#is it sad to get all the energy to endure the week on the weekend?

[cherry-shot]

skipped workout today and im baking a carrot cake bc winter is cold and sad and my weekend was not good

[consistent-self-destruction]

new year same fears

it's so funny how nothing changes. not a thing.

oddly enough it's only the 3rd month in the new year, but it's my second semester of my 2nd college year. it's 5:49 am. i'm as tired as i've always been. as lost as i've always been. as sad. as anxious. as depressed. as uncertain, deeply uncertain, as i've always been.

nothing changes.

i want it to change and be better so bad. sometimes i'm happy, but it'll only be for a moment or a weekend. i'll be happy because i'll be distracted from how bad things are, and how bad i've let things become. i think i am naturally self-destructive, and i don't know how to change that. i hardly know how it happens? one day i just happen to miss a deadline because it snuck up on me, so I don't go to class that day until the missing work is done. and then i end up not going to class for weeks, and weeks, and weeks, because the missing work never gets done. and it's not like i do it on purpose! i just don't understand.

this is so messy stream of conscious because i'm just writing to write. i am feeling a billion things and i haven't been on this account in forever, and sometimes typing on my little computer just does something for my spirit.

i have things i want to do and accomplish so that i can really be happy. sometimes i am motivated to work towards those goals, and other times they feel impossible to reach. i want to learn to drive by this summer. i want to pass my classes and declare in arts management. i want to have the teenage summer i never got to have with concerts and festivals and fireworks and fairs and parties and sleepovers and the beach. i want to make more art - write songs again, poetry, stories, and make a scrapbook of all my experiences. i want to journal more and have more time to myself free of responsibility or obligation. i want to make money. i want a very specific job this summer that i know will make me happy. i want to be able to spend time with my closest favorite friend for his birthday. i would do anything for that. anything.

but now i'm going to cry - well not really, but i feel emotional and want to cry. because that friend means so much to me. genuinely the world. no words are enough to explain how much he means to me and i need to endure this semester and just get through it so i can be there for him. if i just get through this semester, everything will fall into place and life will be the best reward but it is so hard and it feels like climbing a mountain. my motivation gets lost so quickly. i want to save this semester but i've fallen so far behind and this keeps happening! it's BEEN happening since the 7th grade. I used to be so good at school, but now everything moves too fast and i get too invested in singular assignments that i fail to properly budget my time and energy for all my responsibilities. i am angry and frustrated with myself, and i know everyone tells me to be kind and gentle but i just piss myself off so bad. i can't help but be annoyed with the fact that i can't handle what i expect of myself. i cant do what i expect of myself. and it's not even an issue of skill, because i CAN do these things - it's just an issue of executive dysfunction, perfectionism, time blindness, and my inability to focus that all gang up on me and make everything hard. and i've tried so many methods but nothing sticks! my biggest struggle is consistency and routines. even if to-do lists and planners and routines worked for me, i just can't stick to the habit of them. i don't know why. i don't know what's wrong. but as much as i love school - as much as i love learning, and i genuinely like the content of my classes and the assignments, and the space that school gives me to be myself and connect with others and make experiences ; i can't escape the fact that school makes me hopelessly depressed. it kills me self worth. it puts me face to face directly with all of my worst habits and mental health issues. it pushes them and tests them to see how i'll fare, and i buckle under pressure every time. i am buckling right now. and i'm trying not to! i'm trying not to because i cant afford to. i can't waste my parents money like this and i can't throw away this opportunity. this opportunity to learn and acquire and connect and network and experience. college is so sadly inaccessible to so many people, and it's awful because even outside of the education, college as an experience has SO much to offer and i don't want to give it up. but it kills me. it's hurting me. and i can't even blame it because there's nothing wrong with my course load or the work or anything with the school itself, it's just me. something in my brain cannot handle this environment anymore. i'm burnt out and my other mental health issues do not respond well to the pressures and expectations of deadlines and budgeting time and energy between multiple assignments and responsibilities and having to multitask and plan or any of that. and it's so frustrating because i NEED to have those skills. i NEED to be able to handle these things and i just CANT. emotionally and intellectually, i feel older than my age. but when it comes to executive functioning and the logistics of being a student and an adult, i feel like an overwhelmed toddler that can't stop falling on its butt. it's so triggering and damaging to my sense of worth. falling behind in school and struggling to keep up makes me suicidal. it makes me feel like i can't do anything. it makes me feel helpless and worthless and afraid that i won't amount to anything in my future. it makes me insecure and feel unstable. it leads me to fall into escapist habits and patterns that eventually turn manic and crazed until i'm silent screaming and crying at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. zoning out staring at lights in the dark. until i feel like i'm in the shittiest coming of age movie except i keep coming down and going up and coming down and going up.

the other day was wednesday. i haven't been feeling well or doing okay at all. but wednesday is my free day and my friend i mentioned earlier with the birthday i want to attend in May - he planned the day for us and it was very sweet and thoughtful of him. he wanted to get breakfast with me, then spend some time doing parallel play so we could both get some responsibilities done. then we were going to go to the local town to run some errands and buy wine for a wine and charcuterie night later. after town we'd go to this photoshoot organized by a fashion club at our school, and then we'd end the day with wine and charcuterie.

well, the night before i'd been spiraling, so i hardly got any sleep. and then when i finally did fall asleep, i didn't wake up til 2 in the afternoon. i felt really bad, especially because i really loved the day he planned and wanted to do everything with him but he was really understanding. we missed breakfast and parallel play, but we could still do the photoshoot which i was most excited for anyway. it was an indie sleaze themed shoot, and what's funny is we barely knew what that was the night before LMFAO. but once we looked it up and gathered some pinterest intel, i really fell in love with the concept and got excited to create a fit and a character inspired by it. so i got ready later that day and i enjoy fashion and playing dress up and exploring my creativity through that lens. so even though i wasn't really happy, i was okay and at peace doing something i liked. then i went to his dorm just down the hall when i was ready, and he is my everything because he's just the life of the party. his fit devoured and i was obsessed with it. we spent like 5 minutes just saying "indie sleaze" in the silliest weirdest voices, and then we smoked, took a shot (as it's literally 6 pm on a Wednesday), put on "TikTok" by Ke$ha, and we were out the door LMFAO. Sexy and singing and just in our own silly world. We went to get food first cause I hadn't eaten all day. And I love eating while high because I just already love food, so I appreciate it even more when I'm high. It's seriously the most magical experience. Then we finally made our way to the shoot and it was a lot of fun and I was really happy to be there. I got the cutest polaroid ever with my friend who's like a sister to me, and she also was one of the main organizers and creative directors of the shoot! The whole thing felt like a cute little party. Another one of my friends performed a set and it was so good - it had me jumping up and down, dancing all around, literally to the point where I was dizzy and sweating and had to sit by an open window and take my hair out of its updo cause it was falling apart from all the jumping anyway. That's when a photographer came up and got some shots of me by the window, and then my friend who was creative director came and took a few with me, including a shot where she lit a fake cigarette for me - that was the polaroid and it came out SO cute and I'm going to steal it from her mwahahaha. I need to invest in a polaroid.. but yeah, and then another band performed and the whole shoot was basically like a little party / hangout but if there were photographers taking pics of you being cool and sexy and having fun hehe. This girl even brought washable markers for us to draw on each other! I still have the little smiley face she left on my arm :)

Overall it was just a very fun cute shoot and something I would definitely do again, but I will also admit that it was really spontaneous too. Getting crossed on a random Wednesday evening, rocking out to my friend performing plus another band, with complete strangers who were kind and fashionable, in a little room with graffiti and warm colored blue and purple lights. It was spontaneous and magical in a way that made me feel a little unreal in both a bad and good way. At one point I laid back on one of the couches in the room and just stared at the ceiling. And often in party settings, I'll sit down somewhere and stare directly into really pretty colored lights and it makes me feel so unreal in a way that is both comforting but also damaging. It's comforting because it feels like I can relinquish control to a larger fictional story that is just moving me through a plot. I feel safe and free in the adventure of the moment, knowing that I'm just here for the experience, and taking it in. But to feel unreal in that way is also damaging because it disconnects me from my larger reality. My focuses, my priorities. I allow myself to get lost in the fantasy of my life because it feels so much less demanding.

Either way, it had been a good day, but only because it wasn't a real day. It was a very unreal, escapist kind of day. Later that night I cried and cried and cried and just broke down into another spiral. I felt like a failure. A lost loser covered in glitter and mascara and the little arts and crafts stars I pressed on my cheeks with lash glue to fit the theme. I'm behind in classes, I'm unmotivated, I'm lost, I'm tired, I'm without energy, and this is the life and the reality I have to return to? I don't want to do it. I don't want to live. I do, but not like this. But I can't bring myself to live any other way because to give up school would be to give up everything. My freedom, my safe space, my friends, my opportunities, my access to resources and connections and the future life I want for myself, my already fickle sense of certainty. School has always given me so much since I was little. To leave would be to lose it all. But I can't do it. I'm not built for it. I cried that night hating myself deeply, angry at myself, wanting to hurt myself more than I ever have because now I only have myself and my own brain to blame - there is no reason why I shouldn't be able to handle these things and do what I need to do but I'm just a little girl in a big girl body trying to do big girl things with little girl hands that are asked to carry so much more than they can hold but it was never supposed to be alot, just enough for my age. I'm angry because I don't feel my age and I don't know why. I'm angry because I want and need to be my age, I want and need to do well in school, otherwise I am disappointing everyone. Wasting my dad's money, letting my parents down when they invested so much faith and hope into me. Letting both them and my younger self down, who believed in me so much, just for me to fail over and over and over again no matter how much I try to find a solution. Maybe I just wasn't supposed to get this far. Maybe I was never supposed to be more than a little girl. I felt frustrated, sad, hopeless, and suicidal. I still feel this way. I worry that I will aways feel this way and that the hatred for myself will never go away. I worry that these issues will never go away. That I'll always be unfocused and time blind and oversensitive and terrible with routines and executive function and just being the adult I'm supposed to be. I don't want to be like this but I can't help it.

So at the end of all this.. I am tired and conflicted as always. It's a new year with the same fears. It's 6:46 AM, and I have one more class at 10:30, and then Spring Break. I am not prepared for this class. I cannot miss another day of this class or I am guaranteed to fail. But going to this class feeling unprepared makes me want to kill myself. It makes me hate myself. It makes me feel less than as a person. It is genuinely that serious. I'm not being dramatic, this is genuinely how I feel when I am not doing well in school. I feel like a failure, a loser, a disappointment, a let down. "What happened?" is the question that haunts me.

I wish I had an answer.

[pocket-luv101]

Heartstrings || Chapter 3

Fandom: Servamp Ship: KuroMahi (main), LawLicht (side), Tetsono (side) Characters: Kuro, Mahiru, Hyde, Licht, Tetsu, Misono

Summary: Kuro goes to take a nap in the staircase behind the school and sees Mahiru holding a broken guitar. After he helps him repair the guitar string, Mahiru asks him to teach him how to play. (Given AU/Band AU)

Ch.1 || Ch.2 || (Ch.3) ||

“Are you okay, Kuro? You seem distracted.” Hyde asked his brother. Due to Kuro’s personality, others wouldn’t question why he was silent throughout most of their rehearsal. He could sense that there was something on his brother’s mind though. Kuro didn’t immediately answer him so Hyde thought he could teasingly joke with him. “Did you get rejected by someone?”

“Something like that.” He didn’t take his eyes off his guitar as he absentmindedly answered Hyde. Kuro played a few random notes and tried to match them to the song he would often hear Mahiru hum. After he listened to him sing in the staircase, he asked him if he wanted to join his band. They needed a vocalist and his alluring voice would fit their sound well.

He hadn’t expected him to say no. He thought of how persistent and passionate Mahiru was whenever he asked him how to play the guitar. Kuro assumed that he was interested in music. He was more surprised by the rejection he felt by his answer. He only joined the band as a favour for his brother but he didn’t care about success. Something about Mahiru’s song struck him though.

He wondered if he would see him in the staircase on Monday. What would he say if he was there? The first day he met Mahiru in the staircase, Kuro was disappointed that he couldn’t sleep in his hiding place. He found himself looking forward to their short meetings now. He wanted to know more about Mahiru and to hear the song he constantly hummed.

“Nii-san!” Hyde’s voice overpowered his guitar and pulled Kuro out of his thoughts. He stood behind Kuro and shook his shoulders. “I’ve been calling your name for the last five minutes but you wouldn’t answer me! I thought Tetsu was the one with his head constantly in the clouds. Oh, never mind that. You said you were rejected! By who? I didn’t know you were interested in someone. Tell me who.”

“Shut up, Shit Rat. I can’t hear my piano when you’re yelling like that. This is supposed to be a rehearsal so gossip after we’re done.” Licht kicked Hyde to stop him from bombarding him with more questions. Admittedly, he was also a little curious about who Kuro had confessed to. He had joined the band only a month before but he saw how he acted uninterested towards most things.

When Hyde first asked if they could join the band, Licht was against it. The brothers were clearly talented but they played half-heartedly. He started the band because Misono told him about his childhood friend and he wanted to help him reconnect to music. Such half-hearted feelings wouldn’t reach his friend. In the end, Misono invited them to join the band and Licht could only accept his decision.

“I didn’t ask anyone on a date. I only asked Mahiru to become our vocalist.” He insisted. He was being truthful but a part of Kuro felt as if there was something he was hiding from his brother. Pushing aside the confusing feeling, he added: “Mahiru sang a little bit for me and his voice was beautiful. He’s always asking me about music so I thought I would be interested in joining. He said no.”

“Is this the Mahiru that Tetsu told me about? He watched your rehearsal last week.” Misono hadn’t spoken with his friend since he moved to a new school. Despite how often Mahiru helped him when they were children, he wasn’t able to do the same for him. He held the guilt for years but he told himself that he would face him again after he created a band.

When Tetsu told him that Mahiru watched their band and how he wanted to learn how to play the guitar. He thought that he might’ve moved on. Yet, it was clearly more complicated. Music was important to Mahiru and Misono didn’t want to see him give it up.

“Big Brother Neko, this article might help you. I searched up what you should do.” Tetsu held out his phone to Kuro so he could read the screen. He read the title and his face became bright red.

“This is an article about how to ask out a girl after she rejects you. I said that isn’t what happened at all. Can’t deal.” Kuro pushed the phone back into Tetsu’s hand. He doubted the tall student had intended to tease him with the article but he couldn’t stop himself from bushing. He didn’t understand why he would feel so flustered over the misunderstanding.

“Maybe you should actually take the article’s advice and ask Mahiru on another date to see our band. I want to hear him sing.” His brother was an introvert and he didn’t have a lot of friends. Hyde was curious about Mahiru and what made his brother interested in him. He appeared to be a simple student when they met at the rehearsal last week.

“You give terrible dating advice, Shit Rat. Mahiru will think Kuro’s annoying if he keeps asking him out even though he already said no. I don’t know how you’re able to find a new girlfriend each week.” Licht rolled his eyes at the brothers. “You’re half-hearted with romance, music and school. Is there anything that you’re actually interested in?”

A devilish smile spread across Hyde’s face and he winked at him. He didn’t say a single word and that irritated Licht more than any answer he could give. He jumped to his feet and his hand slammed on his electric keyboard harder than he intended. A cluster of angry notes echoed around the room. The sound reminded Licht that he shouldn’t fight Hyde with so many delicate instruments around them.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” Licht said and walked out of the studio room. The others could see that he was angry and they thought it would be pointless to talk to him before he calmed down. The only one who chased after him was Hyde.

Kuro watched them leave and shook his head. While the two would often argue with each other and have their disagreements, they didn’t appear to hate each other. “Those two need to be better at communicating with each other.”

“Speaking of communicating,” Misono said to Kuro. “Did you ask Mahiru why he doesn’t want to be our vocalist? Maybe you should talk to him about it without pushing.”

The lunch bell rang and Mahiru put away his books into his backpack. His eyes drifted to Kuro who sat a few desks in front of him. He was sleeping at his desk with his hood over his head. They texted each other over the weekend but their conversations had been short. He wanted to talk with him more but he was afraid he would become awkward if their conversation drifted to the topic of music.

Mahiru had planned to wait to see whether Kuro would go to talk with him again but it appeared that he would spend his lunch sleeping at his desk. Kuro had complimented his voice and asked him to be the singer of his band. His words made Mahiru’s heart flutter and tighten at the same time. He was happy that Kuro liked his singing yet he always felt sad when someone asked him to sing. He couldn’t have known the effect his request would have and Mahiru didn’t want to lose their new friendship over the question.

Mahiru took a deep breath before he crossed the room to Kuro’s desk. He lightly tapped on his shoulder to wake him and he groaned in response. The yawn he made sounded like a grumpy cat and laughter escaped Mahiru. His voice woke Kuro and he turned his head from where it was hidden in his arm. He was surprised to find Mahiru kneeling next to his desk.

“You shouldn’t be sleeping in class, Kuro. The teacher has given up on waking you up every few minutes but that’s not a good thing.” Mahiru lectured him and leaned against his desk. “During lunch, my friends on the soccer team will be running around the track to improve their endurance during lunch. He invited me to join him and hang out. I was hoping you’ll come with me. You slept for a good hour so you must have a lot of energy.”

Kuro hadn’t expected him to invite him to spend time with him outside of the staircase. He would only ask him to teach him how to play the guitar. Even though he didn’t like sports or exercise, Kuro nodded and stood from his desk. His silent answer made Mahiru’s face beam with a smile. The moment he put on his guitar case and stood next to him, he took Kuro’s hand and pulled him out of the classroom.

“I’m glad that you agreed so quickly, Kuro. I thought I would have to bribe you into exercising with food or something. Since I always pack too much food for myself, I’ll still share some with you. I like to cook but I rarely have a chance to share it with someone.” Mahiru led him down the hall. “Do you want to race to see who’s faster?”

“We both know that you’ll win. Please, don’t make this poor kitty run, Mahiru. I would rather just walk around the track with you anyways.” He said casually but Mahiru’s eyes widened slightly. Then, his expression softened and he nodded with a laugh. “After I spend the lunch period running, I’ll sleep through the rest of school. I hope you’re ready to take responsibility for that.”

“I don’t mind if it’s you.” He knew that Kuro was only joking with him so he flirted back. Mahiru doubted he had expected him to do so from the blush that rose onto Kuro’s neck. He chuckled lightly and then walked to the doors leading outside.

They walked outside and Mahiru enjoyed the cool breeze. He liked spending time with him in the staircase but going outside was a fun change of pace. He spotted his friend on the track field and he waved to him. Kuro saw the amount of people on the field and he hesitated slightly. Even though he was accustomed to crowds when his bands played at venues, he wasn’t the best with people.

Mahiru noticed how Kuro’s steps slowed slightly and looked up at him. He took his large hand into his and squeezed it lightly. He could feel the calluses on his fingers. “Mafuyu and the others are really nice and I’m sure you’ll get along with them. Don’t worry about feeling awkward. You don’t have any trouble talking with me so focus on that.”

“I wasn’t afraid of talking with people but the running. The track field is bigger than I thought it would be.” He said and shrugged. Mahiru’s reassurance made him feel more comfortable. He had a lot of fun simple talking with him and his presence could make running the track bearable. Kuro wondered how his siblings would react if they saw him with the soccer team.

They crossed the school yard together and Mahiru introduced him to his friends. Kuro put down his bag on the ground and leaned his guitar case against it so people wouldn’t step on it accidentally. He expected Mahiru to place his own guitar in the pile of bags. Instead, he walked onto the track and motioned for him to run with him. The guitar wasn’t heavy but it would be tiring to carry it everywhere.

He could guess that Mahiru had his reasons to keep the guitar so close to him. He didn’t want to push him by asking him why. Kuro joined him on the track field and they began to run side by side. The guitar on his back would make the jog difficult so he matched his pace with Mahiru’s. The soccer team quickly passed them and a gap formed between them.

