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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 3 years

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The Hard Things--Alternative Ending

Doing the right thing is never easy. Calum and Freya have a lot going for them. But what happens when fear gets in the way.

Inspired by I Follow Rivers by Marika Hackman and Starting Line by Luke Hemmings.

Calum X Black Female OC. Angst with a happy ending. Because my characters should never be happy.

The Hard Things--Original Ending.

Materlist (on a semi hiatus)

___________

If Freya were going to be honest, she would admit that the second she saw Calum and his friends walk into the building she knew things were going to be bad. But Freya’s not being honest. Because being honest would almost include admitting just how too easy it was that day. How if those particular sequences of events hadn’t happened that specifically, then she wouldn’t be here--trying not to watch the quiver in his chin or the way he blinks rapidly. Then she wouldn’t be trying to forget the way his voice quakes.

But they did happen in that particular order. On a Thursday afternoon, he and his friends walked through the door. And here, here at this part, it’s easy to be honest.

Honestly, she is staring--way too hard and way too long at the rag-tag gaggle of people, but especially the man pulling up the rear of the group with a bright red hat snug on his head and covering his eyes, though not even the brim can hide the plump full lips pulled up into a tiny grin at something that must’ve been said. Because another guy, this one fairer-skinned in a hat too and a baggy t-shirt is also laughing. And of course, this group would enter just as Tre stepped away to check on the lanes already throwing. Vanessa wasn’t too far from the desk, but she was trying to help some parents figure out when they could schedule an event for someone’s birthday in the coming weeks.

This only leaves Freya as the only person available right now until rounds were completed to handle any new patrons. With a glance down to the clock on the computer, she could see that a couple more folks would be coming back to the front at any point. But clearly, that point wouldn’t come quick enough.

“Hi,” Freya greets flicking her gaze back up to the group with a quick smile. It’s the training. The fact that more than once she’d been told that customers liked her, especially the way she gave instructions but she needed to smile more. And if this weren’t the job keeping her afloat during her time of getting her degree, in addition to the administrative desk work she did at the university, she would leave here in a heartbeat. Possibly even in the blink of an eye. Whichever was faster.

“Hey! We were hoping you had a couple of lanes for us.”

Freya counts the head. “Just you seven?”

The guy that spoke initially turns the man in the back with the bright red hat on. “Still no word from her?”

The guy shrugs. “Don’t sweat it.” And Freya clings to every syllable. The almost sleepy drawl to his voice lined with a twinge of an accent. She can’t place it at first. But all of them share slight variations in it. The man in the red hat’s voice is low but smooth.

“Yeah just the seven of us,” a taller man pipes in.

“Okay, we can only have two people throwing on a lane at a time. I can put you on neighboring ones but we’ve got very strict rules about how many people can throw at a time.”

There’s a murmur amongst the group but eventually, it comes back to Freya that they’re okay with it. She runs down the safety rules, the forms they have to form out, and checks their IDs. She notices the man with the red hat’s name is Calum and though she knows she shouldn’t, she tries to commit it to memory. It won’t last long. She forgets names all too fast, but she never forgets a face.

“Nessa, watch the desk for me!” Freya calls out as she collects the cases with the axes and directs the party to their lanes. There’s a table for convening and a separate for the axes to rest. “Alright,” she starts with a quick whistle to settle the group. They get chatty but are quick to turn their attention back to her. “I don’t want to kick anyone out, but I will. So one last recap of the rules.”

When Freya finishes, she has the entire group repeat the rules back to her. When they return it to her all correctly, she smiles. “I appreciate y’all already. There are several range officers. They monitor carefully from several posts,” and she points them out as she speaks. “The shift rotates out in an hour. Meaning you’ll have to pause let the old shift go and let the new shift jump in. You’ll hear beeps to signal you to stop and start. If you have any other questions or concerns, you can find me at the front or a range officer. And we’ll be happy to help. Let’s keep all fingers, toes, extremities, and eyeballs intact and we can have a great day together. Enjoy.”

Usually, in her safety spills and best way to throw, Freya makes sure to keep eye contact with everyone in the group. However, she places a purposeful gaze on Calum when she tells them to enjoy. It’s reckless--she knows that. A little flirting hasn’t hurt her. Besides, she knows the moment she walks away, he’ll forget about her. They always did and she likes it like that. Flirty enough to keep good reviews, but never too flirty to insinuate anything more.

In her departure, Freya feels eyes on her, lasting longer than usual. And maybe she put more emphasis behind the swish of her hips and maybe she hoped it was Calum watching her walk away. But she doesn’t dare turn around. No matter how much she hopes in a fleeting second that maybe she had flirted just a little too much, Freya does not turn around to confirm or deny anything.

Back at the front desk, Freya takes a look at the cameras. Anyone at the front can see the lanes too--it’s for safety when you have live blades. Her gaze travels over each one though just out of the corner of her eye she catches the bright red hat. A few guys clasp him on the back but she can’t hear whatever else is said. The rest of the afternoon goes by slowly. As people leave, few come in to replace them. The weekend will be busier--it always in. And Freya knows that soon too, once the afternoon becomes evening things will pick up just a little.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Everything okay?”

Freya barely sees who it is talking before they’re out of the door. Calum, phone pressed to his ear. She watches him for a beat as he paces near the front windows of the establishment. Her gaze doesn’t linger long before something on the floor catches her eye. She sees it’s black and square. When she gets closer it looks like a wallet. Clearly used and loved by the creases in it. She glances back up to Calum to see him still on the phone and peeks at the ID just to make sure who it belongs to.

With the blank stare of Calum’s ID photo looking up at her, Freya takes it back behind the desk. She’ll wait until he gets off the phone. A minute or two later, the door chimes again with Calum reentering.

“Hey, you dropped this,” she calls out, stepping out from the desk to hold out the wallet.

Calum pats his pockets and a split second panic causes his eyes to go wide. “Oh shit, thanks. I-I didn’t even realize it fell out of my pocket.”

“No worries. Just glad to get it back to you.” Calum takes it and slips it into his pocket, hands patting the outside to make doubly sure it’s secure. “You guys doing okay back there?

“Yeah, we’re good. Though I think somehow the girls are kicking our asses.”

Freya smiles with a small tuft of laughter escaping her. “It’s power and finesse. You can tear down brick buildings but if you don’t get the release right so it’s not twirling over the axis too many times, you’ll come up with nothing.”

“So says the expert?”

Her cheeks heat for a second at the raised eyebrow Calum gives her. Running her tongue over her teeth to hide the smile, Freya nods. “Yeah, I’ve thrown an axe or two in my lifetime. So I guess that counts as me being an expert.”

Calum laughs. Whether it’s at her or not, Freya’s not sure. But she likes the sound of it. “Tell me what else the expert suggests.”

A moment passes where Freya’s watching his gaze. Wondering if an anime glint will twinkle over his brown eyes because it’s a smooth delivery. Smoother than some of the stuff she’s done. There’s no way he’s fucking real.

Freya takes a half step back, slipping through the threshold that separates the front desk from the main lobby and the hallway to the back where the lanes are set up. “This expert suggests that you try her advice and impress all your friends.”

“More finesse. In the wrist, right?”

“In the wrist.”

A shy smile is shared between the two of them. It borders telling everything and saying nothing at all, borders on giving away on how much Calum might’ve considered concocting a ruse just to get her attention and how much he did backtrack on his plan because it was his sister calling and that shocked him. The smile borders on Freya twirling the Havana twists around her finger and her rolling her eyes at Calum’s thinly veiled attempts at flirting.

Both of them are saved by the front door chiming and Freya gives a nod to Calum before turning her attention to the person now entering. But Calum watches the way she leans into the counter and smiles down at the small child standing next to their parent. “Oh my god, you’re getting so big,” Freya comments and then walks back around to settle next to them.

“No, Fre, I’m not bigger dan yesterday,” the kid responds.

“Huh, could’ve fooled me. Your dad will be out in just a second. Shift change had to wait for one more person. Anything cool happen at school today?”

Calum leaves then, though he can catch the small boy gush about the races he won at recess. It’s probably crazy of him to try and find some sort of way to come back here again soon, but Calum’s already trying to put together an excuse.

When Calum heads back to the front with the group, laughing at Michael’s utter disgust at the way the last few throws went, he does look for Freya. A girl with red hair is sitting at the desk instead. And though a little bit of disappoints settles into his stomach because he wanted to tell her how well her advice worked, he finds himself resolved and it wouldn’t be broken.

******

Calum told himself whatever Freya had to say during this talk wouldn’t break him. Hell, if he were honest, he didn’t think it would go like this. “You know, I used to say I was no good for people all the time,” Calum laughs. He sniffs hard and wipes his noses on the back of his nose. “It was a clean get-away line.”

“I’m not giving you a get-away line. I’m giving you the truth,” Freya returns.

“No, I’m-I’m not saying you’re giving me bullshit. You’re setting a boundary and a good one at that. I respect it. I’m just saying the irony. The same thing I used to tell others is coming back my way.”

“Karma’s a bitch.”

“I don’t regret it.” Calum shakes his head, not because he’s lying. But to emphasize his point.

*****

Calum doesn’t regret going to the Yelp, Facebook, or Instagram page of the business to see if she had liked it or appeared anywhere on their social media. And luck would have it, he manages to find her. The owners like to show off their employees. Their preferred form of employee appreciation appears, in Calum’s investigation, to be a quick bio of new employees along with a video of them throwing. He nearly misses Freya’s post because of his quick scrolls. The bottom of the page comes up quicker than the app could handle and just as the new page loads that he notices it. The thick twists and black lipstick sitting on her cool dark brown skin.

He doesn’t regret it when he followed the account that was tagged, or the message he sent her from his finsta, or the messages they exchanged for a few days. And he for damn sure can’t find himself to regret it when he came back to the place a couple of weeks later to see if Freya was working.

There’s no regret when she smiles at him and laughs. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to test your theory yet again. It worked last time. But I want to make sure that it wasn’t beginner’s luck.”

“You doubt me. You dare doubt me? I’m offended.”

Calum laughs briefly as he leans into the counter of the front desk. “It’s more like I’m testing a theory. Making sure the results can be recreated.”

“Oh, I promise you my results are valid.” She reaches out for his ID and every so gently their fingers brush. Calum can’t tell if that’s intentional or not, but it doesn’t the slight shiver that runs down his spine. “So just you today, huh?” Freya continues on, grabbing a clipboard, some forms, and a pen.

“Just me.”

“Rest of your friends scared.” Her gaze falls to the stack she’s gathering, checking something off on the top page and then sliding the ID back to Calum.

“They’d probably laugh at me if they knew I was here.”

“Laugh at you?”

“Tell me--why do you think I’m here?”

A moment passes between them. Though it takes up more like several seconds, time feels froze as Freya studies his face. Calum wants to reach up and readjust his hat out of a nervous habit. He wants to take it back. But more than anything, he wants to know if he has a shot. If it’s worth really pursuing.

“I think you’re here to test a theory. Maybe, just maybe you’re here because of Vanessa too,” she smiles as it says. Like she knows that isn’t the truth but she doesn’t want to give into Calum.

