wine, since the wine provided for the wedding was all finished, the mother of Jesus said to him, ‘They have no wine.’ Jesus said ‘Woman, why turn to me? My hour has not come yet.’ His mother said to the servants, ‘Do whatever he tells you.’ There were six stone water jars standing there, meant for the ablutions that are customary among the Jews: each could hold twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said to the servants, ‘Fill the jars with water’, and they filled them to the brim. ‘Draw some out now’ he told them ‘and take it to the steward.’ They did this; the steward tasted the water, and it had turned into wine. Having no idea where it came from – only the servants who had drawn the water knew – the steward called the bridegroom and said, ‘People generally serve the best wine first, and keep the cheaper sort till the guests have had plenty to drink; but you have kept the best wine till now.’

This was the first of the signs given by Jesus: it was given at Cana in Galilee. He let his glory be seen, and his disciples believed in him.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you Lord Jesus Christ.

———————-

Saint Gobnait, Virgin  (Ireland)

(Liturgical Colour: White)

First Reading

Song of Songs 8:6-7

The flash of love is a flame of the Lord himself

Set me like a seal on your heart,

like a seal on your arm.

For love is strong as Death,

jealousy as relentless as Sheol.

The flash of it is a flash of fire,

a flame of the Lord himself.

Love no floods can quench,

no torrents drown.

Were a man to offer all the wealth of his house to buy love, contempt is all he would purchase.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 44(45):11-12,14-17

R/ Listen, O daughter, give ear to my words.

or

R/ The bridegroom is here! Go out and meet Christ the Lord.

Listen, O daughter, give ear to my words:

forget your own people and your father’s house.

So will the king desire your beauty:

He is your lord, pay homage to him.

R/ Listen, O daughter, give ear to my words.

or

R/ The bridegroom is here! Go out and meet Christ the Lord.

The daughter of the king is clothed with splendour,

her robes embroidered with pearls set in gold.

She is led to the king with her maiden companions.

R/ Listen, O daughter, give ear to my words.

or

R/ The bridegroom is here! Go out and meet Christ the Lord.

They are escorted amid gladness and joy;

they pass within the palace of the king.

Sons shall be yours in place of your fathers:

you will make them princes over all the earth.

R/ Listen, O daughter, give ear to my words.

or

R/ The bridegroom is here! Go out and meet Christ the Lord.

Gospel Acclamation

John 14:23

Alleluia, alleluia!

If anyone loves me he will keep my word,

and my Father will love him,

and we shall come to him.

Alleluia!

Gospel

Matthew 19:3-12

Husband and wife are no longer two, but one body

Some Pharisees approached Jesus, and to test him they said, ‘Is it against the Law for a man to divorce his wife on any pretext whatever?’ He answered, ‘Have you not read that the creator from the beginning made them male and female and that he said: This is why a man must leave father and mother, and cling to his wife, and the two become one body? They are no longer two, therefore, but one body. So then, what God has united, man must not divide.’

They said to him, ‘Then why did Moses command that a writ of dismissal should be given in cases of divorce?’ ‘It was because you were so unteachable’ he said ‘that Moses allowed you to divorce your wives, but it was not like this from the beginning. Now I say this to you: the man who divorces his wife – I am not speaking of fornication – and marries another, is guilty of adultery.’

The disciples said to him, ‘If that is how things are between husband and wife, it is not advisable to marry.’ But he replied, ‘It is not everyone who can accept what I have said, but only those to whom it is granted. There are eunuchs born that way from their mother’s womb, there are eunuchs made so by men and there are eunuchs who have made themselves that way for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. Let anyone accept this who can.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you Lord Jesus Christ.

[diianawonka]

Requested by:

Annon: Hi I don't know if you can do a bill Skarsgard imagine like bill brothers come to visit you two and you an bill have a little fun at night😉😉and in the morning his brothers tease you both about how loud you are and bill was defending you and yeah ejeje thank you!! "Smut" please thanks!       

@harleysgothamonline Hello, desperate fangirl here! Could you possibly do an imagine where the reader and Bill get into a huge argument just having a screaming match and they are both screaming and crying and she's hitting his chest out of anger, and then they both make up by kissing passionately and cuddling. It's okay if you want to pass on that idea, I promise I won't be butt hurt lol.

Warnings: Language, smut.

A/N: I hope you don’t mind that I mixed two request, I’ve changed the roles just a little. This is my firs time writting smut and I really sucks... sorry about that, I‘ve tried my best, sorry for my horrible english.

Pairing: Bill Skarsgard x Reader

Title: “You moan like a princess”

__________

“Stop yelling, Y/N, my siblings are in the next room” Bill whispered trying to stay calm despite his girlfriend still yelling at him without reason

“I DON’T CARE THEY’RE IN HERE BILL” She yelled furiously, feeling her heart beating faster against her chest  

“Why are you so angry, Y/N? WHAT DID I DO NOW?” he asked without understanding, twining his fingers in his hair, starting to feel desperate.  

“I SAW YOUR CELLPHONE” She confessed with tears in her eyes “I SAW YOUR MESSAGES WITH THAT SLUT, BILL!”  She felt the bitter tears begin to slide down her red cheeks. Bill looked at her, he was furious, his girlfriend had been snooping on his cellphone without permission

“WHY DID YOU CHECK MY PHONE, Y/N?” He asked angrily, starting to yell too

“OH MY GOD! I JUST FOUND YOUR MESSAGES WITH ANOTHER WOMAN AND YOU…  Oh God , I CAN’T BELIEVE IT, BILL!” She tried to look at him, but tears clouded her vision and she felt how her heart break into a thousand pieces. Bill stayed quiet, looking at who he believed was the love of his life, crying furiously in front of him and he felt like the worst human being.