“I’m really happy that you came with me today.” Mahiru told Kuro and smiled up at him. “For a minute, I was worried that you wouldn’t. Your band needs a singer but I said no to your invitation. You even offered to teach me how to play the guitar in exchange. I don’t think I’ll be the right person for your band though Can we still be friends? We can hang out on the track field like this.”

“I’m not upset that you said no.” He said and Mahiru let out a breath of relief. “But I don’t know if I can survive running around the track every day. Maybe we can do something more relaxing instead. I’ll teach you how to play your guitar after school. That’s less troublesome than running.”

Mahiru stopped and frowned at him. “I said I didn’t want to be a singer.”

“I don’t mind. I’ll still teach you. Playing the guitar is important to you and that’s something a friend should support.” Kuro faced him and said, “You can pay me for the lesson with food. You’re always talking about how you’re a good cook and I’m a little curious.”

He was almost knocked off his feet when Mahiru threw his arms around his neck. Kuro wrapped his arms around his waist and he managed to keep them from falling to the ground. He looked down at Mahiru and their eyes met. His brown eyes were overflowing with happiness and he never thought a sight could make his heart race. They were so close and he worried he would be able to hear his heartbeat. Mahiru cupped his face and smiled. “Thank you, Kuro.”

Kuro and Mahiru would meet in the staircase to play their guitars. He had told him that he wanted to play a particular song so he taught him how to read music sheets. The song he wanted to play didn’t have music sheets for him to reference but it helped structure the song in his head. Over the past few days, he learned so much from Kuro.

Mahiru sat on a park bench and waited for Kuro to arrive. Since it was Friday and he needed to practise with his band after school, they agreed to meet in the nearby park around eight. There were a few minutes before he should arrive so he decided to practise the chords he showed him the previous day. He took out the notes Kuro had made for him.

Kuro gave him a notebook filled with drawings of the finger position to play each note. The notebook also held other advice to help him practise while he was home. Mahiru could tell that the notebook was new and the pages warmed his heart. He acted reluctant to teach him but it was clear he cared from the effort he put into the notebook.

“Sorry, I’m late.” He heard Kuro’s voice across the park and he looked up to see him. He was out of breath when he collapsed onto the bench next to him. “I agreed to teach you how to play the guitar so I could avoid exercising but I ended up running a mile anyways. Can’t deal. Our rehearsal ended up longer than usual because Tetsu broke his guitar stick. That kid is too strong.”

“I can picture something like that.” Mahiru laughed at the image. He considered waiting at the music shop but he didn’t want to distract the band while they practised. He handed a water bottle to Kuro and said, “You didn’t need to run. I wasn’t waiting here for long. Do you think we should go to the music shop to practise? It looks like the sun will be setting sooner than usual.”

Kuro tilted his head back to the side where the sun was slowly descending from the sky. “We should have an hour before it gets too dark to play. I showed you a few chords yesterday. When I started teaching myself how to play the guitar, I just memorized the chords and went from there. I don’t know if you’ll be the same as me though. Are there any that you’re having trouble with any of them?”

“The drawings you gave me have been helpful but I’m having trouble with his one chord. My hands feel uncomfortable when I play it and it doesn’t sound right.” Mahiru adjusted his position on the park bench so he was facing Kuro. He placed his fingers on the strings where he had marked in the notebook and strummed the guitar. “It sounds flat, doesn’t it?”

“Don’t place your finger directly on the fret but behind it a little. You’ll probably be more comfortable if you use your ring finger and middle finger here instead. Hold still.” He slowly moved his fingers into the correct position. Kuro noticed how small and soft his hands were. Without thinking, he stroked his thumb over Mahiru’s fingers. “You haven’t built up any callouses yet so playing will hurt for a while. It’ll eventually get better though. If you start bleeding, I have bandages.”

His fingers were a little swollen from the metal strings but Mahiru didn’t feel the dull pain. His focus was on Kuro’s tender touch running over his fingers. Mahiru noticed that Kuro’s hands were slightly larger than his and he wondered what would happen if he held it. He knew that Kuro was only sitting close to him to help him with his technique but there was a small flutter in his stomach.

“Try playing the chord now and see if it feels better.” His voice pulled Mahiru out of his thoughts and he nodded to hide that he was distracted. He strummed the strings and watched for Kuro’s reaction in the corner of his gaze. He had a subtle smile as he ruffled his brown hair. “That sounds better. Once you feel comfortable with all of the chords, we can work on putting them together to play a song.”

“Will you stop playing with my hair, Kuro?” Mahiru pouted and smoothed his hair back into place.

They returned to playing the guitar and Kuro would give him advice occasionally. He had given him a few lessons over the week and he was surprised by how quickly he had progressed. Kuro sat back and watched Mahiru repeat the same chord. He wasn’t bored because he enjoyed watching the joy in Mahiru’s face as he played.

A string of claps broke through the moment and Kuro turned towards the person. He didn’t recognize the brunette man but there was something familiar about him. The man seemed to know Mahiru though. “I was going to surprise you by coming home early but you’re the one who surprised me. I never thought I would see that guitar again.”

Mahiru nodded and then he hastily placed the guitar back into its case as if he was hiding a secret. “I thought you were out of town with work, Uncle. You should’ve texted me if you were going to come back early. I made plans to eat at a restaurant with Kuro. I would’ve cooked something if I knew we could have a family dinner.”

“It’s okay, Mahiru. I already had dinner with my co-workers so you don’t need to worry about your old man.” He said. Kuro watched the two interact and he reasoned that the man was Mahiru’s uncle. He had told him of how he was adopted. “I know boys probably don’t want to hear something like this but you look just like your mother. You both have the same smile when you play the guitar. I’m glad that I could see it again. Why didn’t you tell me you were learning how to play?”

“I’m sorry, Uncle. I can’t talk about it right now.” Mahiru whispered. Before anyone could react, Mahiru jumped to his feet and dashed away from them. Kuro was confused by the way he suddenly ran away but he immediately ran after him.

Mahiru ran blindly through the sparse street without a destination in mind. He couldn’t face his uncle after he saw him with the guitar that didn’t belong to him. He was in a desperate haze and he didn’t hear Kuro call his name behind him. The only thing that forced him to stop was his legs giving way under him. He didn’t know how long or far he ran but the weight of emotions made him exhausted.

He thought he would fall forward but then strong arms wrapped around him from behind. Kuro’s embrace kept him from falling. Mahiru turned his face slightly to Kuro but he couldn’t see his expression because his forehead was leaned against his shoulder. He could feel his heavy breathing against his neck. He was afraid that Kuro would judge him for his reaction to his uncle’s innocent question. Others would call him emotional or dramatic for running away.

“Are you okay?” Kuro whispered against his skin and it sent a warm shiver throughout Mahiru. He leaned back against his chest and absentmindedly plucked at his guitar string. He moved out of his arms and turned around. Mahiru’s gaze didn’t leave the ground and Kuro leaned down to see his face better. His lips were pressed into a stiff line and his brown eyes were filled with sorrow. “Mahiru?”

The moment their eyes met, Mahiru faked a smile and said: “I’m sorry I made you run after you said these lessons are to avoid exercising.”

“I complain about running but I don’t really mind a little exercise.” Kuro wanted to lighten the mood with the joke but Mahiru’s expression didn’t change. The smile he wore now didn’t hold the sunlight he came to know. His heart felt uneasy and he wondered when Mahiru’s smile became so important to him. “Did you want to keep our guitar lessons a secret from your uncle?”

Mahiru bit his lip and debated if he should tell Kuro about the reason that he wanted to learn the guitar. They only met recently and his problems could be too burdensome for him. He felt Kuro’s fingers brush through his bangs and he finally looked up at him. Kuro asked, “Is it something you can’t tell me about?”

Mahiru shook his head and told him: “I don’t know how to tell people what I’m feeling. I always worry that my feelings would burden people. No one wants a boy who won’t stop crying. Other people have their own problems and it’ll be easier for everyone if I show people the reaction that they want me to see. Instead of crying, people will be more at ease if I put on a brave smile.”

Even as Mahiru smiled reassuringly to Kuro, his fingers were trembling over his guitar. “It was really sweet of you to invite me to your band but I won’t fit in, Kuro. I should’ve explained my reason the first time you asked me. For a band to succeed, you need to communicate your song’s meaning to the audience. Any song I sing will sound shallow because I’m terrible at expressing my honest feelings.”

Kuro could hear his heart pounding in his ears. He wanted to hold Mahiru in his arms and comfort him but he gripped his jacket at his side to stop himself. At the same time, he thought of their past interactions. The determination he had each time he asked him how to play the guitar. The wonder in his eyes as he listened to his band. The pain Mahiru couldn’t hide whenever he avoided Kuro’s questions about his guitar. Those were Mahiru’s honest feelings yet he belittled himself.

“You can’t express your feelings? How can you say something so stupid while smiling?” Kuro yelled without thinking and surprised them both. He couldn’t stop his thoughts from pouring out. “I could hear your feelings when you sang and it moved me. That’s the reason I invited you to the band!”

More emotions clouded Mahiru’s face: confusion, shock and uncertainty. Lastly, hope softened his eyes and overpowered the past emotions. He parted his lips slightly but the words he wanted to say didn’t leave his mouth. He felt as if there was something gripping his lungs. Kuro touched his neck and Mahiru wondered if he was still able to understand him.

“You don’t have to join the band if singing makes you feel vulnerable.” He patted his head. “We should head back to your park or else your uncle will worry. Do you want to buy a soda on the way? I’ll pay.”

“Kuro,” Mahiru whispered his name. He stepped closer to him until their toes touched and the only thing between them was his guitar. They were so close that he could count Kuro’s long eyelashes. He hadn’t noticed how beautiful his eyes were. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against his broad chest. In a soft voice, Mahiru began to sing. His song didn’t have any words but Kuro understood it’s meaning.

I’m a little uncertain but I feel safe with you. I want to try singing with your band, Kuro.

[sanktnikolais]

Feels Like Tonight

A/N: have another mess of the neighbors au 

Word count: 2702

AO3

Zoya rarely got worried over someone. She always believed in the people's ability to face a tough situation head-on. And especially if she knew that person could very much handle themself well. 

          But when it was someone close to her, she figured that it was only normal to feel it. 

          She just exited the floor of their law firm office when her phone pinged with the message tone. The text was from her infuriating firefighter of a neighbor. 

          It's unfair how I am always the one asking favors, but maybe it's just the way it is, it said. Can you get Sturmhond from Juris' tonight? I'm sure he would be excited to stay over your place again.

          Zoya couldn't help but crack a small smile. Even in texts, he really did talk a lot If this were some other time before, she was sure she would have just ignored him. But almost a year of enduring the firefighter's loquacious nature and sincerity to help her at any time, it was safe to say that she’d already had a soft spot for him. As well as Sturmhond.

          Another text came in. We've been called for aid in Os Alta, some huge fire in the park. I don't know when I'll be back. Do hope it's not in the earliest hours of dawn. 

          A wave of uneasiness settled on her stomach, making her frown. In another city? Was it that bad? She began to type back a reply, but another text from Nikolai came in. 

          Don't miss me too much. ;) 

          Whatever she was supposed to say vanished from her mind and she just shook her head. This man really had his ego up his ass. 

          Instead, she typed, You wish, Lantsov. And pressed send. The text was immediately marked read, but no reply followed after. 

          It was one of the rare times their schedules were on the same time in the morning, so Sturmhond had to stay with someone else during the day. The old man from the end of the hall was all too willing to dogsit, and he didn't mind how long he had to watch over the dog.��

          Sturmhond really was the sweetheart of their floor. 

          Zoya shut her phone with an amused huff, trying to ignore the worry that was starting to build up in her chest. Nikolai had been a firefighter for a long time, and she was sure that whatever emergency they were called for would be handled easily.

          She could only hope that it was true.

***

          Sturmhond was circling around her excitedly as she was getting her keys from her bag. 

          It was almost nine in the evening when Zoya got back at the complex. The traffic had made her drive back longer than she had expected to when there was an accident on one of the main intersections near their place, and she arrived just in time before their neighbor Juris was readying for bed.

          “Alright, easy there, buddy,” she cooed, finally sliding the key in the lock. The dog was  very energetic tonight, and she was sure that he’d be asleep in no time later. “Did Juris give you extra treats again?”

          The Retriever only barked happily, the skip in its steps obvious as the dog jumped up and down. She laughed lightly. 

          "Guess you got your energy from your owner, then," she said, and then opened the door to her place. 

          Sturmhond practically bolted in with a speed that made Zoya question how much power the dog held. He ran around the living room twice before jumping on the sofa all in less than a minute of her standing by the doorway. Sturmhond curled up on the seat after a moment. She looked at the Retriever with amusement. Maybe Nikolai’s energy did bleed over to the dog. 

          She closed the door and went straight to her room to change, her suit feeling too stuffy for her after a whole day of staying in her office to study her current case. After throwing on sweatpants and a tank top, she went out again in the living room to check on the dog again. But she found Sturmhond by the cupboard in the kitchen, looking up at her expectantly. 

          It took Zoya a moment to remember what the dog wanted. With a laugh, she said, “You really didn’t forget that one time I gave you a treat at nine in the evening, yeah?” The dog yipped happily, and she approached the cupboard to grab the small container of the dog’s treats she kept there. She tossed one treat to the air, and Sturmhond caught it midair with enthusiasm. 

          The dog's other stuff had already been staying in her place since it was staying with her at night most of the time. Nikolai’s shifts had also been longer the past two weeks, so she often joked that Sturmhond was slowly becoming her dog as there was one time that Nikolai was on duty the whole weekend. He laughed it off one morning when he came to get the dog after a thirty-hour shift, joking back that he didn’t mind and that Sturmhond could be their dog. 

          Zoya had kicked him that time, heat rising to her cheeks, and it only made the infuriating firefighter laugh harder. 

          Sturmhond quickly finished the treat she gave him, and the dog was looking at her expectantly again.

          “Alright, that’s enough for tonight,” she said, moving to put the container back to the cupboard, but Sturmhond whimpered softly. She turned to look back at the dog who was giving her these puppy-dog eyes that she had always been weak for. “You and your owner really know how to use that pleading eyes against me.” 

          Sighing for another time, Zoya plucked one more treat out of the container. Sturmhond perked up as if it hadn’t just been making a sad face. It was Nikolai’s dog indeed.

          It was then when she remembered his earlier message, the worry she had felt coming back in her chest. But she shook it off. There wasn’t any reason to be worrying. Nikolai had been doing this for a long time, he surely could handle it. 

          “This is the last one. No more,” she said, and the dog barked in affirmation. She tossed the treat again and put the container back to the cupboard before Sturmhond could repeat the puppy eyes again.

          The dog seemed to be content already as it bolted back to the living room right after finishing the treat, curling on the couch. Zoya shook her head in amusement as she followed Sturmhond and sat beside him on the couch. 

          She risked a glance at her phone to see if there were any text from her contacts, but she really was hoping to see the ‘Infuriating Idiot’ flash on her screen. It had been more than two hours since the last contact with Nikolai, and his words echoed in her head.

          I don’t know when I’ll be back. 

          It still didn’t sit well with her, and it only made her chest clench in worry again. He’ll be alright, she told herself. He had to.

          Sturmhond seemed to notice her distress, and he approached her and curled next to her thigh. She smiled softly, looking down at the dog and ruffling its head. 

          “How about we watch some movies, hm?” she said, reaching for the remote on the small table in front, and Sturmhond barked happily. He quickly sat up beside her. “Alright. Movie night, it is.”

          She turned the television on, switching over a few channels until she found a decent movie to watch. She needed to get distracted, anyway.

          The movie was only starting, and she sat back more comfortably on the couch, Sturmhond following in suit. She turned to the window, looking at the starless night sky outside.

          Be safe.

           Zoya jolted awake. She groggily sat up, rubbing a hand on her eyes. The television was still on, and the current channel was now airing a late night news. Sturmhond was passed out peacefully beside her. A frown bloomed on her face. How long had she been out? She checked her phone immediately, seeing that it was almost two in the morning.

          And there still wasn’t anything from Nikolai.

          She released a breath. Surely there wasn’t anything to worry about.

          Right?

          She turned to the television, listening to the latest news that the anchor was narrating. Turning the volume a bit louder, Zoya focused on the headline projected at the bottom of the screen.

          Os Alta’s biggest amusement park caught on fire; arson to be the suspected reason.

          A wave of unease settled on her stomach again. This was the one they had been called in for.

          The next part of the headline flashed. 26 grave injuries reported, including 14 firefighters and rescuers. 

          Fear gripped over in her mind as she immediately turned to her phone and dialled Nikolai’s number. The worry came back, and it was now twice as worse than before. The line continued to ring. It disconnected after a long while.

          Zoya huffed in disbelief as she dialled his number again. “Answer the phone, Lantsov,” she muttered, standing up from the couch and beginning to pace around. Sturmhond had woken up because of her movements, and the dog’s ears were curled in worry as well. She gave him a reassuring pat on the head before turning her attention back to the ringing line. 

          The call continued to disconnect for a few more times and went to voicemail. 

          “Damn it.”

          She tried for a final time, and when it still went to voicemail, she finally used it. “Damn it, Lantsov, call me back as soon as you can,” she said through gritted teeth, turning back to the television and seeing the burnt state of the park being shown on the channel. She regretted it right away. No, he can’t be. When she found her voice again, she didn’t expect it to be desperate and pleading. “Please tell me you’re alright.”

          She ended the call, feeling her mind succumbing to the panic and fear. The words from the news blurred into nothing as she tried to listen to it but failed. She was reminded of the time when he came back with a bandage around his whole forearm, learning that he had suffered from a third-degree burn from one of the fires they had been called out to.

          I assure you that this is inevitable to have, my vicious cupcake, he had said with a dismissive smile and wave. Don’t worry, I’ve had worse. 

          Zoya wanted to laugh at the memory, and yet she couldn’t. Even in his distressed state, he would always say she shouldn’t worry about him, trying to make her feel better.

          She didn’t know whether she hated or loved him for it.

          But a day later he and Sturmhond were crashing over to her place because he ‘couldn’t handle his dog one-handed’ and that he knew she would want his company on a day off. She didn’t know at that time why she hadn’t turned them away despite her busy schedule and still accepted them over. 

          But now, she knew. Her eyes burned.

          He’s alright, she tried convincing herself. Please be alright.

          At least half an hour passed, and there was still no reply from Nikolai. By that time, Zoya knew she was done waiting in dread and decided that she would see it for herself.

          Bolting to her room, she grabbed her coat and keys before whistling for Sturmhond to follow. She already searched for the nearest hospitals around the vicinity of the park, and she figured that she could start there. 

          She hurried out of her apartment, locking the door hastily after Sturmhond had padded out behind her. “Alright, buddy, come on,” she told the dog, turning down the hall.

          Only to stop when a figure emerged from the stairs. He was rubbing the heel of his palm over to his eyes, the strain in his steps obvious as he walked. His lower body uniform was covered in dust and soot, and his hand was tightly wrapped in a bandage.

          Zoya felt her breath knocked out from her lungs. Sturmhond let out an excited bark.

          Their gazes met across the hall, and Nikolai stopped halfway, a confused look blooming on his face. 

          “Nazyalensky?” he called out, his eyebrows furrowing. His eyes went to the dog beside her, and immediately, they brightened for a bit. 

          Sturmhond bolted from his place and ran off to Nikolai, who greeted the dog with a pat on the head. There was a wince on his face when he tried to bend down to reach the Retriever even more. 

          “Good to see you, buddy,” he said, ruffling the spot under the dog’s chin. After a moment, he turned back at her, the confused expression still on his face. “I mean, understand if you’re always agreeing to Sturmhond’s wishes, but isn’t it too late for a walk?”

          She huffed in disbelief, her eyes stinging again as one thought became clear in her mind. He’s okay. 

          “Zoya?” he asked softly, concern lurking in his warm eyes. 

          Zoya shook her head, her feet moving on its own and the next thing she knew she was running towards him, throwing her arms around his neck as she buried her face on his shoulder. Tears of relief fell from her eyes as she felt his arms slowly come around her, strong and warm and welcoming. 

          He’s okay, her mind repeated. He’s okay. He’s okay. 