And while it’s not the answer he was hoping for, Calum takes it. She wants to play a game and he can be down for that.

*****

She wants to reach out for his hands. They sit next to each other in the lounge chairs Calum keeps lined around his pool. But Freya thinks twice about it. The bulbs dangle above them casting an amber hue onto the water, a stark contrast to the twilight pressing evening closer to night’s full darkness. Freya does regret it. She regrets not leaving her teasing response just to testing a theory. She knew what Calum was fishing for, what he was hoping to confirm when he came back by himself.

Maybe it was just where she was then. Then she thought she could give more. Now she realizes she can’t. She likes it when she’s dating someone and they can decide on a random Sunday for errand runs. She likes having them around. And not that Calum wouldn’t be around. Tours didn’t happen all the time. But they did run long. And who the hell knows where she’d be in eight months after she graduated. Her life wasn’t stable--she wasn’t tied to the West Coast like Calum was.

Her life was full of variables. Ones that she didn’t really plan on trying to solve until closer to Christmas in the spring right before graduation. And she didn’t want to give Calum any more false hope. It wasn’t set in stone that she’d be staying in LA and it wasn’t set in stone that she could handle the long departures. Calum deserved someone that was more sure of themselves.

“I think having regrets is no good anyway,” Freya says, finally breaking the long silence between them. “Having them doesn’t change what happened anyway.” But that doesn’t change the fact that you still regret this, Freya thinks to herself.

“I used to believe love could overcome any obstacle.”

Freya turns to look to Calum and catches thhe way the stubble on his chin from the few weeks he’s gone without shaving halos just a little in the lights. “Used to? The right person, the right love--”

Calum shakes his head. “Now I think people loving me means that they love themselves and they can tell me what they want or need. No guessing. No games.”

“Still sounds a lot of a hell lot like overcoming obstacles.”

“But it’s not a dream. It’s tangible. It’s not me daydreaming up in the clouds. It’s me--right here. Right now. Knowing seeing what it means more than anything else that all the shit I was thinking of as a kid really needed just to be put on the ground level for me.”

“What-what do you mean?”

“I mean as much as it fucking sucks that you’re telling me no, I know you’re doing it for the right reasons. I-there’s like this thing with me. I watch people. I don’t walk into a room of strangers and become the center of attention. I don’t like people all that much, but I care. You know? I care about the people I put into my life and I want them to do well and succeed. I want what’s best for them. It’s not always easy to want that, but innately, I do, I think. Deep down I want what’s good for people. And maybe love is doing the hard things, you know.”

He pauses. Freya watches the way he drops his head, fingers threading through the curls. She keeps quiet. There’s something more, something deeper to the words. “And you’re doing the hard thing. Whether it’s for me or not is debatable,” Calum continues. “But I think love is doing the hard things.”

“You said that having some space was important to you. And while I understand that, like you do need to be your own person in a relationship--”

“Your reasons or how you want to justify it to yourself for me isn’t something I need. You already said that you know what you expect and like out a relationship and that the touring would be too hard for you. Set boundaries for you. What good does it do to justify it to me?”

“So you know I’m not being an asshole, Calum. For fuck sake.”

“No, no, I-shit. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant--who are boundaries really for? What do they do?”

“I guess they do protect the person making them. But I’m not trying to be an asshole to you. I swear.”

Calum looks up from the cement of his background lining the pool to the glossy sheen coating Freya’s eyes. They’re black in the settling night. But Calum knows they’re more like a medium brown--dark enough to get lost in them, but when they catch the light just right, they can feel like an enchanting spell sucking him in.

“Freya, you are a sarcastic son of a bitch. But an asshole to those that don’t deserve it, never.”

She sucks on her teeth, swatting at his bicep. “Take that back.”

Calum leans onto his left elbow, closing the gap between them just a little. A smile lifts his lips gently. “Never.”

“We’ve both been burned. Is it bad I didn’t want that again?”

“No. I used to say love is a scam. So I don’t think I’m necessarily the poster boy for relationships.”

“But admit it, you hoped this was the one so you wouldn’t be the odd man out.” His brows furrow at her comment. Freya gives him a soft smile. “Two of the guys are engaged. But all three of them are in a relationship.”

He sighs, gazing dropping from her face. “Maybe I was hoping so. Is it bad of me to want to be in love?”

“No. I told some kids that my boyfriend was Shermar Moore,” Freya admits with a laugh. “I was working at a summer camp and one girl saw his picture on my phone. It was my lockscreen for the longest time. So I just went with it. Well, I was spurred in part because of Drew who was a fucking creep and wouldn’t leave me alone. But I did fantasize about it. Dream of being in love with some famous and the limelight. Shit at that point, I hadn’t even dated anyone either. So another part of it was a desire too.”

“Is that part of it too? Worried about what trolls and whatever will say?”

“Oh, no one who doesn’t know shit about it can make me get outside myself.” Freya laughs but reclines into the cushions of the chair. “But maybe it’s a little bit of it. That’s too many voices talking all about you. It’s a lot of noise and some of it has to bleed through you know. Even if you’re careful and you work not to take it in, some does, right?”

“I don’t think humans were created to be able to handle that much criticism or even love and adoration. Our brains can’t handle it. So yeah, a little bit seeps in. But you keep that door closed as much as you can. You talk to people that also get it. Fuck, you even get a therapist.”

“Or a dog,” Freya says before turning her head to watch Duke laying inside next to the back door.

“And a dog,” Calum corrects.

“Excuse me, you get a therapist and a dog.”

“Tell me something.”

“I’m listening,” Freya returns, looking back to Calum.

“Before you go tonight, tell me the thing you’re going to cherish between us.”

“Will you do the same?” Calum nods at the question but doesn’t respond verbally as he gazes at her.

“Do you want to answer now?”

“Are you leaving now?”

“I-I didn’t think you wanted me to stay.”

“I want you to stay as long as you feel comfortable. And then when you leave, the parting thing we have is the good, the best of us.”

“What if I stay until dawn?”

“Then you stay until dawn. Though, I think it’s safe to say both of us will pass out by 3 AM.”

“That was the most ridiculous thing I think I’ve ever done,” Freya laughs. Remembering the same she spent a Friday night after a shift at Calum’s place. He had a birthday party on Saturday along with a vet appointment with Duke. And then Sunday, Freya had we weekly lunch with her friends that she couldn’t miss. So Calum asked her if she wanted dinner Friday night at his place. Which she said yes to, but then it turned into them doing a movie marathon. Which then turned into Calum betting her that he could stay up longer than her. But they ultimately passed out around 3 in the morning on Calum’s couch.

“Thankfully, I did not miss Duke’s vet appointment that time,” Calum tacks on.

“Yeah, no thanks to me waking you up half an hour before it.”

“That darlin’ is what I call details.”

“No, I call that a very important fact,” Freya defends sitting up. “Duke would’ve been late twice if not for me.”

Calum giggles at her incredulous look. She always got heated fast, though she knew when it was serious things and when it wasn’t. “It wasn’t him paying for the visit.”

“So you ought to kiss the ground I’m standing on right now because you didn’t have to pay anything like a cancellation fee.”

“You’re not standing on any ground right-” the sentence doesn’t get the wind to complete itself when Calum watches her stand up. “Or maybe you are standing up.”

Freya hears him, but she gazes up to the sky. Trying to look past the twinkle of his backyard lights. There’s not much to see due to the light pollution. But the sounds capture her attention next. His neighborhood’s almost been mostly quiet. But with the twinge of the summer’s heat fading, Freya can hear the last bit of people outside. A dog barks into the night and there’s the crunch only tires on gravel and asphalt can give. There’s a hum in the night that Freya can feel in her bones.

It’s hard not to fall in love with the sounds of the night. It’s hard not to romanticize this, how possibly if things were different she could find herself at some point always standing in the middle of this backyard listening to the sounds of the night, having Calum beside her or maybe Duke when he’s gone and just letting herself go to the buzz. In all honesty, Freya craved stability. Always having something to come back was her dream. But in that dream it was a partner who would be there for every dinner. A shared space that was full with both of their presences.

“When you think about coming home what’s there?” Freya asks. “Like, in ten years, what’s in your home when you walk inside?”

Calum closes his eyes, bringing the picture to his mind’s eye. “Like, the truth of what I see?”

“The truth,” Freya confirms.

“Two kids, a dog for sure. Maybe two. A wife. A lot of laughs. Being knocked over with hugs. Maybe a movie that hasn’t quite been paused catches my ears. Maybe it’s summer and my mum’s over too. Because she wants to be around the kids as much as possible. And my sister--she comes over when she can too. So we have to figure out what to cook because it’s a family dinner night. I’m mostly likely in Australia. But I could be somewhere else. Just not LA. I don’t think I could have kids here.”

“That sounds lovely, Calum.”

“But I am scared. My parents divorced. What if it doesn’t work out?”

“That wasn’t your fault. And if we heal from our trauma before having kids then maybe some of our fears won’t come to reality.”

“And if it does.”

“Then we know the boogeyman is real and sometimes we can do our best but things that are meant to happen will still happen.”

“Your parents are divorced too, right?” Calum remembers her mentioning a distinction between her mother’s house and her father’s house. But she hadn’t outright stated that her parents were divorced, just alluded to it.

“Yeah. My dad remarried. He seems happy.”

“What about you? If you closed your eyes and thought about yourself in 10 years, where are you?”

“I technically asked what do you see in your home when you walk inside 10 years from now.”

“Oh, come off it,” Calum laughs, throwing a dismissive wave her way.

“But,” she giggles and then closes her eyes. The breeze blows across her face and she lifts her chin up to catch as much of it as she can. Then she speaks, “I don’t know. Home’s full of the people I love. And I feel stable. I’m not worried about what I’m going to do weeks from now when something inevitably has to change. Because nothing’s going to change. Or at least, I’m not anticipating change. I think that’s what I’m sick of. I’m sick of dealing with change and constantly moving around and not knowing what the next year is going to look like. I’m tired of looking over my shoulder and planning. I just want to be still.”

“You did the whole back and forth between houses, huh?”

“Yeah. I always felt like I was playing two versions of myself when I was younger. I had to be one way around my mother and one way around my father and according to my therapist, the constant games of charade fucked me up a little.”

“How often did you go between their houses?”

“Every weekend.”

Calum sucks in air through his teeth, “Yikes. Yeah, no wonder you want stability.”

“Oh, thank you Dr. Hood. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Well this is a question so it’s not something you don’t know, but is the thought of me being gone for months at a time remind you of that? Like, you’d have to be one way while I was here and then another way when I was gone?”

Freya shrugs. But it’s right on the nose. “I’d have to learn to be with you and then be without you. And all I have are switches. No dimmers. I’m either on or I’m off. And I-I’m working on it. But I’ve got a long way to go.”

Calum scoffs, whispering mostly to himself. “All I have are switches. No dimmers.” It’s not a taunt to her. It’s not him blowing her concern off. It’s recognition that colors his tone. It’s the sigh when hearing something that connects so deeply it takes all the oxygen from lungs with it.

“And I swear to Christ, Calum, if you make a Lowe’s or Home Depot joke, I will extract your ankles from you right here right now.”