“I’m sorry” He whispered with a broken voice, approaching her, trying to hold her, but she walks away

“YES, YOU SHOULD SORRY” She kept yelling, not with anger but sadness

“Y/N, it’s not what you think, nothing ever happened with her” He tried to hug her desperately and she hits him on the chest

“I’m not stupid, Bill” She hits him again trying to get away from him, but he was holding her tight

“I know you’re not, Y/N, please” He begged with tears in his eyes “I love you”

“No, you don’t” She sobbed as he embraced her

“Hey…” He whispered and takes her chin with his fingertips “Look at me, my love” Y/N turned to see him, Oh God! She loved his green eyes “You have to believe me, I would never do anything to hurt you” He said more relaxed

“But I saw the messages, Bill, you can’t deny it!”

He sighed heavily.

The truth was that in the last few months, Bill had been planning his marriage proposal to Y/N, and his best friend had agreed to help him with it, the messages really could be misunderstood because they just talked about meeting in certain places to talk about it

“She was helping me to plan my marriage proposal” he confesses in distress “Now it’s all ruined, but I don’t care because I don’t want to lose you Y/N” he walked to the dressing table and take the fake flowers from the clay vase, he reached into the vase and pulled out a small black box.

He went back to Y/N and showed it to her “It’s not as I had planned it, actually Gustaf and Alex were here to help me with it but… damn it! You’d to be a psycho girlfriend, dear!” Y/N looked at him in puzzlement, with one hand covering her mouth, feeling the stupidest woman on the planet, she was trembling and couldn’t control it, Bill rested his forehead on hers; she could feel his warm breath and breathe his favorite cologne that she loved it so much, chamomile and mint, she looked into his eyes “be my wife” he whispered opening the little box

“Oh my god”

“is it a yes?”

“Yes” She whispered almost inaudibly.

Bill took the ring and put it on her finger. He kissed her,  holding her tightly by the waist, but it wasn’t a romantic kiss, it was one full of desire. It wouldn’t be the first time they ended up having sex after an argument.

He was much taller than her, but Y/N manages to take a small leap by wrapping her legs around his waist; Bill walked with her and they lie down on the bed while still kissing

“Do you want to go out to dinner? Or do you prefer to stay and kiss to see how this continues?” He said between kissed. Y/N looked at him and responded with another kiss even more passionate than the previous one.

Her hands had begun to play with the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning them one by one until completely removed. She loved to see him like that, she adored his milky skin and his Adam’s apple moving every time is swallowed, she loved his dilated pupils giving a special touch to the green of his eyes, and his velvet lips, Dear God.

Bill had taken her dress off along with her dark bra, his kisses had begun to run down her neck and shoulder making her gasp slightly, his velvet lips begging to fiddle with her left nipple making her squirm under him and panting wildly, his right hand low up brushing the thin fabric of her underwear, feeling as she began to get wet just for him, her thighs trembled.  

Y/N tried to control her hips, but she was desperate to feel some friction, so she took his hand and guide him inside her panties, he began to touch her gently rubbing her clit, she struggled not to moan to loudly, after all Bill’s brothers were in the next room. He slides his fingers inside her and she twisted her neck letting exposed to him, he couldn’t miss the opportunity to kiss it and suck it slightly causing it to form a small hickey that would disappear soon.

He stopped touching her “What happened?” She asked confused “Why did you stop?”

“It seems you aren’t enjoying what I’m doing” He replied, whispering in her ear. His warm breath crashing against her skin, excited her even more.

“Your brothers are in the other room, Bill”

“I thought you didn’t mind, sweetheart” He tested her, lifted one eyebrow playfully as he licked her earlobe, making her moan softly.

“Bill, please” she whispered

“I want you to scream my name” He slip another finger inside her and felt her scratching his arm.

“Bill” she whispered breathlessly as he began to move his fingers inside her, she moved her hips and moan against his neck “more…” She begged him

“I can’t hear you, sweetie”

“Fuck me, Bill” She begged, biting his jaw gently and arranging to unbuckle his belt and remove his trousers, touching his prominent bulge, he groaned at her touch and without thinking twice she moved her hand inside his boxers taking his erection.

“Shee-it, Y/N” He settled between her legs and gently slide inside her as he kissed her hardly, he lets out a small groan as she scratched his back in response, he started thrusting faster and harder

In a quick movement, Y/N was on top of him, riding his cock and scratching his chest with every movement she made, Bill held her by the waist to gain the most stimulation with each stroke. He loved her, he loved her waist, her messy hair and her breasts moving to the beat of both.

She began to feel how the heat grew inside her and her calves began to tingle, as it happened every time she was about to reach an orgasm, she also felt how Bill’s muscles began to tense beneath her… “Y/N” He groaned as he clutched her breasts and took her neck to draw her closer to him and kiss her with passion finally thrusting their both into a climax.

__

Y/N and Bill were in the kitchen making breakfast, they heard footsteps and laughter in the hall, Gustaf and Alex appeared and sat on the kitchen counter in front of both

“Good morning guys” Y/N greeted them while turning a pancake with the spatula

“Good morning, Y/N” replied Gustaf “How about last night guys?” he asked as he serve a cup of coffee, Y/N and Bill cross glances and laugh “I mean... we heard you arguing”

“And other stuff” Alex joked

Y/N felt her cheeks begin to turn pink and laughed nervously, she knew these two too well and they wouldn’t hesitate to joke “I don’t know which one is noisier, if my brother or his girlfriend” mocked Alex and Bill turned to see him angrily

Gustaf let out a loud laugh “Bill you moan like a princess”

Y/N laughed and watched Bill’s jaw began to tighten

“I mean… Dad would be very disappointed in you, brother” Alex stood up to reach a mug

Y/N laughed and walked over to Bill “Let him alone guys” She said, wrapping her arms around his neck “I love your moans baby, don’t mind them” she confessed giving him a kiss on his lips and gigglin.

requests are open! (x)

MASTERLIST

[whoopsadiary]

I’m skinny right now. I’m skinny because I came to visit my family after I quit my job and two days later my oldest brother got sick and tested positive for COVID-19. He has a pregnant wife and a three-year-old and lives around the corner from my parents. His symptoms were mild and he’s already feeling better. I’m skinny because I’m quarantining with my mom, my dad, and my little brother, since we were all exposed two days before he tested positive.

