#was planning on buying fresh bread in the morning and now I can’t decide whether to still buy it as a treat or whether to lay in as a treat

[buyingaradspaceship]

had a panic attack on the bus and I’m still sad and tired and it’s been three hours. idk why this one took more out of me. just :(

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian fic “Always and Forever” Chapter 3

Summary: After the death of their daughter Grace, Kurt and Sebastian drift apart. Kurt wraps himself up in his grief so tightly he starts to push Sebastian away, and Sebastian, feeling himself shoved aside when he needs Kurt most, cheats. They make the decision to start over, to leave New York City and their pain behind, and start over again in a house Upstate. Sebastian buys Kurt a "fixer upper" and gives him free reign. While redecorating the room that will be his studio, Kurt comes across something interesting underneath the wallpaper. It starts to become an obsession for Kurt - an obsession that begins to replace Kurt's love for his husband, which Sebastian is holding on to by a thread. Can Kurt and Sebastian break through the pain and the hurt and find a way to fall in love again?

Read on AO3.

Chapter 3 (4753 words)

Kurt stares out his studio window at the neighborhood below. It’s 10:15 a.m. and a Tuesday, so it isn’t as if the place is teeming with activity. Everyone living on Colony Lane seems content to stick to their own spaces, abide by their own schedules, and go about their lives without much interference from the world outside.

Kurt hates to hand it to Sebastian, but that’s what he wants as well. Isolation in a quaint fixer-upper is precisely what he needs.

Another point for Sebastian. 

Damn. 

He seems to be racking them up lately, while Kurt…

Kurt can admit that he’s not trying as hard as he should be, but he’s giving himself permission to be selfish. There shouldn’t be a timetable for bouncing back from loss, and Kurt got the double-whammy. 

Sebastian gave him betrayal to get over, too. 

Kurt knows that he should deem repairing his marriage a priority, but he also needs to do what’s right for him. 

He hasn’t figured out what that is yet, but it'll come to him.

Underlying childhood guilt has him believing that he should introduce himself to the neighbors. Etiquette and all that. It’s what his mother would do. Every time his family moved, and there had been a handful of times, Kurt’s mother would bake a batch of cookies for the neighbors. She'd put a baker's dozen into colorful cellophane bags, tie the tops with curled ribbon, and take them door to door to say hello. She wouldn’t wait for people to show up on their doorstep with a casserole and a smile. She believed in being proactive. She would tell him, “New neighborhood, new life. Go out and be a part of it.”

But Kurt doesn’t want to, and the neighbors seem fine with that. 

It’s been three days, and Kurt and Sebastian have only gotten one visitor – the technician who came to fix the heating. Of course, the neighbors could be waiting for them to get settled. Then they’ll pounce over with perfectly iced Gingerbread Bundt cakes and Chicken Kievs, church invites, and Girl Scout cookie order forms, like a swarm of Stepford Wives. 

Kurt doesn’t care about being proactive, and his mother isn’t around to scold him for behaving like a hermit. 

That may sound harsh, but it's true. 

The clouds pulling together in the sky overhead, threatening rain, give Kurt an excuse to shut himself away and work on the house - an excuse he can ply without the assistance of a tragic backstory. With his laptop open on the floor in front of him, he browses those websites that feed his design fetishes: Ethan Allen, Neiman Marcus, Anthropologie. 

But he's not the least bit inspired. 

He’d decided to start small, take things room by room instead of attacking everything at once. But he gets stumped, staring at the screen in front of him, unsure whether the chair he’s been mulling over for the past half hour is gorgeous or gaudy. 

He should focus on bringing the living room together since it’s where they do the bulk of their entertaining, provided they ever start entertaining again. And he should do something about the master bedroom, which, for the moment, houses a bed, a TV, and a dresser within the confines of four ashy walls. 

Opinions on the topic vary, but Kurt has always felt that the bedrooms are the heart of the home. They’re sanctuaries where dreaming, planning, and affirmation happen. He only has the one to worry about, so he should put extra effort into making it comforting, relaxing, sensual on the off chance he ever plans on touching his husband again.

The jury is still out on that one, unfortunately. 

The kitchen, he’s not looking forward to decorating. Aside from his studio, he and Grace spent much of their time together in the kitchen. They baked daily: cakes, cookies, bread, and anything else they could slop onto a baking sheet and shove into the oven. They also made jam, pickled fruit, and taught themselves (using YouTube videos mainly) to prepare various types of cuisine. Some were a hit, others a miss, but it was always an adventure. 

Kurt had done something similar with his mother and her collection of vintage cookbooks, congregating around the kitchen island in the afternoons to shed the angst of public school, and spread the wings of his stifled creativity. He and his mother discussed everything in the kitchen while sifting flour and creaming butter. It was a tradition he had so looked forward to continuing. 

Now, he’d rather not be bothered going into the kitchen again.

He could pick a page out of the IKEA catalog and recreate it. That should offend him. It did when Sebastian suggested it the first time Kurt redecorated their penthouse. But Kurt hardly cares. It doesn’t matter as much as it did. He can’t remember the last time he stepped into the kitchen and prepared anything more elaborate than toast and coffee, maybe dry scrambled eggs. Sebastian took over cooking duties after Grace died, which, nine times out of ten, means ordering out, if for no other reason than he gets to leave the house to pick up the food.

He knows Kurt appreciates the time alone more than he does a home-cooked meal.

Then there’s Sebastian’s office, which Kurt is decorating for the first time. He has tried to start a shopping cart for it numerous times, but, unlike the windfall of ideas he had for his studio, he can’t get into a groove. He remembers a time when thinking about decorating Sebastian’s office put a hundred ideas into his head. 

Currently, he has only one.

The cheap, vomit-worthy, knock-off furnishings of the no-tell hotel room he pictures whenever he thinks of Sebastian sleeping with another man. 

Kurt shivers in disgust. He wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy. 

The room or the infidelity.

But how would Sebastian react if Kurt decorated his office to look like the business suite at the Marriott?

Kurt snickers, envisioning the sitcom-worthy shock that would erupt on Sebastian's face if he presented that to him.

"As you can see," Kurt would say, strolling through the room with his head held high atop the straightest spine pettiness can deliver, "I have chosen the most flame-retardant carpet available in subtle hues of tan and beige, a color combination well suited for concealing cum stains. This ergonomic, curved leather loveseat, for when you want to get adventurous with your afternoon romps, which, at your age, requires plenty of lumbar support. Plus, it cleans up in a snap with just a Clorox wipe, so that's a useful feature. Faux fireplace, faux aquarium, faux chandelier... are we sensing a theme? And in the corner, I've provided you a foldout of your own, for when you bring... ahem... work home."

The grin on Kurt's lips slides when Sebastian, wearing a gutted expression, pops to mind. It's an expression that Kurt didn't believe possible for Sebastian till their daughter died. He's only seen it once. He doesn't want to bring it back.

He sighs. 

Revenge-dreaming isn't helping. 

It isn't as satisfying as he thought it would be.

He’s not breaking through his creative block anytime soon. He puts his plans for the other rooms on the back burner and decides to spend time picking out furniture for his studio. With the exception of his sewing machines, he didn’t bring anything from his penthouse studio here, so he’s starting over fresh. He switches tabs and starts filling his online shopping cart with the basics: a new drafting table, a cabinet, a chair he’ll have to custom-upholster, a bolt of drapery fabric he can repurpose to make a bedspread (if he goes through with his plans for a foldout), and a few other miscellaneous odds and ends, nothing worth wasting too much brain-power over.

The clunk-clunk of Sebastian stacking cans in the kitchen cabinets reaches Kurt upstairs, as does the water running in the sink while he washes dishes and the squeak of the sticky pantry door when he fixes it. Kurt plans on redoing the kitchen and giving the entire room a facelift. Sebastian knows that. But repairing the door gives Sebastian something to do.

Sebastian has been considerate enough to let Kurt do his thing undisturbed for the morning. Kurt’s reluctance to talk to anyone extends to Sebastian, which Sebastian understands. He’s keeping his distance. But it’s nice to hear him puttering around the house. It gives Kurt comfort, the same way listening to his father snore in the middle of the night helped Kurt feel less alone after his mother died.

He may want to be left alone, but it’s nice to know that he’s not alone.

Especially not today.

Today did not start out good for Kurt.

Kurt woke up later than he’d intended, and when he did, he couldn’t remember where he was. Sebastian had woken up and gotten out of bed hours earlier, leaving Kurt alone to sleep in. Kurt climbed out of bed and wandered around frightened, hands crawling along the walls, searching for something familiar. Footsteps passed somewhere underneath him, and he froze. He didn’t want to venture downstairs because he didn’t know who could be there. Maybe someone had broken in, or worse - this was somebody else’s house, and Kurt was the intruder. 

His heart raced. He started hyperventilating. He went from room to room, trying to figure out where he was and why he was there. It wasn’t until the second time he went into his studio that he began to remember. He saw his bag on the floor and, beside it, his sketchbook. He remembered sitting in there the day before, making plans. He remembered the wood grain of the floor, the dusty glass, the tree outside, the wallpaper, and that ripped corner by the window, which Kurt refuses to acknowledge any more than he has to.

He feels it behind him, like the sun on his back, trying to get him to turn his face to it, but he refuses. Of all the things he needs to deal with, that ripped corner and the word beneath it don’t make the list. It isn't doing the palpitations in his chest any favors.

It confuses him. 

It angers him. 

It saddens him.

It makes him consider what could have been, forces him to face everything he's lost. He didn't succeed in running away from his problems. He ran headlong into brand new ones.

But this is his house. He has to get used to it.

These episodes aren’t uncommon. They crop up whenever Kurt needs to adapt to change. They’re unexpected, like mines in fields he discovers he’s been running through when a second ago he was picking flowers in the park or strolling down the street.

It's their unpredictability that is the true torture. 

They show up even on his good days.

His life for the last ten years revolved around his daughter. When she was a baby, he adjusted his work schedule to match her sleep schedule. They had the money to afford the best nurses in New York, but Kurt didn’t want that. He didn’t want his daughter raised by a governess. He was as hands-on a parent as there ever was. 

As Grace grew, her schedule changed, and Kurt adjusted: daycare, Gymboree, kindergarten, ballet, elementary school. He dropped her off in the mornings, then picked her up in the afternoons. They spent the rest of the day going over her homework until it was time to make dinner, which they did together. 

That was the great thing about being a designer and freelance editor. Kurt could work from anywhere, and, aside from doing consultations at Vogue, he could work any time. 

When Grace became sick, her doctor visits and her medication regimen dictated Kurt's schedule, then her chemo.

Towards the end, there was only one item written in Kurt’s schedule - lie beside his daughter in her bed, holding on to her for dear life. 

And not just her life.

His, too.

In sickness and in health, Grace kept Kurt’s life regulated. 

Things flipped drastically when she died. 

He felt adrift. Detached from the life he had gotten used to, he didn’t know what to latch on to. His internal clock would wake him up at six to get Grace ready for the day, only to find himself walking into a vacant bedroom. At the supermarket, he would grab her favorite cereal out of habit and put it in his cart, even though it wasn’t on the list. He would jolt when he'd come across a song he thought she’d like or saw an advertisement for a movie he thought she’d enjoy. 

He has yet to stop the automatic deposits from his bank account to hers, her weekly allowance piling up on top of birthday and Christmas money. She had earmarked it for college (her decision, not his). Now it waits to be donated to the children’s hospital that took such incredible care of her. He doesn’t have the heart to empty it. She was so proud of it.

He doesn’t know what it will do to him to see the balance at zero.

But the worst moment of all, the absolute worst, was when he tried to go back to work right after they lost her. 

There are many moments after Grace’s death, during Kurt’s own struggle for acceptance, that blur together, but this one he remembers so vividly, it brings a lump to his throat and tears to his eyes. 

He was in the middle of a brainstorming session with his team. His boss Isabelle was there. She had dropped by with a box of cronuts and a grande nonfat mocha. Kurt hadn’t been eating. Everyone could tell. But Kurt overlooked the signs – the sharper than normal angle to his cheekbones and chin, his collarbone that showed through his skin a little too much, his hands that never stopped shaking. He had waved the food away when she offered. 

An hour later, he was on his third one.

The tension of his presence in the office so soon after his daughter’s death slowly dissipated, making way for the familiar, though attenuated, back and forth banter he had so missed. Without knowing it, he was paving the way for a potential comeback. He wouldn’t have a line up for a while, and he would need to keep an eye on fashion trends as they came and went in his absence. But this, this felt so natural, so normal, it almost seemed like it was. He got caught up in the rhythm of this impromptu jam session. He smiled, he laughed.

He felt alive again.

Somewhere in the middle of outlining a rough schedule, he glanced down at the time on his phone. Mid-sentence, he got up from his chair and walked over to get his coat off the hook by the door.

“Alright,” he said with a chuckle over Chase’s last clap back at a jab from his boyfriend Ian, “thanks for everything, you guys, but I’ve gotta run. We’ll talk about this more when I come in tomorrow.”

The room went pin-drop silent. Kurt didn’t notice.

“Where are you going?” Isabelle asked, getting up from her seat on the corner of his desk and approaching, knowing that he would need her in a second, the way she always knew. Kurt has referred to Isabelle as his Fairy Godmother ever since he first walked into Vogue fresh out of high school and trying to find a foothold in the hectic Gulf Stream that is New York City. She became his pillar of support, a sympathetic ear, and a clear head whenever he needed one. She had thrown his bachelor party. Hers was the condo he stayed in the night before his wedding. She’d hosted Grace’s baby shower.

Also, Grace’s wake.

She didn’t have children of her own and didn't plan on it, but she loved Grace as much as anyone.

And hers was the shoulder Kurt cried on when he found out Sebastian had cheated. 

Kurt looked at her, confused, wondering why it was that everyone around him seemed to be holding their breath. “I just… have to go pick up Grace. From school. I’m going… I’m going to be late.”

Isabelle shook her head and put a hand on his. “Sweetie… ”

It took Kurt a second. 

Even after one person gasped and another sniffled, with Isabelle’s sorrowful eyes staring at him, begging him to remember so she wouldn’t have to say it, he didn’t catch on.

When he did, it hit him like an electric shock straight through his body, rendering his muscles useless, and he crumbled to the floor. Isabelle held him for over an hour in that spot until Sebastian arrived. Kurt didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to go to their empty penthouse and face the truth about his empty life. He wanted to stay at Vogue with Isabelle and live in that moment where everything was alright again for one shimmering second, even if it wasn’t real.

But he had to go. He had to leave with Sebastian, who had hurt him, back to his home, even if it killed him because even though he felt like his life was over, everything else continued on. People lived, and people died. The sun set in the evening, but in the morning, it would rise again.

He just didn’t want to be a part of it anymore. 

Not without his Grace.

He was cried out by the time Sebastian got him home. Sebastian undressed him, helped him with his cleaning and moisturizing routine, and then put him to bed. It was Friday evening when Kurt shut his eyes and went to sleep. He lived that horrible moment at his office over again a hundred times before he opened his eyes. And when he did, it was Sunday morning.

Like this morning, but to a greater extent, when these attacks happen, locked in his own brain, sifting through the pieces to find one big enough and sturdy enough to hold on to, Kurt loses time.

In a blink, hours go by, sometimes a day. He’ll climb in the shower in the morning, turn the water on hot, and by the time he realizes it’s cold, it’s close to noon. He has sat at the dining room table for breakfast, staring at a bowl of oatmeal, and when he found the will to pick up the spoon, the oatmeal was old and stiff, and it was dinner time. He’s gone to bed on Monday and stared at the black behind his eyelids till Wednesday. 

As far as Kurt knows, it’s only around lunchtime, but he glances at the clock in the corner of his screen to make sure. 

12:45.

He breathes a sigh of relief. He double-checks the date to make sure he has a reason to and sighs again.

Still Tuesday.

Kurt switches back to the IKEA tab he’d been laboring long but not hard on earlier. He looks at the shopping cart he’s been steadily filling, scrolls through his selections of personality bereft, assembly line furniture, and groans. This isn’t him. This house, this blank slate, should be an endless fount of motivation. 

But he's numb. 

Maybe he's rushing into this. He should give this house and the neighborhood time to grow on him before he sentences it to the mundane.

He needs a break. (Kurt Hummel need a break from shopping? Since when?) He flips to a new page in his sketchbook. For shits and giggles, he tries drawing a sketch for his husband’s office. He starts with the easy part – Sebastian’s desk. Sebastian didn’t leave that in the penthouse, so Kurt will make it the linchpin and design around it.

Things flow surprisingly easily from there once he gets started, with a pencil in his hand writing on paper instead of working on a screen: an ornamental rug, a matching leather chair, burgundy velvet curtains, a chainmail style Tiffany desk lamp, 1930s art deco décor with a soupcon of Persian flair. But he doesn’t want the room to be too dark. No. Kurt wants nothing in their house to be dark. He adds a Salento chandelier over the open portion of the room and a sweep of color – one wall, opposite a window, a lighter shade than the rest. He doesn’t know what Sebastian’s office looks like, but there has to be a wall in there that will fit the bill. 

An enamel and copper vase, a Khatam inlaid photo frame, a few Negar Gari…

Kurt stops.

Would Sebastian want that? The softer elements countering the strict lines of the art deco pieces, what could be described as feminine influences, are Kurt’s signature touch. But might Sebastian prefer the art deco without Kurt’s fingerprints all over it? Isn’t that what Sebastian meant by Kurt being heavy-handed with the pastels? 

Back in high school, Kurt had decorated his bedroom so that he and his stepbrother could share it. He'd skipped school so he could complete it in one day. He’d worked hard on it, trying to fuse a masculine air with his theatrical influence. What he thought was an eclectic representation of the masculine and the feminine turned into a Moroccan-themed disaster.

The word his stepbrother chose to use at the time was faggy, but there were ulterior motives behind it.

Sebastian made jabs in high school about Kurt not wearing boy clothes, comments that adult Kurt recognizes as the teenage boy equivalent of pulling Kurt’s pigtails. But at the time, they stung. Sebastian wouldn’t have made those comments if there weren’t a grain of truth to them, would he? 

Sebastian has never retracted those statements, so as far as Kurt is concerned, they stand.

Kurt flips his pencil over and starts erasing. He’ll pare down the extras – trade the Tiffany lamp for a banker’s lamp, replace the rug with something more Brooks Brothers than Pier 1.

Maybe he should just opt for another IKEA recreation, but that feels like copping out, going back on his word. 

He could always ask Sebastian. He swears his husband has passed by a few times, his footsteps rising and falling outside his door, but Kurt didn’t think anything of it. He figures Sebastian is passing through on his way to get something from the bedroom that he needs downstairs. Kurt doesn’t imagine the man is pacing the hallway, even if he is, trying to find a way to tell Kurt that lunch is ready. Little things like lunch, innocuous things, have become huge divides over the past few months. With anyone else, Sebastian has a history of railroading over them, hurt feelings be damned.

But Sebastian has learned his lesson. He paid a hefty price learning it, too.

Contemplating between clearing his throat so that Kurt knows he’s there and letting another meal go cold, he sees Kurt’s head lift up. It seems like an opening. Whether or not it is, Sebastian takes it.

“Lunch is ready.”

“Mm-hmm,” Kurt mumbles, brushing eraser shavings aside.

“Are you… are you coming downstairs?”

Kurt erases again, then pencils something on a sheet of paper that Sebastian can’t see. “Hmm… mmm?” 

It sounds like a question and an answer, but since Kurt doesn’t follow it up with anything, it most likely means that Kurt will be skipping lunch… again. Sebastian knocks idly on the door frame, giving Kurt a second longer to tell him for sure.

“Alright.” Disappointed, he turns to leave. “I guess I’ll come back up at dinner then.”

Kurt doesn’t know why the thought returns when he wasn’t even thinking about it, why it decided to nag at his brain when he had been able to ignore it for this long, but that’s the way his brain works now. His thoughts don’t always travel straight paths. They twist and turn, taking one thing and linking it to something unrelated. Erasing the ideas he’d sketched out, removing every inch of himself from Sebastian’s office, made him think about how eager he was to be rid of that word darling from above the window, and that ripped corner returns to his mind with a vengeance.