“Extract? What the hell?” Calum laughs.

“Broken ankles heal,” Freya returns with a smirk. Her face is lit mostly from above due to continued standing position but Calum catches the way her lips move.

“Remind me to really never piss you off. Between your ability to throw axes and the time you told me about putting ham on a girl’s car, I don’t think I want that kind of trouble in my life.”

“I only put the ham on the car because my friend was heartbroken and she was a cunt for cheating.”

“Yeah, see that’s what I mean,” Calum points out, his index finger swirling in a circle in front of her.

“I could’ve slashed her tires too.”

“I think ruining her paint job was more than enough.”

Freya places her hands on her hips, looking down at Calum. “I’ve got some anger issues too. Did I mention that?”

They laugh but Calum recovers first to speak. “I hadn’t noticed it before. Thank you for telling me that. But in all seriousness, Freya, the boundaries you have make sense. I hope you continue with therapy as well,” he states with a giggle. “But it’s not easy to look back at yourself and realize ‘Oh shit, maybe I don’t want that thing again because that actually fucking hurt’. And do something about it. That takes a lot of strength.”

“Thanks, Calum. And I will continue with this therapist for the rest of the school year because it’s free. Shoutout to some universities for having really accessible mental health resources.”

Freya finally sits, facing Calum. He keeps his gaze averted. But it doesn’t bother her. “What’s the intention behind telling me I can stay as long as I want? Is it to get me to change my mind? Just earlier both of us were near tears and now we’re walking down memory lane. Sharing things we hadn’t shared yet.”

“I want as much of you as I can get before you’re gone. Selfish, right?” The tears are back, she can hear them in his voice.

“No. A bit of your masochism showing, certainly.”

“You ever know something’s bad for you, but you want it anyway? You want the pain anyway?”

“I mean considering both of us are littered tattoos, pain’s not something we’re too worried about.”

Calum wishes he didn’t laugh, not even the short burst of laughter. “Someone’s coping with humor.”

“Someone’s self flagellating.”

“Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want you to go. But I don’t want you to hurt yourself either.”

“Maybe love is doing the hard things. You said that yourself.”

Calum swallows hard and his voice only comes out in a whisper. “I know I did.”

Freya blinks away the blur of tears. But as soon as they clear, more replace them. Her voice is tight as she speaks. “Doing the hard things suck though. Don’t think this is easy.”

“It’s because it’s the hard thing,” Calum returns. He wants to smile and manages to get a small one but he knows. Freya’s going to leave. She won’t stay.

“My favorite thing,” she starts and Calum exhales hard. There it is--the confirmation. The sentence gets caught in her throat so she pauses to clear it, work the tears down to at least speak. God, why couldn’t it have been easy. “My favorite thing between us, about us, whatever you want to label it as, is that we could also be honest. And even if it was burning waffles or ducking paps to watch a movie for an anime that you had no idea anything about because I wanted to go desperately and you had to Google a summary during the previews, we were always honest with each other.”

“I want to put it out there that you only told me that it was for an anime as I was buying the tickets. So I had zero time to prepare beforehand.”

“I told you the name of it the Monday before we saw it.”

“And admittedly, I forget it the second after you said it.”

“Fair enough, Calum. Fair enough.”

Calum spins in the chair and takes her hand. The first time they’ve touched today. Normally, Freya was more than happy to give out hugs but when Calum opened the front door, she have a half smile and stepped inside. If he could go back to earlier, he’d tell himself that was the first sign.

His thumb passes gently over the butterfly on her left hand. “The thing I’m going to cherish is that you made me feel sixteen again. My entire life changed at sixteen and I felt pretty invincible. I was also scared and excited. I was going to be in a band, like a one with lots of records and I don’t know--I only had that dream to believe in because I damn sure did not have a back up. It was before the downs. And I don’t regret the hard times either. But you’re the first person in a long time that gave me those butterflies. Assumed I was just never going to feel them again and I wasn’t a good person before, not as good as I could’ve been. But you gave me something to be good for again. Getting your text made my whole fucking day. And you-god, you cared about so many things. I bought books you recommended and couldn’t wait to talk about them with you. I remembered the kind of person I want to be. So thank you. For making me feel sixteen again in the cheesiest way possible but also in the best way possible too. That things are worth giving a shit for and that we can let people in and it won’t always burn.”

“Just a little sting.”

Calum nods. “Just a little sting.”

Freya brings his hands to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to the right one. Her sniffle is loud amongst the hum of the night. “If it weren’t for the fact that my eyeliner is tattooed to my face it would probably be running. I’m sorry it has to hurt at all. But-but I’m hopeful.”

“Hopeful?”

“Hopeful that we’ll get what we need out of life.”

He nods again, watching the tears track down her cheek. “We will.”

Her hands gently slip back out of his grasp and she uses the back of her wrist to press under her nose. The tremors shake her hands, so she shakes them before standing. Calum cranes his neck up, words about to fall from his lips. But she cups his cheek and smiles at him. “Don’t. There’s nothing else to say.”

It happens just as he blinks. He sighs, eyes closing to steel himself. Because there’s always so much else to say. And then her lips are pressing to his forehead. It last long enough for Calum to take hold of her thighs instinctively want to pull her in closer to him.

Then she’s gone. His hand slides down the rough denim and Freya’s walking to the edge of the backdoor. Duke picks up his head but doesn’t move much else. “Oh yeah, you don’t need to move. You know everyone comes to you, huh?” She gives him a few pats and scratches. “I’ll send you something for your adoption day, okay, love? And you might hate wearing it or you might love eating it. But be on the lookout for the mailman. He’ll have something from me.”

Calum doesn’t say anything as she says her goodbyes to Duke. She kisses the top of his head too and he thinks she might’ve whispered something else but he’s not certain from his spot on the chair. The swish of the tassels on Freya’s jeans signal her and the click of her heeled boots tell Calum she’s walking farther from him. The latch in the fence clicks and the wood around the hinges creak as she presses into the door. There’s a soft thud as the door shuts and then Calum can’t hear anything over the cough he uses to try and cover the tightness in his chest, can’t see anything in the blurry vision of his tears

She’s just gone.

******

When the front door bell sounds, Calum doesn’t think much of it. It could be a package or someone selling something. So he pushes up from the kitchen table and heads to the door. There on his porch is a light blue box with white bones on it. The subscription box that Calum gets already came. But then he notices an index card with a handwritten address on it. He picks it up. Right there in the return address is Freya’s name. He sucks in a breath and then looks to see who it’s addressed to: Duke Hood + Calum.

“Duke,” Calum calls out, stepping back inside to the house. He closes the door with his foot. The click of paws let him know the old man’s heard his call. “A little early birthday present has arrived just for you.”

He walks deeper into the living room and sets the box on the coffee table. Inside holds an olive green harness, treats, and a card. Calum laughs as Duke presses his snout against the bag of treats. “Alright, alright. I get it.”

Duke happily munches on one of the chews from the bag and Calum opens the card. A different letter slips out into his lap. He can see the ink and lettering pressing through to the other side. His heart hammers, but he forces himself to turn back to the card. “Dear Duke,” Calum pauses to see if Duke responds but his investigation continues on the treat. “I mean, fair enough.” Calum continues to read the card written by Freya, “Even though only the universe knows your true birthday, this card, harness, and bag of treats is meant to mark you sticking it out with your pops for yet another year. To spare you the grumps about a very cute hawaiin shirt I, instead, got a badass harness. Now you’ll be the coolest guy on the block. Happy Birthday/Adoption Day. With Love, Fre.”

Duke, done with the treat, looks to Calum and settles next in front of his folded legs. “Oh, so much work eating a treat.”

But Calum reaches down to gently pats at his tummy. The front of the car is cute, Calum finally recognizes. A cartoon white dog is drawn on it with large pink glasses against a yellow background. There’s no telling where she found it at. Calum looks down to the handwritten letter on printer paper. What would Freya possibly have to say?

Calum hadn’t had the guts to press send on any of the texts he drafted in the three months since they last talked. He wasn’t sure if he could. He is sure that if Freya hadn’t wanted anything to do with him, she would’ve said so, and she wouln’t have sent this box for Duke. His fingers tremble as he unfolds the letter.

Calum,

I figured you heard me tell Duke he was going to get a gift. And I knew I couldn’t not deliver on my promise to him. But I do apologize if it crosses any line. Please let me know too--if it crossed any boundaries.

I hope you’re well. Congrats on the latest album too.

With Love,

Freya.

P.S. I saw you a couple times drafting a text to me but never seeing one go through. And if you’re asking why I hadn’t sent a text either, know it was fear too. And me not being sure if keeping it open like that between us would only do more harm than good. So I’m sorry. But I am here, in the sense that to the best of my capacities, I can try to be here.

*****

Her bag’s slipping off her shoulders but she finally gets the key into the lock and gets her front door open. She sighs as she falls into the ugly blue apartment door and all but flings herself into her place. The stack of mail in her hands barely makes it to the edge of the kitchen counter too. It was just one of those days and Freya couldn’t be mad at herself. Everyone had days like this.

Putting her keys up and getting her backpack next to the couch, she settles into the stools at the kitchen counter to sort through the mail. One’s a bill from the dentist she visited a few weeks back. The one thing her student health insurance didn’t cover. But she couldn’t complain.

There are few junk flyers that she immediately tosses. And it’s her name scrawled in a almost all caps that catches her eyes before she even gets finished with the rest of the pile. In the top corner for the return address she catches the name: Calum Hood + Duke

“Mail from Duke, what a surprise.”

But the real surprise is Calum’s name. It’s just a plain white envelope with a stamp and the city mark it was mailed from. Freya pops it open and sees a sheet of legal pad paper folded up.

Freya,

Thank you for Duke’s gift. The chews are a hit. The harness is much appreciated for our walks. Though, I think they’re more like walks for me. And Duke gets a little exercise in before he tuckers out. But I don’t fault him. No lines were crossed. So no need to worry about that.

I think I like the idea of mailing letters more than I do like texting. But I understand. Doing the hard thing sucks. It always has and always will. Do what you need to for yourself.

Thank you. I wouldn’t normally do this. But there’s a couple songs--they’re about you. I wanted to give you a warning before you listen to it. If you listen to it, I guess I should say.

Best of luck with your last year of school. You’ll have that Master’s in no time and then maybe soon you can take over the Library of Congress like all your evil plans have laid out. (I know, I know. Not what your Library Studies degree does. But I still think you should.)

With Love,

Cal

Freya chuckles at the Library of Congress comment. She picks up her phone and finds Calum’s thread. It’s easy to want to tell him that she can’t take over the Library of Congress and that she’s glad the treats went over well and that the harness was really more of an accessory to make sure Duke looks like a badass.

But she knows--she knows the ease got her into a pickle before. It’s why she stopped things before they got more serious. But was fear going to always predict what she was going to do in her life? Maybe the ease of things was a sign to continue. But if what if things got too far? WOuld be able to handle Calum being gone? Would she inevitably get her heart broken? And sure no amount of contemplation can predict things like this, but she did want to play with that risk no matter how fucking easy it was in the moment.