One night before my brother tested positive, I wore tighter clothes to dinner, and my dad said I looked too skinny and hugged me. I told him I always look like this- which isn’t exactly true, I regularly fluctuate around 5-10 pounds depending on what’s happening in my life. The next day he reflected and said that maybe the idea of me he has in his head is just bigger, and that’s what he was comparing me against.

I’m taller than both my diminutive parents, which my mom always praised, as though she was contributing to the advancement of society through her children’s stature. In high school I played three sports a year, until senior year when they cut educational funding for Philadelphia public schools and we lost our swim team. I wasn’t bothered, I found swimming to be an especially uninspiring sport, since you can’t hang out with teammates while your head in underwater. But my mom seemed distressed and told me I had to find some way to exercise, though I didn’t see why. My last semester of senior year I was no longer a gangly pre-teen, I was by reasonable standards still skinny, but athletic, which the big butt and thighs I had inherited from my mom.

My mom paid some small attention to what I was packing myself for lunch, and my dad advised me, writ large, that men preferred slim women. And then I went to college. I went to a college that was 15 min from my house and that about 30% of my high school attended. But it was an Ivy League, and my parents thought I should go if I got in. For the first time in my life, I was not presented with a specific diet or sport to play, my acne got a lot worse, and I started on my road to the freshman 15.

By junior year I was about 160lbs and the summer before senior year I shaved my head. My mom told me she thought it was chic and then took me on a long walk to confront me about being fat and gay, which I told her I wasn’t (though I was wondering if I was). On a trip to San Francisco my mom had me try on a dress and then told me that if I lost weight I could maybe pull it off. They begged me to lose weight. As if it was a family tragedy, both my parents talked to me about it separately. I was inconsolable. I was doing my best to keep together a semblance of self confidence in a body that was changing in ways normal to someone leaving adolescence.

But for better or for worse they go through to me. Senior year I started trying to cut out carbs. I recognized that I was not made for academia, schoolwork put me in a cycle of procrastination, making me stay in my room for hours not doing my work, but not letting myself leave until I did my work. My best friend was losing weight at the same time, but for different reasons, and I always operated best in a competitive environment. I’m hyper-aware of my surroundings, while she’s the opposite, and by the time she noticed how much smaller I had become the damage was done. She cried when she asked me about it, intuiting rightly that her weight loss (which became uncontrollable in the following year) had triggered mine.

At that point I had been living away from my parents for four years. After graduating, I moved to DC for a short while, and that best friend got me dance classes, which I absolutely loved, and felt like I was moving towards a relationship towards my body that was working and at least garnered less negative attention from my parents. Though to this day they constantly ask me how often I exercise. I moved to NYC in the fall and started interning, baby-sitting, a part-time job. I didn’t have much time or money for classes or a gym, though I was always vigilant of weight gain. At that point I was essentially in the same spot I am now, hovering around 145lbs, sometimes closer to 150, sometimes closer to 140.

I don’t know how much I weight now- I don’t weigh myself that often, but usually gauge by look and how my pants fit. But I feel small, I haven’t been able to take Muay Thai classes since the pandemic, and I know I’ve lost my muscle. And so, without fat I have nothing, and I’m living with my mother again. We alternatively argue and laugh every day. She tells me not to order ice cream from Instacart, and I tell her it’s non-negotiable. She’s convinced my dad he’s overweight (he’s not and I told him so) but I’m worried she thinks the fear of being overweight keeps him skinny. I ordered sushi rice, which is not something we grew up with, but is something I live off of, and she asked me to google if rice or pasta has more carbs. I told her she can do her own dirty work.

I know it just comes from her own body-image issues. She will say she’s fat even though she’s as skinny as any 60yr old with 5 kids can be. But I’m stressed living like this. She works in the kitchen with her mask on, a dragon guarding the horde, and I my normal “eat every 2-3 hours” schedule is thrown into disarray. I’m stuck in my room, hungry, and mad at myself 3 months ago who was stressed about having gained weight. My mom is a runner, she runs miles every morning, and I knew it would pain her not being able to. The first few days she kept insisting we go on a brisk walk, even though I’m been trying to help her understand that we could be a danger to the people around us, even with double-masks.

My dad got sick around 4 days after my brother’s case was confirmed. He’s in his own part of the house, coughing, sleeping, and reading his Andy Kaufman book. We deliver his meals and scurry away. I hope I can leave soon. I love spending time with my family, but not like this. We’re all wearing masks in the house and hope we don’t get sick next. When I get home to my boyfriend and my apartment, I’ll probably self-correct, gaining the weight back in the next few cold pandemic winter months when there isn’t much to do except cook, eat, and sit around. And in January or February I might be jealous of what I have right now, the way my bones stick out and clothes hang off of me.

[shirlleycoyle]

20 Years Later, the World That Launched the ISS Is Gone

On Monday, the International Space Station enters its 20th year of continuous human habitation, a milestone that will be celebrated by the station’s partners around the world—and of course, the handful of astronauts living in the orbiting laboratory.

It is an “incredible honor” to be up here, said NASA astronaut Kate Rubins, a member of the current ISS crew, during a teleconference from the station on Friday. “We happened to have picked a really good expedition to be up here and I think we all feel very lucky.” 

“I think the most fitting tribute is for the three of us to just go take a nice long view out the cupola, look at the beautiful Earth and appreciate this amazing space station,” she continued, when asked about the crew’s plans for the anniversary.

“The celebration day will be a Monday, so probably we’ll be celebrating this day by hard work,” added cosmonaut Sergey Kud-Sverchkov, “and of course, remembering those who flew here, and who have been flying here, for 20 years. We will remember all the participants of this huge program. Thank you so much, to all.”

When the Expedition 1 crew arrived at the ISS on November 2, 2000, the station had just three core modules; it has since sprouted over a dozen more, to a total of 16. During its lifespan, the ISS has been home to over 240 people from 19 countries, the platform for more than 220 space walks, and a nonstop source of incredible Earth imagery and public engagement with space. 