Well, as long as Sebastian is there, he might as well ask.

“Sebastian?”

Sebastian pauses in the doorway, not daring to move. “Yes?” 

“When was the last time you were here?” Kurt raised an eyebrow at the idea when it originally came to him. When would Sebastian have come to this house that Kurt didn’t know? They traveled Upstate once a year, but they always did it together as a family. And while they were here, Sebastian rarely ventured out alone. Sebastian isn’t the kind of person who would buy a house sight unseen. 

Unless he had found it during one of his outings with Grace. Which would mean that Grace had seen the inside. 

Grace would have seen this room and thought it would be hers, thought that they would someday live here, and Sebastian hid that word darling by the window for her and not Kurt.

The thought is so painful, it makes Kurt want to tear his nails out with his teeth so he’ll stop thinking about it.

Sebastian keeps his eyes locked to Kurt’s profile so he won’t miss the moment Kurt decides to look at him instead of the floor, the wall, or the ceiling.

“I found this house online. It wasn’t even on the market when I stumbled on it. To be honest, I’d only driven by it once. I hadn’t been inside until we moved in.”

“But you saw the inside,” Kurt asks. “Otherwise, how would you know about this room?”

“I took a virtual tour,” Sebastian admits sheepishly, “but it was extremely thorough. I’ve seen the blueprints, gone over the permits and the zoning. I had Tristan from the office look over the place when he came up to visit his folks. He facetimed me while he was here.” Sebastian furrows his brow. “Why? Is something wrong?”

Kurt’s heart beats regular again. Grace hadn’t seen it. 

Thank God. 

His eyes find the torn section of wallpaper, but they don’t stay there. He doesn’t want to clue Sebastian in about it if Sebastian doesn’t already know. He wants to uncover this mystery on his own. If Sebastian gets to keep secrets, big ones at that, then Kurt wants this one for himself. 

“No, no. Nothing’s wrong. I was just curious, you know. Wanted to understand your process. Why this house, why this neighborhood, that sort of thing.”

Kurt’s sentence comes out choppy. It’s odd how awkward talking has become for them. Sebastian used to think that the two things they had mastered were talking and fucking. They did both together with such ease. There were never any boundaries between them, emotionally or physically. Even when they were cutting each other down, which they did in the beginning, they did so with such finesse.

Not like now, when Sebastian is walking on eggshells and Kurt doesn’t want to hear half of what he has to say.

“If you come down for lunch, we can talk about my process. If you’re curious, that is.” Sebastian watches Kurt expectantly, waiting for an answer. 

And while Sebastian does, Kurt looks at his sketch – Sebastian’s office, the same way Sebastian always has it decorated. This is Sebastian without him and Grace: bland and emotionless, no light, little color, and no joy. Nothing exciting, nothing nuanced, nothing to indicate that he and Sebastian are together.

Not even those snapshots he’s so proud of.

Kurt hasn’t decided whether that’s a bleak picture or not. 

“Sure. I’ll be down in a sec,” Kurt decides because he does and doesn’t have an answer to that one. It changes as the day changes, and the days change too quickly. 

“Alright. I’ll be waiting.” Sebastian walks away, or Kurt thinks he does. He checks the time on his clock. It’s closing in on 2. 

Kurt glances up at the window, the dangling wallpaper bouncing with the breeze coming from a draft near the ceiling. It would be so easy to tear it down – grab an edge and rip, be done with it once and for all. It might even feel cathartic, exposing whatever is underneath it. But lunch is ready. He’s already left Sebastian waiting long enough.

He leaves that mystery for another day.

[everlarkficexchange]

A Simple Choice

Written by: @justajjfan​​

Beta’d by: @sunsetsrmydreams​​

Prompt 83: Katniss is whipped instead of Gale in Catching Fire, Peeta’s the one who’s there to take care of her after. [submitted by anonymous].

Prompt 116: Peeta braids Katniss’ hair to soothe her. [submitted by anonymous] 