With a frustrated sigh, Freya drops her face into the forearms. Her phone is still in her grip with the movement. “It’s never fucking easy is it!” she shouts into her apartment.

There’s silence that engulfs her and then her phone chimes. She doesn’t halfway pay attention to it but her phone almost never makes a sound because she keeps it on vibrate. “Who knows what I’ve done now?” she mutters but doesn’t look. Whatever it was she should explain it away for sure. “Why wasn’t there a guarantee money back or some shit with love? It would make life a hell of lot easier for fuck sake. I mean the reward was a lot bigger if I did decide to date Calum. But the fucking risk. Where’s a genie or some fortune teller when you needed it?”

With the frustration dissipating with every shout, she finally lifts her hand and looks to see what caused the noise. Her fingers slip across the screen and she watches a message lift up before settling down with the delivered underneath it. “Whoops,” she mutters. And starts drafting a message in response. Sorry, didn’t mean to send that. Was just venting and must’ve hit something in my blind rage.

She sets the phone down without another thought and then goes back to sorting out her mail, though she glances down at the yellow page that Calum wrote his letter. She’d all her best friend in a bit to talk it out with them. A buzz sound--no doubt some sort of alert. She listens for how many buzzes. A text coming through.

Turning over her phone, Freya reads who the text is from. The name barely registers before her heart goes into a frenzy. Calum--New iMessage. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, why is he texting me?”

A warranty on love is definitely a new concept. I assume you got my letter. You made it clear that you still weren’t sure where the boundaries were, I just wanted to say thanks. Or Duke did, I should say. You said you cherished our honesty and I’m going to be honest. I wrote a lot of different letters before sending the one I did. I’ve drafted a text to you nearly every day but never sent it because I didn’t want to put you in a predicament. But maybe we’re both at a point where maybe the risk might not be all that bad.

Freya exhales reading the text. How do you feel about splitting a pizza at my place tonight?

The message lifts and then settles again. The moments stretch for minutes. The bubble pops up and she watches the dots cycle from light to dark gray. I would love to.

Her hands shake and for a moment she wishes she hadn’t quit cigarettes. They weren’t good for her and she knows that. But god, right now with the shakes, she needs something to bring her down from the edge. The picks at her pinkie nail, leg bouncing. A knock at the door sounds and Freya freezes. The pizza’s already delivered, arrived maybe two or three minutes before this knock.

Another moment, maybe two passes, and then another knock sounds. She pushes up from the couch and heads to the door.

“Hi,” Calum exhales.

“Hi,” Freya returns. “Oh, come-come in.” She steps aside and waves Calum further inside.

As he steps through, he turns, keeping his back away from her. The door closes and he unveils a tiny pot, a greenish-purple plant staring back up at Freya. “I know you’re sensitive to flowering plants--like sunflowers or carnations. So I went to a local nursery, one that my gardeners recommended and one of the workers recommended succulents. They told me the name and I have absolutely no memory of what it is. Echev-I don’t know.”

Freya steps closer, gingerly taking the terracotta pot from him. It sits in the palm of her hand. “Echeveria. I think this one is a Black Prince.”

“Yeah, yeah, that.”

“Thank you.” It falls from her lips in a whisper. “Really, I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“It shall live,” she says after a big exhale, “right here on the kitchen window sill.”

Calum grins a little watching her open the blinds to set the plant in. “How-how have you been?” He knows he came under the guise of pizza. But that’s not even close to the truth. So he closes the distance between them, crossing the kitchen. One hand settles on her hip.

Freya turns in the inch or two she has. His gaze is sincere but hesitant. Like there’s more he wants to say, but not sure if he can say it right now. His cheek is a little stubbly when she touches it, settles her palm into the warmth and squish of his face. She hadn’t expected seeing him in person would stir her gut like this. Maybe it’s because she was only giving excuses. Good ones, but still excuses. “Tell me something.”

“Anything.”

“When I asked you about what you say in your home 10 years into the future and you said wife, did you see me?”

It doesn’t shock him that she sussed it out. That even with his vague include of the term, Freya would still see between the lines. “Honestly?”

“I’m making you an honest man.”

“Yes.” He closes his eyes for a moment. Not out of shame or some need to hide from the truth. But to steel himself. “When I said wife, I pictured you. And two kids--who in my imagination definitely had your hair texture and that scared me.”

“Scared you?” Freya asks.

“I barely can do my own curls. Two daughters with your texture would feel like jumping into the deep end without a floaty.”

“But you, theoretically, wouldn’t have been in the deep end alone. Me, my hairstylist, my mom, and stepmom--a lot of Black women to teach you a thing or two. But specifically two daughters, huh?”

Calum nods, his second hand sliding up onto her right hip. He holds her waist and she holds onto his cheeks ever so gently. He smiles at her. “That’s not to say I didn’t ask to try for a son as a third. Now you tell me something.”

“Scouts honor.”

“Can you really give into the risk? If you can’t, I will walk out of here right now and I won’t bother you again. Because above everything, I want what’s best for you. As much as it’ll hurt not have you again, we can’t keep going back and forth. It’s not good for either one of us.”

Freya knows he’s right. Would she regret giving Calum up a second time? Was the universe trying to give her the ever elusive second chance? Getting into a defined relationship with Calum meant she would have to figure out what to do after graduation and if had to leave would he be able to handle that? Was the chance of heartbreak worth the moments of bliss?

“I want my PhD--and I don’t know where that’s going to take me. I might be leaving California and that would be years, Calum. Years of me in a different state. And I don’t know, California doesn't feel like the end game for me. And that could just be the now talking. Who knows? But a lot is in motion and uncertain right now, does that change how you feel? Because maybe--maybe I can take the risk for a few moments of bliss.”

Calum’s knees almost give up on him, but he squeezes her to keep himself steady. “When I said I wanted as much of you as I could have before you left, I meant it. I absolutely meant every word of it. I meant I would take days, hours, decades if I could with you.The last time I even thought about daydreaming about a girl was so fucking long ago. And when you asked me about my future, it shocked even me to see you. That’s when I knew. I knew I was a fucking goner.”

“But I don’t know if I can give all that to you.”

“I’ll take what I can get it, Freya. And I am sure that in the future one of two things is going to happen: it will either hurt like hell when you leave or we get more time. I don’t know how much more. But I do know that those are the two options. And I will gladly embrace whichever one of them comes our way.”

Freya doesn't miss the inclusion of the plural. “Our way,” she teases with a grin, stretching up just a little. “Our way, huh?”

“Yes, our way.” Calum watches just how close she gets before she pauses. Her breath tickles over his skin. “Now, either we’re kissing and then eating pizza, or we’re kissing and then--”

Freya’s lip sealing around his cuts off the sentence. They exhale into each other, Calum pressing in closer and pinning her to the edge of the counter. Freya slides up against his chest just a hair, hands sliding up and then tying her arms around his neck. As they part, Calum rests his forehead against hers. “What’s tomorrow?”

“Thursday. Why do you ask?”

“Because I wanted to gauge if I could keep you up until 3 AM again,” Calum giggles. “But not about a competition this time. Like possibly pissing off your neighbors.”

“But I have the 8 am shift at the office.”

“And homework that you’d kill me for keeping you from.”

“Not quite murder, but there is a paper I have about 5 pages left on and should submit because it is like a third of my grade.”

“But Friday night?”

“I’m free--I traded a Monday evening shift earlier this week to get Friday off.”

Calum kisses her, soft and slow. It makes his whole body electric, to feel her relax into his touch. “Friday night then.”

“Before a night of debauchery, do you think we should talk? What happens if it’s too much or not working?” Freya doesn’t want to be the barrier of bad news. But she does like having a plan, a clear path to follow.

Calum’s not way to think too hard about things, to worry about things until they come up. But he knows Freya’s not like him. Clearing his throat, Calum holds up his pinkie. “This a pinkie swear that on Friday when you come over to my place for a night of debauchery, we will talk all about contingency plans.”

“You make it sound--”

“No, I know. You want the air clear and you want it clear sooner rather than later. And though, I normally am very much against a lot of the feelings talk. But for fuck sake, I already admitted that I thought about marrying you, so I don’t think now is the moment to shy away from it.”

“When you put it like that.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

Freya hooks her pinkie around his. “But it is Wednesday. So, pizza and then if you want to stay after you can, I’ll just be working on that paper.”

“If you don’t mind the company, I would love to stay.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

#calum hood #h writes #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood imagine #calum hood blurb #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos imagine #5sos fanfiction #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fic

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finelydressedspacemen · 3 years

Text

My Greatest Works of the Past Year: The Tag Game

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose five of your favourite works you created in the past year and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in the past year. Tag as many artists/writers/etc. as you want so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

^~*~^

Oh boy. I was tagged by @darlingandmreames. I’m not super into talking about myself, but here we go. I have a really stressful job, and I started reading A/E fic after seeing the tenth anniversary release and remembering how much I loved these two. I wrote fic back in the day, for other fandoms. I stopped around 2010. After reading for a while, I decided I wanted to get back into writing, and here I am. I feel like I’ve blown some of the dust off over the last few months, and I hope to get better. I write fic for stress relief. That means my primary focus is entertainment. I am here for the softness. I am never going to write a sad ending. It just won’t happen. Anyway, here are my five favorites of the year, in chronological (and, coincidentally, reverse rank) order.

Title:

WC: 3,712

Summary:

“You only have ten toppings to choose from, and none of them is red onion ('red onion has no place on a pizza, darling,' the owner told me— 'it overpowers the body of the sauce profile').“

“That’s Culinary School 101,” Eames interrupts, quietly.

"Do you want me to read this or not?”

Excerpt:

Eames tries not to let his gaze linger on the lean muscles of Arthur’s torso. Armed with a shirt, Arthur doesn’t seem very intent on using it. He frowns at his own stomach, hands flailing uselessly at his sides. Eames steps forward, and bends to retrieve the soiled shirt and tie from the ground. “You don’t have to do that,” Arthur says.

“Of course I do, darling,” Eames replies as he stands. He finds himself a little too close to Arthur, the critic’s back against a shelf of cured meat, his naked front scant more than an inch away from Eames. He breathes carefully into the space between them. “Health code, you know.”

Commentary: This is the very first AU I ever wrote. I knocked it out in a weekend. My partner and I watched a YouTube video ranking pizzas and decided to order from three different local pizza shops as we were about to get snowed in. I definitely had pizza on the brain that weekend. I have a (slowly developing) sequel to this story in the works, but I don’t promise it will ever see the light of day.

^~*~^

Title:

WC: 3,246

Summary:

“It’s some kind of advice column,” she explains, intrigued. “Look at this.” She turns the computer his way, and he settles down on the barstool beside her.

“Dear Morpheus,” Arthur reads. “What the hell is this?”

Excerpt:

“Good lord,” Eames breathes. “There’s only maybe— five possibilities.”

“If you sit down and work for an hour, I might give you a hint,” Arthur teases with a wink over his shoulder.

Eames tosses his jacket down in a huff. “Darling you can’t flirt like that. It’s not decent. You know what it does to me when you wink.”

“Get to work, Mr. Eames."