          She clutched him tighter, the tightness in her chest finally loosening. He still smelled of fading smoke but still all-Nikolai, and the feeling of home, and if time allowed her, she wouldn’t have to let go of him. 

          “I saw the news,” Zoya said against his shoulder, her hands fisting on his shirt. “I thought you were—”

          “I’m here,” he said. “I’m still here.” Nikolai pulled away slightly to look down at her. His exhaustion was evident in his hazel eyes, and yet they still held the warmth and gentleness that always had whenever she looked at them.

          “I’m okay.” He smiled softly, his hand coming up to her cheek to wipe her tears away. She found herself leaning into his hand. “I told you to not worry and miss me too much, didn’t I?” 

          Zoya huffed, smiling despite his annoying confidence that she always found endearing. She shook her head. “You’re so infuriating, you know that?” she said, and then she was grabbing at the front of his shirt and pulling her down to him, her lips crashing to his. 

          She knew that they were outside in public and someone could catch them in the act at any time, but she didn’t care one bit. Not when she felt his hand moving to her hair and returning her kiss. Everything narrowed down to the man in front of her, to the taste of his lips and the feel of his hands, and that was when she questioned herself why she hadn’t done this sooner. 

          A long moment passed, and Zoya didn’t know how long they stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms and mouths never separating. But when they eventually pulled away, a grin was evident on Nikolai’s lips. 

          “You know, I don’t mind being called in to a very dangerous situation if this is going to be greeting me by the end of the day,” he said as he pressed his forehead to hers. “Took you a long while.”

          Zoya scoffed. “You’re still an idiot, Nikolai,” she said, closing her eyes. 

          He laughed lightly. “Of course. Only for you, dear.”

          A low whine came from somewhere beside them, making them pull away for a bit and look down. Sturmhond was looking back at them with a deadpan expression, his mouth downturned as if he was tired of seeing them. 

          Nikolai chuckled, turning back to her. “Is it finally safe to say that he’s our dog now?”

          Zoya felt a smile twitch on her lips. Perhaps she did like the sound of it. “He’s always been my dog, Lantsov. Stop fooling yourself.”

          She knew that he knew it was a yes. 

[backtothestart02]

It Started with a Blizzard - 1/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: Sequel to Blizzard in July (I just liked that as a two-shot too much to continue it with another chap). Commissioned by @jennlee44.

Enjoy!

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

...

Chapter 1 -

Not a fleck of snow in the air or on the ground since take-off, the plane ride was smooth and comfortable for all the passengers. It improved the mood of even the grumpiest passenger, who had been perturbed by last night’s blizzard delaying flights. That probably would’ve been Iris had she not run into Barry – and spent the night with him. That had a way of slowing things down and even being grateful for a delayed plane ride to a meeting she didn’t really want to go to anyway.

Barry, on the other hand, was still trying to process how lucky his night had turned out to be. Of course, he was sad to have missed his mother’s birthday party, but he’d texted her to explain his delay, and she’d understood. He would stop by his parents’ house first thing after the plane landed.

But Iris…

Well, Iris was a complication he wasn’t quite sure what to do with.

He didn’t want her out of his sight. That much was certain. He’d told her he thought what they had would definitely go somewhere, and he’d meant it, but once they landed, reality outside the blizzard, outside the airport and the hotel room, and hell, out of the bed, was very uncertain.

He didn’t know if Iris lived in Central City. He guessed she didn’t if she was flying there. He didn’t live in Central City either, but he planned to stay the week at his parents’ place, since he hadn’t seen them in a while.

What happened once they both got their luggage from the baggage claim and exited the airport doors?

He hadn’t even asked what the situation was with her meeting. There had to still be one if she had gotten on the same plane as him, right?

He was overthinking, and he knew it, but he couldn’t help it. His dream girl had unexpectedly been at the airport the same time as him, in the same place, in front of the same gate, planning to go on the same plane, and – once drunk, had dragged him into a bathroom and made love to him.

Made love?

Okay, maybe that time it had been the booze talking. But when they reached their hotel room and landed on the bed together, and oh, yeah – when he halted the sex to tell her he had a crush on her in high school and she said she’d had a crush on him too – that had to be more than a hot fuck driven by drunkenness in the middle of a blizzard.

Barry probably wouldn’t have had any hope at all for a future with Iris in it if she hadn’t so wistfully asked if they had one. Now he was determined they would. He just didn’t know all the details, and that worried him.

A yawn from Iris interrupted his thoughts just as the pilot interrupted the silent atmosphere to announce they’d be arriving soon in Central City.

“Ohh, I hate this part.” Iris frowned, covering her ears.

He had to smile at how adorably worried she looked.

“Why’s that?”

She turned to look at him.

“Do you have some gum?”

He laughed lightly but dug around in his pocket.

“I think so, yeah.” He handed her a stick. “Your ears pop going down?”

She nodded with a shudder. “Terribly. It’s the one thing I hate about riding in planes.”

“Thankfully, I don’t have that problem.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Are you gloating?”

He laughed again, then quickly silenced himself.

“Of course not.”

She looked at him suspiciously, not believing him one bit, then stripped the gum of its foil and stuck it into her mouth, chewing immediately and madly, lowering her head between her knees and covering her ears tightly as the plane started to lower.

Barry almost chuckled once more, but her soft moan when the pain hit her eardrums made him sympathize, and he rubbed her back gently until the plane came to a stop on the runway, slowly finding its way to the appropriate gate.

“Better?” he asked when she came up to look out her window.

“I will be,” she said. “Still can’t hear very well, but I’m sure that’ll go away as the day goes on.”

He smiled. “I’m sure too.”

They waited for the pilot’s go ahead for everyone to get off the plane, and then were painfully reminded of the fact that they’d chosen to sit in almost the back row.

Iris groaned, but Barry took her hand and kissed the back of it.

“I don’t regret sitting next to you,” he said.

Iris’ heart leapt in her chest.

“I don’t regret sitting next to you either.”

She leaned towards him, nuzzled his face, then kissed his lips, sighing contently.

A grumpy old man in the sole seat behind them groaned in disgust, which made them lift their heads, but they decided not to let it bother them, continuing to kiss until the row a few ahead of them had been emptied.

“Come on,” Barry said. “Let’s get our things.”

He took her hand, intertwined their fingers, and led her down the aisle after they’d retrieved their carry-on bags.

Iris took a breath of air after they’d emptied the long passageway ramp leading from the plane to the gate and sighed in relief.

“Oh, my God, we’re free.”

Barry laughed.

“Do you need to call anybody or should we head to the baggage claim?”

Her eyes widened at his words.

“That’s actually…a good idea. I texted my boss to tell him I wouldn’t be able to make it yesterday, and he never responded. I hope I’m not fired.”

Barry frowned. “You still came on the flight even though it was just one meeting?”

“Oh, it’s not. Didn’t I mention that? It’s a convention. All day meetings for the whole weekend. Yesterday was just one meeting because it was the check-in day.”

“Oh.” His eyes lit up. She’d be in town for a few days. Busy mostly, but she’d still be nearby. That was hopeful. “Well, go ahead and call then. I have to call my mom anyway.”

“Okay.”

Iris pulled her phone out of her pocket, bit her bottom lip, and waited for her boss to pick up her call.

“Please don’t fire me. Please…please…please…”

…

Barry hung up the phone, pleased that his last-minute plan to bring Iris along with him to his parents’ house was a raving success – at least with his parents. He still had Iris to convince, but he had a good feeling about it. They’d met her before and liked her and knew of his borderline obsessive crush on her. His mother, Nora, was practically ecstatic on the other end when he told her how they’d run into each other. Though he neglected to inform her that they shared the same hotel room or got drunk together, let alone anything else. He’d need to tell Iris an amended story that wasn’t quite so scandalous but was still believable.

Nora Allen was sweetly innocent and oblivious to all things he didn’t tell her. His father, on the other hand, could see right through him and would probably pin him down later, demanding he tell him what really happened. That would be awkward, as it tended to be, but he would endure it if it meant spending a little more time with who he hoped he could call his girlfriend in the near future.

“Barry!”

He was too stuck in his own head to hear him the first time she called out to him, but he turned just in time to see her running towards him and calling his name multiple times as he did. His lips quirked at the corner, seeing her so silly, so joyful, and directing that energy at him. He almost fell over when she used her weight to lunge up and hug and kiss him.

“Long-awaited reunion?” An older woman nearby asked.

“We saw each other five minutes ago,” Barry shared, which made Iris’ face fill with heat, but she was still smiling.

The older woman’s counterpart slipped his arm around her waist and guided her away.

“Let’s leave the lovebirds be,” he chuckled, muttering something about their luggage and transportation that neither Barry nor Iris paid much attention to.

“What is it?” Barry asked, holding her close, his smile so wide his cheeks hurt.

“I’m not fired!” Iris said excitedly, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down to kiss him again. “Oh, my God. I thought I was going to be, and now I’m not.”

“What happened?” he asked between kisses.

“My boss was sick, so they cancelled the meeting. They sent an e-mail notifying me, but it ended up in my spam folder somehow. They’ve rescheduled it for a few hours from now. Isn’t that great news?!” She squealed, and Barry couldn’t help but laugh; though a part of him felt unsettled, since a few hours from now didn’t give him much time with her. He hid his minor disappointment well though.

“That is great news.” He chuckled. “Is there anything you need to do before you get there?” he asked.

She bit her bottom lip, thinking.

“Well, I definitely have to shower and change clothes. I can do that at the hotel, though.”

“Or,” Barry hedged, introducing the topic daringly.

She blinked. “Or, what?”

“You could come with me to my parents’ house and get ready there. We could spend the afternoon together, and I could pick you up after your meeting…we could do ice cream or something.”

He noticed the exact moment she pulled away from him emotionally and worried he’d ruined everything.

“Your parents’ house, huh?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah… They’re real sweet people. I’m sure they’d love having you.”

“I’m sure they are really nice, but…Barry.” She lowered her voice. “Isn’t that a bit soon? We haven’t even been on a date yet.”

“Yet,” he said, with a grin, deciding to focus on the positive. “I like the sound of that.”

Iris rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

“Focus, Barry.” She hit him playfully.

He sighed, then pulled her close.

“Look, okay, I know this feels a lot like ‘meeting the parents’.”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded, worry in her voice.

“But it’s not really,” he said.

“How?”

“They’ve met you before,” he said cheerfully.

“When?” she demanded.

“In high school,” he said. “You came over a few times. We were friends, remember?”

“Yes, but Barry, that was 10 years ago. They probably don’t even remem-”

“I just called them. They definitely do.”

Heat flooded her cheeks again.

“Do they remember me as your friend or your crush?”

Barry turned a bright pink.

“Does it matter?” he squeaked.

“Kinda,” she offered. “I don’t know…maybe not. I just…don’t want to spend the whole time with your parents knowingly looking at me, wondering if we…did anything.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he said. “My mom is a saint. She won’t suspect a thing.”

“And your dad?” Barry paused. “What about your dad, Barry?”

“My dad won’t…be a problem…for you.”

She frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Just…trust me, okay? We don’t have to spend the whole time there, but I have to stop by to say Happy Birthday to my mom properly. We’ll have to do a little small talk since you’ll be with me, but then we can go, I promise.”

She sighed.

“I have to be at that meeting at 1 o’clock, Barry.”

“You will be.”

“That means getting to the hotel before then to get things arranged. And I can’t eat lunch, because they’ll serve it at the meeting.”

“No lunch. Got it.”

“And promise you won’t embarrass me.”

“I promise. You have my word.”

She looked at him suspiciously, and then finally relented.

“All right. Let’s go meet your mom and dad.”

He took her hands, bent his head to kiss her lips again, and smiled mischievously when they parted.

“What?” she asked, barely suppressing a giggle.

“Well, we have to get our luggage first.”

She hit him playfully again, and he laughed, recoiling out of reach before wrapping his arms around her waist and picking her off the ground for a few steps.

“Come on.” He gestured his head towards the long walkway. “It’s this way.”

She shook her head at him, but quickly caught up, sneaking her hand into his as they made their way to the baggage claim.

...

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

[reddie-fangirl24]

Eddie, The Patient Chapter 5     (A Reddie Fanfiction)

NOTE: Here is the final chapter to Eddie, The Patient. I have enjoyed every moment of writing this story. Thank you so much for the kind feedback. I hope you all enjoyed this story. It is sad to end it, but I know there will be more stories in the future. I may write little in-between moments. If you have any suggestions, let me know. Enjoy the final chapter!

This was one of the worst nights Eddie, or even Richie could ever endure. It was after two in the morning when Eddie awoke, screaming from a nightmare followed by running into the bathroom, vomiting and painfully crying. Please, let this be the last time, Richie prayed to anyone who could hear him.

Practically carrying his husband back to bed, Richie wiped a cold washcloth over Eddie’s head. Eddie’s fever was climbing like an elevator. It was sad to see the normally energetic chatterbox be taken down by the flu. 

“You’re going to feel better in the morning, Eddie,” Richie whispered to him. The instant Richie pulled up the covers, Eddie’s eyes closed and he was sound asleep. It was much relief to Richie fearing that he was going to have to call an ambulance if Eddie didn’t stop throwing up. It was almost nonstop all day.

Richie sat in a chair close to the bed watching his husband sleep. He held his limp, damp hand, holding it gently so as not to wake him. So fragile. So pale. His patient.

His heart broke at the awful memory when Eddie’s symptoms came out from the other end earlier that day. That was when Eddie choked, unable to cough up what he needed to get out. Ashamed and embarrassed as Richie cleaned him up, Eddie cried thinking he had done something so awful. If Richie hadn’t been there, would Eddie have choked to death? 

As Richie watched Eddie sleep, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of courage fill his insides. Sure, he had taken care of Eddie plenty of times, but prior to having to go back to Derry, Richie never took care of anybody, except himself. And he accomplished just that. That made him feel... good.

And now, Richie never realized how torturing it was when a loved one was sick. About a year ago, Richie had a terrible cold that lasted a week. Eddie was still studying in school, but there were days when he’d take off to take care of Richie. And that wasn’t even when they were married yet. Given how much of an anxious germophobic worry-wort Eddie was, it pained him to see his husband sick.

“Guess this is what happens when you love someone so damn much, eh, Eds?” he whispered, his voice breaking.

Watching Eddie snooze a little longer, Richie crawled under the blankets, spooning Eddie close to him as he went to sleep.

--

The sun hit Eddie’s eyes. Eddie groaned. At least he had an easier time waking up than yesterday morning -- though his mouth was as dry as a desert and his body ached all over, especially his back. His eyes ventured the room spying the bright sun rays coming through the window. He felt warm, not hot or any of those annoying chills shivering up his spine. 

To Eddie’s side, on the nightstand, was a bowl of water, a damp rag, a cup of ginger ale, a bottle of Tylenol, and also a glass of water. The rag obscured half the clock. Something -25. 

Water. Eddie smacked his dry lips together. That fermenting taste was still present.

Pushing himself up was too much of an effort and he fell back into the pillows. His arm was still trying to reach for the glass like a little child trying to reach for the cookie jar on a kitchen counter. 

Just then, Richie walked into the room. Aside from the dark circles surrounding his eyes, Richie had this look of pure excitement overtake his whole face. “Well, there he is! Look who’s awake! I was beginning to think that you were going to sleep the whole day, sleeping beauty!”

“R-Richie...” Eddie’s voice croaked. His hand pointed towards the glass as he struggled to lift himself off his side. 

Helping him sit up, and putting an extra pillow behind his back, Richie handed him the glass of water, helping him hold it. “Small sips, now,” he instructed. 

Eddie more so guzzled down the needed liquid. The water was pure bliss against his haggard throat. It immediately made his insides feel cool. He also noticed how empty it was.

“What time is it?” Eddie asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he relaxed back into the pillows.

“Almost 11:30!” Richie answered going to grab the damp rag on the nightstand.

Immediate panic set into Eddie who leaped from the pillows. “11:30?! Fuck, I never sleep in that late! Did my boss call a substitute? I’m late for work! My students are probably acting like a pack of monkeys! I need to take a shower, brush my teeth, find my shoes-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Easy there, Mr. Flash!” Richie placed a hand against Eddie’s racing heart and making him sit back into the pillows. For a moment they went through the calming process making Eddie calm down and breathe normally. Slowly, his heart rate went back to normal.

“Thank God you’re back to you!” Richie exclaimed with this gigantic smile, still pressing a hand against Eddie’s heart. Eddie knew that grin. It was the same overjoyed face Richie made when Eddie showed up at his stage door, announcing that he divorced Myra and wanted to be with him. “I already called your school to tell them you’re bedridden today!”

Eddie blinked, somewhat disappointed, but then more relieved feeling the aching pain in his lower back. “Thanks, Richie. That was nice of you.”

Richie washed Eddie’s body with a sponge. “You sweat like a dog yesterday. Your pits even smell like one!” he teased as he helped slide Eddie’s nightshirt over his head. For a moment, Richie frowned, staring at the scar. To relieve the tension, Eddie stuck his tongue out at Richie. It was just like when they were kids. Richie rubbed the soft sponge all around his stomach and chest, and even his armpits. Richie was right. He did smell like a dog! He put on a fresh shirt. 

“How does your stomach feel?” Richie asked, giving his stomach a light pat. 

“Fine. Much better. Just achy.” Wondering if he should have mentioned that last part, Eddie masked a smile. Remembering yesterday’s events at school only made him feel worse. Why couldn’t that have been a blur like most of everything else? 

Turning to Richie who was lounging by his side on the bed, scrolling through the channels, Eddie asked, “Did you have any scheduled rehearsals or shows today?” He still didn’t have the energy to speak.

“No. Well, I was supposed to record the rest of that interview but I told Steve to reschedule it.”

Eddie touched Richie’s hand, getting his attention. “No, Rich, I don’t want to hold you up. Go tape the rest of that interview. It’s-it’s okay.”

Richie scoffed and wrapped an arm around Eddie’s shoulder. “No way, man, you’re way more important! ‘Sides when’s the last time we spent some hubby time together?” He teased poking Eddie in the nose.

Eddie wanted to argue but felt too weak to do so. Richie made him some toast and they sat in bed watching TV, laughing at episodes and making jokes. When was the last time he and Richie spent time together? Leaning against his husband’s shoulder as he was finally able to smell scents without gagging, Eddie basked in Richie’s cologne. He loved that smell. It was his husband’s scent. His husband. His best friend who would do anything for him.

His eyes grew heavy and Eddie fell asleep again for a short time. 

The phone ringing woke him up.

“Hello?” Richie answered. “Oh, hi, Mrs. Alliston. Ruth, sure... yeah, I got the secretary when I called this morning, but I don’t think Eddie will be in until Monday, he is definitely sick as a dog! ... Talk with him? No, he’s pretty tired, like a hibernating bear...”

Oh no... oh no... he knew it, he was going to get fired! Eddie’s heart broke, feeling tears in his eyes. He didn’t want to get fired! This was the first job that he ever loved! Now, what was he going to do? Probably no other school would hire him all because he threw up in front of students. How would this look for Richie? He was going to be disappointed in him. As Eddie hugged his pillow, rolling to the opposite side of the bed so Richie wouldn’t see him, a quiet sob escaped Eddie’s throat.

Right when Richie was nearing the bedroom, his cell phone rang. Slightly groaning when he saw that it was Steve, Richie reluctantly pressed the ‘talk’ button. “Hey, Steve, what’s up?”

“Rich, I got your voicemail this morning. Is it that serious?” Steve asked him, sounding a little stressed. Richie couldn’t blame him after all. Scheduling not just him, but a couple of other clients was not easy. 

“Well, yeah, Eddie was throwing up for most of the day and night. And he had a terrible fever, chills, and he was in pain. Could have filled a bucket with everything that came out!” Richie tried to joke. Ironically, Steve wasn’t so easy to joke around with when it came to situations like this. 

“Just give it to me straight, Rich, will you be able to come in at this weekend?” Steve asked. From the sound of it, he was trying not to sound disappointed. 