Rating: Mature 

Warning: Mention of whipping 

A/N: My plan is to post each chapter (7 in all) daily so thank you @everlarkficexchange​ ; @javistg​ and @xerxia31​ for always being so accommodating and generous with your time. A special thank you to my beta and bestie @sunsetsrmydreams​. 

~~~

Chapter 2

Dad and I make a great team working harmoniously alongside each other and it’s not hard to notice the difference in him in the short space of time. He seems less pressured and the warm smile I remembered as a small boy has returned. Whether in the kitchen or serving customers, I’ve realised just how connected I am to this place.

I delight in friendly conversation but avoid answering any questions relating to The Hunger Games which most of our customers respect. What I enjoy doing the most is preparing for the morning ahead and kneading fresh bread dough in the back room has become a tranquil sort of therapy for me.

In the mindless quiet, I can block everything out giving me time to sort the shiny stuff in my head until I’m left with what’s real. This might not be a proven method of mind-therapy, but it works for me most of the time by sifting through all my cluttered thoughts so I can make better decisions for me and my future.

And I need that now more than ever.

Mother, in her usual meddling ways was quick to invite the Cartwright family to dinner and insisted Delly and I go out for a walk alone to get to know each other. As it turned out, she’s good company and I enjoy having someone to talk to, although she does most of the talking herself.

Now we meet almost every evening.

Delly’s a nice girl, just like mother said and I know I need to start thinking about a lot of things especially my future, but she keeps hinting at speeding up our friendship and I don’t think committing myself to her in that way is something I’m ready for.

In the few weeks Delly and I have been seeing each other, things have moved rather quickly from our casual walks after dinner. She’s pretty and sweet but I’m only fooling myself into thinking I could ever let another claim my heart.

Each time our lips meet, I close my eyes tight and imagine it’s someone else I’m kissing. I feel awful but I just can’t stop imagining grey eyes and a dark braid.

I’ve tried talking to Delly, suggest we slow things down and just get to know each other as friends, but she makes a habit of changing the subject at the slightest hint.

Far from being pure and the shy girl my mother claims her to be, Delly has on more than one occasion, suggested we move up from chaste kisses under the moonlight to something more intimate. Her hands always seem to wander, telling me how good she can make me feel once I let go of my inhibitions. But each time she brushes her fingers against my belt buckle, I quickly step away and end the night abruptly with my ‘it’s getting late’ excuse and walk a very disappointed Delly home.

Any normal hot-blooded male would have easily jumped at the invitation and I can almost hear my brothers smart arse remarks telling me what an idiot I am and saying something crude like ‘try before you buy’ or ‘never look a gift horse in the mouth’, but I can’t bring myself to do that. I always imagined my first time would be meaningful, not just some frivolous teenage romp at the slag heap.

Maybe I am a complete idiot.

***

Hoping to gain some reprieve from the mounting list of questions in my head today, I busy myself by preparing the rest of the dry ingredients for another batch of baking but the unusual noise level coming from outside is becoming a distraction.

When I hear raised and panicked voices, I wipe my hands on my flour-dusted apron before covering everything on the bench with a clean cloth and head towards the shop front.

Walking through the swinging doors, curious to see what all the commotion is about, I see my parents peering out the shop front window speaking in hushed tones and so engrossed with what’s happening outside, they haven’t even noticed me entering the room.

“What’s going on out there?” I ask, and they both startle at my words.

Dad turns to me first, his face noticeably pale and pauses to swallow before speaking, “Jake Blacksmith came by a minute ago and he…umm…said Head Peacekeeper Thread has ordered everyone out to the square,” he answers, taking a quick glance towards my mother who stands stoically and uncharacteristically silent.

“Thread is claiming he caught a traitor trying to sneak back into the district to spy for the rebels. The punishment has been set at fifty lashes,” dad finishes with a harder swallow and a noticeable sheen of sweat covering his forehead.

The image of Thread using his whip to tear into flesh from the back of some poor citizen while everyone in Twelve is expected to bear witness to his cruel and barbaric form of corporal punishment, sends a cold shiver up my spine. 

Since he’s arrival, our new Head Peacekeeper was quick to impose strict laws forbidding practically everything his predecessor Harvey Cray conveniently overlooked…for a price. Now, anyone caught disobeying these laws usually find themselves tied to the newly-erected wooden post in the town square without trial or appeal and the punishment is always the same.

Being flogged within an inch of your life is Thread’s answer to law and order and the brute even insists on inflicting every lash on his unfortunate captives himself.

The first citizen of Twelve to feel the sting from the Head Peacekeeper’s cat o’ nine tails was Zed Palmer, a tailor with no male heirs to take over his business. That, along with severe arthritis in his hands meant he could no longer work to pay the hefty taxes now enforced and those who witnessed the flogging were grateful Zed was dead well before his fifty lashes was reached. Most disturbing was Thread not being satisfied until the last lash was counted.

I hope whoever this unfortunate citizen is, their suffering too will end long before the count to fifty is reached.

I move closer to the door and watch mother step out onto the street to join Delly and her parents who are in deep conversation while more people leave their shops and head towards the town square in hurried steps.

“A traitor?” I huff and shake my head in disbelief as I watch Merchants lock their shop front doors obeying Thread’s authoritarian command. “I doubt anyone in their right mind would want to come back if they had the chance at freedom,” I tell dad. “They should have kept running as far away from here and never looked back,” I add, expecting him to agree with me but he stares into the distance and offers nothing in response.

A moment of awkward silence falls between the two of us and the strange look on dad’s face gives me pause, but I let the weird feeling pass. As I turn to step back into the kitchen and carry on with my work, he speaks in an afterthought manner, “must’ve had a good reason to risk it all,” he says looking at me strangely, but I don’t say anything and give him a nod acknowledging his comment at least. Still, it doesn’t alter my way of thinking. If there was a choice between freedom or here…?

No…nothing would be worth it.

I take another glance outside at the passing townsfolk all walking in the same direction towards the town square like a herd of frightened sheep. But my attention is more centred on mother who stepped outside to speak with the Cartwrights and are conversing in lowered voices, sending the odd stare my way.

That cold shiver I was feeling earlier returns and it runs through me like ice.

I wave politely to the Cartwrights, but they ignore my friendly gesture and after a few brief seconds decide to join the rest of the Merchant population gathering in the town square.

What could be more horrid than being forced to witness a fellow citizen of Twelve…or anyone for that matter, whipped to a pulp?

I try to block the image from my thoughts. I’ve seen enough horrors to last me a lifetime and I’m a little disappointed Delly’s parents seem eager to join the growing crowd.

Delly gives me a half-smile as she continues to speak with my mother and the looks I’m receiving from them both increases my uneasiness.

I can’t shake this feeling of dread and turn back to dad who’s staring out in the distance, his facial expression looking lost. “Something isn’t right,” I mutter under my breath, and even though I spoke in a hushed tone, I know dad heard me.

“What is it you’re not telling me?” I ask, knowing if anyone is going to give me a truthful answer, it will be him. Dad’s straightens his back and shoulders almost immediately and when his eyes meet mine, his chin begins to tremble.

“Dad?” I ask, holding in a shaky breath.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, dad looks away from me and gives my question a moment’s pause before nodding, almost as though he’s giving himself permission to speak.

“Jake said Katniss disappeared with her family and the Hawthorne’s a couple of days ago and everyone thought they’d escaped to the woods to join up with the rebels, but she was caught trying to sneak back in this morning…alone. She’s tied to the whipping post. Fifty lashes.”

I stand dumbstruck. This can’t be true.

“No…Jake’s mistaken! He must’ve heard wrong!”

The curtains in Katniss’s room have been drawn for two days now and I haven’t heard her scream out in the night. I just assumed she and Gale—

I clear that image from my mind as I try to process everything in my head and look out to see my mother shouting at dad to shut up and what a worthless idiot he is while Delly stands in silence, watching me.

Over my mother’s angry and verbal abuse, dad continues to speak, “I wished to God he was wrong but Jake saw Katniss being dragged up on the wooden platform and I have no reason to doubt him. He’s a good, hard-working honest man and wouldn’t make something like this up.”

This I know to be true.

Dad reaches his hand to my shoulder, but I don’t feel the touch as the world around me starts to spin and I feel like I’m about to pass out. I’m so caught in a daze I don’t even know if I’m still breathing or if my heart is beating at this point. How I managed to step outside without tripping over my own feet is beyond me.

I need to get to her.

Delly breaks her silent stare and rushes towards me with a look of determination on her face and reaches her hand out to try and stop me, “she’s not worth risking your own life Peeta…think about us!” she pleads, and her words hit me like a ton of bricks.

Us?

Was it her intention to keep me from knowing what was happening to Katniss until it was all over? Is that what they were all trying to do? I can understand my mother wanting to keep me from rushing to Katniss…but Delly?

I brush past Delly ignoring her pleas to stop. I can’t even bring myself to look at her right now and only get a few steps away before mother is in front of me, grabbing a firm hold of my arm and blocking me from running to the square.

“Let go of me!” I say through gritted teeth, as anger starts to build up inside me.

“You’ll kill us all by drawing attention to yourself and for what? She’s nothing but Seam trash!” My blood boils and just like Delly’s words, I don’t let the venom spilling from mother’s mouth stop me from getting to Katniss.

Mother wouldn’t understand…nobody would. Despite everything, I made a promise to protect Katniss and I know she’d do the same for me.

“I forbid you to go! Your future is with Delly not that dirty whore in the square getting exactly what she deserves!” she yells but I yank my arm away from her tight grip.

“My future is not for you or anyone else to decide…it’s mine!” I shout defiantly.

“You’re a fool! She’s as good as dead already!” I hear mother yell as I run towards the square.

***

I silently curse my legs for failing to get me to the square any faster and when I finally reach the cobble-stoned ground, I’m feeling ragged and short of breath.

Crack!

Don’t let it be her! Don’t let it be her! I repeat those words over in my head as I try to catch my breath and refill my lungs with much needed air.

Crack!

I hurry my steps…breath be damned and as I approach the sea of faceless people both Seam and Merchant standing side by side to watch the sickening spectacle, I begin to push my way through.

Hands reach out to stop me and I hear their gasps and pleading whispers not to venture any further, but I need to see with my own eyes.

Crack!

I feel my blood drain from my body, but I continue to edge my way closer to the wooden platform and as I do, my legs begin to weaken as soon as I reach the first step. Climbing the next two seems like I’m moving in slow-motion and when my eyes lock on the gruesome sight before me, I cry out her name in a pathetic wail.

“Katniss!”

What has he done to you?

My heart plummets at the sight of her limp body, hanging like a piece of butchered meat. Her hands are bound together by a thick piece of rope tied to a large hook above her head. Katniss’ braid is messy and mattered with loose and bloodied strands of hair covering her bruised face and when my eyes look closer to her bare back, rage envelops and I almost lose what little is left of my self-control.

The shirt Katniss wore has been ripped in half exposing the upper part of her petite frame including her breasts for all to see. The raised marks and torn flesh from the countless number of lashes she’s already received, seeps with so much blood I swallow back the bile rising from my throat.

I was too late to save her.

My eyes well up from tears rolling down my cheeks and I gasp for breath between my uncontrollable sobs. I shut my eyes tight praying this is a horrible nightmare and I’ll wake up in my bed, walk the usual steps to my window and see her alive and pacing about in her bedroom. But when I open them again, there’s no mistake.

This nightmare is real.

I feel my legs start to buckle from beneath me and I slowly kneel to the ground to stop myself from falling. I don’t know how to fix this…what can I do? She shouldn’t be here. Dad said she ran away.

Why did she come back?

Endless questions whirl around my head consuming me along with the grief and the realisation I’ll have to live the rest of my worthless life knowing I failed in my promise to keep Katniss safe.

Loud voices bring me back to the now just in time to see Thread’s arm raised, poised and ready to inflict another lash to her lifeless body.

Even in my grief-stricken state, the feeling of deep loss and sorrow is overtaken by a sudden rush of strength and courage from within and it propels my body forward to block Thread and his whip from finding their mark.   

‘No!” I cry out. This Capitol brute will have to go through my dead body first before I let him touch her again.  

“Well, well, well…who do we have here?” Head Peacekeeper Thread remarks loudly and when I look up, I see him grinning with mutt-like eyes staring down at me.

“Looks like this traitor scum has a bedfellow eager to play white knight. She must have some hidden talents worth risking your life for,” he suggests crudely, wiping the sweat and blood from his face with the palm of his hands…Katniss’ blood.

The distinct sound of Peacekeepers heavy tread come barrelling towards me, then hands roughly try to pry me from where I lay clinging to Katniss.

“Can’t you see she’s dead!” I yell, shoving their hands away to stop them from breaking my protective hold over her body. “She’s been punished enough. What more do you want from her?” I shout to the point of hysteria, not caring if my question will be answered with a lash to my back or a bullet to my brain.

“It’s the other Victor, Peeta Mellark, sir,” a voice I recognise answers from behind me. My eyes dart slightly to the left and even through the darkened visor of his white peacekeeper’s helmet, I know it’s Darius Jackson, one of a dozen or so decent soldiers stationed here in Twelve, clearing his throat and standing at attention.

“He’s also the youngest son of the town baker, sir,” he adds.

Head Peacekeeper Thread storms over to Darius and barks out a chilling warning, “you speak one more time without my permission Corporal Jackson, and I will take great pleasure in cutting out your tongue and feeding it to the jabberjays. Do I make myself clear?” Thread emphasises loudly.

“Yessir!” Darius is quick to respond as he stands at attention.

“Now I don’t care who he is, get him off this platform! I’ll deal with the gallant knight once I’m done here,” Thread orders and Darius obeys, saluting him first before stepping towards me with his head lowered.

“He can help you keep count while he waits his turn,” Thread adds coldly, as he inspects the leather handle of is whip.

Keep count?

I have no idea how many lashes Katniss received before I got here and the thought of counting them down much less being forced to watch helplessly as Thread carries on with her punishment is more than I choose to bear.

I jostle with Darius and the other two peacekeepers who stepped forward to help him pull me away from her body. It takes all three peacekeepers to overpower me and pry my hands away forcing me to separate from Katniss.

Weakened by my struggles and overtaken by grief, they drag me away and all I can do is cry out and tell Katniss how sorry I wasn’t here to protect her and that I’ll always love her. Just as those words leave my lips she moves and moans in pain.

She’s alive!

“Stop! Please! I’ll take the rest of her punishment!” I scream, finding a new source of strength and scuffle myself free from the heavy-handed grips of the peacekeepers.

“Whatever you think she did…whatever the count, I volunteer to take them all. Just let her go!” I demand and as my words ring out, loud murmurs coming from the crowd distract Thread for a moment before turning his attention back to me.

“How very noble of you,” Thread snickers. “But your request is denied. This runaway whore was sent here by the rebels and she refuses to disclose her mission and the whereabouts of her leader’s hideout. Now move knight!” he commands, and when I don’t budge he raises his arm and I instinctively throw myself over Katniss to shield her and the pain is instant.

Crack!

The pointed leather straps strike my shoulder blade before I have a chance to brace myself for the blow. Even against the fabric of my shirt, the lash rips through the worn calico barrier as if it were made of paper. My skin underneath feels like I’ve been stung by a nest full of tracker jackers…but I don’t budge.

With clenched fists I try to ignore the painful stinging sensation and the warm, watery feeling that is probably my blood trickling down my shoulder and stay on top of Katniss’ body to block Thread from getting to her.

“She doesn’t know anything! She’s not a rebel spy!” I yell at the top of my voice, pleading with Thread to stop but when I hear the distinctive cocking of his pistol I know my desperate pleas are about to be silenced with a bullet.

“You’ve tried my patience long enough knight. Obstructing a Peacekeeper from carrying out his duty and interfering with a prisoner’s sentence is punishable by death and you are guilty as charged!” Thread bellows and the gasps and murmurs of discontent from the crowd grows louder.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” an all too familiar voice shouts out from amongst the crowd and I’ve never been happier to hear his gruff tone.

Daring to look, I see Haymitch with hands raised, step up to the platform and inch his way closer to me and Katniss. If he is disturbed by what he sees, he doesn’t show it and keeps his eyes pinned on the Head Peacekeeper.

It takes Thread a split second to shift his pistol from the direction of my head, to our mentor’s instead and I’m holding onto my breath in trepidation of what may happen next.

Katniss murmurs something then moans in pain from her bloodied wounds as she tries to move and my attention falls back on her. But all I can do is gently stroke the only place I know Thread’s lashes haven’t ravaged.

With shaking hands, I stroke her hair and push a few loose strands away from her face before bringing my lips to her ears to hush her, “shush…it’s going to be okay. I won’t let him touch you again,” I whisper, hoping she can hear me. My only focus now is calming her as best I can so I start to comb my fingers through her hair while silently praying Haymitch can get us out of this hellish mess.

“I don’t think President Snow is going be too pleased when he hears what you’ve done to one of his newest Victors,” he tells Thread who keeps his pistol aimed at Haymitch’s head.

“Stripping you of your command would be my first guess. I’ll let you do the math as to what my second guess would be?”

Whatever game Haymitch is playing at to set us free better work because right now, I’m not feeling confident as he stares down the barrel of Thread’s pistol.

The Head Peacekeeper lowers his weapon just long enough to grab Haymitch by his jacket, bringing his face so close to Haymitch and of all the things to cross my mind at this crucial point, I’m wondering if he can smell the alcohol on our mentor’s breath.

“My allegiance is to General Maximus Jackson and I answer only to him not that old fool in the Capitol,” Thread informs him, then shoves Haymitch back raising his pistol towards his head again.

Haymitch unperturbed, regains his footing and straightens his jacket, “oh, so Maxy Jackson is your boss? Well, it’s a small world after all,” he remarks flippantly.

“Your General and I are old drinking buddies and we go way…way back. I’m sure he won’t be too thrilled when he finds out you’ve whipped a Victor within an inch of her life,” he quips to Thread who glares at him with displeasure in his eyes.

“Now who do you suppose Maxy reports to…huh?” he pauses just long enough to take a breath and when Thread isn’t forthcoming with the obvious answer, Haymitch supplies it for him.

“I’m gonna take it you’re still working it out in your head but let me help you out here. President Coriolanus Snow…that’s who. He’s probably watching us from the Capitol. Eyes and ears everywhere you know,” he says, waving his hand randomly about the square.

Thread takes a quick look around the square then turns his attention back to our mentor, “my men caught her sneaking under the fence. She’s a rebel spy!” Thread yells but Haymitch is quick to respond to his preposterous accusation.

“Katniss Everdeen may be a lot of things but a rebel spy isn’t one of them! Everyone around here knows she hunts outside the perimeter for wild game…technically illegal yes, but she’s done so out of necessity to help feed her family. She sells whatever’s left at the hob, which you and your peacekeepers seem to have overlooked while enjoying the fruits of her labour with the fresh meat you buy to fill your own stomachs,” Haymitch reminds Thread, and I hear voices from the crowd bravely agreeing with our mentor.

“We all know you’re a smart man, but have you taken a moment to think what the consequences you alone as Head Peacekeeper will be expected to pay if you kill Snow’s Victors, not to mention how all this will impact on our mutual friend, the General? I think the best thing you can do for yourself right now is to let them both go and pray the girl doesn’t die from her injuries,” Haymitch strongly advises.

Silence fills the square as the crowd hold their collective breaths and wait for Thread to react and just when I think all hope is lost, Haymitch gives it one last-ditched effort to free us.

“The President had Cray removed…permanently, what makes you think he won’t do the same to you?”

The colour on Thread’s face turns a scorching red but he tries to remain unaffected by Haymitch’s comment. No matter who gave the order, Cray was relieved of his command the day Thread and the new troop of peacekeepers under his command drove into Twelve in their heavy-armoured combat vehicles.

Cray’s disappearance is a grim reminder of the absolute power President Snow holds over every citizen including his peacekeepers.

No one is safe…not even a Head Peacekeeper.

The silent tension is immediately broken when a peacekeeper rushes up to the platform, panting heavily and carrying a radio transmitter device. He salutes nervously first then informs Thread that General Jackson is on the other end wanting to speak with him without delay.

Thread snatches the device from the out-of-breath peacekeeper’s hand and strides to the corner of the wooden platform. Even from this short distance, his General’s voice can be heard shouting from the other end of the device. After a much one-sided conversation, it ends in less than a minute.

The order for everyone, including us to clear the square, is bellowed out before Thread marches off the platform and into his armoured vehicle where it speeds back towards the peacekeepers barracks.

I untied Katniss’ hands from the large hook the moment Thread finished barking out his order and when she flops into my arms and begins to whimper, my first thought is to cover her half-naked body with my apron which starts to blot with blood. 

There’s no time to waste and with Katniss safely in my arms, I start to make my way off the platform in long even strides. Haymitch is there to guide me carefully down the steps before we make our way through the gathered crowd who strangely offer me sympathetic looks as they move to the side giving me a clear path.

This in itself is a strange occurrence but I don’t have time to analyse. There are some things I want to ask Haymitch but before I get a chance to open my mouth, he’s in my ear.

“That sadistic bastard! Thankfully for us Thread’s not too bright,” Haymitch claims. “Now listen to me very carefully boy and don’t ask questions…there’s not much time,” he begins, looking cautiously over his shoulders.

“I could wring that hot-head Hawthorne’s neck. He knew sweetheart would never leave without—” he stops mid-sentence, clearing his throat. “Nevermind…none of that’s important right now,” he adds and although our mentor is talking in riddles, one thought sticks in the forefront of my mind.

If Gale Hawthorne was responsible for this in anyway and by some slim chance we cross paths in the near future…he’s a dead man.

“Take Katniss back to your house and stay there until I come for you both,” I go to protest, not exactly sure why I think it would be a bad idea, but Haymitch speaks again before I have a chance to utter a word.

“Don’t argue with me! Things are going to move quick from here on end, and I need you both ready and in the one place when all hell breaks loose. Just stay alert!” he emphasises strongly. “Your house is the safest place for both of you…no listening bugs there, I’ve made sure.”

Be ready; stay alert; no bugs; when what happens? I don’t have a clue what any of that means and maybe it’s best I don’t…for now.  

What little he does tell me, I already figured out for myself. Without Katniss’ healer mother and sister Primrose, who escaped along with the Hawthorne family, there’s isn’t anyone in Twelve qualified to attend to her wounds, but when Haymitch mentions sending someone he thinks could help, I’m quick to refuse the offer.

I won’t let a stranger near her.

“No! I’ll take care of Katniss myself,” I interject. “I know you have connections in the black-market, and I don’t mean Ripper. She’ll need the right kind of medicine and I’ll pay double whatever the going rate is…more if need be. Tell them to name their price and I’ll pay it! Just bring me everything you can lay your hands on, anything to fight infection and something strong for the pain,” I instruct with urgency as we make our way out of the square.

I may not be a healer, but I know the basics and keeping wounds clean is the first step to healing. That much I learnt from Katniss.

Haymitch taps me on the shoulder and I wince, my body reminding me of the single lash I received from Thread trying to protect Katniss.

“Keep your money boy. I’ll get you everything sweetheart needs and if she lives through this, it will be a bloody miracle,” he says before hurrying off, and the insides of my stomach twists with his response.

She has to live.

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 14

Happy Chronicles Update! I promise I'm still trucking along on this baby. I think?? We've also officially reached the halfway mark on this installment, which is kind of. Wow. That's WILD.

anyway, I hope you enjoy!

welcome to today’s episode of Luka’s Word to the Wise: whatever it is, it doesn’t have to be perfect. it just has to be good.

thanks, I.

Ivan is right. And technically, so is his Ma, who’s been telling him and Juleka this for as long as he can remember. But Luka will give them the gratification of saying I told you so when this is all over. Even though he could take a stab in the dark and guess that only one of them would take him up on that offer. And it wouldn’t be Ivan. And it wouldn’t be his Ma.

In between messaging back and forth with Bubbles over the next couple of days, Luka puts together a flyer. It’s not exactly the best—just something he threw together on one of those free graphic design websites, definitely nothing like a Gabriel billboard. But it’s punchy, and it fits the vibe, and it gets the overall message across. And more importantly, Juleka doesn’t give him The Look for it. In fact, she smiles over his shoulder when it’s done, and she rubs her fist in his hair, and she affectionately says, “Now can you chill?”

Luka only grins and throws her into a fireman’s carry for another round of ping-pong. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t know how to be totally chill any more.

They pool pocket money, leftovers from past paychecks, to put in an order for copies at the local print shop. Only Rose has ever been; she tells them she’s tagged along with a couple of old friends from an art club to print issues of the comic they’ve been working on together. It’s nice to see her take the lead, point out the best paper stocks and finishes and spot colors, whatever those are, based on what she’s overheard. It certainly beats the alternative: four barely-adults standing awkwardly at the counter, pretending they know what they’re doing.

Even if, according to Luka’s Ma, that’s most of what adulthood is, anyway.

They decide on something glossy because it makes the colors pop, and admittedly Luka has to thank his lucky, anxious stars for saving the file in every format imaginable because he wasn’t sure which one they’d need. Before he leaves them and heads to work on his bike, Juleka gives him another smile, and Ivan manages a single, subtle nod, and Rose’s eyes sparkle. And it’s starting to feel a little less like a thing he needs to do. It’s a thing he wants to do. With them.

And, well. Any bonuses are just that. Bonuses.

These days, Luka’s made it a point to bike past the bakery on his way to work, because if he’s as much of a regular as the Dupain-Cheng family claims, then he might as well act like it. To be fair, he doesn’t always stop in to talk or buy something; in fact, most times he doesn’t. maybe it’s some silly sense of hope that he’ll be seen. That Marinette really did talk to her parents about picking up an extra shift or two behind the counter. That there’s still room on the bulletin board for him—them. And most times, it is just Mrs. Cheng at the storefront, organizing displays or chatting with a friendly customer.

But sometimes it isn’t. Sometimes it is Marinette, idly staring at the window with what he can only assume is her sketchbook at her side and her apron tied around her waist. And sometimes, she looks up at him. And sometimes, she waves and smiles with all the warmth and none of the sweat of July.

That’s why he does it. For the sometimes.

The flyers, once they’re printed, are nothing short of gorgeous, but Luka can’t bring himself to take any of the credit for it. More than anything, he’s just happy to see his bandmates all in on this, even if he did jump in with both feet. Even if they do still rib him during practice about how he’s way too invested in this. (At least Mylène has only nice things to say. He’ll have to remember to order a few extra pastries just for her.)

They split the flyers into four stacks, because of course Mylène insists on helping and of course Rose and Juleka insist on going together. They run or pedal off in different directions once they’ve put a game plan together, and at least Luka can credit them for not teasing when he offers to take the third and fourth arrondissement. They all know it’s where the bakery is, in spite of how he talks up the Place des Vosges. They know, and they don’t have to say anything.

He’s still trying to figure out whether it’s a blessing or a curse to have your real-life friends on your social media accounts.

Even as he’s hanging the flyers in downtown coffee shops, in libraries, on signposts and public bulletin boards, Luka can’t stop staring. With every flyer he pins or tapes up, he finds something new to love about it. A splash of neon color in the top left corner. The jagged, cutting edges of the lettering. The blurred glow of a spotlight. Every time he looks, he gets the feeling that he’s already there. Music pounding in his ears, stage lights burning so bright and hot they make him sweat, fresh calluses on his fingertips that he’ll regret and adore later. He doesn’t think of stardom often, but he imagines this is something close to it.

At the very least, it’s what he would want to make of it.

It’s close to closing by the time Luka arrives at the bakery-patisserie; the usual lingering smells of fresh bread and sugary frosting and the easygoing music are both conspicuously absent when he walks in. But Mr. Dupain and Ms. Cheng are both missing from the storefront, and he has to double check the time on his phone to make sure he didn’t accidentally arrive too late, or that he’s not interrupting some closing routine. It shouldn’t take long; he spent almost the whole bike ride over rehearsing what he needed to say. He looks around cautiously, even clears his throat in case it gets someone’s attention.

It does. Marinette pops up from behind the counter with a squeak, and it startles him so much he nearly drops the stack of remaining flyers in his arms. And that would’ve been a pain in the ass as much as it would’ve been straight out of one of Rose’s cute romcoms for Marinette to round the counter and help him pick them up until their hands brushed over the same one.

Jesus. He really needs to get out of the house on his sister’s date nights.

He really needs to have a date night.

He also really needs to stop thinking about date nights when the person he’d actually consider a date night with is right in front of—

“Luka?”

He blinks to attention, standing awkwardly in the quiet. God, he really hopes he wasn’t staring at her when he zoned out like that. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

Marinette shrugs it off with an apologetic smile. “We’re fresh out of napoleons, you know,” she says casually, slipping past him to flip the sign on the door. “Guess you’ll just have to come first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, I guess I will—wait—” He shakes his head. “No, that’s not why I’m here.”

Marinette pauses at that. Even seems to stand a little taller, intrigued. Hopeful? “Oh…? Then why…  are you here?”

Meekly, Luka holds up one of the Kitty Section flyers and nods toward the bulletin board. Here’s hoping he—it— isn’t too much of a disappointment.

Marinette squints at the flyer for a second, and then her eyes widen and spark in delight. She looks… impressed, at least. which isn’t to say she’s never seemed impressed by him before. It just makes all the things he’s been working for a little more worth it. “Wow,” she says. “You really weren’t kidding about being in a band, huh.”

“You know it,” he says with what he prays is a casual shrug; this… wasn’t part of the script. “I don’t wear this thing on my back just to look pretty.”

She stifles a laugh, then claps a hand to her mouth immediately. “Sorry, I didn’t—I wasn’t implying that you’re not handsome—pretty— “

Oh God. She’s stammering. And it’s adorable.

Marinette composes herself with a deep breath and her arms folded over her chest. “There are pushpins in the corner,” she says. “Hang it up wherever you want.”

Except Luka can’t help feeling like she’s got her eyes on him the whole time. Either she’s coming to terms with the fact that he was telling the truth all along, or she’s… judging him. Or the flyer. And honestly, he can’t tell which is worse. “What’s wrong?” he asks once he notices she’s still staring. “Did I put it up at a funny angle or something?”

“No, just… thinking…” Her voice sounds distant, perhaps somewhere he might never find her. But then she snaps her fingers, and she says, “That’s it!”

“Uh.” Luka’s brow furrows. “What’s it?”

“Oh, just… sorry, my thoughts just ran away with me, I guess.” Marinette steps toward the flyer, brushing her fingers over it and wincing. maybe it’s just from the finish; his nails have scraped over then more than once, and it felt just as bad as a chalkboard. “I was just thinking, well…  you’ve been good to my parents and all. Why don’t we help you with promotion? You know, put postcards in the boxes or bags. It couldn’t hurt, could it?”

Luka nearly spotters, but the only thing he can manage to say is, “Where am I gonna get postcards?”

“I can make ‘em.” She says it like the simplest, most obvious thing in the world, and looks him up and down when he falters. “If… you and your band are okay with that, I mean. Cause I, y’know… dabble, in graphic design. But I don’t want to impose, if you’re okay with this. It’s your band and all.”

“I can,” he starts to say; then he stops himself, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “I can ask them?” Idiot, he thinks. That wasn’t supposed to be a question. “I’ll let you know what they say. Have to come in bright and early tomorrow anyway, right?”

Marinette only smiles. It’s faint, almost absentminded, but that sweet little tug at the corner of her mouth is hardly lost on him. “You don’t have to.”

“Ask them?”’

“Come by.” Her bag is hanging on a peg by the register, and she’s off rummaging through it before Luka can ask what she means. He gravitates toward her more than he actually walks to her, and by the time he reaches the counter she’s fishing a card out of her wallet. It’s pink and black, decorated with the same spray of flowers and monogram as her apron. when he turns it over, there’s her name at the top, and below that, two email addresses. And two phone numbers.

He looks up, wide-eyed.

“So,” Marinette says. “Unless you’re coming all this way for a napoleon, a pear tart, and my pretty face, I think you’re good.”

“I—” Luka turns the business card over and over as though it will teach him now to speak again. “I guess so.” Does she know he thinks her face is pretty? Wait—of course she does, he gave her that note. Oh, Jesus, does she still have that thing? It’s been weeks. “Well,” he says, scuffing his heel against the tile. “Who knows. Maybe I’ll come anyway.”

Okay, that was definitely not part of the script.

But then, neither is the way her eyes are sparkling. “Well,” she murmurs. “Maybe you will.”

“I should, uh—” He jerks a thumb toward the door. “Go, um. Happy closing?”

She laughs behind a hand, glancing between him and the tacked-up flyer before she grabs a broom and sends him off with a delicate wave. And to be honest, Luka’s never been angry with nature before, but he curses the wind for being so loud that he can’t hear that giggle in his head, over and over. Almost as much as he thanks it for drowning out all the stupid things he said, and the lingering questions of why she offered at all.

Luka’s Word to the Wise, Part 2:

Progress isn’t linear but it sure as hell doesn’t mean you can’t stutter your way through getting a girl’s number and succeed.

[harry-styles-sunflower]

Meeting You In The Hallway

a/n: HII lovely people! I hope you are all doing well today! This is part 1 of Meeting you in the Hallway. Part 1 is a bit short because it’s an introductory chapter, but I do plan on making the chapters as I go. I’ll put specific warnings in the beginning of each chapter.

What it is: You move into the apartment across the hall from Harry and you begin a friendship which you both want more from but can’t communicate that want. AU. 

Word Count: 1.9k

Pls reblog if you like it 😊

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You had finally raised enough money to buy your own apartment right around the corner of Central Park. You were a registered nurse in the city, but the city was nothing new to you. You had grown just outside of the city your whole life. You worked on 5th Ave so buying an apartment near Central Park was just perfect. Today, Sunday, was move in day and you didn’t come with a lot. Few boxes and basic furniture. Your apartment was on the top floor which gave you the most beautiful view of Manhattan. There was only one other apartment across from yours because you were all the way at the end.

You got to your apartment around noon and began bringing up all your boxes after your mom and dad helped you bring up your bed, couch, and dining room table. You’d get the rest with time. With the view you had you weren’t in a rush to buy a tv. Just a good book and a chair was fine. “Have you met your neighbor yet?” Your mom asked. “No, not yet. Hopefully soon. The seller said he was nice. Not too loud” you shrugged. You figured that maybe it was just a bachelor business man who worked a lot, like you.

Once you finished bringing everything up to your apartment, you said goodbye to your parent’s downstairs. You thanked them as they gifted you a frame of you with them on your graduation day. Their smiles full of pride. “Alright bye, we love you. Stay safe okay? Call us if anything.” Your mom said trying to not get teary eyed. You stayed home for college so this was the first time she felt like she was letting her baby go. “Okay mom, I love you too.” You waved bye to them and then walked back inside saying thank you to the doorman. You’d learn his name another day. Right now, your back and feet were just killing you. You took the elevator upstairs, playing with your new keychain. Apartment 17G. You looked at it happily as you walked back to your apartment. Enchanted by your key you didn’t even notice the man right in front of you until you bumped into his hard chest.

“Ow, sorry. My bad” you looked up and saw two pools of green. Slightly intimidated you looked away and stepped back. His eyes remained on you, studying you, wondering if he’s ever seen you around.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. 'Scuse me” And just as fast as you bumped into him, he was gone. You looked behind you as he left. Noticing just how tall he was. With a sigh you continued your walk until the end of the hallway. You opened your apartment door and closed it behind you. You leaned against the door and let out a sigh. Green eyes on your mind. You heard the door across your apartment open and then close. You grunted; upset you missed your neighbor. Just a few seconds too late. You were hoping to get along with them at the very least.

That night you decided to order in pizza and drink some wine on your balcony. Basking in the last few nights of summer. You looked over to your right and noticed your neighbor’s balcony. It was simple, two chairs and small table.  A few plants near the edge. “Green thumb” you said to yourself sipping your wine.

Eventually it become dark and you grew tired. You cleaned up your kitchen and organized your cupboards just enough to get rid of one box. On your way to shower and call it a night you remembered to check your door. "Can never be too safe" you thought to yourself. As you checked your door, you felt your feet crumple some paper. Confused, you bent over and picked it up.

“Hi, um I think you moved in today. If not, you’ll just see this whenever you do, I guess. Well just wanted to say welcome to the building. Guy across the hall, 17H.”

With a small smile you brushed your fingertips over the handwriting. This was a sweet gesture and your apartment began feeling even more like home. A possible friend you thought. No, you hoped. As you laid in bed about to sleep, you thought of your neighbor in 17H. Was there a reason why the H was underlined? But as you closed your eyes you remembered those two pools of green.