Commentary: This is the most serious crack fic that ever cracked, and I probably should have tagged it that way. I’m not sure where I thought I was going, tonally. I am sure I got the idea watching a rerun of Sex and the City, knocked out a huge chunk of this in one frantic sitting, and drank a significant amount of wine while I was at it. This is probably the start of my Soft Boys phase. This is also probably my most out of character version of Arthur, and that’s the reason this one isn’t higher in my mental ranking.

^~*~^

Title:

WC: 8,030

Summary:

“It's not romantic," Arthur scoffs. He softens immediately. “He’s up there by himself. It’s my job to keep him feeling connected to home.”

Excerpt:

“Look, if you don’t want to talk to me anymore, that’s fine. But I need to just say— I love talking to you. You call me, and it’s the best part of my night. I want to hear about your worms and your plants and the stupid things you do to make your life more interesting. I talk to you, Eames, because I likeyou. I ask all the questions because I care about you, and I worry about how you’re doing, and if you’re ok. I feel completely helpless down here, and I’m totally out of my depth. And maybe it only makes it worse for you that I care. Maybe that’s weird. I don’t know. I don’t do this kind of thing.”

“What kind of thing?” Eames interrupts.

“I just— I like you, Eames.”

“Oh.”

“You can lose this extension. I’ll understand. I just didn’t want you to think that it was all about the job. You’re important to me.”

“I like you too, Arthur,” Eames says.

“Oh,” Arthur swallows.

Commentary: I was pretty in love with this fic when I posted it, but I have concerns that it’s kind of boring. Slow burn soft boys. It also turns out that there’s a real eBook with a stupidly similar set up. This is another one with a slowly developing sequel that may never see the light of day. I will post a link to the real eBook if that sequel comes about, because if people like this enough to read a sequel, I’m hopeful they’ll support a real author who does this for a living.

^~*~^

Title:

WC: 3,322

Summary:

“This is why there are rumors, you know.”

“What rumors?” Arthur asks, eyes narrowed.

Excerpt:

Arthur feels very strongly about his serious commitment to not ever touching Eames. He cheated on it once.

It was enough.

He can be forgiven.

And if he thinks about it when he’s alone and frustrated, well, that’s just because he hasn’t been with anyone since, and two weeks isn’t long enough to get the taste out of his mouth. It’s only in the dark that this is a problem. In the daylight, Eames is still Eames.

Commentary: This is the first fic where I really felt like I stuck the landing. It’s also probably the point where I should have renamed myself FinelyDressedSoftFics. This fic is Exhibit A for the argument that I cannot write porn for softness. Also, there is a slap fight scene inspired by a JGL Facebook post, just because.

^~*~^

Title:

WC: 4,565

Summary:

Already, the suppressants were losing effect. Within fifteen minutes, everyone in the office building would be able to smell what Arthur could, suppressants or no.

“We’re leaving,” Arthur swallowed. “Right now.”

Excerpt:

“I keep my weaknesses to myself,” Eames breathed, and Arthur stilled. “I won’t be pushed around, and I won’t be anyone else’s weakness either.”

“Who said anything about you was weak?” Arthur asked, bewildered.

“To be fair, I thought you were lying too,” Eames said, softly. He nearly whimpered with disappointment when Arthur stood up from the bed. At once, Arthur was at his side, his hand gentle against Eames’ face.

“I know,” he whispered. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Eames swallowed. “I have never been more sure of anything in my entire life.”

Commentary: This is an A/B/O fic for people who don’t like A/B/O fics. They are generally not my thing. The idea came to me, and over several weeks I wrote the whole thing out, pieces at a time. This is an A/B/O fic that is *not* about the sex. If you are generally squicked out by these, please consider reading this one anyway. I won’t try this type again, because I feel like I said everything I needed to.

It seems like everyone’s been tagged already, so if you follow me and haven’t done this already, consider yourself tagged! (I’m looking at you @wadebramwilson)

#arthur x eames #dreamhusbands #ao3fic

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teenytinystorage · 4 years

Note

Can you make a fanfic with Logan and Deceit only talking in memes

Hi!! so I don’t think this is exactly what you wanted... but I love them Brain Cell Bois so i hope you enjoy!!

•——•

Vocab Cards

Summary: Logan is very much Struggling with learning new slang, but who decides to actually help the Disaster Nerd but the slimy snake boy Deceit? Welp, this’ll be interesting.

Word Count: 1,291

Warnings: one (1) “not wanting to hurl” mention, implied body horror

Genre: Fluff?? Probably?

Pairings: Platonic/Romantic Loceit

“You know,” Deceit quipped, staring down at his gloved fingers as he stood in front of the camera and to the left of Logan, “you’re not very good at those.”

“At what?” Logan responded quickly, stuffing his “LOL” vocabulary card back into his jeans pocket as the other sides watched the two banter.

“Those vocabulary cards! Oh, you ‘ought to have someone teach you this stuff,” Deceit flicked his tongue at his teeth, “Who am I kidding, I’d even write some cards for you at this point,” he snickered before turning to Thomas. “But Thomas--”

So then, Deceit knows some slang, Logan thought, Deceit’s wittiness still ringing in his ears even after the video ended and the sides each dispersed into their respective rooms.

He sat at his computer, typing and retyping LOL into UrbanDictionary to make sure that, yes, his card was right, LOL was an acronym that stood for “laughing out loud” and he had his definition right on the card.

He even used it the right way too. He said, “Thomas, this is not a LOL matter.”

That’s the right usage. Sure it messed up the phrase “laughing matter” up a bit, but it was hip, so it didn’t matter too much.

So why was it so badly received? Did Deceit really know more about this whole slang deal than he did?

I’d even write some cards for you at this point, Deceit had said earlier.

Hm. Hmmm. Hm indeed.

Logan could use the outside perspective, in his opinion. He knew it wasn’t reliable to have only one source on anything, but for slang, he could never find any other “reliable sources” (HUGE air quotes on that, UrbanDictionary was in no way a college-research-paper-worthy site) but one; everything else just made no sense and was contradictory and confusing.

Maybe conferring with a knowledgeable colleague on the subject could be useful? That always helped with the scientific method. And Logan was basically going into this whole trend thing blind anyways, so it wasn’t like any conversation between them could hurt.

This line of thinking led Logan to stand from his seat, stuff a few blank index cards into his pockets and a ballpoint pen in there too for good measure. He gave one final adjustment of his glasses before sinking down into the classy snake-faced side’s room.

Deceit, sitting on his couch, engrossed in a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray, gave a glance and then a double-take of Logan before sighing heavily and shutting his book.

“Ep ep ep--” Deceit held his pointer finger up in the air, “before you ask, yes, Remus did your little project and confirmed that we can regenerate limbs. And before you ask, no, I did not ask how he found it out because I didn’t care nor did I want to hurl today.”

“I actually came here to-- wait, really?” Logan responded, surprised, taking out an index card and quickly jotting down the findings. “Fascinating.”

“It’s ickier to me than it is fascinating, no cap,” Deceit complained as he smoothed the fringe peeking out from his hat. “But it’s your research and not mine, so go off, I suppose.”

Then Logan, upon hearing Deceit’s confusing phrases about hats and/or glacial structures and his encouragement for Logan to keep researching and/or to leave (slang was so confusing), remembered what he came here for in the first place.

“Right, Deceit,” Logan stuffed his index card of findings into his pants pocket, adding, “Earlier today I used a slang term that I believe stands for ‘laughing out loud,’ but your reaction implied to me that I may have been incorrect in the context of its usage. Would you care to elaborate on that?” Logan asked, clicking the pen in his pocket a few times as he spoke.

Deceit lounged back on the couch and held the back of his head in his hands. “Cssssertainly. You should totally use acronyms as if they’re the actual words they stand for, it definitely isn’t cringe-worthy at all.”

Logan, bewildered at the fact that Deceit even decided to answer his query (or humor him, more likely), quickly filed the information into his brain. “Oh. Oh, okay. And would you be willing to maintain your offer of assisting me with inscribing more vocabulary cards?”

“I hope you realize that was just some quick and witty charm of mine,” Deceit hummed. “You do take things very seriously though. That’s just your vibe.”

Logan’s expression faltered a bit. “Oh.”

Deceit paused, glancing his eyes up at the ceiling irritatedly before looking back at Logan. “You know what? If it keeps you from committing any other word atrocities such as the one today, then sure, I’ll help.”

“Really?” Logan replied just barely before he sank out and perused the internet for at least four hours for new slang terms on his own. “You would?”

“Sure. But I’m not a meme connoisseur by any means, I leave that to the raccoon. I’ll still try my best, though.”

It was relatively quiet in Deceit’s room after Deceit’s initial lecturings, including “never describe emojis out loud in words” and “for the love of your nonexistent mother, please never use ‘periodt’ like it’s actual punctuation.”

“So was it Lebanese or lesbian?” Logan asked, scribbling on another index card and laying stomach-down on the floor.

“It was lesbian,” Deceit said, sitting vertically and upside-down on the couch with his head almost on the floor and his hat barely hanging onto his head.

“Ah,” Logan commented, finishing the card. “Is the humor supposed to arise from the child thinking the camera-lady said Lebanese instead of lesbian, which conflicts with her allegedly American nationality?”

“No one knows,” Deceit answered.

“Ah, of course,” Logan replied, setting the card into a now growing stack of finished terms.

The two kept writing.

“Ok, here’s a test,” Deceit said a few minutes later, turning to Logan. “And they were roommates.”

Logan took a second before responding, monotonously, that is, “Oh my god, they were roommates.”

Deceit nodded his head in surprise. “You’re getting good at this.”

“You think so?” Logan asked, a small sense of accomplishment seeping into him.

“Well you’re certainly better than the LOL matter from before,” Deceit commented, chuckling.

Soon the next video had already started before Logan knew it.

“But doesn’t it seem like the right thing to do here is help?” Patton asked, twiddling his fingers together.

Thomas sighed.

“Well, I think that y’all’d’ve a bit of patience for Thomas. His vibes are a bit whack at the moment, no cap,” Logan interjected, still in his monotone voice.

The sides, and Thomas as well, stared at Logan in disbelief.

“What?” Logan peered around the room.

“Where did you learn all that?” Virgil asked, jaw hanging open and eyes wide.

“Deceit taught me a bit more about slang so I don’t inspire any more cringe-fests for you all.”

“Weird flex, but okay,” Deceit replied, rising up next to Logan.

“Agh!! Can you just leave— him—” Virgil shot a glare at Deceit, “—out of this??” Virgil pleaded, now irritated and growling under his breath. “I’ve already had my fair share of sleep-paralysis demons for today.”

“Quite uncommon for the Protohype to be so well-versed in lingo,” Roman mused. “But alas, go forth I proclaim.”

“Yeah, good work Logan, but what is Deceit doing here again?” Thomas asked, to which Patton replied: “Yeah, I think Thomas has his mind pretty well made up on this decision already!”

“Oh please,” Deceit started.

Logan couldn’t help but, for a moment, revel in his success, before, of course, going back to being the coolest cool teacher cool guy in the entire Thomas-sphere.