The station’s past is impressive, and there are ambitious plans for its future. But the world that launched this incredible technological project is not the same place that it orbits every 90 minutes today. New geopolitical alignments on Earth have had consequences that reach into space, and the emergence of the commercial space sector has offered a glimpse of markets that could reshape low-Earth orbit, where the ISS resides.

The ISS is an ever-evolving reflection of technological and diplomatic shifts, but it is also an expression of the bygone era that launched it. Now, as the station approaches its twilight years, its operations will tell us a lot about where humans are headed, both on and off Earth. 

The ISS is likely to host human beings until at least 2030; its member nations have already agreed to fund it until 2024 and its operational lifespan is projected to extend many years beyond that. 

Here are the three major trends that will influence the next 10 years on the station—commercialization, internationalism, and the emergence of a post-ISS vision—and what they might mean for human space exploration writ large.

A crowd watches as SpaceX's Falcon 9 rocket launches to the ISS in May of 2020. Image: Red Huber via Getty Images

Open for Business

Space commerce is an ingrained trope of science fiction, from the ore-hauling commercial spaceship Nostromo of Alien fame to the hired delivery services of Planet Express in Futurama. But despite the prevalence of private markets in our imagined idea of our space future, it has proved difficult to establish a self-sustaining economy off-Earth in real life.

“If there was a straightforward way to make money in low Earth orbit with humans, we would be doing it right now,” said Casey Dreier, chief advocate and senior space policy adviser at the Planetary Society, in a call. “The very fact that it seems to take large government expenditures up front to create the conditions where private industry might find a way to make money in low Earth orbit tells us something.”

Within the lifetime of the ISS, the commercial space sector has experienced an unprecedented growth spurt, a change that is reflected by the historic arrival of the first astronauts in a commercial space vehicle, SpaceX’s Crew Dragon, at the station earlier this year. 

NASA plans to open the ISS up to more commercial activity in the coming years to channel this latent momentum. In 2019, the agency announced that it would allocate five percent of its “crew resources and cargo capability, including 90 hours of crew time and 175 kilograms of cargo launch capability” though it would place limits on amounts available to any one company, according to a statement.

The private sector has played a crucial role in spaceflight since its earliest days, especially as satellite operators and contractors on federal space projects. But the immense costs of reaching space, and the dangerous environment that awaits companies there, has kept a range of potential space markets out of reach.

If all goes to plan, though, the station will receive its first fully commercial module, developed by Texas-based company Axiom Space, by the mid-2020s. Axiom and SpaceX are also laying the groundwork to sell tickets to the station for about $52 million. NASA has reached agreements with companies such as Estee Lauder to potentially film commercial footage on the station, and has discussed options for filming a movie aboard the ISS with Tom Cruise. 

Of all of these emerging markets, space tourism is the one that’s most likely to take off, according to Phil McAlister, the director of the commercial spaceflight division at NASA Headquarters.

“The more people who have that experience, the more they’ll identify new ways to use space, and the more they will inspire others to also want to go,” McAlister said in an email. “That’s why I have worked so hard to enable commercial crew because I feel so passionately it will change the paradigm; change the arc of human spaceflight. That’s the big one.”

While space tourists have already flown to the ISS, these private flights may become much more common in the coming years. In addition to changing the activities and dynamics of the ISS, these flights will require a new legal and ethical infrastructure that may influence human spaceflight for many decades to come.

A Soyuz 2.1-a rocket launches to the ISS in 2019. Image: TASS via Getty Images

“As a private company or as a private individual wanting to pay for a ticket to go to space, there’s no guarantees,” said Sara Langston, assistant professor of spaceflight operations at Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University, in a call. “This is one reason we call them spaceflight ‘participants’ and not ‘passengers’.” 

“If you say passenger there actually are rights, duties, and obligations between the transportation provider and the customer who has to pay for a ride,” she continued. “We call this the laws of common carriage and this goes all the way back to Medieval times, so there’s lots of precedents for that. But Congress said in 2004 that spaceflight is not common carriage.” 

In other words, human spaceflight is considered inherently dangerous, so space lawyers are currently busy establishing legal frameworks for issues such as liabilities and informed consent, as it pertains to space tourism. 

In addition to customers looking to buy a trip to the ISS, companies are also interested in using the station’s unique microgravity environment from companies looking to develop technologies. 

For instance, Connecticut-based company Lambda Vision recently flew some of its artificial retinas to the station, and several biomedical and pharmaceutical companies have tested out “exomedicine” projects on the ISS. 

Meanwhile, Florida-based company Made in Space has helped pioneer commercial 3D-printing and manufacturing techniques on the ISS, and startups such as AstroGrams hope to build a market for affordable collectibles and memorabilia that have been to the ISS.

NASA does not expect these ventures to help bankroll the station’s costly operations in the near term—just the opposite. 

“NASA is subsidizing the cost to enable new markets to emerge and with the goal that NASA will ultimately be one of many customers,” said McAlister. “We do expect we will eventually move to full cost recovery, but the goal of these activities is more about enabling commercial demand than it is to subsidize the station. 

“A competitive market will drive down costs for NASA, that will free additional resources for NASA to use for deep space exploration,” he added.

Likewise, NASA’s role as a public agency means that it walks a “fine line,” Langston said, when arbitrating what commercial activities to support on the ISS, and how the station’s resources will be used by companies.

“It goes against public policy for private companies to gain profit or financial benefit from public funds, so NASA does have to be very careful of what they allow commercial companies to do or what they allow their astronauts to do for private gain,” she noted.

NASA Astronaut Christina Koch returns to Earth from the ISS in 2020. Image: SERGEI ILNITSKY via Getty Images

The Geopolitics of Human Spaceflight

You can trace the origin of the ISS back to many different moments in history, but the 1975 orbital handshake shared between NASA astronaut Thomas Stafford and Russian cosmonaut Alex Leonov during the American-Russian Apollo-Soyuz mission stands out. The symbolic gesture set the stage for an astonishingly resilient partnership in space between two long-time rivals that frequently butt heads on Earth.