 ~~~

 The next morning was a Monday. You were off that night so you woke up and decided to unpack as much as you can.

During breakfast, you saw the note your neighbor had left you. You flipped it over and wrote, "I'm moved in, thank you for the warm welcoming." You debated whether or not to ask if you should grab a drink together. Instead you settled on, "Meet you soon. Girl across the hall, 17G." After you finished your breakfast you quietly opened your door, setting a stopper so you didn’t get locked out, and slid the note under 17H's door. You hurried inside. You were still only in your pjs and a robe, hair a mess.

When Harry woke up on Monday morning, he got up and put on a tank top, shorts, and sneakers. He tried to go for an early run, before there were too many people in the vast Central Park. He liked the feeling of morning air. As he was about to leave, he thought about the girl he bumped into yesterday. He was so focused on this new song he was writing he didn’t even notice her. She was also pretty short. He had a small gig the next night at a small café. He was getting less nervous of performing in front of people but he got nervous when they were his own songs. He cleared his head and left for his jog. On his way back, he stopped by a bakery and bought some fresh bread and a few pastries. The small bakery reminded him of his old job from when he was a teenager.

When he got home, he barely noticed the paper on the floor. When he flipped it over, he half smiled at the bubble handwriting. So different than his. "Meet you soon" he repeated to himself. He debated going right over and knocking, but then he remembered he was a sweaty mess and didn’t want that to be your first impression of him.

~~~

By lunch time you decided you needed to buy groceries. No more eating out. You grabbed your bag and a light sweater. The day had gotten a little bit cloudy. You tucked a mini umbrella just in case. That’s the kind of person you were. You were cautious, always prepared, because you know... Just in case.

You walked downstairs and introduced yourself to the doorman. You found out his name was Pat and he was retiring next year. He was a sweet old man. You walked to Whole Foods to buy your essentials for now and picked up some soup. You'll have something to keep you warm if it rains. You put the soup into your cart and debated whether or not if you should buy ice cream. You thought oh fuck it, you were getting your period soon anyway. You'd need it. You bought chocolate, vanilla, and butter pecan. You decided it was time to go before you bought the whole store. You approached aisle 5 and leaped for joy inside because there was no line, the customer just leaving. The customer looked familiar though, his back looked familiar. A light bulb lit in your head, that was the guy from yesterday. The one you bumped into. For New York City to be so big, it was interesting how you saw him again.

You paid for your groceries and made small talk with the cashier about the weather. Both of you a little upset that it was one of the last few days of summer and it was cloudy. You walked back to your building a little faster as the clouds got darker. Once you made it inside and up to your apartment door you put your bags down and reached inside your purse for your keys. As you were about to put your key in the keyhole, you heard an enthusiastic "Hi!". Jumping you dropped your keys.

"Oh, shit sorry, didn’t mean to scare you" he said as you both reached for your keys causing you to both bump heads.

"Ow!" you both said and laughed a little. You both fell back onto the floor. Still laughing lightly. When you finally focused on who the man was you realized who it was. "Oh my god, it’s you. From yesterday" you said. He looked at you with eyes squinted. "Oh yeah. You." he looked you up and down. "So, you're the girl from 17G" he said as he pointed to your apartment door. "17H?" you asked. "Yep, H was underlined because my name is Harry" he said. You couldn’t help but like the way he said his name. His accent almost stretching his name out. "Oh. Makes sense. I'm y/n." He brushed his hands on his thighs and reached over his hand for you to shake. "Nice to meet you, y/n". You shook his hand. "You too, Harry."

He kept ahold of your hand. You realized how soft his hands were. He slowly stood up while still holding your hand and gently pulled you up.

"Thanks" you said wiping your hands on your jeans. You had trouble looking him in the eye. The green was so beautiful you were scared you'd get lost. His sharp facial features reminded you of one of your favorite characters, Stefan Salvatore for some reason.

"Do you need help? Err carrying that stuff inside?" He asked pulling you away from your thoughts.

"Oh um, no actually. Thank you but I'm okay." you said and turned to open your door.

"Okay. Um well, if you ever need anything."

"Yeah thanks. Appreciate that" you smiled up at him. Looking him in the eye for a second. He was so tall.

"Yeah of course. Just knock" he said and as soon as he said it, he realized how dumb he sounded. Why did he feel so nervous?

"I think that may be my only option. No doorbell" you said teasing him a little.

"Yeah" he said looking down, feeling stupid.

To cheer him up you said, "hey, if you need me, knock three times. That could be our own “homemade doorbell”."

He looked up with a bigger smile and for the first time you noticed his dimples. "Yeah okay, that sounds good. Three times." He nodded.

"Alright. Well, goodnight harry"

"Goodnight y/n"

As you both closed your doors behind you, you both replayed how you each said each other’s name. The way your name sounded with his English accent and the way his name sounded with your American accent.

 ~~~

Part 2 is now up!

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Also saw you're doing requests so yay!!. Any chance of jercy bakery au? Love your work sm hope you have a great day ☺☺

My Darling Anon how dare you make me fall more in love with Jercy???????? I squealed when i saw this and then promptly started writing even though i should be studying for my (ironically) Greek Mythology test.

i hope you love it because if i fail at least i know it’ll be worth it :) Also this was honestly supposed to be a quick drabble and it somehow ended up as 1,5K+ words so??? #isanyonesurprisedthough

Masterlist

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Jason Grace smiled as the birds beside his head chirped and then swiped his phone to cut off the amusing sound. His fiery friend, and co-worker thought it was hilarious to steal his phone and change his alarm tone every few weeks. Usually it was something inane and silly like a cartoon laugh track or just a repeating “It’s time to get up BakerBoi” that gets increasingly louder. He had arrived to work with a scowl on his face only to see the shit-eating grin of Leo Valdez waiting at the door.

Now Jason stumbles out of bed, letting his limbs loosen as he pads softly to the bathroom, feeling cool tile and a winter breeze on his exposed skin. He loves mornings like this, when the world isn’t quite awake, and the sky hasn’t decided what colour it wants to be for the day. He knows in is baker’s bones that it’ll be cold and rainy, but he has time for a morning jog before the world starts crying.

“Good morning boss,” A bright eyed, fidgeting Leo greets as he steps into the bakery.

Jason had been there at seven thirty, pulling down the café chairs and cleaning the counters. He already had a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies and about three different types of muffins in the oven. The bread was waiting for the busy hands of Leo and Hazel who somehow always seemed to make heavenly fluffed, soft rolls and the deliciously crusty baguettes. Hazel jokes that it’s the New Orleans blood that flows through her veins. They’re all half inclined to agree.

“Morning Valdez, I like the alarm this week.” He tosses a grin over his shoulder before going back to his icing ritual. Mix, taste, mix, ice.

“I figured you would old man. Even though i much prefer my ASMR food audio from last week. What’s the specialty today?”

“We need to get beignets out and the pain au chocolats before the breakfast crowd. Also the fruit stuffed pastry twists and the honey bread have to be prepped before we open so we can bring them out hot in time for the brunch crowd. Specialty today is a new thing I’ve been working on. Blue blondie doughnuts with Oreo cream filling and sugar glaze.”

“Gods boss, you tryna give people heart failure?”

“Just trying to insert some sweetness into the world,” He winked.

Before Leo could give an undoubted snarky reply a bubbly head of dark brown curls and glittering eyes popped around the door.

“Goooood morning everyone,”

Jason couldn’t help the smile that graced his face at her cheeriness, “Hello Miss Levesque, glad to see a prettier face around here,”

Leo made a strangled noise of indignation from the other side of the kitchen but didn’t get the chance to voice his offense before the last member of their little group walked in.

“Ah there you are Miss McLean, I do wonder how you arrive with Hazel and still manage to get in after her.”

She gave him an exasperated look, “I have to say goodbye to my girlfriend before I come in Boss. You’re the one who banned couple calls in the bakery.”

“Well maybe if we didn’t have to hear you and Annabeth explicitly planning your night’s activities I wouldn’t have had to do that.”

Piper just rolled her eyes and went to grab her apron and a cloth to wipe down the tables.

"Everyone ready?" He asked, from the door of the kitchen an hour later.

"Ready for the storm boss," They all yelled back, as they did each morning.

"Then let's roll like thunder," He grinned, flinging the doors to Ambrosia Bakery open.

"Oh thank the heavens, I could smell the goodness from here and it was a struggle to keep the drool in," One Reyna Avila Ramirez Arellano breathed in deep.

"Good morning my favourite customer," Leo smirked from behind the counter.

"Jason tell your bread boy to stand down before I make him,"

"Is that an invitation?" Dark eyebrows wiggled in amusement.

"That is a threat," She growled.

"Well mark me down as scared and h—"

"Valdez I swear if you finish that sentence I'm putting you on wash-up duty for the next week."

A faint "you got it boss" followed Jason into the kitchen, where he allowed himself to smile. It was an ongoing amusement that Leo flirted with Reyna and in return she came up with increasingly terrifying threats.

"Jason, your sister is here to see you" Hazel said, gently shoving him out the way so she could take over rolling the pastry.

"Get the doughnuts ready for the fryer I'll be back soon, thank you!"

He maneuvered around a blushing Leo who had icing on his nose and a suspicious lipstick stain on his cheek, finally making his way to the confectioners stand.

"What's up loser?" He said by way of greeting.

"Hey you're only allowed to call me that if you come baring nice things." Thalia Grace frowned.

"I am nice things," He pouted.

"Not even on your best day." She snorted, "I want to know if you're coming to the gala this weekend. I need a date to steal extra bread-sticks for me."

"Why can't I just make you bread-sticks and we can sit in your lounge and watch bad reality TV?" He groaned

"Because I have to show face or the sponsors aren't going to sponsor. Besides you need a night out. You're gonna start smelling like bread if you don't take a break."

"It's insulting that you think I wouldn't want to smell like breadsticks."

She laughed at, that ruffling his hair, "Just be ready by seven. You better be wearing a suit."

And with that his sister had grabbed her daily croissant and cappuccino and vanished into the drizzling day.

Before he could make it back to his safe haven beside the ovens and marbled counter-tops a flash of black hair caught his eye.

Turning around he couldn't contain the grin that tugged at his lips; standing by the counter already staring intently at the newest creation was Jason's favourite customer.

"Hello Percy Jackson,"

"Jason," A dazzling smile revealed pearl white teeth and the tiniest dimple on a cheek the color of rich toffee.

"I see you've already found Neptune's Tridoughnut,"

A bright laugh escaped a wickedly beautiful mouth, "Oh I love that. How'd you come up with that one?"

Jason smiled softly, debating whether to tell the owner of the 5-Oceans Conservation Company that he was the muse behind all of his latest creations, hence the variations of green and blue.

Instead, as he did every time Percy asked, he lied, "My sister went to an opening ceremony for a new exhibit at the Education center all about Mythology so I thought I’d offer my services and well, they were a hit."

Piper who was walking past at that exact moment coughed something that sounded suspiciously like "Liar" but with a pointed glare she disappeared behind the counter.

"That sounds great. Guess I'll have to recruit you for all my functions," He winked, a small smirk playing at his lips.

Jason cursed his pale cheeks and hoped the blush he now sported wasn't too noticeable, "What can I get you besides a specialty doughnut?"

"Can I get one banana and walnut muffin, a dozen chic chips, and I'm gonna go see mom this afternoon so maybe a couple of caramel pastry twists and some blueberry muffins?"

"Sure. I guess Estelle is off her carrot cake faze?" He laughed, remembering how Percy had to stop at the bakery twice a week to grab carrot and pecan mini cakes just for his little sister.

"Ugh she's onto wanting fruit in absolutely everything now so my mom has been frantically buying boxes of peaches, strawberries and apples to cut up and send with her for lunch at school." Green eyes rolled in fake annoyance.

"Well if she likes fruit things maybe she should try the raspberry and orange pastry twists?" He pointed to a display stand piled with various pastries coloured by blackberry jam, apricot pieces, kiwi slices and mango syrup.

"I could kiss you right now!" Percy exclaimed rushing towards the display, unaware that the baker was frozen to the spot.

I could kiss you, could kiss you, kiss you, kiss...

Jason's brain had short-circuited, his neurons too busy having a dance party with his hormones to process the world.

I could kiss you.

A lazy, unconscious smile took over his face as he stood there in the middle of his bakery, arms slack, head lolled, and eyes crinkled.

"Jason?" A faraway voice called.

"Jason? Hello?"

And suddenly a hand was waving in front of his vision trying to get his attention.

He pulled himself out of his reverie, blinking back into existence, "Right yes the pastries"

"Didn’t get enough sleep last night?" Percy teased, slugging him softly in the shoulder.

He snorted at the implication, "Unfortunately I'm a bit of a grandfather. Sleep early, rise early."

"Oh guess you like morning activities then,"

He sputtered, head snapping up to stare into twinkling eyes, "N-no, I just meant—"

"I'm kidding Mr BakerMan," That brilliant, bright laugh again, "I know you're a homebody. Your sister likes to tell me how boring you are."

He huffed at that, "We'll see if she gets her pear tarts this weekend."

"Speaking of this weekend," A sly grin played at Percy's mouth, "Are you coming to the gala?"

"Yea," He sighed, "Thalia says she needs me to steal bread-sticks ."

Sea green eyes widened before Percy burst out laughing. In a matter of moments tears were streaming down his face.

If Jason wasn't so smitten with that gorgeous smile and those mischievous eyes he may have been inclined to laugh too. But Percy Jackson was a vision he half believed only his dreams could conjure.

When the laughter had mostly seized Percy wiped his eyes and managed to gasp, "That sounds exactly like something Thalia would ask. When we worked on the marine life project together she always stole the mints from every CEO’s office because she said they had enough money to buy a mint factory, they could afford to replace a single bowl."

"Yep, her life goal is to end capitalism. I swear if it wasn't for Annabeth, Thalia would be walking into office buildings with a sack like some reverse Santa Claus where she steals the office supplies and fruit bowls."

"Well I can't wait to see you stuffing your pockets with bread-sticks on Saturday so I guess I'll see you then," He gave another dazzling smile.

"Yea, and say hello to little Estelle for me. Tell me how she likes the pastries."

"Don't worry I'm sure I'll be back soon with a long list of request."

"Can't wait." He grinned.

Percy chuckled, "Me neither, see you Friday." And then he was gone.

Oh gods, Jason thought, how am I ever gonna survive Percy in a suit?

***

Spoiler alert past-Jason: you didn't.

[tsar3na]

Sunrise and Dusk

Fandom: Festival di Sanremo RPF (Amadello) Words: 1682 Notes: This was a fanfic I’ve been working on for a while and debating whether or not to post about it on Tumblr. But I guess I’ve done this sort of thing before so I bit the bullet and did it anyway. It was supposed to be a one-shot but my planning decided to go to more than ten chapters so there’s that. For now, I’ll post the first chapter here then the rest on Archive of Our Own so please support me there, thank you. Ao3 link: [here]

i - Mattina

Days have been a blur for years. Things had a harmonious monotony to them. Fiorello will wake up at 6am, always on time, by an old flip-phone. Take time to say his morning prayers. Clean his body and think of the day ahead. When he doesn’t have a service in the morning, a hot coffee and bread roll can rejuvenate him until lunch. After cleaning his plates, he chooses from a selection of plain polo shirts or turtlenecks paired with smart trousers and shoes. 

A small brown and white cat would leap onto his balcony at the dot and of course, Fiorello will take a can of tuna and give it all to her. Once done, he cycles to the church, passing by the numerous buildings, towards the open market closeby. He’s usually the first to arrive so he’s responsible for opening the church and doing light cleaning inside and out. He is not quite a priest - all he does is officework from paperwork to phone calls asking for visits. Yet he’s an integral part of the church, going around the community and volunteering just for a simple “Grazie”.

Around the afternoon, he goes gets ingredients for dinner and catches up to fellow friends along the way. Then he heads home, looking back at the sun crack its warm tones around the sky as it starts to settle. His food is also simple, perhaps saving some for the next day. For entertainment, he opens an old TV and catches up on current affairs. At exactly half past 10 is he ready for bed, ready to wake up the next day and do this all over again.

Rarely does this ever change.

He never suspects a surprise package, or a phone call from a stranger announcing a journey he has been requested to join. His family hasn’t spoken to him for years, not even knowing of the new leaf he has turned. In his youth, he has fallen in love but he’d never reciprocate the feelings in return, so unlikely that he’ll suddenly fall in love again. Was it boring? He didn’t think so. But sometimes, when he looks out, he sees life in people’s windows. Of family, of joy, of tears, of life. Yet he can’t complain, he thinks, as others have had it worse. He has had it worse. Compared to what had used to happen, this was just but a dream. Now in his growing ages, perhaps a man was ready to settle down. Still, he can’t always escape the past he had buried and lied about, a past in which no one knew his name. If only something had happened, something breathtaking that was fresh, unexpected, beyond something that will challenge his whole philosophy.

Nevertheless the alarm rings at 6am.

Thursday morning was looking to be cloudy but break skies before noon. His radio played classic tunes from his childhood as the cat purred on his patio table. Fiorello wanted to change something hence buying a new brand of tuna for her. The cat didn’t have any markings relating to an owner, so he baptised her with the name Ciuri. Sometimes he would joke to himself that she is more akin to a partner or a child, masking some sort of looming insecurity. His phone rang. That was odd - there was barely anyone that he had given his number to. Must be serious.

“Hello? This is Rosario speaking.” he answered.

“Ah, I’m glad I got the right one this time.” the voice on the other line cheered, “Listen it’s Roberto. I’m calling you because there seemed to be a leak in the church. Small leak. Very small. It’s flooding the floor. Okay, big leak. Very large.”

“Oh my goodness, really? Are you okay? Is everything safe?”

“Yes, yes, we saved the important bits. And don’t worry, your area isn’t affected. But the altar and nave are badly flooded so I had to close the church for a while.”

“Oh dear…”

“Emergency closing, I do not know when it will be open again.”

He paced up and down his small kitchen, his anxiety growing, “When will it be fixed? Do we have the funds? Last time I checked, we might but I don’t know if this one we can handle.”

“Don’t worry about all this, I’ve talked to the local offices and they should help us. Listen all you need to do is relax for a few days, get some sun. You’ll know when everything will be back to normal.”

The anxiety immediately turned into panic; “Wait, hold on, what do you mean? I don’t know what to do!”

Beep.

Suddenly his plans have been ruined. Fiorello was about to cycle to work but I guess he has no work to even go to now. This sort of disruption never once came into his mind. Since taking on the job, he refuses to take days off. Even when ill, he would try to march in at least before being sent back to rest. He had never prepared what he might do for a day of just himself. “Okay relax, we can do this.” he thought and very much not relaxing. Ciuri meowed for food. At least this he knew what to do.

He moved from Catania around 25, 26 years ago yet only a handful of times has he really travelled around the village. He had to stay in Sicily, there was no chance he would return and work in the cities further on. The place had a charm to it, powered by the people around. Its history of medieval architecture made it a hotbed for tourists, but during the colder months they were little to none. When he first settled in, he had made a crude list of places he would have liked to go to but never did. Today, he grabs that paper from the cupboard he refuses to touch and was thankful his list was fairly short:

Meet and befriend a stranger

Do something new

That’s it

Even looking at two simple tasks, he was already discouraged. Obviously he has done it before with colleagues and neighbours, but it’s been years since he has made a connection with someone brand new. The rest seemed like dreamy bullshit he thought of as a teen when he decided he wanted to get married to his 3rd highschool sweetheart.