Eddie heard Richie sigh. He could just feel the stress and weight on his shoulders. Was he being sick stressing Richie out this much? Oh, he didn’t want to do that. He already put enough over Richie’s shoulders. 

“Look, Steve, I need to take care of everything here. I haven’t been able to spend time with him and I need that. If we could postpone the rest of the taping for the interview next week that would be great. And that show we were thinking about doing on Saturday, that can be postponed, right?”

There was a long pause. Not a good sign. Richie was anxiously digging into his hair waiting for him to say something. Anything. “Yes, Rich, it can,” he finally said.

That was a relief. “Oh, thanks! Listen, I owe it to you, Steve!” Richie said thankfully.

“I know, Richie. But, I just want to bring this up again, I have said it a lot, but you have canceled a number of your own performances in the last five years. I don’t want people to think that you don’t care about your work and that you don’t do it for the fans.”

“What?” Richie exclaimed. “That is so fucking stupid, Steve!” Richie’s loud tone startled Eddie who was beside himself with guilt, burying his face into the pillows.

“You know I am just thinking about probabilities,” Steve said to him apologetically. 

“Well, here’s the truth, you need to consider me! Look, I am going to talk to you later. Just get all the re-scheduling shit together!” With that Richie hung up and slammed his phone on a nearby table, fuming to himself. 

Eddie let out a sob, clutching his pillow. Oh, this was awful! First, he went to school sick, he was getting fired, and now he was keeping Richie from doing any of his shows!

“Eddie?” Richie worriedly asked when he stepped into the room. Guilt swarmed his mind. He was so mad that he forgot about Eddie who was trying to sleep. 

Climbing into the bed, Richie pulled Eddie’s shaking back to his stomach, hugging him close, and kissing his neck. “Shh, it’s okay. I wasn’t yelling at you. None of this is your fault,” Richie soothed. 

“They’re going to fire me!” Eddie cried, clinging to Richie’s arms.

“Fire you? Who, your school?” Richie asked, nuzzling against Eddie.

“Oh, Rich, I did the worst thing yesterday!” Eddie hiccuped.

“What happened?” Richie asked, growing alarmed. 

“I fuckin’ threw up in front of my students! They were so disgusted! Teachers never get sick! They never come to school, that’s why? Now the students told their parents who want me gone! I feel so stupid! Now, Mrs. Alliston is going to fire me and what am I going to do now?”

Eddie sobbed into the pillow, his entire body shaking. Richie held him tightly, tearing up himself. 

“Your boss wasn’t calling to fire you,” Richie whispered into Eddie’s ear.

Relief ran through Eddie’s body. “What? S-She’s not firing me?”

“No, she was just calling to see how you were and wanted to tell you that your first-period class made you a get well card!” Richie explained to him.

Eddie turned around, finally facing Richie. “Really? She’s not firing me?” 

“No! You really think you could get fired for puking in class?” Richie asked not sure whether to laugh or be more concerned. 

“Well, I’m a first-year teacher and...”

Now Richie laughed. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“I don’t know,” Eddie shook his head, downcast. He sat up on the bed, grimacing slightly. “It was so embarrassing, Richie. I-I don’t think I can ever show my face there again.”

Richie groaned rolling his eyes. “Don’t you think you’re being too dramatic on this, man? You’re not the only first-year teacher to get sick. It happens to everyone. Remember that one teacher who was out once every week because she hated her job? She was sick that one time. It’s normal. And look at me. I barfed in front of the class when I gave that report, remember?”

Eddie sighed, his emotions weighing him down. Richie did make a fair point. All teachers got sick. It was good that his class didn’t resent him for the scene that he caused. Still, that didn’t mean everyone would forget about it though.

Richie got his attention, putting his hand on his face and wiping away stray tears. “Still, you should have gotten my attention yesterday morning. I know I was busy, too, but you should have said something.”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

Richie looked into his eyes again. His love’s energetic enthusiasm still wasn’t there. Just a sad, forlorn expression. “Is there something else that’s bothering you?” Richie asked him. “How is your job going? Do you like it?”

And just like that, Eddie’s eyes beamed. “Oh, Rich, I love being a teacher! The kids, my boss, assignments, everything is great about it.”

Richie smiled. “That’s great. I’m happy.”

“I just wish you were here more so I could tell you,” Eddie told him, frowning.

His face falling, Richie touched Eddie’s hand. “I know. It’s tough trying to juggle our schedules together,” his lip quivered, but he held it together, holding everything inside. Richie was not one to show his emotions. That was tough for him. “I feel like a failed you yesterday.”

Eddie’s heart cracked, squeezing Richie’s hand tighter. “What? No way, Rich! You were busy! It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s mine!”

“I take more fault!”

“Yeah, well I take fault for not paying attention to you!” Richie yelled, his voice breaking. Eddie could just feel Richie shaking underneath his touch. It was heartbreaking to see him this way. “Eddie, you’re my husband. I-I’ve never been in an awesome position like that! I don’t want... to let you down.”

Fresh tears fell from Eddie’s eyes. “Oh Rich, I just don’t want to get in the way of everything.”

“Are you fuckin’ crazy? No way! Don’t you ever think that! You could never get in the way of anything!”

Cuddling together, the couple stayed in their warm embrace for the longest time, taking in one another’s scent. Eddie felt his nerves calm, all the aches and pains disappearing. This was the medicine that he needed. This. He never felt happier. A bliss. That overwhelming feeling he craved. 

Parting, Eddie noticed Richie staring at him. Not in his eyes. He was looking at the spot where he had been impaled. The scar. Doctors were surprised to see him wake up and recover. They were right in the prognosis that Eddie would be affected for the rest of his life. And for Richie, that didn’t make it easier for him.

“Rich, are you okay?” Eddie asked touching his love’s face.

In seconds, the tears and agony came spilling out. “You looked dead every time I looked at you! And-and when you were choking I thought I was going to lose you! I can’t get that fucking image of you bleeding out right in front of me out of my head! I-I thought...” Richie grasped Eddie’s hands, staring into his eyes. “I can’t lose you, Eddie! So many times I felt like I wasn’t doing anything to help you! I would never have let you go to school if I was paying attention. God, I’m sorry!”

Eddie gathered his husband in his arms, patting his withered hair. He let him cry. “Richie, s’okay, I’m right here. I’m getting better, all because of you.”

“I felt so scared,” Richie leaned into his shoulder.

Eddie smiled. “I felt safe when I was with you.”

Parting, they looked into one another’s eyes, touching their foreheads together. “I can’t lose you.”

“And I... can’t lose you,” Eddie admitted. “I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t get me out of that lair, right? Richie, I love you, man!”

A big smile appeared on Richie’s face as the tears fell. “I love you, Eddie,” he held him tightly. “Hey, you want to know something?”

“What?”

“July marks our one-year anniversary. Can you believe it?”

Eddie grunted, amused. “Feels like we’ve been married our whole lives. You annoy me!”

“Hey, don’t get personal or I won’t tell you the good news!” Richie giggled. 

“Okay, just tell me already!” 

“So, you’re finally out for the summer and you will be off for three months, right?” Richie giddily asked him.

“Yeah.”

“I have an offer to make you. I’m touring Nevada for a week at the end of June. And then, get this, I have two weeks off! Let’s go away for our anniversary. Hawaii, Ireland, or learn how to french kiss in Paris!”

“Oh, Richie!” And Eddie kissed Richie on the lips, a long, deep kiss. “That sounds great! Wait, how long have you been planning on this? You know we have to make bookings ahead of time, right? Because we can’t just go someplace without a reservation at a hotel. And we need to plan this together.”

Richie wrapped his arms around his love, smiling endearingly. “It’s great to have you back, Eds. Except you should really brush your teeth!” he grimaced but smiled.

Eddie slugged his husband in his arm. Staring into each other’s eyes, a magnetic force pulled them towards one another. That didn’t stop the couple from fervently kissing, holding one another, moaning as they kissed.

“Wait, Rich!” Eddie reluctantly stopped. “You’re going to get sick.”

“Don’t care, so worth it!” Richie covered Eddie’s chin with kisses. Oh, how they missed this. Eddie’s hands traveled down Richie’s chest until Richie could feel them at his stomach until prodding at his belt.

“Hey, hey!” Richie held Eddie’s hands in his, staring into the man’s wanting eyes. At least he recognized him. “When you’re better.”

Eddie pouted. “I’ve missed you.”

“Me too, man, but hey, I got the entire weekend free.”

“I love you, trashmouth.”

“I love you, asshole.”

The couple cuddled together and sat back into the pillows feeling relief and absolute bliss.

[dk-s]

hello ! don't worry about taking time to reply :) i take a long time too & i understand that you have life stuff goin on!! & yeah!! i love looking forward to your letters 🥰🥰🥰

kajsksjs thank u 🥺 i hope so too!! i really miss track 😔 we had cross country in the fall but it's not as fun sigh.. and yeah :(( our winter breaks are so short right when i get used to it, we have to go back to school :( even last weekend, we had a long weekend and it was great but now we have another full week and i'm not feeling it.. it might also be senioritis oops

and yes exactly!! i feel like in school all we ever learn is like .. the "americanized" version of history which always leaves out other perspectives, so it's fun to see all of the stuff that we miss out on learning in school .. and yeah!! i'm really into politics lsjdks maybe it's bc of the lack of representation or bc of the fact that our govt is Not It but!!

ahh yeah!! there's a lot of different fields that are super interesting & fun w loads of stuff u can do w it so!! i'm sure u'll find something that fits you!

LEFT AND RIGHT!!! what a bop svt has: no bad songs!!

I PICKED IT UP YESTERDAY!! i haven't gotten to read it yet bc i've had work :( but i think i'll be able to start by the end of this week and i'm so excited !!

tbh idk what rotational kinematics either . i thought i was gonna be good at it bc i was good at regular kinematics but i was proven to be completely wrong . i would offer to help you but i'm honestly useless once u get past regular kinematics and forces and energy 😔 but good luck!! physics isn't too too bad as long as you understand the concepts bc the math parts end up being fairly easy :)

I KNOW 🥺🥺 i love feeling like a princess that spends my days reading books in a cozy lil cabin, baking bread & braiding my hair & flowy, long dresses give me that vibe for some reason. very sad how it's all cold here now so now i can't wear them :(

ah yes!! shua, chan, joon the holy trinity of govt officials. have a wonderful day/evening!! and you too!! stay hydrated and eat all of the yummy foods!! sleep well & stay well rested! <33 (and enjoy your last few days of school / first few days of summer!) ~age twin anon

hoping your surgery goes well & that you feel well soon!!! sending you all of the love & hugs sunshine!! 💖 ~age twin anon

bro!!! thank u!!! thats so kind n im sending hugs and sunshine back!!!! i love u and ur letters sm!!!

cross country sounds so painful to me because like hello?! this is not lord of the rings we are not being chased why would u make me run that far for so long? but some ppl are genuinely so good at it n have a lot of endurance so i really admire that!!! and like ugh i feel u bro going back to school is hard esp when u relax so much!!

i got like eight weeks of holidays now n i know its gonna kill my routine so i got to stay focused so i can go into y12 ready ahaha!!! and yea! the western version of history is often so biased and ofc w the white saviour complex its really easy to lose ur own culture n history :(

wbk tho seventeen has zero bad songs in their discography they are kings!!! and yes!! tell me what u think bout the silm <3 if u got any book recs for me lmk 🥺

and yea! thats smth i noticed w physics!! with some sciences such as human biology u need to memorise the topics entirely but w physics i think it is more of the understanding of the concept and how it can be applies to variety of things in our world!!! so i really wanna improve in it!!!

and oh to be a lady living in soft silken dresses n tying my hair with a ribbon while hiking my skirt up as i place a plate of freshly baked bread on the table in the spring with a pot of fresh jam made from strawberries i picked from my small garden that u can see from the kitchen window!!!

i would honestly vote namjoon to be president of the entire world because his brain is very galaxy sized and the joonman is a king!! him or seungcheol <3

anyway i hope u have an amazing day!!! ily!!!! 💓

[loljulie]

flicker; {010} finally free

(what do you mean i can’t update a fanfic that’s over a year old?? yeah, so, i wasn’t rlly planning on this, but i had the idea when i first wrote the original fic and somehow got an inspiration for it. also, the first part of this chapter is from a year ago, so hopefully you can see improvement as it progresses. anyway, i decided to still keep the taglist because,, idk, why not? and in case it wasn’t obvious, this is the official finale, and everything written here is original content so i had to make up a lot of stuff for post-uprising political stuffs. i hope y’all like it!) 

genre: detroit: become human

deviant!connor x reader

word count: 6300 (literally wtf??)

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓　 d̯̱̝̠̘̙͙e̼̯̣̗͈͇̳v̥̗̭̹̫ia̘̝͔͙͙̜ͅn͈t͇͓̦̻s̙̗͉̜͕  　▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

@dragonempress123

@itstrashleydude

@chisooyaaa

@help-i-need-a-social-life 

@shadows-echoes​

@mavvsmm​

@sygin​

@wonders-of-the-multiverse​

You leaned back into your snug couch, your eyes closed as you let your muscles relax against the cushions. Spending the night in a hospital bed had made you miss the comfort of not just your soft couch, but everything else in your home, as well.

“Up,” Connor commanded, causing you to open your eyes. He was fluffing one of your throw pillows on the coffee table in front of your injured leg. Without question, you did as you were told and rested your leg on the pillow.

The two of you had just gotten dropped off by Hank, who made you and Connor promise to call if you needed anything. While Hank went back to the station to work, Connor had taken some time off to help you recover. 

“Whenever you’re resting, try to keep it elevated,” he said to you as he took a seat beside you. “Are you in any pain?”

You chuckled softly at his question. It was only the 5th time he had asked you since you woke up earlier that day. 

“No, Connor,” you reassured with a small smile. “The painkillers they gave me are really good.”

Suddenly, Connor blinked several times. “I placed an order for the prescription painkillers your doctor gave me. I’ll see if Hank can pick it up after work.”

“Would you like anything? Tea? Water?” Connor’s next question came so abruptly that you didn’t have time to comment on anything else. “Are you cold? Would you like a blanket?”

Instead of answering, you shifted your body toward him and placed your hands on his cheeks, forcing him to meet your gaze. You could see the concern and worry in his brown eyes and furrowed eyebrows. You pulled his face to yours and engulfed him in a kiss.

It was the first kiss you had shared with him since he left your apartment. That night - only a few days prior - seemed like ages ago, and this kiss was long overdue. Though he was hesitant at first, due to your injured state, Connor eventually wrapped his arms around you and moved closer to you. 

There was something raw in this kiss that was difficult to describe. The last kiss you had was filled with so much uncertainty and worry, and now all of those anxieties could finally be released. It was a catharsis that neither of you had ever experienced before, and one you desperately needed. 

When you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, not wanting to break away from the intimate moment just yet. Connor closed his eyes at the gesture. You noticed his clenched jaw, and knew something was wrong with him.

“Connor,” you whispered, causing him to slowly open his eyes. “I know you want to help me, but I’m fine. I promise. All I want to do is rest. ”

He pulled his forehead away, but then gripped your hands in his lap tightly. 

“I understand. I’m sorry if I came on too strong,” he replied. You squeezed his hand, and felt him rub his thumb gently into the back of your hand.

“You can tell me if there’s anything wrong,” you said softly.

“It’s just - ,” Connor started, then stopped himself. He gripped your hand tighter, as if needing the comfort of your touch before being able to continue. “I was so worried when I heard what happened and I-I didn’t know what condition you were in and-”

“I...I kept thinking that the last time I saw you, I didn’t even tell you that I loved you.” You took a deep breath as you remembered the day you were shot. You just then realized that you had told him you loved him before he left for Jericho, but not the last time you saw him. “If something bad happened- if you had-”

Connor stopped, but in his silence you knew the word he couldn’t say. It was your turn to absentmindedly rub your thumb over the back of his hand, silently expressing comfort.

“It wouldn’t have been worth it,” Connor continued flatly. You raised an eyebrow, and he seemed to understand your confusion at what ‘it’ meant, and went on. “The uprising, the protesting. Nothing would’ve been worth it if you died. I’d deactivate myself.”

Your stomach tightened at his words, rousing you to speak up. “Connor, don’t-”

“It’s the truth,” he cut you off, his voice strained with sadness. He looked at you intently. “You’re the reason I deviated. I wouldn’t need - or want - anything to do with this life if you’re not in it.” 

Your eyes widened at his sentiment.

“So...  I’m sorry if I get lost in taking care of you during your recovery,” he went on, “I just… I can’t lose you, and I’m going to do everything I can to make sure I don’t.”

You let his statement process in your mind for a few moments. While you knew you would need some help for the first couple of weeks during the recovery, you were worried that you would take him away from the civic duties he’d undoubtedly been piled with ever since the uprising ended. As you looked at his concerned expression, however, you knew that for that moment, he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

So, as a gesture of approval, you leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheek. His tense shoulders relaxed at your touch. 

“Okay, then the first thing you can do is help me to my bed so I can take a nap.”

-

Naps were what took up most of your time during the first two weeks of your recovery. If you weren’t at physical therapy, the painkillers you were prescribed in the early days were so strong that they kept you in a perpetual slumber.

Some days, Hank would stop by and eat dinner with you and Connor. You’d ask endlessly about what was going on in the station, and he’d in turn pester you about your health. Connor mediated occasionally, but for the most part he enjoyed seeing the two of you banter and converse. It felt normal again.

As time went on, your therapy appointments showed more progress and you began to regain more mobility of your leg. Soon enough, the pain became minimal and much of your energy had returned. Instead of following the at-home physical therapy routines, Connor would walk with you around the block. 

Occasionally, the two of you would go out for a couple of hours a day. Connor would insist they were for your leg, but you had a feeling he enjoyed having lunch out at a restaurant or walking around the park with you. Now that the two of you could be public with your relationship, you began to think of those day outs as dates. 

Eventually, months passed, and you were cleared to return back to work. As soon as you were essentially injury free, Connor practically immersed himself in legislative work at the capital. You saw less and less of each other - first, he’d spend weekends away at negotiations and meetings; then, he’d be gone for weeks at a time. 

You couldn’t fault him for it; he was working tirelessly to ensure civil liberties for all androids, and you knew he was passionate about fighting for them. It did, however, take a toll on you, and you noticed it the most when you’d sit in your empty apartment most nights. 

So, when you - and Hank, you later found out - received an ornate invitation to a gala in D.C., you jumped at the chance to accept, knowing that it meant finally being able to see Connor again after weeks of only video contact. He had been away for much longer this time, and while he couldn’t disclose all the details to you, he giddily hinted that it was one of the more major acts he was working on. 

The gala was to celebrate the anniversary of the uprising and the various legislations that have been passed since then. You knew of them all, of course; and you knew that this night was more of a pat-on-the-back the government was giving itself for their cooperation with androids.  

While the importance of the night wasn’t lost on you, the fact that the gala meant seeing Connor after weeks of separation weighed more heavily in your thoughts. 

“This damn tie is all messed up again,” Hank’s gruff voice interrupted your moment of reflection. You lifted your head from the window of the car and shifted to be closer to your backseat companion. 

“If you stopped fidgeting with it, it wouldn’t be messed up,” you quipped as your fingers adjusted the navy blue tie Hank wore. He grunted before responding.

“I’m not comfortable in these things,” he replied, gesturing to his black suit. “If it were up to me, I’d be here in jeans and a comfy shirt.” 

You chuckled at your partner. You’d endured his complaints and whines for the last week leading up to tonight. When you raided his home for suitable black-tie attire, and found none whatsoever, you had to all but drag him to the nearest clothing store to find an appropriate outfit for him. 

“It’s one night,” you reminded him, just as you had whenever his complaints met your ears. “And then you’ll be back to your gruffy jacket and decades-old jeans.”

“One night,” he repeated, glancing down at his now-fixed tie and nodding to you. 

Soon, the car pulled to a stop outside the civic center where the gala would take place. Night had already fallen on D.C., but it only served to make the exterior of the center seem all that much grander. The building itself was mostly grey concrete; but the large glass windows that made up most of its front was breathtaking to say the least. Lights adorned the walkway to the entrance, and from what you could see, they continued inside.