“The U.S. and Russia have a long, productive history of cooperation in human and robotic space exploration,” said Robyn Gatens, acting director of the International Space Station at NASA Headquarters, in an email. “In addition to nearly 20 years of crews on the International Space Station that of course includes Russians, there are Russian instruments on operational NASA science missions on the Moon and Mars.” 

While there are disagreements on broader space policies between the nations, it’s likely that the American-Russian partnership on the ISS will survive as long as the station itself.

“It’s very hard to pick up your space station and go home when you are joined together so tightly”

“This type of geopolitical shared goal is, I think, the best spinoff from space,” Dreier said. “It forces people to continue working together because they do have a shared goal to protect the lives of the astronauts and cosmonauts that share the station.” 

“It’s rare, these days, to have that forced cooperation,” he added. “It’s honestly one of the best consequences of why we spend money in space” because “it’s very hard to pick up your space station and go home when you are joined together so tightly.”

That said, Russia and the U.S. are no longer the only powers on the crewed spaceflight scene. China has made huge strides in its human space program over the past 20 years: the nation launched its first astronaut, Yang Liwei, in 2003, and is on track to establish a permanent space station in 2022. 

While China has expressed interest in joining the ISS coalition in the past, the United States has barred it from sending astronauts to the station, or participating in ISS research, due to national security concerns. (The two nations collaborate on a range of other space-related issues beyond the ISS, including Earth science, lunar science, and space debris).

“I think it would be a good thing to engage them on the ISS, but that ship has sailed a little bit,” Dreier said.  

“They don’t need the United States,” he noted. “They are building their own space station, and they have independent access for humans to space. They are only the third country to do that.” 

While China and the U.S. are not likely to cooperate on crewed space missions in the near term, many other nations have honed their own space programs in the 20 years since the ISS has been operating. India, South Korea, and the United Arab Emirates, for instance, may send more of their astronauts the ISS in the next decade, which could expand the diversity of the station crew and lead to a more multifaceted space environment in the future.

”By partnering with other nations, NASA is able to engage the best scientific minds, as well as share the cost and risks of investments in ambitious missions,” said Gatens. “NASA’s international partnerships are also an important part of global diplomacy, leveraging activities in space to bring nations closer together here on Earth. We recently made an agreement with the United Arab Emirates to train their astronauts, one of whom already has flown to space.”

SpaceX's Crew Dragon capsule splashes down in August of 2020. Image: Handout via Getty Images

What Comes After the ISS?

The ISS has been flying for decades, and may remain a home to humans until the 2030s. But like any lived-in and well-loved home, it will eventually reach the end of its lifespan and need to be torn down—or deorbited, in this case. One day, a crew of astronauts will undock from the ISS for the last time, abandoning its modules to burn up in the same skies that it used to glide above, catching sunlight that made it shine on dark, clear nights.

By the time the ISS is destroyed in a (hopefully) controlled reentry into the atmosphere, NASA thinks that other crewed stations will have deployed in space to take up its mantle. 

“Our goal is to have an uninterrupted presence in low-Earth orbit, to be able to transition from the station to other platform(s) where we can continue working in low-Earth orbit,” McAlister said. 

In addition to keeping humans in low-Earth orbit, NASA is already working towards the deployment of a human habitat called Lunar Gateway, a smaller space station that would orbit the Moon and provide a platform for human exploration of the lunar surface.  

“NASA right now is beginning the process of returning humans to deep space in the vicinity of and on the Moon with the Artemis program,” Dreier said. “There’s a serious effort and I think this has been a little bit underappreciated how much work NASA and others have been putting into these broad international agreements.”

There are still many contentious debates to be had about the exploration of the Moon, especially regarding resource utilization on the lunar surface, but NASA is working toward a vision of international cooperation on the Lunar Gateway that is modeled on the ISS coalition. NASA hopes to establish the Lunar Gateway in orbit around the Moon by 2028, and use the orbiting habitat as a platform to expand human exploration of the lunar surface.

“The goal for the future is that we’ll have commercial stations in low-Earth orbit that are tailored to specific market needs, including NASA’s needs, and that we’ll carry our international partnerships forward to the Gateway in orbit around the Moon and continued deep space exploration as we go together with commercial and international partners,” said Gatens.

In this way, the central legacy of the ISS—an orbital embodiment of what is possible when nations work together—hinges on whether this multilateral spirit in space can outlive the station itself. 

“Space is an equalizer in many ways,” Langston said. “It doesn’t matter where you come from, what language you speak, what culture you come from—math and sciences brings people together. Everybody is interested in the beneficial outcomes of conducting science and exploration activities.”

A generation of young adults have never experienced an unpeopled spacescape, thanks to the orbital relay race that continues aboard this most storied off-Earth outpost. The next decade will determine whether humans can maintain and expand our presence beyond our planet, because our current life raft cannot float forever.

20 Years Later, the World That Launched the ISS Is Gone syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

[irphanfic]

Moonshot - Chapter 9

I’m finally back with Moonshot! Yay! I’m sorry if the updates are getting slower, but this week has been a bit crazy and I’m struggling a bit more than usual to write so I’m sorry.

Anyways, as always, any type of feedback is welcome!

summary: Phil had a feeling that this Friday was going to be different.

That didn’t mean he was ready to meet his favourite baseball player, Daniel Howell, while he was cleaning the windows of a building. 

or the au in which Phil is a shy window cleaner and Dan is a famous baseball player. This is their story.

words: 3.1k

no trigger warnings

Read on ao3 - (x)

Chapters: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8

Chapter 9: Photographs

Wednesday came and Phil was dreading going to work. Today Dan was leaving for that 'secret project' and Phil didn't want to face the fact that he wouldn't be seeing him in a week.

They spent yesterday night talking over the phone till Phil yawned like three times in less than a minute and decided it was time to say goodbye. A few other 'I'll miss you' and 'have a nice time' were exchanged, as if none of them wanted to stop talking to the other.

Sighing, Phil got ready for day and walked calmly to his work, enjoying the nice morning sun that was colouring the tall buildings in pretty oranges and yellows.