What a nice thing it is to learn, isn’t it?

#people really do be liking loceit after not liking it for a while huh?#(its me im people)#i love... the Boys.... 💛💙#sanders sides #deceit sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #loceit #platonic loceit #romantic loceit #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus mention

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keyofjetwolf · 4 years

Text

@silvermoon424 I’m certainly happy to try! I’m going to guess you won’t enjoy the answer too much, though. I don’t have any secret or trick, you know? I WISH I DID. All I really have to share is what you’ve probably already heard: eat better, move more.

But I can break down a few things I’ve figured out, going through this. Things that you can do without a tiny furious lesbian nipping at your heels, insisting you Not Die. THOUGH IF YOU HAVE ACCESS TO THAT I DO RECOMMEND TAKING ADVANTAGE**

1. I think the most important first step is really commit to it. It sucks a lot, and it's not always easy, but if you don't sincerely want the results, you won't be able to power through the spots where it's hard.

2. You have to hold yourself accountable. A huge part of that is making yourself take note of and record what you're eating. It's one thing to grab a chocolate bar and eat it and forget about it, but it's another when you have to pull out your notebook and find the calories and factor in the serving size and write it down where you have to see it there looking back at you. We already know we shouldn't be doing it. Making it real and tangible in a way where you can't just put it out of mind can really hold your feet to the fire.

3. Don't have it around! Seriously, this one has helped me so much. Just don't have it! You know your weak spots (and if you don't, you'll soon discover them), you know the things you just want to grab out of the fridge or the cupboard. You can't do it if it's not there, bottom line. We don't keep jars of peanut butter in the house anymore (or at least not where I see them.) Hubby and I both cut out chips entirely. That isn't to say you can't ever have those things again, you just have to plan for them, and ensure you only have what you plan for. For example, the other night we were all on our own for dinner. I was deeply craving this particular brand of pretzel stick they have up here. So I saved my calories for the day, went to the store, bought the small bag, measured out and weighed the appropriate amount (turns out it was the whole bag, which was a pleasant delight, but if it hadn't been, I would've immediately given Doc what was over), and had those with some turkey. There wasn't anything about that meal that was HEALTHY, really, but because it's not my every day, and I planned it out and didn't exceed what I was allowed, it was completely fine. So if you have just a bone-deep craving for a doughnut, budget it in your calorie allotment for that day, and go get JUST what you're allowed. If you can only buy it in a quantity over what you’re allowed, buy the smallest you can and throw out or give away the rest. IMMEDIATELY, not the "I'll do it later" thing where it hangs around the house and then oops, it’s somehow magically gone. Set yourself up for success, not failure. Don't keep around what you know is a temptation.

4. Resolve with yourself that you'll be eating some stuff you don't much like. It sucks, but then, so does diabetes. In that vein though, you may find that after you've had it a few times, and your expectations realign, you like it more than you thought. You might even come to enjoy it! You have to persevere with it, though. Still, you may never like it! OH WELL. Consider how much more you'll like multiple daily injections of very expensive insulin and an even more restrictive diet which I guarantee will be full of shit you don't like. Eat the broccoli or die, right? Suddenly, broccoli doesn't seem so bad. (I actually really like broccoli, sorry, to pick on you, broccoli.) Honestly, many vegetables are pretty great, just most people don't prepare them right. Seasoning and roasting them is the way to go, which Holligay has repeatedly proven.

5. Portion control is a big factor. WEIGH AND MEASURE EVERYTHING. Don’t eyeball that shit, your senses are weak and will lie to you. Also -- and this may seem weird, but go with me -- check the size of your plates and bowls and shit. Again, our eyes are liars. The same amount of food looks very different depending on what size plate it’s on. The bigger stuff completely skews our perception of what a serving should look like. Get smaller plates.

6. This one may be a real toughie depending on your personal habits, but eating in front of screens is a path to madness. There's study after study after study showing that eating while watching TV or being on your computer takes you out of being mindful of what and how much you're eating. Sit at a table and focus on your meal! You’ll eat more slowly, and so recognize when you’re full. And the food tastes better when it’s your main focus, so you’ll be more satisfied, too. I’M NOT MAKING IT UP TRY IT

What you may notice here is an absence on the WHAT of what you should eat. That’s important too, to be sure, but I think that’s the part that’s a bit easier to start working in. There are tons of healthy, tasty recipes out there, but it’s the behavioural stuff that is, I think, the key to change.

And you can start today! Right now! Clearing your home of your temptations is a great huge first step. And don't do the "this bag is nearly full, what a waste, I'll just finish this up" thing. The money's spent, there's no reason to continue to do damage. (Or hide a reluctance to make the change under a convenient excuse.) It's garbage calories, it's deep fried air, it's frozen sugar, it tastes good but is killing you. Get rid of it.

If you’re of the snacking/grazing bent (I’m generally not, but I get those that are), buy snap peas, baby carrots, cherry tomatoes. Get some soy sauce. Dip and eat away! I think you'll soon find that if you're not hungry enough to snack on those? You weren't really all that hungry.

And combine all this with moving, too! Get yourself a step tracker. An ACTUAL step tracker, not your smart watch, which counts every twitch of your wrist as a step you most assuredly did not take. I’m currently using and recommend the FitBit Inspire, clipped to my bra. At my worst/highest points, I sometimes wouldn’t take more than about a thousand steps a day. SERIOUSLY. Again, having something to put these abstract ideas into harsh numbers is a great motivator. And you don’t even have to go outside! ON A HOT DAY I HAVE WALKED MILES IN A CIRCLE IN MY LIVING ROOM. I don’t look cool, but I DO meet my step goal for the day.

You may notice a numbers theme here, but weigh yourself. Keep track! I use a Renpho scale, which connects to an app on my phone and automatically logs my weight, AND I can sync it with my FitBit, so all my precious precious data is in one place. Now maybe you’re not such a nerd for data as I am (YOU’D HAVE TO BE REALLY REALLY NERDY), but again, it takes something abstract and nebulous and gives it to you in a way that our monkey brains understand. Making all this real to you is a huge part of putting the consideration for it in your brain. It’s not gonna be fun. There’s a lot of numbers you’re REALLY not going to like to see. But you have to know where you’re at to know where to go. And when those numbers turn into trends, and those trends start to show you real, concrete progress? Feels good. Feels real good.

Yeah, so! It’s a lot of words, and there’s a huge chance none of them are what you were hoping for. I wish I had something more neat and easy, but it’s just this. Commitment. Accountability. DATA SUCH HATEFUL WONDERFUL DATA

Best of luck!

(**) All joking aside, I’m incredibly fortunate to have Doc. As I think I’ve said before, when she heard about the pre-diabetes, she said “Okay, we’re done with this” and THAT VERY DAY laid out changes. She’s always ready with a foot in my ass. Also, as our family chef, she’s consistently in charge of my meals, which means I’m lucky enough to not need to think about it. MUCH LIKE A PUPPY I JUST EAT WHAT GOES IN MY BOWL. So if you have help and support available to you, take it.

The most important part, though, is you. However much help I have, I have to keep up my end, too. About eighteen months ago, I was SO CLOSE to a major goal, but ignored my depression and stopped caring and everything backslid terribly. I’m still working to regain all that lost ground. My point being, the number one vital element in making real change in you is YOU. Once you’re set there, the rest is details.

#jet wolf replies #silvermoon424 #life with jet wolf #a novel by jet wolf #dear jet wolf

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nimblermortal · 4 years

Text

Some Further Old Guard Liveblogging

#OH MAN BOOKER'S SMIRK WHEN MERRICK REFUSES TO COME CLOSER TO ANDROMACHE#THAT IS THE SMIRK OF 'I see Yusuf headbutted you already'

#also also I cannot deal with Merrick's suits with hoodies on them#they're so terrible#what a fantastic piece of villain costuming I hate him for that alone

#OH MAN THAT POOR DOCTOR#STUCK IN A ROOM WITH FOUR BICKERING IMMORTALS#FOR THE FORESEEABLE FUTURE#man if Nile hadn't come along her life woulda suuuuuuuucked#Nicoló was trying his best at that anyway#apparently Merrick Pharmaceuticals comes equipped with semi-automatic rifles but not gags

man their card readers work really well and fast. I am impressed. I have... not had this luck with card readers. They usually blink a few times and take a few tries. (Also, nobody uses card readers anymore? I’m not even in that critical of an industry and we have the beepy key fob things. That respond to badges.)

As Nile enters the lab... Yusuf: what the heck where did this come from Nicoló: eh? I do not know that this is a good turn of events Andy: breathlessly happy to see her Booker: oh how my sins have revisited me

It continues to bother me how Nile breaks into the lab and goes straight for the one who’s not immortal and who has the least ability to cope with the situation, given that she’s already injured; and then stands there and talks to her when she could be letting someone else loose to deal with the four shooters at the door that she just mentioned. Just. Free one hand on each of them and then get on to releasing all the bonds on your favorite!

Yeah, keep standing there with your motivational speeches and your NOT RELEASING PEOPLE WHO WILL ACTUALLY HELP YOU, I TOLD YOU THIS WOULD HAPPEN

Andy, who is not an absolute idiot, releases one of Nicoló’s arms as her first action and then moves on. Nicoló, who is also not an idiot, immediately rolls over and begins releasing the rest of himself, which is the SANE THING TO DO, NILE, YOU’RE AN IDIOT

Booker: No, you should just leave me here Andy: This is an intervention.

Andy, heading for the door: Let’s get this motherfucker Everyone else, aware she is now mortal: <suddenly falls in ahead of her and does not let her take point as she is prone to doing>

Andy’s labrys is such a prop weapon, it looks weirdly light and also fiberglass. I could be wrong! I don’t know about these things! but I think it’s a functional reproduction, not something she’s had for a while.

Andy is Mom Friend, looking after her little gang. Yusuf is Dad Friend, worrying too much.

Nile: Andy! It is I, meat shield! Nicoló: Oh, that’s a good idea.

You know, they really oughtn’t be speaking English in combat situations. This would be a great time to be using a dead language, effectively enabling you to say exactly where you’re going without your enemy understanding it. (Or Nile. But they’ve got Nile.)

“Shit! Jammed!” is where Nicoló needs to be there to mutter in baleful Ligurian about combat teams and palises.

They really shoulda killed that guy on the ground... nobody needs to know they exist, or what they can do.

I should tell Hyacinth about the throw at 1:44.

Nile has such a nice face.

“I think you showed up when I lost my immortality” well you’re wrong. You been stabbed and healed since then. Also puts paid to my theory that it gave out when you said you were done and not interested in trying to help people anymore. It just is what it is; humans try to assign meaning and stories to thinks, but at the end of the day, it’s all quantum.

NILE IS SO SHORT BUT NICOLÓ IS THE ONE SITTING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BACK SEAT (if anyone cares for fic: Yusuf has shotgun, Nicoló in the back seat middle, Andy is driving, Nile behind Yusuf and Booker behind Andy. Is there any advantage to this? None that I see. Except that Yusuf was in front so he had the opportunity to claim shotgun, and Booker is a filthy traitor who doesn’t deserve the front seat. Nile is new and I don’t know what Nicoló’s excuse is except that it’s easiest to reach the front seat from the middle of the back seat, and everyone assumes Andy will get to sit in the front, so this puts Nicoló in position to get hands on either of them as needed.)