“Ready?” Hank asked you, holding his elbow out to you. With a nod, you slid your arm into his, and the two of you began walking toward the entrance. “The sooner we get to that open bar, the better.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but said nothing. The open bar was on the list of reasons you gave to Hank to persuade him to attend with you, along with disappointing Connor by not showing up. 

Under your grey, long coat, your navy blue gown flowed around you as you continued to walk to the entrance. Hank was adamant that the only splash of color he’d wear would be the same as his tie, and you wanted to coordinate your outfits as best as you could. The sleeves of your dress were off-the-shoulder, and as you walked, the high slit on one side of your dress allowed one of your legs to show. 

You may have been showing off a little bit, but you couldn’t remember the last time you had an excuse to dress up so nicely for something. You also wanted to look as good as possible for your long-awaited reunion with Connor, and it wouldn’t hurt if he couldn’t take his eyes off of you for the whole night.

The room you entered was little more than a wide hallway. A counter nearby was in the midst of collecting larger coats. As it was the midst of November, many guests were taking advantage of the complimentary coat-check, shedding their warm layers to reveal expensive jewelry and designer wardrobes. It was clear just how high caliber this event was; you doubted anybody here, aside from invited guests, was anybody but a politician or high-ranking government official.

Hank shifted and you felt his hands around your shoulders, gently guiding your outer coat off. He had already removed his own black coat, and he draped both of them over one of his arms.

“I’ll go check these in. Don’t stray too far.”

You nodded your thanks to him, but kept your eyes scanning through the crowd of people. A large part of you knew Connor - one of the more important people in the gala tonight - would already be further inside the ballroom, mingling with guests. Still, it didn’t stop you from searching with bated breath and a quickened heart rate. 

You barely registered Hank until he was back at your side. Noticing your distraction, he nudged your shoulder with his own.

“He won’t be out here, ya know.”

You nodded, and wrapped your arm around his again. Without his outer coat on, his full suit was visible; black jacket, black pants, and of course, his navy blue tie, still in the immaculate position you had left it in. Under the more visible lighting of the hallway, you could more easily see the fruits of your labor when it came to his hair, as well. He wouldn’t let you do anything too “ridiculous” to it, but he allowed you to style it mostly back and out of his face with the most minimal amount of mousse. 

Your heels clacked along the polished floors while you glanced at every passing face in vain. All you were met with were various looks thrown your way, ranging from curiosity to thinly veiled disgust. It didn’t take much to realize you weren’t the typical crowd these guests were used to, but the occasional stranger managed to give you a smile or a friendly nod.

Hank must’ve noticed as well, for right as you entered the threshold into the ballroom, he leaned closer to you. “I already need a drink.”

The room you entered was massive, to say the least, and the crowd of people it currently housed managed to fill up most of the available space. Tables were spread across the space, though barely any guests made use of the free seating. Many were scattered throughout the room, coupled off in pairs or in larger group circles. Even with the added height your heels gave you, it was impossible to look over the crowd or even into it to continue your search.

You let Hank guide you to the bar, where some guests gathered around the standing circular tables with drinks in hand. Clearly, Hank wasn’t the only one with the idea to start the night off with a bit of a boost. You noticed workers carrying around platters of bite-sized foods maneuvered between groups, and made a mental note of which items looked the most appetizing for later.

“You need one, too; it’ll help with your nerves,” Hank remarked as he gave you one fleeting glance when you reached the bar. 

You let out a slight scoff while Hank ordered for the both of you. “I’m not nervous.”

“No, no, of course not,” Hank replied, his tone higher and carrying a playful hint to it, “Why would you be?”

“Exactly,” you agreed, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Except for, you know, the fact that you haven’t seen him in almost a month,” Hank paused to receive the two glasses from the bartender before continuing. “And, he clearly has some fancy friends now.”

Your arms dropped from your chest as you looked over to Hank. Your eyebrows furrowed just slightly, and the corner of your lips tugged downward. You had tried your best to keep those thoughts away, but you couldn’t deny that they twisted your insides when Hank spoke them aloud. 

“I can read you like a book,” Hank brought the extra drink forward to you. “And you have nothing to worry about. But, you still will, so here.”

You took the drink from his hand and took a deep sip. Once the dark liquid hit your tongue, you easily identified it as a mixture of alcohol and soda. It was a gentler taste than had it been a whiskey alone, which you spotted Hank drinking himself. 

After knowing Hank for so long, it didn’t surprise you that he could identify your thoughts before even you could. And, while the drink helped quell your nerves a bit, its effects were nothing compared to the reassurance from your long-time partner. 

“I should know better by now,” you quipped, holding your glass out to Hank. You both had already taken your own sips, but nevertheless, greeted your glasses together with a clink. “Cheers.”

You both took another sip each. Hank let out a sigh after giving his alcohol a chance to warm his throat. “Not bad; this whiskey is probably the only good thing I’ll enjoy here.” 

”Oh, really?,” you began sarcastically, and nodded your head to one of the waiters, “I was sure vegan finger foods were your absolute favorites.” 

When Hank chuckled at your obvious joke, you mirrored him briefly before taking another sip from your glass and letting your eyes wander the crowd for a split second. 

A split second was all you needed to spot him. 

It must’ve been the way the crowd had shifted at that moment; a waiter had just ducked between two larger groups, revealing just enough space for you to spot Connor in the middle of a big group himself. Well-dressed men and women alike were listening intently to something he was saying, nodding along with eagerness plastered on their faces. 

You thought you wouldn’t be able to get his attention before the crowd shifted again, but you were wrong. He broke eye contact with one of his group’s members and, in a passing glance, found your gaze. Your heart stopped for a brief moment when your eyes met - and it felt like you were seeing him for the first time all over again. 

There was something different about him. He wore a fitted black suit that clung to his body in a different way than his usual uniform did. Under his jacket was a plain white button up, and a silver tie. It wasn’t just his attire, though, it was something else, too. The way he held himself while he spoke to the others, the confidence he exuded, was palpable even from your distance.  

He continued to keep eye contact, and all you could think to do was quirk an eyebrow at him over your glass, still pressed to your lips. A shadow of a smile - no, a smirk? - crossed his lips, and you watched as his gaze flittered up and down your ensemble for just a moment. 

Oh, he had definitely noticed how well your gown looked. Especially when you were leaned against the bar, allowing the open slit in your dress to reveal your bare leg. 

He had been quiet for some time now, and you could tell someone near him started to speak in his lull. As he was brought back to his suddenly trifling conversation, you saw him wet his lips just slightly before meeting your eyes for one last moment. 

You’d only been gone from each other for a month, but it felt like more than that. Before this latest trip, your time together was sparse, too. What precious time you did have together was usually overshadowed by a phone call or text he had to respond to. Not to mention your own job at the station pulling you away from your home every chance you got. This last year was hard for both of you, and now that this gala was here to mark the various legislations passed, it meant Connor would finally have more free time on his hands. But you would be lying if you said you didn’t think about where that left the two of you; and if things would be the same. 

And now seeing the energy he radiates you realize that things have changed a bit - but for the better. There’s something different in how he holds himself, that’s for sure. It made you all the more intrigued and restless to talk to him; see how he is when there isn’t deadline after deadline on his plate and he’s able to relax as his new self. 

He clearly is, however, just as infatuated with you as before, if the look he gave you was any indication. It had been a while since any of that took place, and you silently thanked yourself for having the foresight to book you and Hank separate hotel rooms for the evening. 

Just as quickly as it happened before, a waiter passed by, some groups shifted, and Connor was lost in the sea of conversations. 

Luckily for you, one of the coordinators went on stage, and announced that the live band they had for the evening would begin their set. Guests were encouraged to dance, of course, which meant the floor where most were currently talking would become exclusive for those who would dance. 

As the crowd dispersed, the jazz band already set up on stage began to start their set. Slowly, pairs started to fill up the dance floor once again. 

You looked over to Hank. “Would you like to dance?”

“That’s funnier than the last one,” he replied, then took another sip of his drink. “Dancing was not why I agreed to come.” 

“One dance won’t kill you,” You had already set your drink back down on the bar, and leaned over to grab Hank’s drink from his hand. He gave you a disgruntled look, but did nothing to stop you as you placed his glass next to yours. 

You led him to the dance floor, and settled into a free space amongst the dancing pairs. The music was cheery and light, meaning you could adopt a more casual form with your partner. One of your arms wrapped loosely around his shoulder, while his came to rest on your back. Both of your free hands were clasped together as you swayed to the music. 

Hank was stiff and guarded in his moves at first; a byproduct of his forced attire and the company he was surrounded by for the night. Yet, as you led him through the motions, he seemed to ease up. 

It was an odd thing, really, to see Hank ever relax in your presence. Work at the station was always stressful, and even during the occasional meals you shared outside of work, there was a certain weight he carried on his shoulders that made you wonder if he ever relieved his tension aside from the obvious alcoholic solutions. Your concern for his health was always a constant stressor ever since you first got to know him, and his lack thereof frustrated you to no end.

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you; one that could only be shared between long-term friends who didn’t need words to express themselves. You knew Hank wasn’t truly relaxed, but you could tell from your grip around his shoulders that he was allowing himself to try. Even if it was just to appease you for the night, his actions brought a genuine smile to his face.

“I’m proud of you, you know.” His voice stopped your movements; instead of leading the both of you around the dancefloor, you paused and looked into his eyes. 

“For what?” You managed, the smile still on your lips, as if waiting for a punchline or quip.

“Everything. From your police work to risking your life to help Connor and the rest of the droids, and everything in between. You’ve done a lot, kid. And I’m proud of you for it.”

You shook your head lightly, an attempt to brush off his praise. “You’re selling yourself short, Hank. You helped me with a lot of that.”

“Maybe so,” he nodded, smiling briefly. “But you still did it yourself. And you’ve stuck around to help an old man like me for longer than you needed to, and for that, I have to thank you.” 

Your eyes began to sting with the threat of tears. Hank had expressed his thanks to you in his actions before; good performance reviews to your higher ups, free meals, and the occasional back-handed compliment, but he had never explicitly said such kind words to you. 

You would’ve made a clever comeback, but you found your throat was too tight to try to speak. So, instead, you dropped your hand from his and wrapped it around the other side of his shoulders, embracing Hank in a hug, the dance long forgotten. Tears still threatened to leave your eyes, so you held them back by closing them altogether and buried your face into Hank’s suit jacket.

You weren’t sure how long you had stood there, but when you heard the coordinated shuffling of couples going off the dance floor and new ones onto it, you realized the song had ended and Hank’s favor had been completed - even if it was a little less than one dance. 

Hank pulled away from you, but left a hand on your shoulder. You waited for him to say something, eyeing his face intently, but noticed his eyes focus on something behind you. Before you could get a chance to turn around, your partner finally spoke up. 

“Looks like we’ve got company,” He gave you a knowing smile, and nodded to the spot behind you. As you turned around, you heard a fleeting statement from your partner.  “I’ll be at the bar if you need me.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest when you saw him up close. He was just as breathtaking as he was when you spotted him across the room, but the fact that he was closer to you now made your knees weak and your stomach twist in excitement. Maybe a month apart wasn’t so long to some; it wasn’t really to you, either, but the distance between you two from his political work had lasted longer than a mere 4 weeks. This night marked a return to what you hoped was a normal life with Connor, but you wouldn’t let the time you were forced to spend apart go completely.

“Hello, stranger,” you spoke, accompanied with a light laugh that was music to Connor’s ears. 

“Hello,” he greeted, his mouth twisting into a smile at the sight of you. With your new proximity, he could fully appreciate the ensemble you had put together for this night, and he loved every inch of it. He decided to play along with your teasing sentiment; it may have been selfish, but there was something pleasing in the notion that, just for a moment, he could pretend to be a complete stranger to you, and still get picked in a room of a hundred others. “I’m Connor.” 

An eyebrow quirked on your amused face, already speaking the question before you did. “Just Connor?” 

You had heard his old introduction countless times and, naturally, it would make sense that he wouldn’t refer to himself like he used to anymore. He was different now; much different from the man who helped sparked the revolution all those months ago. Gradual changes you missed during the past year seemed to culminate into the man standing before you know; different in stature and poise but still the same person who deviated because of his love for you. 

A nod. “Just Connor. And you are?”

You gave him your first name, and he repeated it back to you slowly as if hearing it for the first time. The way his lips smiled around your name caused another flutter in your chest. 

“- would you like to dance?” His hand stretched out toward you. You gently placed your hand in his. 

“I’d love to.” 

Your position was similar to your dance with Hank, although Connor’s hand was placed lower on your back. Due to your brief conversation, the song had already started, though it was slower in nature than the previous one and therefore easier to settle into. 

“I didn’t know if I’d get a shot alone with you tonight,” you admitted while you swayed to the music. “You seemed quite popular earlier.” 

Connor chuckled. “I’d much rather be in your company than any of the other people in here.” 

You raised an eyebrow at him again. “Strong words for a woman you hardly know.”

“Maybe so,” Connor leaned in, his lips just inches from your ear. Your breath hitched. You couldn’t tell if your heart was beating faster or if it had stopped altogether. “But, after I saw you earlier, I couldn’t keep my mind off of you.”

He pulled away, and you could’ve sworn he was gauging your reaction as you did so. The shock must’ve been apparent on your face, because he continued without giving you a moment to form a response. 

“Although, I’m surprised someone as beautiful as yourself didn’t already have a date.” 

“I-I do,” you fumbled over your words and cursed yourself for it. How were you so nervous? “I mean, I came here with my work partner. As friends.” 

You knew Connor knew that already, so you weren’t sure why you suddenly had to express it. Something about Connor’s ability to pretend he had no clue who you were, but still charm you like he desperately wanted you, flustered you to no end. 

He was enjoying all of it; the chance to flirt with you, to win you all over again, as a new version of himself was an opportunity he’d regret not taking. Of course, seeing you so clearly affected by his advances was a bonus, and it was somehow all the more rewarding to know you were still his under it all. 

“A friend?” He hummed, taking an opportunity during your movements to pull you slightly closer to him. “Nothing I should be worried about?”

“No, no,” you shook your head, possibly too eagerly. “He’s like a father to me; he’s also grumpy, hates almost everything except alcohol, and my partner at work.” 

“Sounds like he’d be hard to get along with.” 

You chuckled at that, and saw Connor’s own smile peek through. Though he hadn’t seen your first interactions with Hank, he would be correct in guessing he wasn’t all too happy getting assigned to work with you in the early days, either. Babysitting was what he referred to it as, if you could recall correctly. It was similar to how Connor and almost every single person was treated by Hank. 

Sharing such a reference could break the illusion of unfamiliarity the two of you had just created, but somehow it added a new layer of enjoyment to the whole situation. Being able to find humor and recognition in a statement that, discussed between two strangers, could mean nothing but a passing comment was satisfying. It reiterated the simple fact that, despite whatever it was you were partaking in, you were still each other’s at the end of it all. 

You leaned in closer to Connor, nearly hugging him entirely. Your already leisurely-paced dance movements slowed even more with your new position. You rested the side of your face against his chest and closed your eyes as you breathed in his cologne. 

“I missed you,” a content sigh escaped your lips as you spoke. Connor’s grip around you tightened; a gesture to reassure you that he was here, now, and that he had missed you just as much as he had missed you. 

“You do look beautiful tonight,” he murmured in a voice only loud enough for the two of you to hear. You smiled then, a gesture he couldn’t see from how your head was rested on his chest. “I still can’t believe I’m lucky enough to call you mine.”

You wondered for a brief moment if “luck” was what you’d really call it. Was it luck that assigned his specific model to be Hank’s partner? Was it luck that you had taken an interest in the deviancy to begin with, giving you the perfect excuse for the two of you to meet outside of work? Was it luck that you even began working at that police station in the first place, all those years ago? Something told you that luck had little to do with it; that, somehow, your love story was one that was fated from the very beginning - that you were meant to be the flicker that sparked the deviancy in Connor, and in turn, helped the android uprising. 

Maybe that was wishful thinking; maybe, in reality, your love story was one of chance - of every single possibility in the universe bending and twisting in an impossible way to create the circumstances of your relationship. There was no higher power guiding you two to each other; rather, you had found each other in the organized chaos that was life - accidentally, but with purpose.

Maybe your relationship was unlikely to happen in the first place and it miraculously did against all odds, or maybe your fate was written and sealed in the stars themselves. You weren’t sure which you preferred; you only knew that you were thankful for whatever it was that brought you here, in this moment, embraced by the man that you’ve loved for over a year. 

You pulled away a bit, rousing yourself from your thoughts to instead look up at the man who so consumed them. From your periphery, however, you noticed a shock of blue hair to your right. Without even realizing it, you turned your head to get a better view of the familiar sight.

They looked different than they did on that rainy night outside of Eden Club when you last saw them. You could still differentiate between the two Traci models by their hair; one electric blue and the other a soft brown. The former was dressed in an elegant, slim silver dress while the latter wore a vibrant blue, flowy gown. 

The brown-haired Traci had her head pressed against her partner’s chest, eyes closed as the two of them drifted together to the tune of the music with soft smiles on their faces.You noticed some other guests glance their way often; but if the two noticed it at all, they paid no attention to it. After being on display for most of their entire existence, the looks they got tonight were trivial when they knew they were finally living the life they so desperately craved a year ago.

“I invited them,” Connor’s voice caused you to tear your gaze from the couple. You must’ve been watching for longer than you realized, if he had the time to notice and give an explanation. “They’re going to finalize their re-birth registration soon, and be given new names they choose.” 

The re-birth registration was the biggest project Connor spoke about to you. It had taken months to formulate, and even at its debut, there was a limited amount of androids that would be allowed to register. It essentially gave all androids the chance to create their “birth” registrations to be officially recognized as citizens. While all androids still have the emergency rights given to them from the uprising, this act was the first step in making those temporary powers more permanent.

You nodded slowly, and took one last look at the Traci’s. You’d most likely never see them again, and you wanted to remember the two androids - who taught you more about love than you realized - in the way they wanted to be remembered: together, in love, and happy. 

“And what about you?” You asked, looking back at Connor.  “Any thoughts on a new name?”

He gave a light laugh before answering. “I think I’ll stay with ‘Connor’.” 

If he’s being honest, he fell in love with the way you spoke his name and it didn’t make sense to change it. Maybe he should’ve admitted that to you, and maybe one day in the future he will, but instead he was content with your bright smile that he felt no explanation was needed.

“I do get to pick my birth date, though.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, your eyebrow arching to reflect your peaked curiosity. “What date did you have in mind?” 

“11/05.” 

Though it had been a year, you’d never forget that date. It was the day you first met Connor, and the night Connor had come by to your apartment, asked for your notes on the investigation, and left you confused and guilt-ridden from the kiss you shared. Your first ever kiss, and as accidental as it may have been, you couldn’t deny that it’s when everything started. 

You must’ve worn a shocked expression, for Connor continued with an explanation.

“I think that’s when I felt like I really started living instead of existing. Even if I tried to deny it afterwards - I know that’s when it all started to change for me… It seems right to make it my birth date.” 

You kissed him then. It was the first kiss you’d had in a month, and to be honest, you were surprised you could hold the urge back as long as you did. The feeling of his lips were soft on yours, yet held an underlying force that let you know he craved more of you than would be appropriate at a public function. His hands slowly drifted to your waist as the kiss lingered, while yours snaked their way around his neck. Both of you did your best to keep your longing kiss proper; but when he coyly nibbled at your bottom lip and caused a light moan to sound from your throat, you knew that task would be impossible. 

You pulled apart, nearly breathless. He looked at you, eyes alert and filled with a desire that made your knees weak. 

“Looks like I already missed your first birthday.” Your attempt at grounding your thoughts and bringing back some form of cohesive conversation fell short when he leaned closer to your ear. You already felt your composure crumble before he even spoke.

“It’s alright; you’ll make it up to me later.”

You most certainly did.