No time is best to break his normal life than now. He waved Ciuri goodbye and headed off with his trusted bike.

To start this new thought of life, he veered from his typical path and into the idyllic green landscape. The views were always spectacular from his window but it was a whole other feeling viewing it from below. Waves of flora stretched as far as the eye can see, scattered with farm animals and a fence or two. The air was getting warmer as the morning began to settle in. He felt the breeze through his body, whispering to him thoughts of change. Maybe tomorrow he will cycle through that path, or he can slow down there and see what was inside the tree. It never felt so good making these small and insignificant choices. Or even trying to make sure his bicycle does not suddenly collide with the parked car just metres ahead of him. If his eyes were closed at the moment, he would be doing one impressive front flip and crashing down onto the dirt. Thankfully screaming seemed to have alerted Fiorello and prevented any sort of trip to the hospital from happening. The man near the car seemed worried, no surprise, and kept asking if he was okay.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” Fiorello kept yelling out. “I just, I usually don’t expect cars here, and I was not paying proper attention so I nearly dented your car.”

“Ahh well nothing you can do about it. This old thing has been through so much not even a hammer can stop it from moving.” the stranger boasted.

This man was someone he had never seen before. His clothing screamed tryhard to look younger than he is and the hat casted a nice shadow over it. Without being rude, all Fiorello can tell was his large nose and fox-like eyes. Seemed to be around his age too, albeit maybe showing more signs of wear and tear. As he kept waffling on about his car, all he could look at was how he had a certain smile on his face. It was mesmerising to say the least.

“Anyway so I got lost and tried to find some signal but couldn’t and then you nearly got killed. And now we’re talking.” Wait was he dazing off. He didn’t notice how he kept going on. “Mind giving me some help then? Hotel or something similar. You can hop in if you point to me around.”

“Of course, I don’t mind. What about my bicycle?” he asked, getting back into reality.

“You can just throw that in the back, I don’t care.” They both got in the car as the man started to ignite the engine and Fiorello tried his best to shove the wheels in as best as he could.

“By the way, I haven’t caught your name. Are you a local?”

“I’m Rosario Fiorello. And you?”

He shook his hand briefly. “Amedeo Sebastiani. Most people just call me Amadeus. Intercontinental reporter.” and started to drive.

“A reporter? Nothing that interesting ever happens around here. Nothing that you could notice from the outside anyway. So, what is your intention?”

“I’m mainly here on holiday. I run a travel blog and I’m just wanting to tell my readers some quaint spots around Sicily. It’s kind of embarrassing, I’m a traveller that gets lost a lot so you can see why I say I’m a reporter first. Anyways...”

“That’s interesting.” he glanced then looked out the window. Amadeus did not stop talking for the whole ride. Only now came in his mind why he let himself in a stranger's car. But he guessed, considering the man’s excitement, he’ll be staying around for a while.

[starrybbarnes]

into the heat [b.b]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: it’s taco tuesday. you make some salsa. your friends can’t hang, and apparently, neither can your boyfriend.

Word Count: 1473

Author’s note: I had some tacos on sunday and my god, la salsa verde was to d i e for. it was so good, I swear. I’m just salivating at the thought of tacos and green salsa, with some lime on top. I think I might buy some for work later today. as always, feedback is appreciated!

Warnings: definitely some swearing, food mention so don’t read while on an empty stomach 

It was a normal Tuesday afternoon back at the compound. It was lunchtime and it meant only one thing: Taco Tuesday.

The team has done taco Tuesday before you came on board, but it would just consist of Stark buying 2 boxes of the Taco Bell party pack and would call it a day. It was a disgrace. 

You remember the first time you joined the Avengers for taco Tuesday. You were deceived when Thor said, “it’s the best Midguardian food I’ve ever tasted.” 

Oh, how you missed eating your grilled serrano pepper that day. 

You remembered you offered to make some street tacos about a month later, and boy, did everyone’s mind explode. Savory meats, fresh limones, and decadent salsas would line the kitchen table every time on Tuesday. The Avengers would have more than seconds almost every week. 

Not only that but with your cooking (in general), you won your way through a super soldier’s heart. “It’s the easiest way to trap a man,” Natasha would joke around with you.

You have been dating Bucky for over a year now, and he’s wedged himself in helping you during taco Tuesdays. Whether it be chopping the cilantro and onions, heating up las tortillas, or going to the farmers market early in the morning, Bucky enjoyed that time with you.

There were only two things, however, that your Bucky wouldn’t touch on Taco Tuesdays. That was the meat preparation and salsa making. Sure, Bucky would choose the cuts of meat and the freshest peppers and cilantro, but when it came down to actually cooking it, it was none of his business.

“I simply cannot trust a white man to season their food,” you simply said over the table one time. 

“But you’ve seen me add actual seasoning and flavors to other dishes?” Bucky argued. 

“Bucky please,” you interjected, “my trust has been severed ever since that Niall celebrity didn’t season his chicken. An absolute catastrophe.” 

Since then, no one has argued on that topic. It was a part of the routine that you called yours. 

When it came to the nitty-gritty, everyone seemed to enjoy the fact that you’d make a savory taco, with some mild but delicious salsas. 

However, the one dish you missed making was your signature spicy avocado salsa. Since no one in this compound can handle the flavor, you’d always send Bucky to go to the nearest taco truck and ask for a small serving of it to take home to you. You’d always remember to tip the workers for all that they do, and you’ve actually exchanged recipes. 

Today, you decided to make your favorite salsa. 

It was 12 noon, and you knew Bucky was well underway getting the ingredients for the tacos. You called him and let him know to add avocados, fresh jalapeños, and some green husk tomatoes. You also mentioned to not bring any avocado salsa today, but to pay the truck a visit.

“Uh, Y/N?” Bucky started, “are you not gonna have salsa with your tacos?”

“I am,” you slowly said, “but I’m kinda wanting to have some more kick in my life.”

“All you had to do was ask, doll,” Bucky chuckled through the phone.

“Oh no, Buck,” you laughed, “We’re talking me crying while eating a taco typa kick.”

“Just don’t kill anyone, okay?” Bucky replied, half-joking, half actually being serious.

“No promises,” you sang.

。。

Smells of meat and cilantro swirled the kitchen and made its way into the common room, signaling that food was almost ready. Bucky was helping you chop up the meat while you were heating up tortillas on the comal. 

One by one, the team started filing into the dining area, words of praises and absolute delight that their favorite day of the week has finally arrived. 

You set the garnishes and red and green on the main table. From the fridge, you pulled out a bowl of the almost neon green substance and placed it on the table. 

The avocado salsa. 

The team ooo’ed at how bright green the salsa was as if giving off a warning. 

“Whoa!” an eager Sam yelled in amazing, “the food looks amazing! I’m really banking on the fact that you made the food instead of ol’ Chef Boyardee over here” 

You started giggling as Bucky attempted to throw a piece of meat at Sam, only for him to catch it in his mouth. 

“Well, he was a big help, but rest assured, Sam I was in charge of the cooking,” you replied as everyone started serving themselves.

Once everyone was seated, people dug in, only the sounds of content would be heard. You grabbed your bowl of avocado salsa and put a helping on each taco that was on your plate. 

Sam saw what you were doing and spoke up, “what is that green stuff, Y/N? It smells really good and looks amazing.”

You hesitated a bit before you answered, “it’s guacamole. I know it doesn’t look like your standard one, but that’s because I added some extra stuff.” 

Sam signaled for the bowl and you passed it over to him. Seeing you eat the tacos with ease, he decided to put even more salsa on his helping of tacos. You eyed him carefully, awaiting a reaction.

“Wow!” Sam exclaimed, “This is so good! I think I’ll eat spoonfuls of this stuff!”

You were about to feel left down when you saw it happening. Sam started coughing profusely and started sticking out his tongue. He started signaling for water and when you handed him the large cup, he downed it in 5 seconds flat.

“What in the fuck is in the god damn guac!” Sam hollered. “I think I am about to pass out.”

“Not much really,” you stated, “some lime juice, avocado, green tomatoes, 2 jalapeños, maybe half a serrano paper?”

“Two??” Sam yelled, “do you want me to DIE?”

“Sam,” you started, “I think you’re overreacting.”

“Your tacos were practically bathing in the salsa,” Sam argued.

“Psh, it can’t be that bad,” Thor commented.

“Would you like to try some, Thor?” you offered sweetly. 

Now everyone was looking at Thor. Slowly, he gulped and poured some on a taco. As he ate it, he did the same reaction as Sam. Absolute delight, and then his life flashing before his eyes.

Before long everyone tried to get their hands on the salsa. Steve stopped everyone and said, “I think as super soldiers, Bucky and I should try it out. Maybe Sam is overreacting.”

When Bucky heard his name, he choked on his drink. “No way man. You know I don’t mess with m’girls food.”

“Oh lighten up,” Steve assured him, “We probably won’t feel a thing.”

You snickered. You knew for a fact that Steve would start tearing up at just eating Hot Cheetos. 

Bucky looked at you with his puppy eyes. He was trying to get out of it, and fast. He saw you when you added the peppers into the blender. Even the times he’s seen you eat raw peppers, it freaked him out that you’d never elicit a reaction. 

“C’mon sweetheart,” you pouted, “just one bite. I swear it’s not spicy.” 

Bucky sighed and put a helping of salsa on his taco, Steve trying so hard to put the same amount if not less.

They saluted each other and bit into their taco. Bucky actually finished the whole thing, triumphant smile now apparent. Steve slowly finished his and sighed in relief.

“Well ya look at that,” Bucky laughed, “Looks like I still am a super-soldier.”

“Give it a minute.” 

Steve was the first to start coughing. “Oh my god, my mouth is on FIRE!” 

Bucky soon after followed, eyes welling up and his sinuses going haywire. Steve actually started crying, just repeating ‘so spicy’ over and over again.

“Doll, if I die right here, just know that I love you very much,” Bucky cried out. 

You handed Bucky a slice of bread, “eat this, you’ll live.”

The team concluded that you were a goddess amongst them because apparently, you can’t feel the heat. 

You rubbed Bucky’s back as he slowly started to feel better.

“I just don’t get it,” you sighed, “this stuff tastes really good. And I only put a little bit this time!”

Bucky just groaned in response, “well, this is one thing I won’t be stealing from the fridge.” 

“Then maybe, just maybe, my planned worked,” you joked, earning a smile from Bucky.

You kissed him on the lips and then scowled, “Jesus, Buck even your lips are on fire!”

“What can I say, I’m attracted to heat,” Bucky answered, panting ever so slightly.

“Maybe one of these days, you’ll be able to handle it,” you joked, eating one more of your man-catching tacos doused in your salsa. 

。。

i made myself hungry just writing this bahaha

translations:

Limones = lemons

comal = skillet/griddle

[diceforanaltmode]

Team Ice: Adventure 4: The One Where They Adopt a Spymaster

Team Ice continues their adventure and we’re bringing you the latest summary!

The Cast - TEAM ICE

Skids by Soundwave (human rogue) Tailgate by Butter (dwarven barbarian) Cyclonus by Ren (tiefling paladin) Nautica by Robophelia (half-elf wizard) Velocity by Cee (high elf cleric) Brainstorm by Bex (air genasi wizard)

First Session | Second Session | Third Session 

The session begins with the whole party back in their room at the Inn. Last night, the party had planned to leave early morning to Caminus. However, they are rudely woken up by a loud knock at the door.

Skids wakes up and goes to check who’s at the door. Anode and Roller are there, looking tired and battle-worn, with traces of green goo remaining in their hair and on parts of their clothes - goo that Skids recognizes from the tank that had been in Zeta’s lab. Anode wants to talk, whether outside or inside the room - it’s Skids’ decision. Skids claims the rest of the party is asleep - though they were all woken by the knock - and suggests talking outside, but the rest of the party is too curious and go outside with Skids.

Most of the team is wearing sleepwear. Lotty is in a very comfy clothing. Nautica is wearing some hand-me-downs from Firestar. Cyclonus doesn’t have his armor. Tailgate is wearing a onesie under his scalemail. Brainstorm is wearing… something. Skids just slept in his armor and boots. Anode sees this and offers to talk inside. Everyone agrees groggily.

Anode recaps what happened at the lab, where the creature - Molbo - in the tank had woken up, shortly before the AVL got there. According to her, it would have been very bad if the AVL hadn’t gotten there when they did. She then begins to recap why she understands why Team Ice doesn’t trust Prowl, and by extension her and the AVL. Anode guesses that Skids used the patch on himself and regaining his memories and that it was a risky move despite it working - but that she’s done riskier, so she can’t judge. She offers them a chance to talk to Prowl in a Zone of Truth, if they went to Swerve’s. Team Ice feels uncomfortable with that fact, since it is the home base and if something bad were to happen, Team Ice would be outnumbered.

The team decides to meet at the bakery next to the inn (not because Lotty wants cake, but because it is a neutral place that won’t be tense and Team Ice won’t be outnumbered is something does happen). As Anode and Roller leave (they would meet there in twenty minutes and Anode is complaining about not being able to get the slime out of her hair in time), Skids decides to tell the team about his memories he got back. The group offers Skids comfort, Lotty hugging him for some time, Tailgate offering to yeet Prowl (Skids thinks about it and thanks Tailgate for the offer.)

After the very long hug, and before the Team decides to leave, Tailgate speaks up and talks about a plan, since it is Prowl they are going to talk to. The team comes up with questions to ask Prowl, and a plan in case they were influenced by the zone of truth. They also come up with team-ups if Lug’s Zone of Truth runs out and Lotty has to make another one. Skids sits next to Cyclonus as Team 1: questioning and intimidation. Tailgate and Lotty as Team 2: Lotty casts the spell and Tailgate is the shield. Nautica and Brainstorm as Team 3: Lookouts if something strange comes up. Luna is to be brought along too.

After planning, they all get dressed. Except for Skids, who is already in armor.

(Skids sleeps in a chair. With one eye open. No one questions this.)

Team Ice arrives at the bakery as soon as it opens. The smell of fresh bread and other baked goods wakes everyone up. Luna stays outside and takes a nap. The employees are gawking at the giant wolf outside. The customers, however, are not affected buy this and continue their early routine. Team Ice sits at a large round table, in their respective teams. Skids, Cyclonus, Lotty, Nautica, and Brainstorm all order coffee. Lotty orders a slice of cake. Tailgate orders the rest of the cake. Roller, Anode, Lug, and Prowl arrive.

“There’s no law. There’s no decency.” -Prowl complaining about Luna sunbathing outside.

The questioning begins. Skids asks what happened, and Prowl looks serious, albeit frustrated as he has just answered these questions for Anode and Lug. Prowl seems to recount everything truthfully, saying that - as Skids remembers - they had gone on a mission against Tyrest, and Skids had agreed to the device that would erase a portion of his memory, but the device had evidently malfunctioned such that Skids whole memory was erased, which Prowl says he didn’t know and couldn’t have guessed at the time. When Skids didn’t return, Prowl says he’d assumed Skids had been captured and that he and Getaway had followed standard procedure and done recon to try and find him in Zeta’s dungeons; when they hadn’t, he’d assumed Skids was dead. The question of whether the device was tampered with to eliminate all of someone’s memory, rather than some of it, comes up and the suspects are: Prowl, Getaway, Wheeljack, who was working with the resistance organization and had developed the device, Wheeljack's assistant. It brings suspicion to everyone. Even Prowl.

After Skids finishes with the questioning, Lotty asks one final question: is Getaway trustworthy?

Prowl says that he considers Getaway a trustworthy agent, but offers that there can be an investigation into Getaway.

When Skids confronts Prowl over lying to him about his memories when they had first met at Swerve’s, Prowl says he had been taken by surprise, that he hadn’t known if telling all of the truth would affect Skids’ mind, and he hadn’t known if he could trust Skids-sans-memories, but that it had evidently been the wrong decision, as it had led to this mess. Prowl then begins to call out Skids for using the patch to regain his memories. “The Skids I knew wasn't stupid enough to try that.” Skids responds that what else was he going to do besides wander around with no memories. Brainstorm butts in and takes the blame for suggesting Skids use the patch to get his memories back. He feels guilty. Lotty gives him a long hug.

Prowl denies there being a conspiracy, but Lotty and Tailgate disagree. There could be a conspiracy Prowl. You don't know what Getaway could be up to. “You could have been the target.”

Prowl's questioning is finished. Then Anode begins to talk about the laboratory and Caminus. The team admits that they found out that the Functionists are trying to seek an alliance with Caminus.  Anode decides to ask away about Caminus.

Lotty answers truthfully (she has no reason to hide the truth of course.) “Caminus only likes elves. If you're not one. Good luck talking to anyone.” She informs them of the political structure, how Caminus would react to any attempts at contact with the Functionists.

Anode then suggests on the sending the now AVL supported team to investigate what the Functionists wanted to do/are doing with Caminus. She wants an official AVL member to go as well. She then offers Chromedome as the most logical agent for the job.

Prowl flips his lid. He loses his shit. Shit has hit the metaphorical fan as he slams the table. He begins to rant on how Chromedome is not a suitable agent, ill suited for the mission - not a field agent, not trained for this work, already had a recent brush with nearly being captured - “Chromedome’s staying in the city, where he’ll be safe. I’ll go over your head to Nine if I have to.”

Anode is totally calm as Prowl yells.

Anode notes that Getaway actually was captured and imprisoned recently, so that (and his pending investigation) make him unsuitable. Evidently. “Well, Prowl. You're the only field agent suited that's available. Sooo…”

Prowl is in shock.

“WELCOME TO THE FAMILY.” Tailgate shouts.

Skids is tired. The others are more enthusiastic about it. Cyclonus is still intimidating.

Prowl's still in shock as the group from the AVL begins to leave. He seems to suspect that maybe Anode was planning all of this all of this all along.

“Yes! Welcome to team.” Velocity tries to high five Prowl and Prowl just -- raises his hand and weakly high fives her.

He's really tired, but… he finally gets over his shock and goes into planning mode. He asks how the party plan to get to Caminus after he escapes his stupor.

Tailgate responds honestly: “We don't have any money.”

“We… kind of spent it all on Luna’s harness.”

“Of course.”

The discussion of how Luna will be allowed on the ship os left for later. Lotty is going to deal with the captain.

Prowl has joined Team Ice!!!

---

That same day, later in the afternoon:

The team set off to a camp set up by the AVL. They travel along one of the safe routes. Prowl is questioning Lotty about Caminus (who has Luna walking next to her) and Nautica provides some details that she misses too. Prowl is steering clear of Luna.

Skids steers clear of Luna and Prowl. Tailgate, Cyclonus and Brainstorm just follow along.

After arriving at the campsite for the night, Skids and Tailgate decide to go hunt as to not use up supplies provided by the AVL. They find roots and wild veggies and a fowl and decide to make stew.

“I haven't had stew in a long time.”

“Why's that?”

“I've been stuck in a hole.”

“Oh.”

Meanwhile, Lotty decides to look through the supplies and finds stuff to make smores, which Prowl notes were probably packed as a joke/present from Lug. She begins to offer everyone on the team, except those making the stew, smores. She doesn't know how to make them of course, (she's heard of them) and Brainstorm offers her two choices: burnt or brown. She gets to try both of them.

(Tailgate is concerned. “No dessert before dinner!” “It all turns into mush, Tailgate! Why does it matter?”)

Cyclonus is offered a smore. He takes it. He then puts it on the ground. Because he's Cyclonus and he doesn't want people to know he likes sweets, probably.

Once the stew is tasted, Skids offers the rest of the team an actual meal.

He even goes and offers soup to Prowl, who is planning their next move. (They both don't want to interact with Luna, either.) Prowl notes that Skids is still a good cook. It may or may not have sounded sarcastic, but Prowl was sincere

They begin traveling the next morning to the docks.

There is no issues with bringing Luna aboard the ship. (Brainstorm offers to shrink her down.) She is placed in the cargo hold.

Skids investigates the ship, everyone else is probably getting used to staying on the ship. He speaks to the crew, learning their names. He even goes and checks on Luna, who's taking a nap. There is only one section that he doesn’t manage to explore, apparently with passengers who haven’t left their rooms.