As he had done so many times, he put on his earphones and started cleaning the tall windows that were  becoming too familiar to his liking.

Sooner than expected, Phil found himself at the top floor, smiling a bit at the familiar sightings. Dan had left his flat in a bit of a mess; a few socks, a pair of trousers and two t-shirts lying on the carpeted floor. The blue eyed guessed it was because Dan was such a 'last-minute' guy he probably did his suitcase after their phonecall.

Phil smiled and shook his head, 'This guy'.

Sighing rather loudly, knowing that no one could hear him up there, Phil took out his cleaning products and was about to spray them into the windows when he spotted something stuck to them.

Deciding to investigate, Phil walked towards whatever that was, laughing as he saw a row of polaroid pictures, each one a Dan selfie where he kept making cute or 'ugly' faces, one word written  with black marker at the bottom white space of them, the familiar hand writting bringing a few flashbacks onto his mind.

Admiring each photograph Phil read every word, arranging them into a proper sentece:

'So – you – don't – forget – this – ugly – face. – See – you – soon. – ♥'

Phil wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. This was the sweetest thing someone had made for him.

Dan was such a considerate guy. He kept surprising Phil in many ways no one had ever done before and he really found this details endearing,

''Ugly face, he says, ugh.'' Phil said to himself, still staring at the small pictures, appreciating the  bush of curls and deep brown eyes that he was starting to miss already.

Could this week be over, already?

______________

It was around lunch time when Dan landed in a cloudy Ireland, quickly hoping into the car the company had ready for him just outside the airport and driving to a very lively rural-looking city. Once he left the suitcase in his hotel bedroom, the same driver drove Dan to the location where he would be working.

After almost half an hour, a beautiful landscape appeared in front of his eyes. A hill full of different tones of greens with multiple spots of lilac and yellow flowers that the wind was calmly moving, leaving Dan breathless at the sight.

Dan got out of the car, admiring the scenery in front of him. 'I would love to come here with Phil.' he thought. They would love this, it was so nice. Dan was already thinking of coming here with a blanket and spend the day with his head on Phil's lap as the blue eyed read to him for hours. Yeah, it seemed like a perfect date.

Suddenly, a strong voice startled him, ''Dan Howell, long time no see!''

Already smiling, Dan turned around only to see Peter Wright. He had been the director of the last campaign and it seemed like he was the one for this new one too. Great, at least a familiar face Dan could spot around.

Dan greeted him back which led to a quick conversation while Peter showed Dan around and what he wanted to do for this campaign.

Apparently, he and his modeling partner Claire would be trying different outfits of their new  clothing range. They wanted to keep a 'rustic aesthetic' as Peter described, so that's why the landscape was a must.

''Also, we want you and Claire act like star-crossed lover. Runaways who left their actual lives to continue with their love somewhere else, what leads us to living a non-approved romance in a rural village. Yeah, a bit weird concept but you will see. Expect a few sensual shots in the next few days but nothing that you haven't done before, of course,'' Peter mentioned.

Dan almost frowned but somehow managed to control his hace expressions. He could act like a 'lover' with Claire, he had done that a few times in the past, but would he be comfortable now that he was almost in a relationship with Phil? Well, it was acting. And, believe it or not, acting had always been one of Dan's passions and even though it could be a bit pretentious, he considered himself a pretty good actor at this point.

''We will make a few test-photos today and tomorrow, see what light settings, make-up and more we will work with so we can work properly in the next few days,'' Peter said, finally arriving to an open space with a few tents where a crew was franatically running around.

Peter showed Dan what would be his changing and lounging room and left him for a few minutes till he came back with Claire Vickard, who had been one of the best tennis players in the last three years. It was really a privilege to work with someone so professional.

''Dan Howell, nice to finally meet you. Claire Vickard,'' she showed him a small smile and handed him a hand which he shook.

''Hello Claire, nice to meet you too,'' Dan repeated, also smiling.

Once Peter pitched them three into a conversation Dan's mind wandered till his eyes landed on Claire.

She was tall, not as tall as Dan, but she had a pretty good height that seemed to heighten thanks to her black and sleek ponytail letting him see her face features better, making her clear green eyes look even greener.

'They are not like Phil's' Dan almost groaned at the though. Yeah, her eyes might be greener than Phil's, but her features reminded him so much of the window cleaner it wouldn't be that easy to forget about said person.

It was going to be difficult. Pretty difficult.

______________

The day was finally over. It was 9pm and Phil had managed to have a productive afternoon of developing ideas that had potential to be a proper novel, wiriting whatever came into his mind and writing a few paraghaphs or pages at least. After a nice dinner and some cereal he decided to just lay on his bed watching a movie on his laptop, browsing to see which one he could pick that he hadn't watched yet.

He had messaged Dan earlier, thanking him for the pictures and reminidng him he didn't have 'an ugly face' but he hadn't gotten any response yet, meaning he was busy or simply wanted to disconnect from the world a bit.

As if reading his mind, his phone vibrated, quickly picking it up from his nightsand Phil saw a new message from Dan, 'can you skype? wanna see you.'

'Sure, let me call you.'

Phil closed his movie folder and opened Skype, easily calling Dan who after a minute appeared on the screen, almost in the same position as Phil, leaning against the headboard of what seemed a king sized bed, some pillows supporting his back. Dan's smiley face was tinted with the yellow light coming from a nightstand lamp, making his black t-shirt stand out even more.

''Hi'' Phil said shyly, regarding the old pyjamas he was wearing, not having even tought about changing.

''Hello, how was your day?'' Dan asked from the other side, his voice sounded happy but tired, Phil hoped he wasn't keeping him up even though Dan had been the one to ask to Skype.

''Nah, nothing much, just went to work and saw your super ugly pictures stuck to the windows.'' Phil joked, making them both chuckle, ''But, it was a very nice surprise, so thank you so much.'' he said sincerely.

''You're welcome. I wanted to make something nice for you since you are letting me read your manuscript which, by the way, it's going pretty well. It has me very intrigued.'' Dan picked up the stack of papers from the nightstand and showed it to Phil. He could spot a bright green post-it note marking Dan's reading. He noticed it wasn't very advanced, but enough to at least have read two chapters.