[deastonishing]

to go with the flow; N

‘Duh’

And I was spacing out, again. This was the second time after I entered the train. Looking for the empty seat to have an adequate place bounced my thoughts passed the window, which is unworkable at this hour. Even the clock said it was late to go home to have dinner with warm chocolate, yet the train is still full, and it’s always full with people running catching their breath after long day getting yelled by their boss, or maybe running here and there for errand, or maybe back from their dates, or maybe in hurry to get to one of their friend’s apartment whose got dumped from theirs toxic relationship this morning, after one single call to give them not-so-solitude amenity.

‘I miss him’

Not again, the weekend is near the thanksgiving is just around the term, i can meet him there, i can call him all night after all the paper on my desk vanish away. 

‘Oh God, the paper’

Why are all the good things in my head instantly ruined by one horrible word. 

‘I’m tired’

One stop and I’ll get to ride my bike straight to home. This week was the most detestable week I had after these three month. Well, I am still amazed how this ‘Nala’ girl still has the energy to stand among the crowd every morning and night with the same line and same information voice and same song on the playlist. 

‘Why are You letting me taste the awful phase of adulthood, God? Can I just back in times-’

I don't like it, okay? I don't like how everything is changing. The older I get, the more I realize that, there are all these things that link me to the past and each time, things have shifted, and I have to deal with that shift. And I know I'm supposed to be able to deal with that, but I'm not sure I can deal with that. 

‘AH’

Here again, I almost jumped into the rabbit hole of a stranger's board back when it’s only two meters away to get myself on my bike but again and will always a lot of again’s to embarrassed my proprium publicly, and here I have to buck up, put on a kind face, and get on with it.

“Sorry”

“This is what’s happening if you overworked your eyes”

The familiar voice uttered, the voice that i have missed this whole week.

“NINO? BUT HOW? YOU SUPPOSED TO-”

Forget it, I am happy you’re here with me, NOW.

“You’re not calling, and I’m too lazy to text you first. But i guess you had a tough day or it was just your eyes sweating?”

There is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as your laughter and flimsy humour 

“I miss you stupid, why you’re not calling? And why you just freezing yourself left my first-rate arms hanging-”

‘You silly, I miss you like crazy’

I sniffed as I bent my head to your chest, let the warmth radiate from your body easing every part of my cell intactly.

‘I’m sorry for coming late’

Your words faintly became a melody to my ears in the midst of cold November, as you tighten the grip.

You’re like a Mary Poppins to me, always knowing when the right time and how to sew the word with my blues or to whatever I was going through at the time. I could always find peace in you and whatever form of benevolence coming out through your lips.

“We can get your bike by tomorrow, I’ll come here. You just rest, okay. And now put your seatbelt because I don't want to bother myself arguing with some police after two red lamps”

“Yes, your convenient come first and my safety follows, sir”

It’s nice to hear you laugh rather than playing the same sad songs like a never ending scary Merry go round on horror tales. Allied to what you said to me before, you can listen to every sad song, and cry every single tear from your eyes, but even those might not be enough. Because at some point you get tired of the same songs and you run out of tears.You can’t get over it. They ease the pain but they don’t take it away. Sometimes the only way is only through it.

Yes it does ease the pain and yes but it don’t take it away, at least I endured it 

“Any things you want to share with me?”

You broke the silence together with the rain tickling the windows of your car.

“Nothing, I’m just-”

There’s a space left hanging in the air, three seconds of me awkwardly choosing the right form.

“How about you?”

Better to pass the ball on you, or the cherry night will be ruined by me and what's inside my brain, even me the owner of the ridiculous drift still trying to figure it out.

“I’m not asking to get another question, Nala”

Your finger strokes my hair in an unsweet way.

“I just- feel tired and lonely, okay before you squawk me to my ears because- why I’m not calling you at the first chance. I don’t know, I want, but I- I just didn’t know why. I miss you, so much. But these days, everything was a mess to me, and I miss you. I- am sorry”

I break myself after I hold it after a very long week, I break it down right at your face, at someone’s I know in my heart that I can live without him and I know in my heart that I don't want to.

“You know what, there’s an alone that calls out for rescue, but this appeared to be an alone that wanted to be left alone. That’s okay, I do have the same of feeling sometime, that’s okay, hey now look at me-”

You slowed down the speed, held my hands and put it to your cheeks, and led it to stroke your hair. 

“This,sometimes I just want this. Without asking, without being asked. Just like this, now let me do the same to you”

You kissed my hands and wiped the tears under my eyes gently. Nino, you once said that it was a great destiny to get to meet me, and I replied to you that sometimes we can make our destiny and sometimes the destiny creating themself, if tonight was your plan, can i get  the first ‘sometime’ forever?

“Nal, we can’t always make the right decision, sometimes we can just stop searching for the answer and be fine with doing it all wrong. However when the morning arrives, there are times that we’re still in doubt, right?”

I honestly try to process what is inside my head and what you recently said to me so I just nod to give a sign of full attention and let you continue your sentence.

“I know you have a lot of big, loud contemplations in your head, on how things should be, but if your mind is quiet, sometimes the best answer to a problem is- makes itself heard”

I rounded my eyes as signs drowned at confusement at his word.

“Okay, this is me saying to sometimes we just need to go with the flow”

I chuckled, I know he’s being serious and I know exactly what he’s trying to say is about to comfort me as well as to call out the strongest version of me. The realistic man with the warmest heart, he looks so simple when facing matters but, but he’s mind is generously wide, how could it happen in one body?

“Do not cringed Nala”

“I am not? I sit collectively paying one hundred thousand attention to your golden wise”

We snickered then burst out at laughter, you are weird, we are weird. This always like this, long sober conversation will end with one stiff joke. And follows with-

“I love you”

From me.

To have you is enough, to listen to your mind is content.

For now, let me rest my mind and soul with you.

[haltandcatchfiretothemax]

Headcanon that Donna escorts Cameron to Dallas and accompanies her to the cemetery once a year/every 18 months or so

[CN: deceased parents, grief, alcohol, meds, food references]

Cameron doesn’t particularly like going to the cemetery (which is actually a national cemetery, for veterans), it’s more sad than anything else, but the idea of no one ever visiting her father’s grave really agitates her. She also really hates flying, but the mental image of her father’s headstone, going unread for years on end, bothers her enough that she willingly endures the flight.

Donna isn’t a huge fan of cemetery visits, but going with Cameron makes her feel useful. She squeezes Cameron’s hand when the plane takes off, and whenever there’s turbulence, orders alcoholic beverages for her, and when necessary, administers xanax

They always rent a car, and stay for a couple nights at one of the city’s nicer hotels, which Cameron always lets Donna choose, because she figures it’s another way she can let Donna know that she appreciates her companionship on these trips

She also puts up with at least one (1) fancy dinner at one of the city’s more expensive restaurants, and even brings something nice to wear, but all of their other meals are the cheapest and most satisfying local Tex Mex they can find

On their first visit, they struggle to find the gravesite; Cameron hasn’t been there in many years, and can’t quite remember where it is, and she gets anxious and fussy over it. Even with the map, it takes them half an hour, but they get there eventually

Visiting the actual grave is always awkward in a way that doesn’t faze them. Donna always offers, “Do you want to say something? Or do you want me to leave you alone, give you a few minutes, maybe?” “No,” Cameron always shakes her head. They stand there together quietly, there’s not really much else you can do at a grave, they both know that. Sometimes, Cameron will describe a memory of her dad, whatever story or anecdote has been on her mind that week, and Donna listens, amazed and humbled at how many stories Cameron has about him, and how much she still doesn’t know about her. 

They walk it off, afterwards, they walk by some of the other graves and look at some of the more elaborate monuments and sculptures in the cemetery, and they walk to the pond in the center of the cemetery. And then after that, they go for a drive in their old neighborhood, Donna takes them past the old Mutiny house, Donna and Gordon’s old house, and the old Mutiny office park, and they chat idly, and they look for songs to listen to on the radio

Checking on the old Mutiny house is weirdly comforting to Cameron, though she’s not sure it should be. “Are we morbid weird and morbid for doing this?” she asks. “Or is it maybe getting weird? Are we gonna have to stop this at some point?” “I don’t know,” Donna says. “I don’t think it’s weird, I think one could argue that it’s romantic. We’re driving around to the places where we first met.” Cameron rolls her eyes at this, but she notices that every visit after that is easier, and feels less sad to her.

(While they’re in Dallas for their late spring 2013 visit, Donna refers to their post-cemetery drive as their ’Annual Started From the Bottom Now We Here Tour,’ and of course Cameron has no idea what this means, and Donna has to explain, “You know, like the Drake song” and Cameron asks, “Who’s Drake….” and Donna, now utterly exasperated, says, “I don’t know, he’s some child actor rapper from Toronto that your grandkids like. Just fvcking google him, Cameron”)

After a few years, Cameron and Donna start to enjoy their Dallas cemetery weekends. It’s a somber ritual, that requires a lot of emotional energy, but it’s also time that they get to spend together. “It’s obviously not ideal,” Donna says, “but, it’s how your Dad stays a regular part of your life.” “Right,” Cameron nods. “It’s just, like, a way of acknowledging it, instead of ignoring it, or obsessing over it. It’s an outlet, or something.” “And then afterwards, we get to hang out for a few days,” Donna shrugs comfortably. “And so as long as you want to do so, we will keep visiting.” Cameron grins sadly, but gratefully, “Sounds like a plan, Boss.”  

[scoutshonor56]

Burning Down the House

With a new year upon us, I decided to leave our pouting, petulant, and clueless “president” alone for a while.  I’m at the point where I don’t want this blog to become a regular, though fun and cathartic, critique of this moron’s day to day behavior.  Besides, who can keep up these days?  Certainly I never intended this blog to become solely a political airing of grievances anyways, when started back in November of 2016 - but then, who would have ever envisioned the likes of Donald Trump in the White House?

 So today I’m going to address an issue close to my heart; the wellspring that nourishes my spirit and is essential to the health and well-being of every living thing on our planet – the environment.  You see, I’m a baby boomer who grew up in the 60’s, and was quite the impressionable 14yr old on April 22, 1970, when the first official Earth Day was proclaimed. That year also saw the creation of the EPA, and like most of us from “back then”, I still hold onto many of the ideals of an aged hippie -  

 Those who know me also know I later worked for NASA - another touchstone for my generation - at Johnson Space Center, inside the television/communication contract, for 14 years.  During that time I got to watch the Space Station being built piece by piece, from when the first module, Zarya, went up on a Russian Proton rocket, to the first crew occupation, to its successful completion.

 I still pay attention to our space program as a tax paying enthusiast, although not nearly as much, and thus I watched a fascinating show on NOVA a week or so back, entitled “To Pluto and Beyond”.  It was about the continuing voyage of NASA’s New Horizons exploratory spacecraft, which is now traveling at roughly 37,000mph some 5 billion miles from our planet and still able to send back data and outstanding imagery to its home base here on Earth (taking over 4 hours to do so).

 In a nutshell, when New Horizons was first launched, in January of 2006, scientists and astronomers didn’t even think much existed past what they call the Kuiper Belt (the area in space past the planet Neptune), other than insignificant, floating chunks of minerals and ice of varying size and shape – such as Pluto, now not even an officially termed “planet”.  

 But soon that would change as our telescopes got larger, more sophisticated, and certainly more powerful (such as the Hubble), revealing a wealth of new discoveries and vastly widening out view, and theories, about space past our solar system.    

 In just a little over two years after its successful flyby of Pluto and its moons, sending back stunning and never before seen imagery, project managers were able to plot a new course that would enable the probe to fly past what is now called 2014 MU69, or its more colorful nickname, Ultima Thule (which sounds much more bad-ass!)  

 To go into any detail about the show and this discovery would require a whole different blog, so for my purpose today, let’s just say the level of technology, engineering, and computational math involved in this exploratory endeavor is right up there with just about any other high achievement in man’s history; an incredible display of determination and shear brain power that simply boggles my mind.  Sure, it was just an unmanned flyby, a probe…but successfully plotted over billions of miles, traveling at 37,000mph through orbiting planets, asteroids, and clouds of space debris, where a collision with something the size of a pea could mean instant disaster?  Where the tiniest fraction of miscalculation can put the craft literally millions of miles off course?  In the harshest and most unforgiving environment imaginable?  You may as well try to explain quantum physics to me.

 So what - what’s this got to do with a Talking Heads song... my point is this: excuse me if I don’t buy into this long running campaign of bullshit and misinformation put out by the petrochemical and carbon-based conglomerates, their money-wallowing and soulless lobbyists, and the special interest groups, who for the better part of fifty years have retained a complete stranglehold on our politicians and policy makers.  They continue to control the discussion of our energy sources with fairy tales and scare tactics in support of a technology that is over 200 years old. Let’s dim the lights, roll out the boogyman, and wind him up:

 “It will cost jobs!!  The transition to renewable and clean energy is too expensive, the sources unable to compete in today’s economy!!  The technology and infrastructure have yet to be fully worked out!!  It’s much more difficult and complicated than you can possibly understand!!  It’s simply going to take more time – it will be a long, slow process, and oil and gas will continue to play a dominant role in the meanwhile!!”

 And on, and on, and on…

 Bullshit!  Germany now gets 40% of all its energy generated from renewable, clean sources.  There are other countries in Europe harnessing tides to generate energy.  Our planet is a hotbed for thermal energy potential.  A recent study done here in Houston, at Rice University, claims Texas (who leads the nation in wind generated energy) has enough sun and wind to completely wean itself off coal within the near future.  

 Since when did America become the nation that couldn’t; that shied away from a challenge, technological or otherwise; that chose to follow instead of lead… was I stoned during that period?  Did I miss something?  Fifty-eight years ago, President John F. Kennedy stood at a podium at Rice University Stadium and declared:

 “We choose to go to the Moon!   We choose to go to the Moon...We choose to go to the Moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard; because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one we intend to win, and the others, too.”  

 To put this into context, at that time it had been just over a year since America had launched their first man into space: Alan Shepard riding a Redstone rocket 116 miles into suborbital flight, lasting fifteen minutes.  Back then NASA scientists and medical professionals didn’t even know if a human could survive such a trip, or for how long.  Would they retain their vision, their mental capacity?  Would they lose all sense of direction?  Pass out? Would they be able to endure and function during the required long duration flight to the moon and back?  How would we even achieve such a feat?

 OK, some might say, “Well, sure, NASA had a limitless budget - and after all, the space race was strictly for nationalistic reasons anyway, to beat the Russians to the moon…”

All true, but umm, have you looked out your window lately?  Pay attention to any news?  And no, Fox doesn’t count.  According to a recent analysis, published in the Journal Science (see the story in the NY Times), our oceans are warming far more quickly than previously thought; like 40% faster on average than a United Nations panel estimated five years ago.  Researchers now conclude that ocean temperatures have been breaking records for several years straight.  Compounding the effects of our melting polar caps, warm water also takes up more volume than cold water, resulting in sea levels rising at an estimated rate of .13 inches (3.2mm) over the last 20 years.  Satellite measurements tell us that over the past century the Global Mean Sea Level (GMSL) has risen by 4 to 8 inches.

 Right now, over the last decade, we are seeing an increase in the number and severity of hurricanes, monsoons, tornadoes and wildfires.  NEWS FLASH Gomer and Thelma Lu, this isn’t a conspiracy perpetrated by greedy and alarmist eggheads in lab coats, nor is it “fake news” or fuzzy science; and it certainly shouldn’t be considered, or treated as a political issue.  It’s rock-solid, provable science that is accepted by 97% of scientists, climatologists, and geologists all around the world, who continue to ring the emergency bell. It’s happening today, all around us, and the bad news is we’re already too late; at this point, if we were to get serious this year, 2019, it will still be a game of damage control; of mitigating the consequences of our greed, ignorance, and gullibility.  

 In comparison, the goal and challenge of beating the Russians to the moon seems quite miniscule to that of restoring and maintaining the health of our little blue lifeboat called Earth.

 “Whatever, our planet is a dynamic, ever changing thing - Earth has gone through similar climate changes before!”   Yes, true – but over the span of tens of thousands of years, you moron.  Man has achieved the same results in barely two hundred.  

Just curious, but what part of 2.5 million pounds/second of co2 pouring into the relatively thin, fragile layer of atmosphere that protects our planet don’t you get?  Too hard to think about, or conceptualize?  Or is it easier for your lazy, flabby, unexercised brain to simply believe that it all just dissipates into outer space – you know, where the alien abductors that beamed you up into their mothership that weekend reside…

 Make America Great Again?  What a sad, short-changed, and utterly empty joke of a campaign slogan… Here, I’ve got one for you: SAVE OUR PLANET!  For your children’s future and their children’s future.  There simply is no option; no magical, last minute solution.  No plan B.  No spare planet accessible, sorry, this isn’t a movie - its real.  

 I simply don’t understand; why isn’t this the number one issue of concern for everyone?  Could there possibly be a greater threat and more important challenge facing us all today?  

 Ah well, what the hell – we’ll all be fine in a couple thousand years after we evolve with gills and become aquamen and women… Although, good luck finding something to eat, as we’re also killing the entire food chain of life in the oceans, from coral reefs to the dolphins, the sharks, and the whales…I guess we could become aquacannibals – now there’s a surefire idea for a hit movie!    Hmm, I wonder if we could talk Jason Momoa into that hard turn in the movie series plotline…  

[itsmeglendaloraine]

Hello, Depression? Will you please stop calling me, especially at night?

Not Truly Yours,

Glenda

I’ve been feeling down for a few weeks now. There is that haunting thought that is robbing me of my joy, energy, focus, strength, determination, and motivation. Every day is a struggle. I don’t know how I’m able to survive. I feel like I may pass out any time now. I can’t think yet my mind is always full of thoughts - thoughts of mistakes and embarrassments from the past or the piling plans for the future. I feel like I have so many things to say but sadly, no one can truly understand me.

I know I’ve been so blessed with the best support system but I am often left alone widely awake at night staring at the darkness with a heavy heart and a mind that is making circles. Round and round it goes. The ever-fluctuating emotions. Emotions of late that I was not able to process well for I suppressed them. It’s unfortunate of all things, I am invalidating my feelings.

Triggers. Triggers. Small things trigger me: the snide remarks of people; the unsolicited advice; my things not in their proper places; the curtains that my Mama newly hung in my room that I don’t like; my pen that is running out of ink.

I easily get annoyed, frustrated, and impatient. I tried so hard every day to fight the urge of breaking down. But I guess, I need to break so I can be whole again. 

Another thing is social media. For the past two months, I was overly exposed to it and like a sponge, I easily absorbed the things I see there, making my brain want to explode. So lately, I made a resolution to walk away from negativity (protect mental health at all cost!). I made a list and put it in my journal so I’ll hold myself accountable.

I wanted to write a blog for so long yet I don’t have the energy and the drive to do so. And so, this writing is a labor of patience and endurance bearing the pain and the tiredness that I feel deep in my heart right now. Hello, depression. F**k you! I wish I could afford to go to therapy. But, it is costly (Sad truth).

This is my version of therapy – writing. I am sharing this with you hoping you pick a thing or two.

I feel depressed and anxious for weeks now from all the stuff that is happening in my world: me graduating, proceeding to my master's degree, turning 29, plans of settling down, the high price of commodities (Hi, inflation!), the bills to pay, savings running out because I just spent too much lately, expectations not met, my thesis coming up that I don’t know how to start. Haaayy… All these and all that.

How I wish I have a magic wand to erase all those so I can sleep soundly at night! But, it doesn’t work that way. Life happens and so it goes without giving even a dime of care. It just happens whether you’re happy or sad or mad. It is what it is.

Last weekend, someone gave a shitty comment about how I gained weight. That person further said that before, my belly fat doesn’t show, and now it does. Arrrghh! To respond in the coolest way, I faked a laugh and made a joke. Talk about white lies. For that person, it is just a conversation startup and it doesn’t mean a thing, but, for me, it sends a signal to my overthinking brain that I am fat, and need to lose weight.

Last month, two people said that I look skinnier. Okay, what it is really? Lost or gained weight? Whatever.