He goes back onto the deck and then notices a shadow in the water.  The waves go opposite to the natural currents. He alerts the crew on what's happening on the water, and they roll out a ballista to shoot at the oncoming monster.

Then a giant snake jumps out of the water. And ends up on the deck. Skids gets ready to attack. The rest of the team hears the commotion and run up to the deck (sans Prowl).

Team Ice and the crew end up successfully defeating the snake (with help from the ballista and Team Ice's successful attacks).

Skids decides to take some skin to make some shorts. Because why not.

He also gets some meat for Luna.

The rest of the team also get some skin to get some matching booty shorts make some cool accessories.

Prowl finally gets to the bottom of the commotion. He sees the snake. “What the hell happened?”

The team leaves Prowl to his confusion while Skids asks if snakes are common. The captain only waves off to the ballista - snakes are why they keep the weapon onboard.

The adventure continues. Adventure 5!

[notbecauseofvictories]

Re: your tags - Any tips on planning a good dinner party?

The first step is to decide what kind of dinner party you want to have. A dinner party where everybody brings something, potluck-style, and you sit on the floor eating off paper plates is still a dinner party! So too is inviting everybody over to an apartment-warming party so you can show off the fact that you have actual glassware now, like a real adult, or even putting in the table leaf and planning an elaborate menu so your mother will stop talking about your cousin’s dinners.

Deciding the kind of dinner party you’re up for requires stepping back and looking at how much time you have to plan it, how much money you’re willing to spend, and what your space can accommodate.

Time. Planning and executing a dinner party takes a truly ungodly amount of time. It takes time to pull together a guest list, time to collect RSVPs (whether that’s via text, fb group, invitation, etc.), time to plan and then shop for the menu, clean your space (not just the dining room, but also where your guests will sit, and the bathroom they’ll use), prepare your space for guests (set the table, clear away any clutter), and then actually cook the dinner you’ve decided on.

And that’s all before your guests show up. 

The more elaborate the plans (and the more people you’re inviting) the more time you’ll need to prepare. For a casual sit-down dinner party I’d want at least 5 days lead-in time to prep; probably more to give people a chance to block off that night in their schedule. For something more formal, I’d want two or three weeks. 

Money. Another major factor in deciding what kind of dinner party you’ll have is budget. An elaborate home-cooked meal for any size group of people is expensive—an American-style sit-down dinner is typically a salad, a main dish (usually a meat of some kind), and 2-3 side dishes. Ingredients for just that can cost around $200, easy, and without taking into account appetizers, dessert, or drinks.

If you’re working on a budget, hosting a potluck is the easiest way to share out the cost among you and your guests. I’ve also hosted appetizer parties to great success—people love bite-sized stuff, and you can use the same ingredients in several different dishes, mixing in impressive, costly recipes with easy, less expensive ones.

Finally, consider your space. If your table only sits two, or live in a cramped studio apartment, you should take into account those limitations. If people will be sitting on couches you need to consider your capacity and what kind of food that means serving; even if people will be sitting on the floor, you need to consider how you’re going to make that happen. People in any space want to crowd around each other in a vague circle shape, and I’ve definitely lived in apartments where you couldn’t make that circle comfortably.

Additionally, your space also means the stuff in it. If you only have two wine glasses for four people, serving wine is probably not a great idea. (Though, tip from someone who has been refurbishing their apartment, Salvation Army/St. Vincent de Paul/Habitat for Humanity resale stores have crazy amounts of very attractive glassware for extremely cheap.) 

Once you decide what the party will look like, then you can get onto the real business:

PLANNING THE MENU

The best part of a dinner party is, of course, the dinner. Whether you opt to go for something simple, lavish, or quirky, the menu is something of a centerpiece. 

The most important part is to take into account your guests’ needs. The best pasta primavera in the universe is still the wrong meal to serve to a gluten-free crowd. I have a steak marinade that’ll blow your socks off, but the vegetarians and the no-red-meat-thanks people will leave hungry and dissatisfied if that’s all that’s served. 

Still, the typical American formal dinner party menu does allow you to extend in several different directions, and hopefully please as many different palates as you can. For example:

Appetizers—Appetizers are by no means required, and it’s totally normal to have guests over for dinner without offering appetizers beforehand. However, I think this is a fool’s errand, because appetizers are super easy to make (e.g., baby carrots and veggie tip, olives, cheese and crackers) and if people eat them, they’re less hungry for the dinner. Which, depending on how you feel about your main course, might be a pro or a con.

Salad—First course, nowhere near as many people will eat it as you think, but vegetarians and the healthy people will. If you just want something to throw together, most grocery stores now sell bagged salads, complete with toppings and dressing. If you want to prepare something unique, more power to you.

Can also be substituted for soup, though people have stronger feelings about soup and you’re less likely to please everybody. Whereas salads are basically the same dead leaves, with different kinds of sauce.

Main Course—A typical midwestern main course involves chicken or beef of some kind. However, the main course can also be seafood, pasta, or really any kind of food “substantial” enough to be the main fixture of the meal. 

Depending on the size of the party, it may be worth it to make several options; barbecue for one half and grilled chicken for the other. People are always happier with a choice, even if they choose the one that would be have available anyway.

Side dishes—I think sides are the best part of a meal, and really the opportunity to expand the palate of the dinner. If you’re serving steak with a traditional marinade, then the sides are an opportunity to expand into vegetarian or vegan territory; if you’re serving a cayenne-rubbed whitefish, then serving it with mild roasted cauliflower will let people catch their breath.

It’s also an opportunity to make dishes that you know people will like. For example, I made waldorf salad for my mother’s birthday, and she loved that more than the steak—but it was because I knew she liked waldorf salad. Sides are a kind of deliberate gesture to the people you know will enjoy them. And also, pair well with whatever the main is.

Dessert—Much like appetizers, dessert is optional. It is especially optional given the fact that by the time you get to it, people have been eating for at least an hour, and are generally not hungry. Something light, even just ice cream, will usually work work well. And if your showstopper is a dessert, make sure you plan a lighter dinner, so people still have room for the “main event.”

……none of these needs to be homemade, mind you. I actually think that you’ll have the most success if you combine complicated recipes with simple ones; a frozen appetizer and homemade sides, or a pre-made dessert with chicken you baked yourself. That kind of combo allows you to balance your time better, and effectively carry out your dinner plan.

OTHER TIPS

Think about your guest list before sending out the invitations. A dinner party is an opportunity for your guests to talk and get to know each other, but that’s hard if you invite people who can’t, don’t, or won’t get along. When you’re planning your guest list, think about whether this group will gel, who knows who already, and whether you’ve invited talkative people to balance out the quieter ones. (A dinner party of introverts who don’t know each other is going to be awkward.)

Prep your space as much as you can ahead of time. If you do a really thorough cleaning of your space on Thursday for a dinner on Saturday, then Saturday afternoon you’ll just have to do some spot-cleaning and set the table. Buy groceries before the day-of, unless you’re cooking with something like fresh-that-day fish or just-baked bread. Do not just be planning a menu the day of the party, that way lies ruin and madness.

Prep as much of the food as you can ahead of time! Chop all vegetables the night before, make your marinades and casseroles, shred your cheeses, etc. and then store them covered in the fridge. Some things will have to wait—salads shouldn’t be tossed until it’s almost time to serve them; freshly-cut fruit bruises and browns pretty quickly; anything with a lot of milk in it will separate and have to be re-mixed in the morning; unless you’re dealing with a very tough piece of steak, you shouldn’t marinate overnight. However, do as much as you can ahead of time. This also helps cut down on mess the night of, because my next piece of advice is to…

Clean as you cook. I know cooking generates a lot of dirty dishes and pans, especially as you get into more complicated recipes. However, at the ideal dinner party, your guests should arrive to a clean and empty sink, where the only dirty dishes are the ones in the oven. The only way to make this happen is to clean as you cook. I always add in a couple hours’ lead-time so that I can have everything in pans and ready to pop into the oven even as I clean up the chaos.

Something will go wrong, just roll with the punches. You will realize an hour before the party that you forgot to get napkins, or burn a side dish, or awkwardly offer a drink to a friend who doesn’t drink. People may butt heads at the party, and require intervention. (I once went to a dinner party where the table broke. The host was mortified, but I have very fond memories of trying to rescue food and dishes from the wreckage. We sat on the floor afterwards, laughing and eating off paper plates.)Something will go wrong, so roll with the punches and don’t let yourself spiral over some little thing. You can use paper towels as napkins and apologize for any faux pas. Pizza delivery was invented for a reason. At the end of the day, the important part is to give your guests a nice night, some food, and conversation---and those will exist even if you’re sitting on the floor, eating off paper plates because the table broke.

[collecting-stories]

Chores - Alfie Solomons

Request: In order to get Alfie a birthday present Kit begins to work at the synagogue. There the Rabbi shares some stories with him. 

Kit Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

Kit took a deep breath, fingers clasped around Peg’s collar, heart beating a mile a minute. He had asked you earlier about how to get a present for Alfie. You had explained the process of earning money and buying something and he knew then exactly what he wanted to do. He just hadn’t told anyone. 

“Rabbi!” He called out, voice cracking on the end.  

When the old man began to come over Kit shuffled back a step and looked everywhere he could but directly at Rabbi Chaim. He tried to picture his dad in his head. Alfie would know what to do. He wouldn’t be nervous.  

“Hello little Solomons, how’re you?” Chaim asked, leaning his already small stature on his cane more so he could properly look at Kit. Rabbi’s wife was the midwife who had delivered Kit and he remembered fondly sitting in the kitchen with Alfie, listening to the man’s fears and hopes.  

“Good,” Kit replied. He took a deep breath. “Could I have a job maybe there are things you need I could do all sorts of things.”  

Chaim smiled, thinking for a moment about Kit’s request as he stroked Peg’s head. The dog nudged his head up more and the comfortableness between Chaim and Peg seemed to ease Kit’s anxious heart. “I would certainly appreciate a hand around the synagogue. Tell me, what brings you here little Solomons?”

“I want to buy a present for my dad for his birthday.” Kit explained, looking at the Rabbi, focusing on the redness of his cheeks behind his white bread.  

“How wonderful, well come on, I’ll show you what I need.”

Kit went back every day for two weeks. He’d get up early and get dressed for work, sometimes even brushing Peg so that his dog looked presentable for Rabbi Chaim. He told you of his plans but kept them secret from Alfie. He wanted to show his dad how ‘independent’ he could be.  

The rabbi, who was old enough to have remembered when Alfie was born, was happy to meet Kit at the gate every morning and walk him to the synagogue. Whenever you told him you could bring Kit he insisted on the walk, telling you that he and his young friend were going to spend some time talking before work. The talks were always the same. Some days Chaim would listen to Kit tell him about ships and other days Kit would listen as Chaim discussed the Talmud. They had long talks, sometimes well into the evening and you would come to collect Kit only to find him sitting by the fire listening to the rabbi read to him from the Torah.  

“I’m going to be a rabbi.” Kit announced one afternoon as you walked home with him.  

“I think that would be excellent Kit. You’re so smart you’d make a fine rabbi.” You replied, watching as he looked back at the synagogue.  

“I would also like to start observing the holidays.”  

“We can certainly do that.”  

“I told Rabbi that daddy doesn’t like synagogue and he said it was okay because daddy is still a really good person. Do you think that’s true?” Kit asked, curious as to whether the rabbi was telling the truth or simply trying to make him feel better.

“What do you think?” You asked.

“Daddy is the best.” Kit replied without hesitation.  

You often wondered if Kit would feel differently about Alfie when he was older. Someday the rose-colored glasses he viewed Alfie with would fade and he would see all the mistakes Alfie had made as a young man. He saw only his father, brilliant and smart and good to him, not the business man that Alfie was or the things that he did to keep his business running successfully.  

“He certainly is.” Your reply came without hesitation as well. You knew who your husband was but that didn’t sour your opinion of him.

“I almost have enough for a present.” Kit told you, changing the subject easily.    

“What are you getting him?” You asked.  

“It’s a surprise mummy!” Kit laughed. “You might tattle!”  

Though the subject had been changed Kit began wondering about Alfie’s relationship with the church and what kind of man he might be. He consulted with Rabbi Chaim the next morning, as they sat for tea in the old man’s house. Kit shared his interest in the laws of the church but also his concerns for his father. The rabbi listened with great interest, never having conversed with a young boy so knowledgeable or so eager to learn.  

“You know, I remember the first time I helped my wife deliver a baby.” Rabbi Chaim spoke, not directly answering Kit’s questions. “We went to a young woman who stayed in a room by herself in a terrible place. Men there took advantage of her but she needed money and had come all the way from Russia with just the clothes on her back. She spoke no english. She said nothing of a father for the baby.”  

“What does this have to do with my dad?”  

“Well the woman wanted no trace of her old life on this new baby. And words, as you well know, are very important little Solomons. The baby’s mother asked that we give him our last name so no one would know about his past. So he, I suspect, would not know. I still remember sitting in the small room, a young man I was at the time, fresh from seminary knowing so little and yet so eager to share my knowledge with the world. I held her head in my lap and my wife instructed me to calm her. The little boy that was born that night cried so fiercely I thought surely something must be wrong. The mother asked for an English name. Earlier in the year we had lost our own son so she gave the baby his name. I see the gears turning in your head.“

"Was that my dad?”

“Yes. Sometimes we don’t like the church because we feel that it no longer fits us. We move on to find ourselves in different places. Sometimes we leave the church because we feel that the church has left us. When your grandmother was dying there was much I could not do. What I could do was be there as a support but I told myself I was too busy. Too busy for this young boy who needed a friend, who I had burdened with the memory of a son I would never see grow up.”

“So he was upset with you?”

“He was. The first time I saw him again was when he married your mother. Sweetest thing I’ve ever known, that one. She loved your dad yeah, well before the war. Before he even paid her any mind. When he finally did, I think it woke him up a bit. Your dad is a good man Kit, doesn’t always make the best choices but then none of us have. We look to David to see that there is no man unredeemable or not in need of redemption. I think of your father the way I think of David.”

The conversation continued well into the evening and when you came round to collect Kit he was sleeping on the sofa, curled up with Peg. The rabbi mentioned the nature of his chat with Kit, wanting you to know that he had told the boy some important pieces of his father’s story.  

The next day Kit did not return to the rabbi, he went instead to the market. He had collected enough allowance from working at the synagogue to afford a present for Alfie’s birthday. You accompanied him to the market, curious as to what Kit decided a good present would be. He stopped at a jeweler’s booth, watching the man fashioning a ring in the heat of the fire he sat before. It was in that moment that Kit knew exactly what he wanted to get Alfie for his birthday.  

“Excuse me,” Kit asked, trying to muster as much courage as he’d always watched his father have when dealing with people.  

“Nah son, this isn’t for little ones, go find your mum.” The man waved Kit away, his hand nearly brushing Kit’s shirt.  

“I would like to buy something.” Kit persisted, holding tight to Peg’s collar so that he didn’t run away.  

“Why don’t you go on your way son,” the man repeated.  

“Don’t call me son!” Kit demanded when the man swatted at him again.  

“Kid, listen, go find your dad.” He tried again to get Kit to leave.

“Okay, I’ll go find him,” Kit backed away a step, still watching the man sitting there. “My name is Christopher Solomons by the way.”  

The man stopped his work, turning just enough to look at Kit. “Solomons you say?”

“Yeah, dad’s Alfred Solomons.”  

“Yeah, yeah, listen…” The man turned fully toward him now, “what would you like then? Maybe we could strike up a deal.”

“Sure,” Kit smiled, “I want to buy a ring for my dad’s birthday. I want to put my initials on it.”

He sat down beside the man and began to explain what kind of ring he wanted exactly for his father’s birthday. You had come over to join the pair, standing by Kit’s side and watching them. The merchant looked fairly uncomfortable but it wasn’t until you were walking home with Kit that you realized why. He relayed how he had hassled the older man by threatening him with Alfie.  

“You think daddy would’ve beat him up for you?” You asked.

“Yeah he was being mean to me. Daddy beat up men at the bakery once for me!” Kit replied.  

“Daddy and I may need to talk about that.” You laughed.  

“After his birthday though…cause he can’t know about the present.”

“Of course Kit.” You replied, “I won’t say a word.”

tagged: @weirdnewbie @ducks-are-kwl @crowleyismybabycakes @photograiphy-00 @clairyfaiiry @thinemineours @holy-minseok @yourenotmytype @sceawere @araceli91103

[almajonesnjna]

Unlike Any: How Runner Aisha Praught Leer Finds Inspiration in the Everyday

Runner Aisha Praught Leer describes herself as not being the greatest athlete and as an underdog, but it is her humility and perseverance that make her Unlike Any. After meeting her birth father in 2013, the Illinois-born runner decided to run for his native Jamaica. Since then, she’s competed in the 2016 Summer Olympics and 2017 World Track and Field Championships in London for the island nation. She set her personal best in the 3,000-meter steeplechase at the Doha Diamond League in Qatar this May.

A post shared by Aisha Praught Leer (@aishapraughtleer) on May 22, 2017 at 7:00am PDT

As one of the newest additions to the Unlike Any campaign, we sat down to talk to her about what inspires and motivates her, how her lowest moments have fueled her success, how important sleep and hydration are and her tips for the perfect three-egg omelet.

Check out the video and read the interview to learn more about Jamaica’s only female steeplechaser:

Q: Who inspires you to be Unlike Any? What’s the driving factor that fuels your motivation?

Praught Leer: I’m not sure I can say one person in particular, but something that inspires me to be unlike any is the legacy of women I’ve trained with throughout the years in high school and college, in particular, what goes on in the life of a professional athlete and what each goes through in being an athlete and doing it as themselves.

Specifically, my summer as a pro in Europe watching these women, my teammates — not superheros, not anything more than exactly who they were — was empowering for me. Through this, I learned what I have is unique and what I have is what can drive me.

A post shared by Aisha Praught Leer (@aishapraughtleer) on Sep 13, 2017 at 9:05am PDT

Q: What fuels your motivation? How do you make it happen?

Praught Leer: I have big long-term goals. This year I want to put myself in a position to win the Commonwealth Games and I want to lower my personal best in the steeplechase.

But what gets me going is a chain of smaller, achievable goals — daily, weekly, monthly goals. By making smaller goals, it’s powerful to see your accomplishments by putting these links together. Every day I try to maximize how I can be the best I can be today: knocking out my nutrition, getting my rest, getting my training in. By showing up for my training partner, my coach, my husband, myself.

I try to maximize all the small moments I get as an athlete. By taking things step by step, hopefully at the end of that staircase is something amazing.

“By taking things step by step, hopefully at the end of that staircase is something amazing.”

A post shared by Aisha Praught Leer (@aishapraughtleer) on Jul 8, 2017 at 7:18am PDT

Q: What makes you leap out of bed every day?

Praught Leer: My 11-month-old rescue, Leuven, named after the Belgian city where I met my husband. He puts perspective on my days, because I’m in charge of this living creature. It takes you out of yourself. It’s sometimes tough on the days when you’re really tired, but it makes you present. Having a puppy is meditative.

A post shared by Aisha Praught Leer (@aishapraughtleer) on Oct 26, 2017 at 4:36pm PDT

Q: What was your lowest moment that ended up launching you to success?

Praught Leer: My turning point as an athlete was my college team. My best friend and I were the two top performers on the team. We trained together, we worked together all the time. At the last second, she decided to transfer to a bigger and better school. It totally changed how I went after my goals, and it was almost like I had decided in that moment to prove anyone wrong who thought we weren’t serious and that these goals can’t be accomplished. That sort of twisted the screw for me to take  things to the next level. I really ran and trained with a chip on my shoulder because we were underdogs. No one had heard of us — of me.

I have realized in my own experience that I firmly believe that wherever you are is a starting point. If you start stringing together a series of goals there isn’t anything written in stone saying what you can and can’t do. It’s totally about your mindset, your commitment. I haven’t always been the best athlete; I wasn’t a million-times All-American. And I’m now one of the fastest steeplechasers in the world, and no one would’ve pegged me as that. I am proof you can do whatever you want.