''Yeah? Are you liking it so far?'' Phil asked worried about his response.

''I'm really liking it. It has the perfect amount of mystery and sci-fi elements I like in a novel,'' Dan said.

Phil pulled a surprised face. Dan was enjoying his novel and he couldn't be happier. ''yeah? You really like it? You are not just saying it because it's me, right?''

''Of course not! I think this is your opportunity, Phil. This is good, like, really good.''

''Tell that to publishing houses... All I have received are rejection emails,'' Phil muttered under his breath, not knowing if Dan had heard.  

''Believe me, I think this is your big chance. Just, wait a bit more, I'm sure you will get good news soon,'' Dan said, giving him a smile, hoping Phil would cheer up a bit.

''I hope so, it has been so difficult... I have been writing since I finished my degree and I just don't know anymore... Maybe writing isn't for me, after all,'' Phil didn't really want to make this Skype call so upseting, but he needed to talk about it and Dan seemed like he was willing to listen to him and give him all support he needed.

''Phil, listen, writing is your passion. Writing is your definitely your thing. You of all people deserve to be an author. And you will become one, I know. It might take a bit more of time but believe me, you will make it.''

''Thank you,'' Phil croaked out, his voice a bit emotional. Dan's encouraging words were all he needed, ''I really needed to hear that.''

''You, Phil Lester, will be a future author, okay?'' Dan repeated.

Phil nodded, trying to get those words inside his brain. ''I'm sorry for ranting, I just, I felt like I needed to get that out of my chest...''

''Hey, don't worry, you can count on me for everything.'' Dan said, his beautiful smile not fading from his face. Oh, how he wished he could be with Dan now, cuddling and maybe kissing under the blankets...

''I wish I could hug you right now.'' Phil whispered.

''I wish I could hug you too.'' Dan repeated in the same tone, grabbing one of the throw pillows he had on his bed and clutching it to his chest, yawning in the process.

Phil decided it was time to go to bed. He didn't want to keep Dan up much longer, he must had had a long day in this 'secret project' and sure he needed to rest.

''You're tired, talk to you tomorrow?'' Phil suggested, offering him a small smile.He saw Dan tried to fight his tiredness, but another yawn made him backtrack.

''Okay, good night, Phil.'' Dan waved at him, ''Miss you.''

''Miss you too, Dan'' Phil managed to say before they hung up.

Needless to say they both fell asleep hugging a pillow as close to them as possible.

______________

The rest of the week went calm for Dan. He found it really easy to work with Claire since she was so professional. Peter would shout phrases like 'hands lower!', 'caress each other's face, yeah that's it!' and they acted it as natural as it could get. While they were resting they took time to know the other, bonding so well and quickly at the same time Dan could consider Claire a friend already.

Also, he and Phil had been Skyping each night to speak about everything and nothing. Dan managed to read a bit more of Phil's manuscript everyday, even if it was just a few pages, but he really was enjoying the story.

Phil didn't get enough credit, that for sure. Oh, boy. How much he missed him.

It was Monday evening now and they were going to a lake to shoot a few of Peter's famous 'sensual photos' since he wanted to picture a ''lustful swimming sunset scene'' as he had expressed yesterday.

The lake indeed was also as beautiful as the field they had been working on till now. Dark water reaching the surprising sandy shore with tall rocky mountains to they right and left, making shadows along the water thanks to the now orange sunlight that reached the scenenery.

So, after takinga  few pictures to send later to Phil, Dan did as he was told, put on the swimsuit he was supposed to wear and left his changing room, spotting Claire in her bikini already waiting for him.

''How are you so fast on the field and so slow at changing clothes, uh?'' Claire teased him, making the both chuckle.

''Must be a baseball player thing, I guess,'' Dan replied, not managing to say anything else since Peter called at them both to go into the water.

It was cold (it was freaking Ireland, of course it was cold!) and both of them were shivering at first, but after Peter told them to swim around bit at first it was okay.

''Okay, we will do a few out of the water shots first and them underwater, fine with that?'' eh director said, who received a quick nod from both of the athletes.

Dan and Claire swam around, 'flirting' as they had been doing with the other pictures before, splashing water and giving suggestive glances to each other. Peter shouted from the shore that they needed to get closer and act a bit more 'lustful' so Claire laced her arms around Dan's neck and Dan's hands traveled to her waist, standing up with their feet touching the sand unterwater, the water surrounding them by their thighs.

Claire trailed a few kisses along Dan's jaw, reaching his ear and whispering silly things as Dan tried not to laugh, keeping a serious face for the shake of the shoot and deciding to move his mouth down to Claire's shoulder, leaving a few kisses there. Dan tried to pull her closer but somehow managed to make them both lose their balance, sending them both splashing into the water, instantly laughing.

They heard Peter's laugh cut the repetive clicking of the camera sutter from the shore, probably meaning they should be done with this part of the shot, ''Okay, let's do the underwater shoots before the light fades''.

Peter instructed them once again, meaning one of his helpers would be going underwater with them and these shots would involve kissing, like 'proper kissing, tongue included'.

When Dan heard those words he wanted to believe he hadn't heard the right. 'Proper kissing' meant the opposite to chaste-like pecks on cheeks, of course. It was acting and he knew it but Phil... Dan was sure that by the time the campaign pictures were out he would have already asked Phil to be his boyfriend, he was sure of it, so it should be fine.

''You okay, Dan? I hope I'm not that horrible to kiss!'' Claire said jokingly.

Dan chuckled. He would have told Claire about Phil, he would have, but he wasn't sure if Phil would have wanted that, ''It's just that I wasn't expecting more kissing but yeah, I'm sure you will be... okay to kiss'' he teased, getting a fake offended huff from Claire, who looked like she wanted to say something else but Peter's words cut her off.

''You two, stop bickering and back into the water, you will start kissing out of it and slowly submerge into the water. Once you feel oxygen is necessary, just come up. We can repeat it a few times, understood?''