Those comments may be plain or simple and the person saying those may doesn’t mean things but it’s up to the person perceiving, too. Right? Don’t comment on people’s weight when even you don’t give a damn about yours. Oh, come on!

In a world full of know-it-alls and insensitive people, may we try hard to be kind to everyone; to be the light of the people around; to radiate positive and good vibes because we don’t know what they’re going through.

"To each his own", as the saying goes. We have different stories to tell. May we all be good characters in each other’s stories.  

[secondpubertyscene]

3.26.22

Well friends, it has been some time! A lot has happened since my last post. I’m not going to get into it all, but I figured some kind of update would be nice. Plus, I could use an outlet.

It’s been months since my mom died and I thought that by now I would feel something more than this odd numbness and sadness whenever I think about her. For some reason, I struggle to conjure up good memories or really any memories at all. I feel like I’ve almost blocked out my past life that included her and my grandma. In my time in grief group therapy, I’ve come to realize that I’ve also yet to feel the entirety of my grandma passing. I barely think about it and when I do, I just…I don’t? I’m not sure if that makes sense, but it is where I am. I know there is no proper way to grieve or a timeline for when I should be feeling things, but I am fearful that I will forget them both somehow. Or forget the fun stuff at least. The traumatic, sad shit is super easy to access. Go figure.

That said, I’m actually doing pretty good! I think the change in weather (however temporary, Ohio weather is certainly something else) is a big part of it. That, and I just increased my testosterone dosage pretty substantially, giving me more energy. With this new energy, I’ve gotten myself into some new activities. Rock climbing is the newest thing and I think it might be a longtime hobby. I’m going to West Virginia in a couple weeks to camp over the weekend (first camping trip!) and also climb a little, so that’s exciting. New experiences all around! I’m also taking Muy Thai kickboxing, just to get some more activity in my life and learn some new skills. I’m hoping to get back into the gym regularly outside of climbing and kickboxing, just so I can continue to build my endurance and muscle. I have a tendency to do everything at once and then give up on all of it at once too, so I’m being cautious. Adding new things in slowly and reminding myself that perfection is not a requirement for participation.

Moving into the academic side of things, graduate school is actually fucking lit. I love my program, I love my cohort, and I love that I am excelling. As stupid and annoying as this is going to sound, I did not experience a lot of joy when I graduated from high school or undergrad. Not because I didn’t go through a fuckton of shit while trying to graduate from both places, but because I always knew that I was going to finish no matter what. I also didn’t feel like I was always learning a lot or being challenged in a meaningful way, so my accomplishment felt less significant. This led me to believe that I wasn’t actually all that smart, just smarter than perhaps your average bear. Since being in this program, I feel infinitely more confident in my intellect and my abilities. I am presented with lots of challenges regularly and I’m figuring shit out extremely quickly.

For example, in my multivariate statistics class, I am KICKING ASS! I was never good at stats (failed like 3 times between high school and undergrad) but now?? I am a stats god. I don’t LOVE that I’m learning STATA rather than R or SPSS, but I figure I can learn those over the summers. Also, my advisor asked me to recode our department’s website and while I had zero knowledge of how to do that, I learned within a couple days! I’m quite proud of my performance here and I’m gaining more confidence that I can not only get through this program, but I can excel here. Make a name for myself. Or something like that.

On the social side, I’m also really happy! I’ve started and ended a couple friendships since I’ve last posted and I feel good about my choices. My boundary work is improving all the time and I am satisfied with most of my relationships. I’m becoming closer to some people in my cohort through shared activities and others through mutual attraction. As for relationships from back home, those are mostly intact as well! While I do sometimes feel some frustration with the one-sidedness with some aspects of my friendships, I also have come to realize that they are one-sided for a reason. I think I’ll leave that at that. As for my ex, who has graced this page many a time, we are back on speaking terms. I’m happy about it, but wary. I’m excited to have her back in my life because she was a great friend (appears to still be a great one). I’m hoping to get to know her again, as I can tell a lot has changed for both of us over the last year or so.

All things considered; I am doing pretty good! I am perpetually broke (which is to be expected) and stressed about money but I am also very conscious of the fact that things could be a lot worse. My dad and I have a better relationship these days (something I’d like to talk more about later) which has been refreshing. I have some anticipatory grief that I need to let go of around him getting sick and dying while I’m away at school, but I know that most of my anxiety is unfounded. He is healthy, active, and stable. I don’t have any real reason to think that those things would suddenly change, mostly because he has been the same since I met him. He has always taken good care of himself and I don’t see that changing. My cat is also doing pretty good, save for a small injury that took several months to heal.

Things feel like they’re starting to stabilize. I’m feeling better these days. I do hope to deal with my grief more intentionally in the months to come. I think right now, my brain is probably trying to protect me by not letting me get into all of it while I work through the stresses of school, but the summer opens up a lot of space and time for deeper work. Plus, I’ll be back in DC which is triggering and there’s no way that I can be there without actively thinking about loss at least a couple times a day. I plan on reaching out to my old therapist and seeing if I can start EMDR with him so I can start working on reprocessing some memories and giving myself a fair chance to heal.

I’m out of practice with writing, so you’ll have to excuse the mess. I’m not going to make any promises about writing more because I seldom honor those well-intentioned promises. I will say that the increased energy should help me get more writing into my days. To be seen. Thanks for reading! I’ll spill some real tea in the next one, I just needed something to get me going.

[strmyweather]

one foot in front of the other, babe / one breath leads to another, yeah / just keep moving

I’m in the homestretch of my training for the New York City Marathon; the race is a little over five weeks away. Honestly, I sort of can’t believe I’m saying that -- because it seems like just a minute ago there were multiple months stretching out before me like the Great Dismal Swamp (which is an actual place) -- but now I’m realizing that there’s actually a faint light emanating from the end of this endurance tunnel. Somehow, I’ve only got four more ‘long runs’ left before the taper.

This is marathon number six for me, which might give the impression that the process is old hat by this point, but that would be thoroughly untrue. There have been a ton of ‘moving parts’ this time around, physically, mentally, and nutritionally -- maybe more so than ever before -- and I’m definitely due to set some of it down on paper. I had intended to do regular updates every couple of weeks as the training progressed, but (surprise, surprise) never actually managed to do so -- meaning this will probably be another of my infamous ten-page missives. So… pour another cup of coffee and strap in.

Back Story

I have a rather long and karmically-entangled history with the NYC Marathon. I was never a runner in adolescence -- swimming was my sport -- but took it up gradually during my senior year of college, mostly because my roommate nudged me into accompanying her on a couple of races of various distances. When we graduated and I no longer had easy access to a pool, I started doing road races and triathlons regularly, almost by default -- at that point in my life, I needed something concrete to train for in order to ensure that I remained consistently physically active. I gradually built up to marathon distance, starting with the Marine Corps Marathon in 2008, and although I entered the NYC lottery more than once, I was never selected.

In 2012, I finally just bit the bullet and bought a charity slot for NYC. Thanks largely to my PA classmates, I successfully raised 100% of the money (!) -- but those of you playing the home game may recall that 2012 was the year of Superstorm Sandy, and that the NYCM was therefore canceled that year for the first and only time since its inception. (I was literally ON THE BUS from Philadelphia to New York when the verdict came down.) Along with most of the field, I deferred my entry to 2013 -- and ended up with a stress fracture in my foot. Thoroughly annoyed, I deferred again, to 2014 -- and, a month into training, promptly sustained a stress fracture in the OTHER foot. (Pretty sure that’s what the kids call #facepalm.) However, by then I was out of deferrals, and I sure hadn’t raised that $2500 for nothing, so I adapted a CrossFit Endurance-style training plan to keep my fitness at a reasonable level while avoiding anything involving repetitive impact. Three weeks before the race, I was cleared to run.

So I did. My longest training run was five miles. It was by far my slowest marathon. It wasn’t the race I’d envisioned, to say the least. But I finished it.

That was supposed to be it. The end. The closing of a chapter. Yet somehow, every year, I have consistently managed to end up in New York City on marathon weekend. Typically, I’m just there visiting friends or seeing shows -- but this past year, it was because a dear friend of mine from the Netherlands was running the race herself. And, reliving that experience from the fringes last November -- walking around the expo with thousands of excited runners, dashing around Manhattan with my friend’s husband to try to catch a glimpse of her at various mile markers, standing on the sidelines cheering with my camera at the ready -- well, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me wish I were running myself.

So, on the spur of the moment, I threw my name in the hat, for the fifth time in ten years. And then promptly forgot about it.

...Until the evening of February 28, 2018 -- when my mind was entirely occupied by Week 2 of the CrossFit Open -- and my phone suddenly beeped with an alert for ‘Unfamiliar Credit Card Charge’.

Over the coming minutes, my initial alarm changed to confusion -- then, as the realization dawned, to equal parts shock, excitement, and dread.

Oh, shit. What had I done?

Fast-forward another seven months or so, and here we are.

Physically

The metaphor I keep using is that I feel like I’ve been driving a 4-cylinder automatic transmission for the past decade and am suddenly being asked to master a stick-shift Maserati. That’s not to say that I’m any kind of speed demon in the grand scheme of things, just that I have a much larger number of ‘gears’ than I used to. I spent a solid decade doing ‘long slow distance’ in various forms prior to discovering CrossFit in 2012, but back then, I was basically either running or walking (or crawling!) -- there wasn’t much of an in-between option. Nowadays, I’m much stronger, faster, and lighter than I used to be -- all good things! -- but this kind of training also utilizes an energy system that we just don’t routinely tax to the same degree in CrossFit, and it takes time (and mileage) to get comfortable with that. Therefore, much to my dismay, I’m having to become intimately familiar with the feel of a ‘threshold’ pace -- a.k.a. the place where I’d LIKE to slow down, but don’t objectively NEED to slow down in order to complete a given work requirement. This is occasionally validating on the back end when I review my split times -- never could’ve imagined a day where I ‘accidentally’ hit an 8:15 mile IN THE MIDDLE of a long run! -- but also inevitably involves some ‘overshooting’, a.k.a. those sessions where I come out of the gate too hot, hit a wall after two miles, and spend the remainder of the time feeling like death. Yet, slowly but surely, I’m starting to internalize how it feels to run at an 8-minute pace, vs an 8:30 or 9:00 or 9:30 pace. There are two processes happening simultaneously -- physically training my body to run faster, and mentally training my ‘sixth sense’ to learn how to calibrate a pace that can be held for MANY miles, not just two or three.

I’ve learned a couple of interesting things about myself so far, including that, on a physical level, I am inherently a more aerobic athlete (read: not a power athlete). This had already become apparent in recent months via barbell performance -- I can use a pretty high percentage of my max with decent form for a lot of reps, but tend to struggle in terms of getting my actual one-rep maxes to move upward. It turns out I’m similar with regard to running -- I can hold a ‘moderate’ pace for a relatively long time (on one of my earliest long runs, I averaged 8:54 across seven miles and felt pretty great the whole way), but, as above, I’m learning that ramping that pace up even just a little bit past the sweet spot will quickly lead to a major crash and burn. However, I suppose I’d prefer to be built this way, as opposed to the alternative -- and one silver lining is that, since my 10-rep maxes are a lot closer to my 1RMs than they have any right to be, my working weights on the current (muscular-endurance-focused) weightlifting cycle haven’t had to drop down SO far as to make me sad. :)

In terms of programming, at my request, we are continuing to prioritize my CrossFit fitness, just with a necessarily heavy slant toward endurance and bodyweight strength. Running isn’t my primary sport and isn’t going to be; my goal is simply to ‘complete’ this marathon in relatively good shape -- to stay healthy as possible throughout the training, to feel strong for the majority of the event, to soak in and thoroughly enjoy the atmosphere of such a special race, to crush several very large piles of food afterward (first stop: milk bar!) -- and then immediately jump back into ‘normal’ CrossFit training. A new PR would be a bonus -- and I do think it’s well within my abilities -- but I also won’t be too upset if it doesn’t happen; I’m playing the long game here, and I’m much more concerned with retaining muscle mass and overall fitness than with earning the fastest possible marathon time.

This all means that my actual ‘mileage’ is relatively minimal -- which is good for me, both in terms of personal preference and due to the fact that my feet are typically the part of me that ‘breaks’ first when subjected to high volume. (Other CrossFitters have wonky shoulders or knees; my own personal Achilles’ heel -- pun intended --  has always been my feet.) I started out having weekly long runs programmed on Sunday mornings and two-a-day sessions on Wednesdays (light CrossFit in the morning + running speedwork at the track in the evening). However, I promptly sustained a (mild) foot injury in the third week of increasing speed mileage (#typical). This led to us changing the sprints over to the rower and assault bike -- so now, with five weeks to go, my only true running is the long Sunday-morning piece. However, almost everything else I’m doing supports those sessions by having taken a sharp turn towards aerobic capacity and bodyweight strength. My ‘metcon’-style work these days is usually ridiculously long and pretty boring -- think anything that taxes the legs: biking and rowing mixed with long light high-rep sets of wallballs, thrusters, air squats, deadlifts -- but I’ve just had to accept that. (I halfheartedly complained at one point early on, and Coach shrugged and said matter-of-factly, “Well, it’s either this or more running,” so I immediately buttoned my lip!) :)

This brings me to...

Mentally

Going in, I tried to keep a semi-open mind -- after all, I did this for a solid decade prior to CrossFit; this could turn out to feel like a refreshing break for me. It might even be exciting to do something a little different for a while. No such luck, though; I’m actually finding this type of training to be tremendously more mentally fatiguing than regular CrossFit, for two main reasons.

First (and most obviously) -- compared to barbells and handstand push-ups and ‘three-two-one-go’, endurance training is just LONG and BORING. There have certainly been a few gratifying moments -- ‘accidentally’ running a sub-27-minute 5k during training, crushing 3000 calories in a day, realizing I’ve somehow become that girl who truly is most comfortable running in just a sports bra (who even AM I?!?). But it simply isn’t where my heart is. In hindsight, I’m pretty sure the only way I was able to convince myself that I ‘liked’ this for so many years is because back then I wasn’t physically ‘training’ so much as giving myself a forced MENTAL break -- shoving in my headphones, zoning out, letting my mind wander. Fast paces were things that occasionally ‘happened’ on days when I felt good, not things that I could deliberately strive for. As I mentioned above -- turns out it’s a whole different ball game (and a lot more mentally taxing) when you’re actually TRAINING at a prescribed intensity level and staying attuned to keeping yourself there.

And secondly, this type of training is a lot more isolating than I had bargained for -- both physically and mentally. Gym-wise, I knew it wouldn’t be fun to watch other people crushing their CrossFit goals while I sat on the assault bike plugging away at another hour-long conditioning piece… but I was at least somewhat mentally prepared for that part. What’s been harder has been the (many, many) hours when I’m NOT in the gym. Getting up at 4:00am to cover a dozen miles in the dark before work is not much fun, nor is forcing myself to drive to the track at 7pm after I’ve worked a full clinic day and just want to go home to bed. It’s also tough to feel as though nobody in my life can relate to both this odd set of obligations AND the (even odder) accompanying headspace -- after all, most endurance athletes choose this method of training because they genuinely enjoy it. And -- to add insult to injury -- because the repetitive pounding beats my body up in a whole new way, it means I have to be hyper-focused on recovery (I’m getting to that!)... which then FURTHER detracts from time that I could be spending training in a way that I DO actually enjoy.

Training is generally my favorite part of any given day, because I usually find it validating and motivating just by its own nature. So, lately, it’s been frustrating and demoralizing -- and, frankly, a little frightening -- to feel such a major piece of my life evolving into a chore. I’ve certainly completed marathons on far less training than this (albeit a lot more slowly and painfully), so there have been many moments when it’s been hard to stare down the gun barrel of WHAT DO YOU MEAN TEN MORE WEEKS (or however long). However, I’m trying to remain cognizant of the fact that this is temporary -- and that, the better-prepared I am for the marathon, the less of a toll it will take on my body -- and therefore, the faster I can jump back into the stuff I really love.

This brings me to…

Recovery

I'm being extraordinarily careful about prioritizing my recovery, in part because, with endurance training, problems tend to show up LATER rather than declaring themselves in the moment. Aches and pains tend to be related to overuse, rather than to any kind of obviously-pinpointable injury, which makes them more slippery and insidious -- and therefore more difficult to prevent (until the horse is already out of the barn, that is). This is not my first rodeo with regard to distance running -- I've completed five marathons, over a dozen half marathons, and quite a few triathlons -- so I’m well aware of this dynamic by now. I had a bone deformity in one of my feet as a teenager, and although it’s been corrected, I've still had the pleasure over the years of dealing with shin splints, Achilles tendinitis, severe plantar fasciitis, and two metatarsal stress fractures. The latter is the worst-case scenario for any runner -- because by the time you 'feel' a stress fracture, it's already too late. That’s exactly where I’ve ended up during two of my previous marathon training attempts -- and is a place that I’ve been valiantly trying NOT to revisit.

Knock on wood, this training program has kept me considerably healthier overall than any of my previous attempts (not coincidentally, it’s also been the plan with the smallest weekly run mileage!). As I mentioned, I did end up with a mild foot injury a couple of weeks ago (nothing ‘specific’ enough for a true diagnosis; my left foot/ankle just got ‘angry’ through the retinaculum and the lower segment of the tibialis anterior) -- but it was definitely a soft-tissue problem this time, nothing bony, and responded well to a couple of weeks off running, some RockTape, a better-fitting pair of shoes, and a couple sessions with the PT and the bodywork guru at my gym (both of whom I’m seeing about twice a month for dry-needling, cupping, taping, and various other ‘hurts so good’ interventions!). My coach and I are perfectly in line with our opinions on this, which is that -- if we have to choose -- it’s vastly preferable for me to reach the start line healthy and perhaps slightly underprepared, versus crush every mile of the training and then be in pain from the first five minutes on the day when it actually matters.

Honestly, I am feeling incredibly well-supported in terms of the team I have around me -- more so than I have been maybe EVER, athletically speaking -- and so (general saltiness aside) I’m actually managing to stay pretty calm, even during the acute injury phase. First, because it always feels like a small miracle to be able to lie down on the therapy table with legitimate pain, and then stand up a little while later with it having essentially vanished (!) -- but second, because of the sheer emotional comfort that lies in the knowledge that (for once in my life) I actually don’t have to worry about EVERY little thing, that ‘other people are taking care of’ some pieces of this puzzle. The three of them are all aware of ‘where I’m at’ physically, and are in communication as far as what they think is best for me, which is such a gift. Just the awareness of that support network provides me with a huge amount of reassurance -- AND additional motivation to ‘do my best for them’, after all the time and energy they’re investing in me. (The first time she dry-needled the injured area, the PT bade me farewell after the session with the admonishment, “Don’t f*ck up my good work.”)

Unrelated: one other thing I’ve found useful for recovery purposes has been my new Garmin watch (Fenix 5S). It’s definitely not a hundred percent accurate -- it’s very much an endurance watch and thus has absolutely no idea how to interpret regular CrossFit most of the time, so it occasionally tells me my weekly training load is ‘light’ or that my performance condition is ‘peaking’ when that is BLATANTLY FALSE -- but in terms of things like heart rate, daily stress level, and sleep quality, it’s fascinating to see numerical data that backs up my own internal gauges, and it’s admittedly also been pretty helpful nutritionally in terms of calorie burn estimates (I’m getting to that!). And although it’s apt to underestimate my effort output at times, there are other times when it keeps me honest; on one memorable occasion, my coach sent me a new month’s worth of programming, and I saw that my long Saturday metcons had been dropped in favor of more movements that were labeled as ‘for quality’ or ‘not for time’. This is the sort of stuff I tend to find ‘boring’, and I groaned internally as I made a note to ask her why she’d done that. However, before we even had a chance to discuss it, I completed my first Friday session on the new plan (over 60 straight minutes of biking, rowing, wallballs, lunges, running, and air squats, if you’re curious!) -- and as soon as I clicked my stopwatch off, Garmin popped up with a cheery little note: “Recovery Time 45 Hours / Easy Effort Recommended.”

Well then. As usual -- it seems Coach knows what she’s doing!