“If you start stringing together a series of goals there isn’t anything written in stone saying what you can and can’t do.“

Q: Where do you get your inspiration from?  

Praught Leer: I really like people and the human story. Just being in a high-performance environment with other people chasing their own dreams is really cool to me. My training partner won the world championships this year in the steeplechase competition. Watching someone so close to you do something so amazing from the inside of the race is something I flash to a lot. Now I know exactly what it takes.

A post shared by Aisha Praught Leer (@aishapraughtleer) on Oct 31, 2017 at 3:10pm PDT

Q: How do you channel competition and sometimes losing?

I thrive in competitive environments. Of course I get anxious and nervous because that’s part of the game. But you can always take something away. I go in with the mentality that I’ll give 100% of my effort. I make a plan of how I’m going to attack it and I get really excited for people when they have great experiences.

If it sucks, it does suck, and it’s important to feel that and deal with that. I give myself plenty of time, I talk it out with my friends, training partner, coach, husband. I’ve had a lot of disappointment, but it’s important as an athlete to have a goldfish brain. It happened, it sucked, now I’m moving on.

READ MORE > ON INSPIRATION, MOTIVATION, AND THE DRIVE TO SUCCEED

Q: What’s your personal mantra?

Praught Leer: I’m smart. I can do this. I’m in control.

Q: Do you have any rituals or habits that keep you grounded and focused on achieving your goals?

Praught Leer: I think something that really helps me, especially leading into competition, is being a well-rounded person. Racing is the most important thing in my career, but for me, I can’t give it 100% power over my life, so in the days leading up to a race, one of my favorite things to do is make a point and go to the airport bookstore and buy myself a new, exciting book from the National Book Award list.

I listen to a couple different meditations and leading up to something important, if I’m having trouble sleeping, I go on YouTube and find sleep meditations. The nature of what I do means that I’m not with my friends and family — I use travel time to catch up with friends. I get lost in my world when I’m so focused on training. It’s grounding when I come up for air and can reach out to other people.

“It’s grounding when I come up for air and can reach out to other people.”

Q: What are your favorite healthy go-to foods?

Praught Leer: I tend to focus on eating real food and not stuff that comes out of a package. Especially after my time in the Pacific Northwest, eating sustainably and locally is important to me. If I could make one meal it would be a wild-caught salmon that I’ve caught myself, seasoned with salt and pepper, lemon, fresh ginger and then oven roasted and topped with beautiful greens, some chopped nuts and seeds and drizzled with a fresh, homemade dressing.

Another staple is a three-egg omelet that I’ve spent a lot of time perfecting after watching YouTube tutorials. I cook it with olive oil and eat it with a thick slice of sourdough bread, smashed avocado, spinach and fresh-squeezed lemon.

Q: Cooking in important to you. How do you make time for it with such a busy schedule?

Praught Leer: My husband (pro runner Will Leer) tackles breakfast and coffee, which is usually granola with a bunch of grains and berries and almond milk. For our wedding we requested one crowd-sourced gift — a really nice espresso machine. From there on, I take over cooking duties for lunch and dinner. We cook most of the time, but there’s always room to have a burger and fries on occasion.

READ MORE > DIANA NYAD | ON MOTIVATION, INSPIRATION AND THE DRIVE TO SUCCEED

Q: What are some tips you could give to MFP users to achieve their health (namely weight-loss and fitness) goals?

Praught Leer: Three things: First, sleep is the most underrated and important health and wellness tool. I find that when I’m most rested my body functions the most optimally. I’m in a better mood, my metabolism is revved, my body feels better, my mind works better.

Second, hydration is also another thing people neglect. When I wake up in the morning I have a glass of water and then a cup of green tea with a wedge of lemon — always before breakfast and even coffee. When I start my day this way I’m much smoother, my body works better. Hydrating during the day is important, too. A lot of the time your body doesn’t really know what it wants. So if you’re completely hydrated, you know whether you’re hungry or not.

And third, goal-setting and goal-sharing is really important. For a long time I found it really difficult to share my goals because I was so concerned that if I didn’t hit my goals it’d be really embarrassing. I found when I shared my goals (written or verbally), I was more likely to achieve them. It also establishes a community. Maybe the people you share your goals with will share theirs back with you. They can help you and check in with you. I find that things come easier once you declare goals.

“I found when I shared my goals (written or verbally), I was more likely to achieve them.“

Q: How do you unwind and celebrate your successes?

Praught Leer: I dress up, put on normal clothes, put on makeup (which I don’t do often because I’m training so much), and go out for a great glass of wine or margarita and hang with friends. When you’ve done something well to drive, drive, drive, it’s so important to pat yourself on the back. That’s something my training partner is really good at making sure we do.  

BE UNLIKE ANY WITH THESE COLLECTIONS

> Lindsey Vonn, World Champion Alpine Ski Racer > Zoe Zhang, Actress & Taekwondo Black Belt > Jessie Graff, Stunt Woman > Alison Desir, Harlem Run Founder > Misty Copeland, Principal Ballerina > Natasha Hastings, World Champion Sprinter

The post Unlike Any: How Runner Aisha Praught Leer Finds Inspiration in the Everyday appeared first on Under Armour.

http://ift.tt/2BjqWmh

[joshuabradleyn]

Unlike Any: How Runner Aisha Praught Leer Finds Inspiration in the Everyday

Runner Aisha Praught Leer describes herself as not being the greatest athlete and as an underdog, but it is her humility and perseverance that make her Unlike Any. After meeting her birth father in 2013, the Illinois-born runner decided to run for his native Jamaica. Since then, she’s competed in the 2016 Summer Olympics and 2017 World Track and Field Championships in London for the island nation. She set her personal best in the 3,000-meter steeplechase at the Doha Diamond League in Qatar this May.

A post shared by Aisha Praught Leer (@aishapraughtleer) on May 22, 2017 at 7:00am PDT

As one of the newest additions to the Unlike Any campaign, we sat down to talk to her about what inspires and motivates her, how her lowest moments have fueled her success, how important sleep and hydration are and her tips for the perfect three-egg omelet.

Check out the video and read the interview to learn more about Jamaica’s only female steeplechaser:

Q: Who inspires you to be Unlike Any? What’s the driving factor that fuels your motivation?

Praught Leer: I’m not sure I can say one person in particular, but something that inspires me to be unlike any is the legacy of women I’ve trained with throughout the years in high school and college, in particular, what goes on in the life of a professional athlete and what each goes through in being an athlete and doing it as themselves.

Specifically, my summer as a pro in Europe watching these women, my teammates — not superheros, not anything more than exactly who they were — was empowering for me. Through this, I learned what I have is unique and what I have is what can drive me.

A post shared by Aisha Praught Leer (@aishapraughtleer) on Sep 13, 2017 at 9:05am PDT

Q: What fuels your motivation? How do you make it happen?

Praught Leer: I have big long-term goals. This year I want to put myself in a position to win the Commonwealth Games and I want to lower my personal best in the steeplechase.

But what gets me going is a chain of smaller, achievable goals — daily, weekly, monthly goals. By making smaller goals, it’s powerful to see your accomplishments by putting these links together. Every day I try to maximize how I can be the best I can be today: knocking out my nutrition, getting my rest, getting my training in. By showing up for my training partner, my coach, my husband, myself.

I try to maximize all the small moments I get as an athlete. By taking things step by step, hopefully at the end of that staircase is something amazing.

“By taking things step by step, hopefully at the end of that staircase is something amazing.”

A post shared by Aisha Praught Leer (@aishapraughtleer) on Jul 8, 2017 at 7:18am PDT

Q: What makes you leap out of bed every day?

Praught Leer: My 11-month-old rescue, Leuven, named after the Belgian city where I met my husband. He puts perspective on my days, because I’m in charge of this living creature. It takes you out of yourself. It’s sometimes tough on the days when you’re really tired, but it makes you present. Having a puppy is meditative.

A post shared by Aisha Praught Leer (@aishapraughtleer) on Oct 26, 2017 at 4:36pm PDT

Q: What was your lowest moment that ended up launching you to success?

Praught Leer: My turning point as an athlete was my college team. My best friend and I were the two top performers on the team. We trained together, we worked together all the time. At the last second, she decided to transfer to a bigger and better school. It totally changed how I went after my goals, and it was almost like I had decided in that moment to prove anyone wrong who thought we weren’t serious and that these goals can’t be accomplished. That sort of twisted the screw for me to take  things to the next level. I really ran and trained with a chip on my shoulder because we were underdogs. No one had heard of us — of me.

I have realized in my own experience that I firmly believe that wherever you are is a starting point. If you start stringing together a series of goals there isn’t anything written in stone saying what you can and can’t do. It’s totally about your mindset, your commitment. I haven’t always been the best athlete; I wasn’t a million-times All-American. And I’m now one of the fastest steeplechasers in the world, and no one would’ve pegged me as that. I am proof you can do whatever you want.

“If you start stringing together a series of goals there isn’t anything written in stone saying what you can and can’t do.“

Q: Where do you get your inspiration from?  

Praught Leer: I really like people and the human story. Just being in a high-performance environment with other people chasing their own dreams is really cool to me. My training partner won the world championships this year in the steeplechase competition. Watching someone so close to you do something so amazing from the inside of the race is something I flash to a lot. Now I know exactly what it takes.

A post shared by Aisha Praught Leer (@aishapraughtleer) on Oct 31, 2017 at 3:10pm PDT

Q: How do you channel competition and sometimes losing?

I thrive in competitive environments. Of course I get anxious and nervous because that’s part of the game. But you can always take something away. I go in with the mentality that I’ll give 100% of my effort. I make a plan of how I’m going to attack it and I get really excited for people when they have great experiences.

If it sucks, it does suck, and it’s important to feel that and deal with that. I give myself plenty of time, I talk it out with my friends, training partner, coach, husband. I’ve had a lot of disappointment, but it’s important as an athlete to have a goldfish brain. It happened, it sucked, now I’m moving on.

READ MORE > ON INSPIRATION, MOTIVATION, AND THE DRIVE TO SUCCEED

Q: What’s your personal mantra?

Praught Leer: I’m smart. I can do this. I’m in control.

Q: Do you have any rituals or habits that keep you grounded and focused on achieving your goals?

Praught Leer: I think something that really helps me, especially leading into competition, is being a well-rounded person. Racing is the most important thing in my career, but for me, I can’t give it 100% power over my life, so in the days leading up to a race, one of my favorite things to do is make a point and go to the airport bookstore and buy myself a new, exciting book from the National Book Award list.

I listen to a couple different meditations and leading up to something important, if I’m having trouble sleeping, I go on YouTube and find sleep meditations. The nature of what I do means that I’m not with my friends and family — I use travel time to catch up with friends. I get lost in my world when I’m so focused on training. It’s grounding when I come up for air and can reach out to other people.

“It’s grounding when I come up for air and can reach out to other people.”

Q: What are your favorite healthy go-to foods?

Praught Leer: I tend to focus on eating real food and not stuff that comes out of a package. Especially after my time in the Pacific Northwest, eating sustainably and locally is important to me. If I could make one meal it would be a wild-caught salmon that I’ve caught myself, seasoned with salt and pepper, lemon, fresh ginger and then oven roasted and topped with beautiful greens, some chopped nuts and seeds and drizzled with a fresh, homemade dressing.

Another staple is a three-egg omelet that I’ve spent a lot of time perfecting after watching YouTube tutorials. I cook it with olive oil and eat it with a thick slice of sourdough bread, smashed avocado, spinach and fresh-squeezed lemon.

Q: Cooking in important to you. How do you make time for it with such a busy schedule?

Praught Leer: My husband (pro runner Will Leer) tackles breakfast and coffee, which is usually granola with a bunch of grains and berries and almond milk. For our wedding we requested one crowd-sourced gift — a really nice espresso machine. From there on, I take over cooking duties for lunch and dinner. We cook most of the time, but there’s always room to have a burger and fries on occasion.

READ MORE > DIANA NYAD | ON MOTIVATION, INSPIRATION AND THE DRIVE TO SUCCEED

Q: What are some tips you could give to MFP users to achieve their health (namely weight-loss and fitness) goals?

Praught Leer: Three things: First, sleep is the most underrated and important health and wellness tool. I find that when I’m most rested my body functions the most optimally. I’m in a better mood, my metabolism is revved, my body feels better, my mind works better.

Second, hydration is also another thing people neglect. When I wake up in the morning I have a glass of water and then a cup of green tea with a wedge of lemon — always before breakfast and even coffee. When I start my day this way I’m much smoother, my body works better. Hydrating during the day is important, too. A lot of the time your body doesn’t really know what it wants. So if you’re completely hydrated, you know whether you’re hungry or not.

And third, goal-setting and goal-sharing is really important. For a long time I found it really difficult to share my goals because I was so concerned that if I didn’t hit my goals it’d be really embarrassing. I found when I shared my goals (written or verbally), I was more likely to achieve them. It also establishes a community. Maybe the people you share your goals with will share theirs back with you. They can help you and check in with you. I find that things come easier once you declare goals.

“I found when I shared my goals (written or verbally), I was more likely to achieve them.“

Q: How do you unwind and celebrate your successes?

Praught Leer: I dress up, put on normal clothes, put on makeup (which I don’t do often because I’m training so much), and go out for a great glass of wine or margarita and hang with friends. When you’ve done something well to drive, drive, drive, it’s so important to pat yourself on the back. That’s something my training partner is really good at making sure we do.  

BE UNLIKE ANY WITH THESE COLLECTIONS

> Lindsey Vonn, World Champion Alpine Ski Racer > Zoe Zhang, Actress & Taekwondo Black Belt > Jessie Graff, Stunt Woman > Alison Desir, Harlem Run Founder > Misty Copeland, Principal Ballerina > Natasha Hastings, World Champion Sprinter

The post Unlike Any: How Runner Aisha Praught Leer Finds Inspiration in the Everyday appeared first on Under Armour.

http://ift.tt/2BjqWmh

[ruthellisneda]

Unlike Any: How Runner Aisha Praught Leer Finds Inspiration in the Everyday

Runner Aisha Praught Leer describes herself as not being the greatest athlete and as an underdog, but it is her humility and perseverance that make her Unlike Any. After meeting her birth father in 2013, the Illinois-born runner decided to run for his native Jamaica. Since then, she’s competed in the 2016 Summer Olympics and 2017 World Track and Field Championships in London for the island nation. She set her personal best in the 3,000-meter steeplechase at the Doha Diamond League in Qatar this May.

A post shared by Aisha Praught Leer (@aishapraughtleer) on May 22, 2017 at 7:00am PDT

As one of the newest additions to the Unlike Any campaign, we sat down to talk to her about what inspires and motivates her, how her lowest moments have fueled her success, how important sleep and hydration are and her tips for the perfect three-egg omelet.

Check out the video and read the interview to learn more about Jamaica’s only female steeplechaser:

Q: Who inspires you to be Unlike Any? What’s the driving factor that fuels your motivation?

Praught Leer: I’m not sure I can say one person in particular, but something that inspires me to be unlike any is the legacy of women I’ve trained with throughout the years in high school and college, in particular, what goes on in the life of a professional athlete and what each goes through in being an athlete and doing it as themselves.

Specifically, my summer as a pro in Europe watching these women, my teammates — not superheros, not anything more than exactly who they were — was empowering for me. Through this, I learned what I have is unique and what I have is what can drive me.

A post shared by Aisha Praught Leer (@aishapraughtleer) on Sep 13, 2017 at 9:05am PDT

Q: What fuels your motivation? How do you make it happen?

Praught Leer: I have big long-term goals. This year I want to put myself in a position to win the Commonwealth Games and I want to lower my personal best in the steeplechase.

But what gets me going is a chain of smaller, achievable goals — daily, weekly, monthly goals. By making smaller goals, it’s powerful to see your accomplishments by putting these links together. Every day I try to maximize how I can be the best I can be today: knocking out my nutrition, getting my rest, getting my training in. By showing up for my training partner, my coach, my husband, myself.

I try to maximize all the small moments I get as an athlete. By taking things step by step, hopefully at the end of that staircase is something amazing.

“By taking things step by step, hopefully at the end of that staircase is something amazing.”

A post shared by Aisha Praught Leer (@aishapraughtleer) on Jul 8, 2017 at 7:18am PDT

Q: What makes you leap out of bed every day?

Praught Leer: My 11-month-old rescue, Leuven, named after the Belgian city where I met my husband. He puts perspective on my days, because I’m in charge of this living creature. It takes you out of yourself. It’s sometimes tough on the days when you’re really tired, but it makes you present. Having a puppy is meditative.

A post shared by Aisha Praught Leer (@aishapraughtleer) on Oct 26, 2017 at 4:36pm PDT

Q: What was your lowest moment that ended up launching you to success?

Praught Leer: My turning point as an athlete was my college team. My best friend and I were the two top performers on the team. We trained together, we worked together all the time. At the last second, she decided to transfer to a bigger and better school. It totally changed how I went after my goals, and it was almost like I had decided in that moment to prove anyone wrong who thought we weren’t serious and that these goals can’t be accomplished. That sort of twisted the screw for me to take  things to the next level. I really ran and trained with a chip on my shoulder because we were underdogs. No one had heard of us — of me.

I have realized in my own experience that I firmly believe that wherever you are is a starting point. If you start stringing together a series of goals there isn’t anything written in stone saying what you can and can’t do. It’s totally about your mindset, your commitment. I haven’t always been the best athlete; I wasn’t a million-times All-American. And I’m now one of the fastest steeplechasers in the world, and no one would’ve pegged me as that. I am proof you can do whatever you want.

“If you start stringing together a series of goals there isn’t anything written in stone saying what you can and can’t do.“

Q: Where do you get your inspiration from?  

Praught Leer: I really like people and the human story. Just being in a high-performance environment with other people chasing their own dreams is really cool to me. My training partner won the world championships this year in the steeplechase competition. Watching someone so close to you do something so amazing from the inside of the race is something I flash to a lot. Now I know exactly what it takes.

A post shared by Aisha Praught Leer (@aishapraughtleer) on Oct 31, 2017 at 3:10pm PDT

Q: How do you channel competition and sometimes losing?

I thrive in competitive environments. Of course I get anxious and nervous because that’s part of the game. But you can always take something away. I go in with the mentality that I’ll give 100% of my effort. I make a plan of how I’m going to attack it and I get really excited for people when they have great experiences.

If it sucks, it does suck, and it’s important to feel that and deal with that. I give myself plenty of time, I talk it out with my friends, training partner, coach, husband. I’ve had a lot of disappointment, but it’s important as an athlete to have a goldfish brain. It happened, it sucked, now I’m moving on.

READ MORE > ON INSPIRATION, MOTIVATION, AND THE DRIVE TO SUCCEED

Q: What’s your personal mantra?

Praught Leer: I’m smart. I can do this. I’m in control.

Q: Do you have any rituals or habits that keep you grounded and focused on achieving your goals?

Praught Leer: I think something that really helps me, especially leading into competition, is being a well-rounded person. Racing is the most important thing in my career, but for me, I can’t give it 100% power over my life, so in the days leading up to a race, one of my favorite things to do is make a point and go to the airport bookstore and buy myself a new, exciting book from the National Book Award list.

I listen to a couple different meditations and leading up to something important, if I’m having trouble sleeping, I go on YouTube and find sleep meditations. The nature of what I do means that I’m not with my friends and family — I use travel time to catch up with friends. I get lost in my world when I’m so focused on training. It’s grounding when I come up for air and can reach out to other people.

“It’s grounding when I come up for air and can reach out to other people.”

Q: What are your favorite healthy go-to foods?

Praught Leer: I tend to focus on eating real food and not stuff that comes out of a package. Especially after my time in the Pacific Northwest, eating sustainably and locally is important to me. If I could make one meal it would be a wild-caught salmon that I’ve caught myself, seasoned with salt and pepper, lemon, fresh ginger and then oven roasted and topped with beautiful greens, some chopped nuts and seeds and drizzled with a fresh, homemade dressing.

Another staple is a three-egg omelet that I’ve spent a lot of time perfecting after watching YouTube tutorials. I cook it with olive oil and eat it with a thick slice of sourdough bread, smashed avocado, spinach and fresh-squeezed lemon.