I have no idea why we are expected to care about the pewter-topped bars at the pub they choose to go to.

“There’s not much to decide, it’s not like they can kill me.” Yusuf stares through the window as if he is contemplating exactly that; Booker can’t find an acceptable face to make back at him.

“You’re a good kid” is such a patronizing thing to say to someone, it really emphasizes both how young Nile is and how much younger she is than the rest of them. Also, I will never understand how Booker’s being a bad parent means no one should go see their family while they’re still alive.

Yeah, Yusuf is not satisfied with this arrangement, Nicoló considers it the right thing to do whether it is satisfying or not, and Nile hates hurting people.

Also, given that I headcanon that Andy is cursed to be an atheist surrounded by stubbornly faithful people, “Have a little faith, Book” is a great line. Like. Andy has made her position on religion clear, but at least Nicoló has at one point in his life been committed to religious ideals. The other two - well, I have my own thoughts about how Yusuf interacts with his faith, but it’s just hilarious if Booker is also stubbornly Catholic, for his own journey and so that Andy can be all, “Every time we get a new immortal I explain to them how we are cursed, there is no god, our existence is proof of the whims of the world triumphing over any sort of divine plan, and every time they just hold out! Nicoló is laughing at me!” and she tries doing this to Nile and none of the others are quite laughing out loud, but Nicoló has very expressive smirks, okay? And then you take that background and apply it to Booker saying he’ll never see her again and Andy choosing the last thing she says to him to be, “Have a little faith“ - this thing she has been denying, giving him this as a recognition, he’s spent all movie starving for her recognition as she just gives him tasks, so she recognizes him and this thing they don’t share but that she’s now offering value to, and hey, as long as he’s believing in illogic, he might as well have some in her, right? or in technology and medicine? it’s not all that important how it plays out, but for her to grant this concession to him is... magnanimous in a satisfying way, if you headcanon all of the aforesaid.

Aww, Yusuf is the unsatisfied one but he’s also the one who stays watching Booker for the longest. And he’s the only one who looks back.

:( the German is too blurred for me to read this passport, but I really want to see if there’s any justifying Yusuf being named Joseph Jones and nationality (?) Deutsch. But even if that’s so - which is conceivable - I want to know why both Hamburg and Frankfurt are on his passport. Mine doesn’t have any cities on it at all - but then again, I’ve had friends ask me to get my passport out just to demonstrate how funny American passports are. (Most countries are like “ah yes, we need blank pages to stamp visas and entries/exits on. The US of A goes, “what if our blank pages had dramatic pictures of the biomes of the continental US and inspirational quotes across the tops?” Make your own arguments about American exceptionalism, patriotism, conspicuous consumption...)

THEY WERE AT THE FALL OF THE BERLIN WALL GOOD FOR THEM also just a weird place for them to be, that incident was. So much a mistake. So much spontaneous. And it’s a weird time to be smuggling people across the wall (and very difficult to do, and. There are better things for immortal soldiers to do with their time at this point). So like. Good for them, I bet that was an endorphin surge, but weird that they were there.

Awwww, Nicoló’s little “I knew we were trying to do good, it is nice to have confirmation that it works sometimes” smirk

It’s a nice speech, Andy, but what you’re actually saying to Copley is, “Booker was our computer/intel guy and we kicked him out, so we need you to do his job and possibly train Nile in it”

I know by “ether” she means like. Internets. But. I love imagining them as just old sometimes, and not always keeping up with all the right things. And having her mean, “When we leave a footprint in the luminiferous aether” because she honestly still believes that light needs a medium to travel in and it’s just never come up as relevant to correct that assumption, she’s proud of being well-read in science a hundred years ago - well, that’s wonderful.

Aww, Copley got a Nicoló smirk. And I think Yusuf sensed it, though he could not possibly have seen it.

Aaaaand scene with Booker drunk and unhappy in Paris, so what else is new to Paris. Spray your glass all over public spaces, it’ll improve the general cleanliness of the surfaces. And Quynh is probably going to show up in Nile’s room shortly, I bet she’s just tired of dreaming of them. I... honestly don’t know that I like the idea of a sequel. Franchises leave a lot of room for making things worse. There’s a lot of open space in this movie, but that’s where I like to put my fanfiction.

#the old guard #Nimblermortal liveblogs #Nimblermortal tags TOO LITTLE AND TOO LATE #this post will update until I get to the end of the movie #which is not much further now #let me just rewind and see each of their expressions as Nile comes in

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fernwehbookworm · 3 years

Text

Haunted- Chapter 5

This is where Alex finds them, well she finds Kara. Alex uses her spare key to unlock the door and bursts in to find Kara sitting at the table with a soft smile on her lips. Kara looks like she is about to laugh when she registers Alex’s presence at the door.

“Alex!” Kara shoots to her feet as if she has just been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

“Kara! What are you doing? Kelly called me. She said you ran off!”

“I… Nothing. Just trying to finish this article. I think I got it now.”

“And you came to your apartment that is compromised in some sort of way?”

“Yeah, about that. Look it’s nothing. Just… A friend pulling a prank. It’s all taken care of.”

Alex watches closely, she knows her sister is lying. Kara was never good at lying. Kara also keeps turning her head a bit to the side, as if she was hearing someone calling her name but she was refusing to turn her head to acknowledge them.

“Just a prank, huh?”

“Y-yup. Everything is fine. Completely normal.”

“Really? Then why did Kelly call me, worried, because you had run off yelling something about Lena being there and you not being crazy.” Alex makes her way closer to Kara, shutting the door behind herself.

“I was just disorientated from the glitch in the program. As soon as I cleared my head I was fine. Then I had an inspiration for my article and decided to write. It’s done now. I just have to submit it.” Kara sits back behind her computer and picks up her pen, playing with it between her fingers. Fidgeting, a classic sign.

“Well, that’s great!” Alex says, “Then we can have a movie night tonight. I’ll tell Kelly to come and we can get takeout.”

“No!” Kara shouts then immediately regrets it when Alex raises an eyebrow. “I mean, no, it's fine. I need to catch up on sleep and I’m sure you and Kelly have to work early.”

“We have hardly spent any time together. It will be fun.” Alex pulls out her phone and is already dialing Kara’s favorite Chinese place.

“Seriously Alex—” Kara is cut off by her sister ordering some of her favorite foods.

“We can’t talk about everything you need to know if your sister is here,” Lena says in Kara’s ear.

“I know.” Kara says under her breath, trying to move her lips as little as possible. “But I don’t have much choice right now.”

“Just keep the pen close. It’s helping me focus on staying together.”

Kara nods just barely then pockets the pen to keep it in reach. While Alex finishes the order, Kara submits her final draft and hopes that Snapper will like it. Then she logs off and powers down her computer to face an evening of trying to act normal around her sister.

“Okay, food will be here in an hour, so will Kelly. What do you want to watch?”

“I don’t care. You can pick.” Kara Grabs drinks from the fridge for the two of them and joins Alex, who has already settled on the couch and is scrolling through the menu. Kara settles next to Alex and feels Lena settle next to her also, as much as Lena can settle.

Kelly arrives and Alex let’s her in. Kara can hear hissed words as they work through an argument before returning. Kelly has her own plate of leftovers and Kara watches Lena eye the food longingly. At some point, Kara fell asleep, she was still semi-conscious of her sister and Kelly talking softly and laughing at the movie. At some point, a blanket is draped over Kara and the television turns off. Soft sounds of Alex and Kelly cleaning up pull at Kara’s consciousness.

“I’m worried, Alex. The reading I had from the program is troubling. I really think something is wrong. I… I think she may need more help. This could be stress-induced.”

Kara stiffens and is alert almost instantly. She can see Lena looking into the kitchen area intently, the pen was still clutched in Kara’s hand.

“I know. She’s lying to me and I don’t know why.”

“I've seen it a couple of times before. Patients lie because they know what is happening isn’t normal. Seeing things, hearing voices, or maybe paranoia. It’s not a good sign.”

“What do we do?”

“Maybe if we can get her to my office again then I can get a colleague of mine to evaluate her for… more extreme care.”

“Like what? Getting her committed?” Alex hisses at her girlfriend.

“If it's necessary. Alex, you know I love her like my own sister. I am terrified of what might happen if she doesn’t get the help that she needs. She could be suffering a mental break. We can’t ignore that.”

The silence is tense. Kara stares at Lena as Lena looks back with fear. This could ruin everything. Lena would never make it back to the physical world. Kara could not get trapped in a facility because she is not crazy. An audible sigh comes from Alex.

“Yeah, okay. We can get her there tomorrow. Come on, once she’s out from a movie she won’t wake up. We can take her bed, it's too late to go home.”

Sounds fade to the bedroom but Kara stays unmoving on the couch. Kara weighs her options before sitting up slowly. Lena sits next to Kara and Kara feels the cold presence of Lena’s hand on her’s.

“We have to go. Now. It’s getting harder to hold myself together. We can’t wait until the weekend. And if your sister somehow commits you against your will, then I might as well be dead.”

The lamp clicks off in the bedroom and Kara remains silent for several more minutes. Then she stands as quietly as possible and grabs her shoes by the couch. She pads to the door in her stocking feet and eases the lock open as quietly as possible. With a small squeak, the door opens and closes and Kara puts on her shoes in the hall.

“Okay, time to go,” Kara says half to herself and half to Lena.

It’s late, almost 3 am, and the world is quiet. As quiet as a city can be. The walk to L-corp is nerve-wracking, every little sound had Kara looking over her shoulder. Street lights glow yellow and it throws the world into a surreal alternate reality as Kara makes her way between the light and shadows. When Kara approaches the looming shadow of the L-corp building, Lena directs Kara towards an underground garage where Lena’s own personal entrance will be.

“It has a handprint scan, how is that supposed to work?” Kara asks when she approaches the shiny plate next to the door.

“There is an override code. Just don’t mess it up. There are no retries before security is alerted. Ready?”

Kara swallows hard and nods.

“Okay. It’s long. 31415926535897932384” Lena says the numbers just slow enough for Kara to input each one of them. When the last number is imputed, the light turns green and the door slides open for Kara to step through. She makes her way down the short hallway towards the elevator doors.

“How in the world do you have that number memorized?” Kara asks in amazement.

Lena gives her a surprised look. “It's the first twenty digits of pi.”

“You have the first twenty digits of pi memorized?” Kara asks with disbelief.

“I have the first 100 digits memorized,” Lena says smugly.

“Wow, your brain is so attractive,” Kara says.

Lena blushes. “That is not normally a compliment I get about attractiveness.”

“Well, it should be. Okay, next code?”

“8822672”

The elevator dings open almost immediately and Kara steps in. “Floor 33” Lena reminds Kara of the lab floor.

“What does that code mean then?” Kara asks as the elevator ascends.

“Radium. The element that Madam Curie helped discover. It’s the atomic number, weight, period number, and group.”

“So really are a geek under all that genius.” Kara smiles at Lena.