Awesome support crew and techie gadgets aside, a few other essential recovery things: -- compression socks or calf sleeves for the 24 hours following a long run -- supplements: vitamin D, krill oil, zinc/magnesium/B6, probiotics, vitamin C -- a consistent 9-9:30pm bedtime -- Epsom salt baths after the heaviest leg days -- tart cherry juice in my workout shake (helps reduce inflammation) -- and doing my best to NEVER be in a calorie deficit (more on this below).

Which brings me to...

Nutritionally / Fueling

One enormous and unexpected side benefit of this whole process is that I’ve had to become much more flexible and forgiving with regard to food. (This is something that definitely needed to happen, but I just couldn’t really foresee exactly how I was going to get there!) I’ve been following Renaissance Periodization for 18 months now (cut #1, short maintenance, cut #2, long maintenance, third/SHORT cut, now currently on maintenance again), and it has done phenomenal things for me (which is why I’ve stuck to it so rigidly until now); however, the origins of the program lie in weightlifting and strength training. To their credit, RP has put forth a lot of effort recently to try to tailor their approach to make it work for endurance training, and I definitely found their tools to be a pretty useful starting point in terms of calculating carb recommendations for long run days -- but I also learned that the math could really only carry me so far. A standalone long run is one thing, but it gets trickier when I’ve got (for example) a day with two training sessions, or a workout that’s maybe only an hour long but is almost entirely composed of sprints, or one of those super long Fridays where my ‘metcon’ is 60-100 minutes of work at “70% effort”. The bottom line is, at some point, you just have to take the toolbox you’ve got, start experimenting, and figure out what works for your body.

I’ve said before that I think one of the official RP hashtags should be #alwayslearning, and this training cycle has been no exception! While I obviously knew I would need more carbs/calories on long run days, I did NOT expect for the caloric demand to increase ACROSS THE BOARD as much as it did. It didn’t present as traditional ‘hunger’, so I didn’t recognize the ‘deficit dynamic’ at first -- but after a couple of great weeks initially, my performance and general well-being started to fall off around the 4-week mark. I wasn’t sleeping well, was feeling generally moody and anxious, and my long run paces were significantly slower than they had been up until that point. I also knew the scale had been running rather low, in the 138s-139s. However, none of this by itself was THAT far out of the range of ‘normal’, so it took me a week or two to put it all together. The larger picture didn’t fully click until, independently of one another, two separate CrossFit coaches (both of whom I’d only known for a month!) asked me if I had lost weight. That finally prompted me to look back at my daily scale trends, and I realized that my ‘maintenance’ was not actually maintenance; I’d slowly lost about two pounds over the course of the first month of endurance training.

Now, while two pounds is obviously not a tremendous amount of weight, this was still a super important phenomenon to identify and address, because in my case, it would NOT be beneficial for me to get any smaller right now. From a general health and performance standpoint, I’m already right where I need to be (my DEXA scan in July measured me at 17% body fat), which means that losing weight would fly directly in the face of ALL my goals: not just day-to-day performance and recovery, but also muscle retention. Muscle is a heavy and metabolically demanding tissue, so the body doesn’t want to hang onto more of it than it truly NEEDS -- so it’s one of the first things to go during heavy endurance training (ever checked out the physique of a Kenyan marathoner?). Since my primary goal is to preserve CrossFit fitness and performance, the last thing I want to do is sacrifice my hard-earned muscle on the altar of marathon training.

Another SUPER important facet to all of this is hormonal health -- which, unfortunately, seems to be one of those things to which I’m more sensitive than some other women. During the past 18 months of intermittent cutting, my body has shown me repeatedly that it haaaaaates being in an energy deficit (and that it will respond to this by promptly grinding my reproductive cycle to a halt for MONTHS). And while I don’t necessarily love everything about the monthly cycle, it’s an inescapable fact that estrogen is one of the best defenses I have against all this repetitive pounding on my feet. As I mentioned, I already have a history of two prior metatarsal stress fractures, both sustained during marathon training -- therefore, I absolutely need my biochemistry to hang in there this time around!

At any rate, in hindsight, I’ve been playing this RP game long enough now that I felt pretty stupid for not recognizing the ‘deficit phenomenon’ sooner. Once the light bulb came on, I started increasing calories, mostly carbs (amid a lot of jokes about my need for ‘supplemental frozen yogurt’); this immediately made performance feel much better and got my run paces back to the range where they needed to be. I’ve learned that 200g carbs seems to be the absolute minimum on a training day (and on most days it’s significantly more!), and that even on rest days I need a few more carbs (for recovery purposes) than my templates officially prescribe. However, it eventually turned out that in order to truly stabilize my weight (and to stop waking up hungry at two o’clock in the morning!), I ultimately had to slightly increase my training day fats as well. As we got deeper into the training plan and my sessions got longer, I also had to tweak my pre- and intra-workout strategies to figure out how best to fuel for a longer time duration (it’s not unusual nowadays for my Friday gym workouts to take over three hours -- meaning my regular fruit juice and whey shake alone simply isn’t sufficient) and/or what types of things I prefer to carry and consume while I’m out running. (On the plus side, my iron gut serves me well here; many runners suffer GI distress related to intra-workout nutrition, but it turns out there’s not a whole lot that I can’t tolerate!)

I’m definitely still tweaking and refining -- it (unfortunately!) isn’t as easy as just stuffing my face round the clock, because GAINING weight right now obviously wouldn’t be ideal either -- but I’m learning a ton, and, equally important, am also learning how to relax a little. My modus operandi for just about everything in life is that I tend to dive in at 120% enthusiasm, then have to slowly work my way back to a place of more moderation, and RP has been no exception. But this endurance training cycle has really forced me to try some different things as well as be a bit less rigid in general -- i.e. more willing to eat ‘combination’ foods (that don’t fall squarely into one macro category), and even to dine out in restaurants once a week or so. (Exhibit A: the best free meal I’ve had recently was a fried green tomato biscuit from Rise, when I did my long ten-mile run on a Sunday morning and then met up with two other runner friends for breakfast. LOOK AT THAT HEALTHY BALANCED RP MAINTENANCE LIFE. :)) Additionally, the necessity of (on many Sundays) fitting a homemade high-carb meal in between an early-AM long run and a full day of work means I’ve also learned how to make certain things in such a way that I actually enjoy them just as much as (or even more than!) the restaurant versions. For example, Aldi’s frozen sushi is surprisingly awesome, a home-assembled burrito bowl is totally on par with Chipotle, and (for me) a flatbread pizza in the toaster oven really does satisfy a pizza craving. I’m reaching the point where (MOST) food just isn’t really that exciting anymore -- which is actually a pretty great (mentally healthy) place to be.

Unintentional weight loss is one of those things that sounds like a #firstworldproblem to a lot of people -- and in another scenario, I can see how it could be! -- but honestly, I’m grateful to have experienced this ‘problem’, because the necessity of tackling it has been a pretty big eye-opener. This whole process has required a new level of intuition -- less straightforward following of a numerical macro chart, and more paying attention to my body’s physical, mental, and emotional cues. If I’m feeling ridiculously tired and depleted after a long workout (even if I don’t feel obviously ‘hungry’), or if I’m noticing that my hand ‘wants’ to flash out and grab the frozen yogurt when I open the freezer, then I probably need more carbs. If I wake up hungry at 2:00am, I probably didn’t eat enough fat that day. And, when eating foods I didn’t ‘plan’ for, it’s been validating to see that what often feels to me like a ‘crackout’ is usually just my body trying to maintain homeostasis. During the first few weeks of trying to sort through all this ‘data’, there were several occasions where I ate a larger-than-normal amount of something (usually the better part of a pint of frozen yogurt...) that I didn’t necessarily ‘plan’ to have. Each time, I fretted guiltily for a few minutes -- then did the actual macro/calorie math in the context of that morning’s workout and realized that my body had done EXACTLY what it was supposed to do, almost to the point of being eerie (as in, I worked for X minutes longer than last week, and today’s calories worked out to be X amount higher than last week -- without any intentional effort on my part to make it so. Biology is pretty neat). On some level, I do still ‘expect’ myself to self-sabotage -- and maybe always will expect that to some degree -- but these past couple months have reinforced to me yet again that my body truly does ‘know what it needs’ most of the time, and that I can actually ‘trust myself’ on a gut level a lot more than I tend to believe I can on a cerebral level.

What’s Next

We’re not quite tapering yet, but getting close. Tomorrow is my peak-length metcon -- by my reckoning, that portion alone is going to take about 95-100 minutes (!). But after tomorrow, Fridays will get somewhat shorter; the metcon portion will probably only take 20-30 minutes or so for the remainder of this cycle (and I’m laughing out loud at the fact that that genuinely sounds like a SHORT metcon to me now!). My long runs on Sundays will continue to build for another 3-4 weeks; the programming is written in ‘minutes’, not miles, and we lost some time because of the foot injury, but my rough calculations would suggest that I’ll make it to about 14-15 miles (on October 21st) before the two-week taper. (Which, yeah, is a bit shorter than ideal, but as I said above -- better 15 and healthy than 20 and broken.)

November 4th is the big day. I’m so, so ready to be done with this training, yet (I’ll admit) am also getting something of a ‘second wind’ mentally now that the end is finally in sight. And while I have no plans to ever (EVER) do another marathon after this one, I’m also not so jaded that I can’t recognize how very grateful I’ll be, come race morning, for all the blood, tears, and sweat (SO MUCH SWEAT) that I’m putting in right now.

In 38 days (38 days!), this will all be worth it.

[amsrober02-blog]

Sometimes You have to just Walk Through the Fire

It’s 3:00 in the afternoon. You had the most amazing day. You got a raise, you ate lunch with your best friend, you have a vacation planned next month, and the calendar this weekend is clear which means you get to do whatever you want. Then your phone rings. “Hi there, can you talk? This is your doctor. I don’t have good news.”

It’s crazy how quickly life can change. I’ve been reading a lot on grief and I feel like this lady totally gets it. She is a psychologist herself, but she admits that she didn’t truly understand grief until her partner died in a tragic drowning accident. It wasn’t until she experienced her own grief that she understood what a load of crap she had been giving to her patients.

As she walked through her own grief journey, she realized that grief wasn’t something that she could conquer or get over. There was no 6 step process (like all the counselors and psychologists like to tell you that there are) that would wrap her sadness up with a pretty bow and end things with a happily ever after. No. Grief, she found, was something that she would have to walk through for the rest of her life. There would be times that she could hardly breathe, but there would also be times that she would be able to tolerate life without her other half. Grief was something that she learned that she would need to be completely honest and transparent with others about in order to begin to heal because when she was stripped down to what she was really going through and really feeling, she would find that she wasn’t alone. True companionship is the beauty that comes from real grief.

I find myself relating to her. During my interview the other day, they asked me and my team to re-enact certain parts of my treatment. This proved very difficult to walk back through those dark days. We coped a lot with humor as we tried to make it through such a tragic time in our lives. At the end, I found the videographers saying something about, “Now why don’t we wrap this up by telling the good news?” I looked at my oncologist confused. I mean, there has been a lot of good news, but there is also a lot of bad. What did they want to hear? Well, what they wanted to hear and what the world wants to hear is that I’m ok and will be ok because that feels good. It doesn’t hurt as bad to see tragedy when it ends with a happily ever after. It’s easier to process and easier to accept that way. So we performed this scene where he told me about a good day and I gave a smile, but behind that smile were tears because he and I both knew that this wasn’t the end. There is no end. This is the rest of my life.

Having cancer has been a rollercoaster. In fact, I’m living on one of those hills right now. I just found out that my tumor markers are not coming down and there may be something wrong. On top of it, my upcoming surgery to reverse my colostomy is potentially canceled due to this. We need to find out why this is happening, so a PET scan is coming up next week to figure out what is going on. The past several months have been amazing. I have had the best time just living close to a normal life. Things that many others don’t appreciate like- having an appetite, enjoying days with enough energy to run my kids around, being able to cook dinner for my family, and going out on 8 pm Target runs with my daughter have brought me so much joy. I haven’t forgotten what it felt like to feel completely useless and sick as I laid on the couch with poison flowing through my veins just so I could have a chance at life- only for it to come back and bite me again.

I haven’t forgotten the nausea, the weight loss, the hair loss, and the sad looks from others as they watched me fall apart. I haven’t forgotten the depression and fear that my family has had to endure because of what cancer does to a person. I haven’t forgotten how scary it is to wonder if I’m going to be too sick to keep my health insurance. I haven’t forgotten how evil satan is and how he is just waiting at the bottom of every hill to take me back up so that I can fall again.

Cancer sucks. I don’t know if it’s back or if it’s something else, but I’m so tired of the up and down. You ever go to an amusement park as an adult? All of a sudden those rollercoasters aren’t something that you can ride anymore without feeling like you’re going to puke or die at some point. You can handle a few rides, but after awhile, your body and your brain say no more. I can’t take one more thing.

Grief comes in many forms- death, job loss, depression, a bad diagnosis- the list goes on. I’m not ok today and you may not be either. And that’s ok. Sometimes we have to walk through fire. It hurts and burns part of us so that we are never the same. If we can find beauty in that, then that is when we can begin to heal.

[dejinyucu]

2017 summary!

Hi, I’ve been busy :’) Here’s the 2017 compilation with my fav personal art I did each month :) ...which is mostly just a bunch of Tales of Zestiria and NieR:Automata stuff xD I’m happy I managed to have personal stuff each month this year! 2016 was mostly work and more work until I said screw it and ... stopped working “Orz. I’m tempted to do my fav work or project piece of every month, but I already spent enough time on this one x’D

Art goals for 2018:

FINISH MY PROJECTS, DAMMIT. Do more traditional art on my free time. >> 2016 compilation <<

Month-to-month insight and personal life musings about the year under the cut. Warning: It’s long, and everything is pretty much a bummer, so if you’re feeling bummed yourself, it’s be a better idea to go watch puppy videos than to read this xD

I did count the number of files from procrastidoodles, finished pieces, project stuff and paid work/commissions I had for each month saved on my computer and excluded the duplicates. They painted a pretty good picture of my mood and my mental state along the year, I think. I drew 240+ procrastidoodles this year! (again mostly Zesty and NieR lol) Most of them were done while burned out, during months after I tried to get a lot of work done :’) I spam most of them on my twitter nowadays. I keep forgetting to upload stuff over here and for that I apologize “Orz. January was a very productive month for me in general, while February was a burned out month (lots of procrastidoodling, very little of anything else... including work.) I was still obsessed with Zesty during Jan/Feb.The anime iirc was still airing back then and I was still trying to be sociable in the fandom. March started my descent into NieR:Automata hell xD It was also another “try to get a ton of shit done!” month, because NaNoRenO; I had a death wish and decided I could handle paid work and THREE personal projects at the same time. Ha. Hahahaha. =_= (spoiler: that didn’t work.)

April was the heavy burnout month after that. Actually I didn’t do that much procrastidoodling this month and I was in general pretty dead... idk how I managed to get 2 finished pieces done at all O_o; Maybe my procrastidoodling energy was channeled into them somehow...? May was when I threw the towel, decided to take a full break from work and projects, opened commissions and just did whatever I wanted. The Soremiku piece I picked for May was a collab with @alassetasartir​, she did the lines and I did the coloring ^^ June was apparently watercolor month! Also very procrastidoodling-intensive. July and August where... bad. I did pretty much nothing and barely got out of bed to exist (I did 7 things in August. 7. In total. Across all my categories. “Orz). I did work on the Amusement park piece in July-August and that’s my favorite thing I did in 2017, though! And by the end of August, I moved to a new apartment! Where I FINALLY GOT A 2ND ROOM AND COULD HAVE A DESK ALL FOR MYSELF AND MY STUFF WITHOUT HAVING TO SHARE IT WITH THE BF!! ;O; I wanted that for 5 years, 5 YEARS!!! *wipes a happy tear*

September and October were “catching up with the work I’ve neglected this year” months. I didn’t get much done in terms of personal things, though, because... work.

November was WORK OR DIE. I did *a lot* of stuff. A lot. I churned out stuff for projects and work like woah. And personal stuff was close to 0. I have only 4 doodles saved from November on my folders, though I may have a couple more on twitter? I tend to screenshot my doodles, post them and not save them ^^; And December has been a summer-hot, slow, short mess of a month; I suspect burnout, bc I can barely draw shit right now... or do anything else, for that matter “Orz. I seriously need to buy an industrial fan for that awfully hot computer room or I won’t survive January =_=; (in case you don;t know, I live on the southern hemisphere, it’s summer here and it’s awful)   As for art, I feel like I improved this year. I’m happy with with what I’ve been able to do and with what I’m able to do when I work hard! I managed to do personal stuff each month, even if it was mostly procrastidoodling, but still! :D I even did finished pieces almost once a month :) And I keep repeating it, but I’m extremely proud of my amusement park piece <3 <3 <3 ...But I’m also upset with how inconsistent I’ve been and still am when it comes to balancing all the shit I have to do and want to do ): Being productive, then burned out, then productive then burned out again has been my jam this year and it hasn’t been healthy at all “Orz.

As for life, it was... bleh. While 2016 was like a rollercoaster, with a lot of high-highs and crashing down lows, 2017 was just a looooong low ride. I went from the social online person I had become in previous years to slowly being a hermit again because I managed to screw things up with some people while I was also, once again, pretty overwhelmed with everything I had on my plate. The depression and debt I was dragging from 2016 plus the burnout cycle kept doing their thing on my mental health, and losing friends and getting dumped didn’t really help; yay bad timing :/ (I deserved being dumped, though; I was neglectful af and bad at communicating, so even if it was understandable bc my mental health was pretty crappy during late 2016-early 2017, it’s not an excuse.) I ended up with a lot of “what’s the point of getting out of bed today” days by the middle of the year. Moving to a new apartment with the BF helped improve a lot of things, though, and for that I’m very grateful! Also having a dog helps a lot, I may feel like a waste of space that can barely exist, but my dog needs to go outside for potty at least twice a day :’D Since then, I’ve been working towards a more balanced life, with more successes than failures, but still not quite there yet. I still have a few days peppered here and there where I feel heavy and sad and unable to get out of bed and I barely eat... but I try to not dwell on them for too long (speaking of which, I should shower and attempt to exist today... “Orz). When I look back and think of the highlights of this year, it’s all stuff that happened to other people around me.  I just... kept struggling with my bad choices and poor mental health to pay the bills, pay my debts and don’t disappoint ppl. But such is life for a lot of folks, isn’t it? So let’s say... the positive highlights of this year were the new apartment and NieR:Automata xD Also @yunalescasakura​ , she’s been a sweetheart this year to me and I don’t deserve her. I believe everything will be better once I manage to finish my project stuff (450+ unpaid hours to go... :’DDD) and I can’t wait for the day that I’m finally free from that to start a new chapter. By this time next year I should be done with projects and will be able to get a better balance!! I JUST HAVE TO ENDURE ONE MORE YEAR!! >_</ What I’m looking forward in 2018, besides finishing all my shit, is to buy a pen display! I’ve been saving slowly for one! I can’t afford a Cintiq, but I’m eyeing an xp-pen 15.6 *v* I also want to try to do traditional art once a week, probably during the weekend... I seriously need a break from drawing on the computer all day, and watercolors and colored pencils relax me so much... I want to buy a good webcam eventually to livestream/record speedpaint videos of it, because I love watching videos of people doing traditional art, haha ^^; Hopefully, in 2018 there will be a couple of Visual Novels released with my art, not counting my own stuff. I’ll also be resuming work on CDC: SideB as a hired artist this time around, since I can’t find the time at all to work on it otherwise. I sincerely hope I’ll be able to find mental space to be sociable in 2018 again, I hate being a hermit “Orz. That’s my goal for 2018: Find balance, kill the burnout cycle and be sociable again!

If you managed to read all of this, thank you. Thanks for being around, thanks for the nice messages that some of you somehow still send me even when I’m barely around anymore. I hope in 2018 I can give back to you all a lot more than I was able to this year. May the new year in ahead of us be full of nice things for everyone!