Q: Cooking in important to you. How do you make time for it with such a busy schedule?

Praught Leer: My husband (pro runner Will Leer) tackles breakfast and coffee, which is usually granola with a bunch of grains and berries and almond milk. For our wedding we requested one crowd-sourced gift — a really nice espresso machine. From there on, I take over cooking duties for lunch and dinner. We cook most of the time, but there’s always room to have a burger and fries on occasion.

READ MORE > DIANA NYAD | ON MOTIVATION, INSPIRATION AND THE DRIVE TO SUCCEED

Q: What are some tips you could give to MFP users to achieve their health (namely weight-loss and fitness) goals?

Praught Leer: Three things: First, sleep is the most underrated and important health and wellness tool. I find that when I’m most rested my body functions the most optimally. I’m in a better mood, my metabolism is revved, my body feels better, my mind works better.

Second, hydration is also another thing people neglect. When I wake up in the morning I have a glass of water and then a cup of green tea with a wedge of lemon — always before breakfast and even coffee. When I start my day this way I’m much smoother, my body works better. Hydrating during the day is important, too. A lot of the time your body doesn’t really know what it wants. So if you’re completely hydrated, you know whether you’re hungry or not.

And third, goal-setting and goal-sharing is really important. For a long time I found it really difficult to share my goals because I was so concerned that if I didn’t hit my goals it’d be really embarrassing. I found when I shared my goals (written or verbally), I was more likely to achieve them. It also establishes a community. Maybe the people you share your goals with will share theirs back with you. They can help you and check in with you. I find that things come easier once you declare goals.

“I found when I shared my goals (written or verbally), I was more likely to achieve them.“

Q: How do you unwind and celebrate your successes?

Praught Leer: I dress up, put on normal clothes, put on makeup (which I don’t do often because I’m training so much), and go out for a great glass of wine or margarita and hang with friends. When you’ve done something well to drive, drive, drive, it’s so important to pat yourself on the back. That’s something my training partner is really good at making sure we do.  

BE UNLIKE ANY WITH THESE COLLECTIONS

> Lindsey Vonn, World Champion Alpine Ski Racer > Zoe Zhang, Actress & Taekwondo Black Belt > Jessie Graff, Stunt Woman > Alison Desir, Harlem Run Founder > Misty Copeland, Principal Ballerina > Natasha Hastings, World Champion Sprinter

The post Unlike Any: How Runner Aisha Praught Leer Finds Inspiration in the Everyday appeared first on Under Armour.

http://ift.tt/2BjqWmh

[johnclapperne]

Unlike Any: How Runner Aisha Praught Leer Finds Inspiration in the Everyday

Runner Aisha Praught Leer describes herself as not being the greatest athlete and as an underdog, but it is her humility and perseverance that make her Unlike Any. After meeting her birth father in 2013, the Illinois-born runner decided to run for his native Jamaica. Since then, she’s competed in the 2016 Summer Olympics and 2017 World Track and Field Championships in London for the island nation. She set her personal best in the 3,000-meter steeplechase at the Doha Diamond League in Qatar this May.

A post shared by Aisha Praught Leer (@aishapraughtleer) on May 22, 2017 at 7:00am PDT

As one of the newest additions to the Unlike Any campaign, we sat down to talk to her about what inspires and motivates her, how her lowest moments have fueled her success, how important sleep and hydration are and her tips for the perfect three-egg omelet.

Check out the video and read the interview to learn more about Jamaica’s only female steeplechaser:

Q: Who inspires you to be Unlike Any? What’s the driving factor that fuels your motivation?

Praught Leer: I’m not sure I can say one person in particular, but something that inspires me to be unlike any is the legacy of women I’ve trained with throughout the years in high school and college, in particular, what goes on in the life of a professional athlete and what each goes through in being an athlete and doing it as themselves.

Specifically, my summer as a pro in Europe watching these women, my teammates — not superheros, not anything more than exactly who they were — was empowering for me. Through this, I learned what I have is unique and what I have is what can drive me.

A post shared by Aisha Praught Leer (@aishapraughtleer) on Sep 13, 2017 at 9:05am PDT

Q: What fuels your motivation? How do you make it happen?

Praught Leer: I have big long-term goals. This year I want to put myself in a position to win the Commonwealth Games and I want to lower my personal best in the steeplechase.

But what gets me going is a chain of smaller, achievable goals — daily, weekly, monthly goals. By making smaller goals, it’s powerful to see your accomplishments by putting these links together. Every day I try to maximize how I can be the best I can be today: knocking out my nutrition, getting my rest, getting my training in. By showing up for my training partner, my coach, my husband, myself.

I try to maximize all the small moments I get as an athlete. By taking things step by step, hopefully at the end of that staircase is something amazing.

“By taking things step by step, hopefully at the end of that staircase is something amazing.”

A post shared by Aisha Praught Leer (@aishapraughtleer) on Jul 8, 2017 at 7:18am PDT

Q: What makes you leap out of bed every day?

Praught Leer: My 11-month-old rescue, Leuven, named after the Belgian city where I met my husband. He puts perspective on my days, because I’m in charge of this living creature. It takes you out of yourself. It’s sometimes tough on the days when you’re really tired, but it makes you present. Having a puppy is meditative.

A post shared by Aisha Praught Leer (@aishapraughtleer) on Oct 26, 2017 at 4:36pm PDT

Q: What was your lowest moment that ended up launching you to success?

Praught Leer: My turning point as an athlete was my college team. My best friend and I were the two top performers on the team. We trained together, we worked together all the time. At the last second, she decided to transfer to a bigger and better school. It totally changed how I went after my goals, and it was almost like I had decided in that moment to prove anyone wrong who thought we weren’t serious and that these goals can’t be accomplished. That sort of twisted the screw for me to take  things to the next level. I really ran and trained with a chip on my shoulder because we were underdogs. No one had heard of us — of me.

I have realized in my own experience that I firmly believe that wherever you are is a starting point. If you start stringing together a series of goals there isn’t anything written in stone saying what you can and can’t do. It’s totally about your mindset, your commitment. I haven’t always been the best athlete; I wasn’t a million-times All-American. And I’m now one of the fastest steeplechasers in the world, and no one would’ve pegged me as that. I am proof you can do whatever you want.

“If you start stringing together a series of goals there isn’t anything written in stone saying what you can and can’t do.“

Q: Where do you get your inspiration from?  

Praught Leer: I really like people and the human story. Just being in a high-performance environment with other people chasing their own dreams is really cool to me. My training partner won the world championships this year in the steeplechase competition. Watching someone so close to you do something so amazing from the inside of the race is something I flash to a lot. Now I know exactly what it takes.

A post shared by Aisha Praught Leer (@aishapraughtleer) on Oct 31, 2017 at 3:10pm PDT

Q: How do you channel competition and sometimes losing?

I thrive in competitive environments. Of course I get anxious and nervous because that’s part of the game. But you can always take something away. I go in with the mentality that I’ll give 100% of my effort. I make a plan of how I’m going to attack it and I get really excited for people when they have great experiences.

If it sucks, it does suck, and it’s important to feel that and deal with that. I give myself plenty of time, I talk it out with my friends, training partner, coach, husband. I’ve had a lot of disappointment, but it’s important as an athlete to have a goldfish brain. It happened, it sucked, now I’m moving on.

READ MORE > ON INSPIRATION, MOTIVATION, AND THE DRIVE TO SUCCEED

Q: What’s your personal mantra?

Praught Leer: I’m smart. I can do this. I’m in control.

Q: Do you have any rituals or habits that keep you grounded and focused on achieving your goals?

Praught Leer: I think something that really helps me, especially leading into competition, is being a well-rounded person. Racing is the most important thing in my career, but for me, I can’t give it 100% power over my life, so in the days leading up to a race, one of my favorite things to do is make a point and go to the airport bookstore and buy myself a new, exciting book from the National Book Award list.

I listen to a couple different meditations and leading up to something important, if I’m having trouble sleeping, I go on YouTube and find sleep meditations. The nature of what I do means that I’m not with my friends and family — I use travel time to catch up with friends. I get lost in my world when I’m so focused on training. It’s grounding when I come up for air and can reach out to other people.

“It’s grounding when I come up for air and can reach out to other people.”

Q: What are your favorite healthy go-to foods?

Praught Leer: I tend to focus on eating real food and not stuff that comes out of a package. Especially after my time in the Pacific Northwest, eating sustainably and locally is important to me. If I could make one meal it would be a wild-caught salmon that I’ve caught myself, seasoned with salt and pepper, lemon, fresh ginger and then oven roasted and topped with beautiful greens, some chopped nuts and seeds and drizzled with a fresh, homemade dressing.

Another staple is a three-egg omelet that I’ve spent a lot of time perfecting after watching YouTube tutorials. I cook it with olive oil and eat it with a thick slice of sourdough bread, smashed avocado, spinach and fresh-squeezed lemon.

Q: Cooking in important to you. How do you make time for it with such a busy schedule?

Praught Leer: My husband (pro runner Will Leer) tackles breakfast and coffee, which is usually granola with a bunch of grains and berries and almond milk. For our wedding we requested one crowd-sourced gift — a really nice espresso machine. From there on, I take over cooking duties for lunch and dinner. We cook most of the time, but there’s always room to have a burger and fries on occasion.

READ MORE > DIANA NYAD | ON MOTIVATION, INSPIRATION AND THE DRIVE TO SUCCEED

Q: What are some tips you could give to MFP users to achieve their health (namely weight-loss and fitness) goals?

Praught Leer: Three things: First, sleep is the most underrated and important health and wellness tool. I find that when I’m most rested my body functions the most optimally. I’m in a better mood, my metabolism is revved, my body feels better, my mind works better.

Second, hydration is also another thing people neglect. When I wake up in the morning I have a glass of water and then a cup of green tea with a wedge of lemon — always before breakfast and even coffee. When I start my day this way I’m much smoother, my body works better. Hydrating during the day is important, too. A lot of the time your body doesn’t really know what it wants. So if you’re completely hydrated, you know whether you’re hungry or not.

And third, goal-setting and goal-sharing is really important. For a long time I found it really difficult to share my goals because I was so concerned that if I didn’t hit my goals it’d be really embarrassing. I found when I shared my goals (written or verbally), I was more likely to achieve them. It also establishes a community. Maybe the people you share your goals with will share theirs back with you. They can help you and check in with you. I find that things come easier once you declare goals.

“I found when I shared my goals (written or verbally), I was more likely to achieve them.“

Q: How do you unwind and celebrate your successes?

Praught Leer: I dress up, put on normal clothes, put on makeup (which I don’t do often because I’m training so much), and go out for a great glass of wine or margarita and hang with friends. When you’ve done something well to drive, drive, drive, it’s so important to pat yourself on the back. That’s something my training partner is really good at making sure we do.  

BE UNLIKE ANY WITH THESE COLLECTIONS

> Lindsey Vonn, World Champion Alpine Ski Racer > Zoe Zhang, Actress & Taekwondo Black Belt > Jessie Graff, Stunt Woman > Alison Desir, Harlem Run Founder > Misty Copeland, Principal Ballerina > Natasha Hastings, World Champion Sprinter

The post Unlike Any: How Runner Aisha Praught Leer Finds Inspiration in the Everyday appeared first on Under Armour.

http://ift.tt/2BjqWmh

[neilmillerne]

Unlike Any: How Runner Aisha Praught Leer Finds Inspiration in the Everyday

Runner Aisha Praught Leer describes herself as not being the greatest athlete and as an underdog, but it is her humility and perseverance that make her Unlike Any. After meeting her birth father in 2013, the Illinois-born runner decided to run for his native Jamaica. Since then, she’s competed in the 2016 Summer Olympics and 2017 World Track and Field Championships in London for the island nation. She set her personal best in the 3,000-meter steeplechase at the Doha Diamond League in Qatar this May.

A post shared by Aisha Praught Leer (@aishapraughtleer) on May 22, 2017 at 7:00am PDT

As one of the newest additions to the Unlike Any campaign, we sat down to talk to her about what inspires and motivates her, how her lowest moments have fueled her success, how important sleep and hydration are and her tips for the perfect three-egg omelet.

Check out the video and read the interview to learn more about Jamaica’s only female steeplechaser:

Q: Who inspires you to be Unlike Any? What’s the driving factor that fuels your motivation?

Praught Leer: I’m not sure I can say one person in particular, but something that inspires me to be unlike any is the legacy of women I’ve trained with throughout the years in high school and college, in particular, what goes on in the life of a professional athlete and what each goes through in being an athlete and doing it as themselves.

Specifically, my summer as a pro in Europe watching these women, my teammates — not superheros, not anything more than exactly who they were — was empowering for me. Through this, I learned what I have is unique and what I have is what can drive me.

A post shared by Aisha Praught Leer (@aishapraughtleer) on Sep 13, 2017 at 9:05am PDT

Q: What fuels your motivation? How do you make it happen?

Praught Leer: I have big long-term goals. This year I want to put myself in a position to win the Commonwealth Games and I want to lower my personal best in the steeplechase.

But what gets me going is a chain of smaller, achievable goals — daily, weekly, monthly goals. By making smaller goals, it’s powerful to see your accomplishments by putting these links together. Every day I try to maximize how I can be the best I can be today: knocking out my nutrition, getting my rest, getting my training in. By showing up for my training partner, my coach, my husband, myself.

I try to maximize all the small moments I get as an athlete. By taking things step by step, hopefully at the end of that staircase is something amazing.

“By taking things step by step, hopefully at the end of that staircase is something amazing.”

A post shared by Aisha Praught Leer (@aishapraughtleer) on Jul 8, 2017 at 7:18am PDT

Q: What makes you leap out of bed every day?

Praught Leer: My 11-month-old rescue, Leuven, named after the Belgian city where I met my husband. He puts perspective on my days, because I’m in charge of this living creature. It takes you out of yourself. It’s sometimes tough on the days when you’re really tired, but it makes you present. Having a puppy is meditative.

A post shared by Aisha Praught Leer (@aishapraughtleer) on Oct 26, 2017 at 4:36pm PDT

Q: What was your lowest moment that ended up launching you to success?

Praught Leer: My turning point as an athlete was my college team. My best friend and I were the two top performers on the team. We trained together, we worked together all the time. At the last second, she decided to transfer to a bigger and better school. It totally changed how I went after my goals, and it was almost like I had decided in that moment to prove anyone wrong who thought we weren’t serious and that these goals can’t be accomplished. That sort of twisted the screw for me to take  things to the next level. I really ran and trained with a chip on my shoulder because we were underdogs. No one had heard of us — of me.

I have realized in my own experience that I firmly believe that wherever you are is a starting point. If you start stringing together a series of goals there isn’t anything written in stone saying what you can and can’t do. It’s totally about your mindset, your commitment. I haven’t always been the best athlete; I wasn’t a million-times All-American. And I’m now one of the fastest steeplechasers in the world, and no one would’ve pegged me as that. I am proof you can do whatever you want.

“If you start stringing together a series of goals there isn’t anything written in stone saying what you can and can’t do.“

Q: Where do you get your inspiration from?  

Praught Leer: I really like people and the human story. Just being in a high-performance environment with other people chasing their own dreams is really cool to me. My training partner won the world championships this year in the steeplechase competition. Watching someone so close to you do something so amazing from the inside of the race is something I flash to a lot. Now I know exactly what it takes.

A post shared by Aisha Praught Leer (@aishapraughtleer) on Oct 31, 2017 at 3:10pm PDT

Q: How do you channel competition and sometimes losing?

I thrive in competitive environments. Of course I get anxious and nervous because that’s part of the game. But you can always take something away. I go in with the mentality that I’ll give 100% of my effort. I make a plan of how I’m going to attack it and I get really excited for people when they have great experiences.

If it sucks, it does suck, and it’s important to feel that and deal with that. I give myself plenty of time, I talk it out with my friends, training partner, coach, husband. I’ve had a lot of disappointment, but it’s important as an athlete to have a goldfish brain. It happened, it sucked, now I’m moving on.

READ MORE > ON INSPIRATION, MOTIVATION, AND THE DRIVE TO SUCCEED

Q: What’s your personal mantra?

Praught Leer: I’m smart. I can do this. I’m in control.

Q: Do you have any rituals or habits that keep you grounded and focused on achieving your goals?

Praught Leer: I think something that really helps me, especially leading into competition, is being a well-rounded person. Racing is the most important thing in my career, but for me, I can’t give it 100% power over my life, so in the days leading up to a race, one of my favorite things to do is make a point and go to the airport bookstore and buy myself a new, exciting book from the National Book Award list.

I listen to a couple different meditations and leading up to something important, if I’m having trouble sleeping, I go on YouTube and find sleep meditations. The nature of what I do means that I’m not with my friends and family — I use travel time to catch up with friends. I get lost in my world when I’m so focused on training. It’s grounding when I come up for air and can reach out to other people.

“It’s grounding when I come up for air and can reach out to other people.”

Q: What are your favorite healthy go-to foods?

Praught Leer: I tend to focus on eating real food and not stuff that comes out of a package. Especially after my time in the Pacific Northwest, eating sustainably and locally is important to me. If I could make one meal it would be a wild-caught salmon that I’ve caught myself, seasoned with salt and pepper, lemon, fresh ginger and then oven roasted and topped with beautiful greens, some chopped nuts and seeds and drizzled with a fresh, homemade dressing.

Another staple is a three-egg omelet that I’ve spent a lot of time perfecting after watching YouTube tutorials. I cook it with olive oil and eat it with a thick slice of sourdough bread, smashed avocado, spinach and fresh-squeezed lemon.

Q: Cooking in important to you. How do you make time for it with such a busy schedule?

Praught Leer: My husband (pro runner Will Leer) tackles breakfast and coffee, which is usually granola with a bunch of grains and berries and almond milk. For our wedding we requested one crowd-sourced gift — a really nice espresso machine. From there on, I take over cooking duties for lunch and dinner. We cook most of the time, but there’s always room to have a burger and fries on occasion.

READ MORE > DIANA NYAD | ON MOTIVATION, INSPIRATION AND THE DRIVE TO SUCCEED

Q: What are some tips you could give to MFP users to achieve their health (namely weight-loss and fitness) goals?

Praught Leer: Three things: First, sleep is the most underrated and important health and wellness tool. I find that when I’m most rested my body functions the most optimally. I’m in a better mood, my metabolism is revved, my body feels better, my mind works better.

Second, hydration is also another thing people neglect. When I wake up in the morning I have a glass of water and then a cup of green tea with a wedge of lemon — always before breakfast and even coffee. When I start my day this way I’m much smoother, my body works better. Hydrating during the day is important, too. A lot of the time your body doesn’t really know what it wants. So if you’re completely hydrated, you know whether you’re hungry or not.

And third, goal-setting and goal-sharing is really important. For a long time I found it really difficult to share my goals because I was so concerned that if I didn’t hit my goals it’d be really embarrassing. I found when I shared my goals (written or verbally), I was more likely to achieve them. It also establishes a community. Maybe the people you share your goals with will share theirs back with you. They can help you and check in with you. I find that things come easier once you declare goals.

“I found when I shared my goals (written or verbally), I was more likely to achieve them.“

Q: How do you unwind and celebrate your successes?

Praught Leer: I dress up, put on normal clothes, put on makeup (which I don’t do often because I’m training so much), and go out for a great glass of wine or margarita and hang with friends. When you’ve done something well to drive, drive, drive, it’s so important to pat yourself on the back. That’s something my training partner is really good at making sure we do.  

BE UNLIKE ANY WITH THESE COLLECTIONS

> Lindsey Vonn, World Champion Alpine Ski Racer > Zoe Zhang, Actress & Taekwondo Black Belt > Jessie Graff, Stunt Woman > Alison Desir, Harlem Run Founder > Misty Copeland, Principal Ballerina > Natasha Hastings, World Champion Sprinter

The post Unlike Any: How Runner Aisha Praught Leer Finds Inspiration in the Everyday appeared first on Under Armour.

http://ift.tt/2BjqWmh