They both nodded, knowing there wasn't any other alternative to Peter's words. A bit awkwardly, they walked back into the water, swimming further than before and latching into each other for balance, staring at each other's eyes.

Dan looked into Claire's green eyes and wet black hair, her features reminding him once again how much he wished he was with Phil right now... Maybe if Dan imagined he was with Phil instead...

He felt Claire's arms tighten around his neck, bringing him a bit closer so he did the same, pressing their foreheads together and closing his eyes before slowly pressing their lips together. Dan felt Claire bit his lower lip for entrance, which he allowed for a while imagining it was Phil who he was kissing.

Phil and only Phil.

Dan grabbed Claire's hips a bit tighter before sending them both purposely under the water, trying to keep the kiss passionate and professional as possible as long as their lungs allowed them too.

After a while, oxygen became necessary so they separated their mouths and rapidly swam back up, breathing for air as they once again held each other for balance.

Heavily inhaling and exhaling, Dan looked at Claire, remainding his brain that she wasn't Phil.

She. Was. Not. Phil.

Dan's chest felt heavy. He just wanted to see Phil now, be close to him so he could feel better about all of this but he knew that was going to be impossible. He just wanted to arrive to the hotel and curl up under the blankets while he skyped the blue eyed, seeing his tired and sleepy face across the crappy webcam as he had done everyday since Wednesday.

Suddenly he heard Peter's voice calling them, saying that they were done for today so they could go back to their hotel, meaning the day was finally over.

So, with a quick 'goodbye, see you tomorrow' to Claire, Dan walked into his changing room, discarding the wet swimsuit before putting back his comfy sweatshirt and jeans, hoping into the car that drove him to his lonely hotel bedroom.

Once he arrived Dan threw himself on the bed and was ready to text Phil when a new message from said person popped into the screen, 'Work was horrible today, I'm extremely tired to Skype today, I'm sorry :(  but talk to you tomorrow? :)'

Dan was a bit disappointed but he understood. Mondays for Phil were pretty much tiring and he guessed he was going to bed early, so even though Dan felt the need to see him he understood. They could talk tomorrow anyways, he could live with that.

'Sure, no worries. We can Skype tomorrow if you are not that tired.' Dan replied, deciding to type a 'Good night. Miss you. ♥' to finish his message, but no response came in, meaning for sure Phil had fallen already asleep.

Chapter 10

[qkantyjk-blog]

How to get the cheapest insurance for a 17 year old?

How to get the cheapest insurance for a 17 year old?

Does anybody know any tips that would lower my insurance? I was looking at prices of insurance for a 1L peugeot 107, which cost around 2000, and the prices were 4000+. My girlfriend was looking at prices for herself and the prices were around 1500 for a 5000 Vauxhall Corsa. Any help is appreciated.

BEST ANSWER: Try this site where you can compare free quotes :HELP-INSURE.NET

SOURCES:

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Assessment

When I look at myself, my writing, and my accomplishments from Writ 1122, I see one major attribute within it all: progress. Quickly I found out from taking this class that my writing was missing many key ideas and features; I had much to learn about my writing and even myself. Coming into the class, I had a pretty general high school writing education and one writing heavy FSEM worth of writing experience. Although I felt it my writing ability was adequate to get me through any writing assignment, I also knew it was far from perfect. Within only the first couple of classes, I started to quickly see common practices and issues within my writing or just things that I was missing. One of these things was the voice. I notice within earlier writings I did in the class I tried very hard in trying to find what my voice was in writing. I wrote professionally, I wrote very relaxedly and off the cusp, or I tried a mixture of the two. As I wrote more and more papers, I stopped focusing on what my voice in my writing was, and just let that voice come naturally. Another thing I noticed was missing from my writing was an understanding of the rhetorical situation. One issue I’ve always felt that I struggled with in writing was understanding the purpose of why I am writing, and staying on topic in order to finish arguing my point. Once I grasped the understanding of the rhetorical situation, I felt my papers became more focused and natural when deciding on what to write about. As I learned these concepts of writing, I noticed it was hard to focus on each different idea within my writing. I feel that from writing to writing, my focus changed depending on what the paper was about. For example, when writing or have been recently writing about the rhetorical situation, my papers were more focused on the topic at hand and how to most appropriately answer the prompt. When writing about the audience, my papers were much more focused on writing with a specific style and methodology. I feel that even though each of the assignments I complete had different focuses and sometimes a lack of other concepts, I feel it represented my progression as a writer. The one aspect of the class that I feel has surprisingly affected my understanding and my work as a writer was the grading system. Not receiving any grades from assignments, readings, or tests messes with your understanding of responsibility, participation, and writing ability. I would honestly describe the no grading system a blessing and a curse. All motivation to write and complete assignments is entirely on you. It’s very reminiscent of real life, where you are the only one responsible for yourself. It taught me a different understanding of writing where I needed to motivate myself to complete my best work without reward nor punishment. Not staying on top of my work wasn’t a punishment at all, but a sense of guilt (which might have been even worse of a punishment than receiving a bad grade). Although even without any grading, I felt I was still staying on top of my work and completing all the assignments on time. The no-grade system also kept me attending each of the classes in order to know if I was understanding the material we were going over. Not receiving a grade also affected how I write. When writing for a grade, I feel my writing needed to conform to a certain standard that the professor expects. But when writing for nothing, I feel almost liberated from rubrics and requirements and I fully become my own person. I honestly feel more confident about what I am writing about and how I can write it. One thing I fully believe is that there no such thing as perfection, yet, I believe it is the idea of perfection that drives us on to be better at what we do. I was never the best writer, nor will I ever be the best writer. But, as I continue my journey through the DU required writing courses, I will continue to progress my knowledge as a writer and my knowledge of myself. I will take my knowledge of concepts like rhetorical situation, audience, and voice with me throughout my college and professional career, as well as any other situation of writing. I will also take my understanding of responsibility and self-determination that I received from the lack of a grading system. I have progressed my way through Writ 1122, and I will continue to progress throughout my writing career past this class.