“You really have no idea. Are you sure you still want to have dinner with me?” Lena smiles back.

“More than ever,” Kara says seriously. The door dings open on an empty hallway.

They continue like that through four more doors until Kara and Lena are standing in the still broken lab. The papers and glass on the floor had been cleaned up, but the window was still cracked and the work stations were disrupted. Lena quickly makes her way towards the machine, passing right through a table turned on its side.

“Shit, they took my laptop. It’s probably up in the CEO’s office, knowing Jess. There is another elevator directly up at the other side of the room. Come on.” Lena is on a mission now. Moving quickly, Kara follows. Worry knaws at Kara as she notices Lena not looking as solid as she had before. Lena is running out of time.

“12101815, it’s the birth date of Ada Lovelace. She was considered the first computer programmer, before computers were invented.” Lena tells Kara, unprompted, as Kara inputs the code into the elevator.

“Wait, before computers were invented? How?” Kara asks while getting in the elevator.

“She made an algorithm for Charles Babbage’s proposed analytical engine. Way ahead of their times and current technology.”

“Wow. Like how do you even think like that? It’s like trying to describe a color that no one else can see.”

“It is. But that’s how we advance in technology. People pushing the boundaries of imagination.”

The elevator doors ding softly open. Kara steps into Lena’s large and spacious office. It’s dark, the only lights far below in the streets of the city. The buildings out the massive windows are mostly dark. Soft white carpet pads Kara’s footfalls. The moonlight reflects off the white surfaces that fill the office. A large desk with an even larger chair sits in front of the windows.

“Quick, we need to turn off the alarm. There, by the door. 10241993”

“What’s that number?” Kara asks as she quickly steps towards the control panel. The digital screen counting down to the alarm going off.

“It’s actually, well, my birthday.” Lena lets out a small, uncertain laugh, “I know you are not supposed to do that, but really, if people get this far I don’t know if the last password will stop them.”

“It’s good to know you are human enough to use your own birthday.” Kara smiles over her shoulder at her phantom before inputting the code.

A loud buzz sounds and the screen flashes red as the code is denied. The timer hits zero. Nothing happens in the office. “Shit.” Lena has behind Kara, “Jess must have changed this passcode. Quick, find the laptop. Security has been alerted and we have about three minutes. It’s probably in the wall safe. 08241995. Jess’s birthday. I doubt she would have changed that.”

Kara does as she is told and it works. The paper light laptop is there and Kara grabs it, bolting for the elevator. Once inside it starts to descend, then it jets to a halt.

“You have been detained. Security is on its way. Do not resist.” comes a deep voice through the speaker.

“Override it with that keypad. 06262015” Lena shouts.

“Legalized marriage?” Kara asks as she inputs it.

“Yes, but I can’t explain them all to you.”

Kara sees stress etched into Lena’s face and it seems to be making it harder for Lena to stay present. She flickers in and out of focus. Her voice sounds muffled and far away. Kara watches her until the door opens and rushes to turn on the lights and set up the laptop and inputs another code that Lena gives her.

It’s a frantic rush of connecting cables and turning dials. Kara’s hands are shaking from nervousness. The computer seems to take forever to call up the program that Lena had been using to run the machine. Kara can hear shouting out in the hall. Quickly she begins to push overturned work tables to the door, even pilling chairs on top of them, anything to keep the security out. Kara Rushed back to Lena to start setting dials on the machine to where they should be.

“Good, That should do it. Now just hit ‘run’ on the program. It will take a mi—” Lena’s voice was getting softer and softer and then suddenly Kara can’t hear her anymore. Kara could see through Lena now. Time was running out.

In the silence, a phone rings. Kara jumps and stares at the phone mounted to the wall. It rings into the stillness and Kara finds herself walking towards it to answer.

“Kara! Kara! What are you doing? How are you doing this?” Somehow, it’s Alex. Alex is calling Kara on the L-corp lab phone. Which means, Alex is in the building. There is a loud thumping at the lab door and angry shouts.

“I have to do this, Alex. I have to save her. I knew I wasn’t crazy. How are you here?”

“They called the FBI and my director called me! What are you talking about? Kara? How did you get so far past security?”

“Lena. She's helping me to bring her back. Now, I have to finish this.”

“Do not turn that machine on! It will kill you too!”

“It won’t. It will bring her back.”

“ No it won’t! Kar—”

Kara hangs up the phone on her sister.

“Kara.” It's a whisper now, Lena’s voice. Barely louder than a breath.

It moves Kara forward. Lena is almost gone and only Kara can save her. Kara starts the program and waits. It’s just like her dream. The machine starts up, light begins to build until it is so bright that Kara has to turn away. The noise becomes deafening. Then, with the shattering of the window, silence falls. Kara thinks she might have blacked out for a moment because she is on the floor. The lights are out again which means there was probably another power outage. When Kara sits up, she sees Lena. For real. Slumped over in front of the machine, the dark head begins to move and sit up. A pale hand presses against a temple and Lena groans.

“Lena!” Kara cries and scrambles to the scientist's side.

“Kara?” Lena responds horseley.

“I’m here,” Kara reaches out and places a hand on Lena’s arm. It’s solid and warm. Kara smiles. “And you are here too.”

“I’m… here. Really here?” Lena is still processing.

“Yes.”

Loud bangs resound from the door to the room. It happens again as Kara helps Lena to her feet. With a loud groan and the splintering of wood, the door is broken down and big burly men rush into the room and pause as they find Kara with Lena’s arm thrown over her shoulder.

“Kara!” Alex cries as she rushes in after the men, Kelly right on her heels, followed by Jess.

Jess gasps as she takes in the sight of her employer and friend. “Lena!” Jess bursts into tears as she pushes a man aside to get to the CEO.

“Hey Jess,” Lena says softly, and is nearly knocked off her feet as Jess wraps her in a tight embrace. Kara steps away to let them have a moment. Jess is crying into Lena’s shoulder and Kara thinks Lena might be too but she can't tell as she is squeezed into her own hug with her sister.

“Don’t you ever do something that stupid again!” Alex practically yells in Kara’s ear. Kara feels another pair of arms as Kelly joins them.

“Sorry, but I am not planning on being haunted by a scientist again.”

“So you weren't going crazy?” Alex asks

“No, but I don’t blame you for thinking that.”

“But how…”

“It’s a long story that I don’t really understand myself.” Kara cuts off her sister's question.

There is shuffling on the far side of the room as security seems uncertain what to do. They were coming in to detain a criminal but now that criminal has somehow brought their employer back from the dead and there were now a lot of tears. A throat clears and Lena seems to pull herself together instantly.

“You may all return to your posts. I will fill out a report and submit it to the chief of security. As you can see, there is no break in here. Just the CEO accessing the office after hours with her friend.”

There are some protests and grumbling but a look from Lena silences the men and they file out of the room, one by one. Finally the women are alone and everyone looks to Lena.

“How is this possible?” Jess asks Lena.

“I don’t know everything, but something happened when I started up the machine and the field of transportation was expanded and I was affected as well. Then I was stuck in this between state and somehow anchored to the pen that Kara here stole,” Lena pauses to raise a pointed eyebrow at Kara, “I could communicate with her, then, and she was able to come here and reset the machine to bring me back to this plane of existence. But it took a bit to figure all that out and Kara here thought she was being haunted.”

“Well, wouldn’t you when someone writes ‘Help Me’ on your bathroom mirror and creepily starts music playing and knocks things over?” Kara defends herself.

“Of course you did that.” Jess rolls her eyes at her friend's antics.

“When there are a few times you can solidly touch things, you have to take advantage.”

“But, my program?” Kelly asks.

“That I can’t really explain, except it put Kara’s mind into a more open state so it was easier to contact her. I think it just appeared as a glitch in the system. Look, this is all science that is even beyond me and I’m going to have to study it. I don’t have answers right now except that I don’t think it was an accident. The settings I had Kara replicate weren’t the ones I originally set.”

“It wasn’t an accident,” Kara says softly, yet surely.

All four women’s heads turn to her. “How do you know?” Lena asks.

“A dream. I was watching you. You were setting up your test. While your back was turned and the experiment was running, I saw a shadow come in through the door. I couldn’t make much out, but then I saw a hand turn that dial,” Kara points towards the black knob, “then everything went to shit and the light got so bright I couldn’t see and woke up.”

Lena nods slowly, “That’s the one that was off. But I used the program to replicate the last settings.”

“Who could have known you were here and running tests?” Jess asks.

“I don’t know. I had even told you I had gone home.”

“I know.” Jess deadpans. “And I will never believe that lie again.”

Lena rolls her eyes. “And after I told you that, I… canceled my flight to meet with... shit…”

“Meet with who?” Kara asks.

“Max Lord.” Jess finishes.

“He knew the premise of the project because he tried to beat me to copyrights. I won, though. We were meeting about another project but when I canceled he must have figured I was close to a breakthrough. That would be bad for him.”

“How so?” Kara asks.

“Because he runs very shady import and export businesses in third world countries and this machine would bypass a lot of that. It would allow me to send medicine and food directly to those in need.”

“Cutting down on his profits,” Alex says, deep in thought.

“Exactly.”

“Do you have any proof of this?” the FBI agent asks.

“Oh, yes. I have been compiling it for a while. It's not airtight, but it may be enough for an arrest.”

“Perfect. Let me make some calls.” Alex grins.

#Supergirl #Supercorp #scbb2020 #scbb #fanfiction #Au #Haunted

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yukheii · 5 years

Text

— butterfly.

+ pairings :: yoongi + reader

+ genre and warnings :: college au, best friends au, potentially friends to lovers i say potentially bc the..... to lovers part doesn’t happen in this drabble but..... yoongi Really Cares

+ notes :: inspired by my own haunting experiences with night class these past two semesters and my need for want for more college moongi :((

The whole appeal of torturing yourself through three hours of night class is that you get to knock everything out in one session. No multiple sections during the week—just one and done.

It’s not as bad as it sounds. Your professor is brilliant, actually entertaining, and does her best to keep the class engaged—she’s funny in that awkward, geek, professor kind of way. And she gives you short, five to ten minute breaks at every hour mark to make sure everyone doesn’t completely lose their minds.

Not to mention, you have Jimin in this class too, so at least you’re not suffering alone.

Going to this class is certainly a commitment, but in the past few weeks, you’ve learned to actually enjoy it. So long as you come to class on time, prepared, and with—

“Fuck,” you curse, watching Jimin pull out one of his many, tiny boxed juices. The ones meant for children that he and Taehyung claim are packed with more nutrients.

“What?” he asks, expression more shocked than concerned as he sets the juice in the right corner of his table.

“I forgot to bring snacks,” you pout.

Come on time, be prepared, and bring snacks. Those were the only three rules of night class, and you’d completely forgotten about the last one.

“Sounds like a you problem,” the blond grins, taunting his chocolate bar in front of you.

You reach and grab a piece, stuffing part of it into your mouth to spite him, but regretting your choices as soon as the chocolate melts on your tongue.

“What the fuck—is this mint chocolate?”

“Yes it is,” Jimin huffs, snatching the remaining stolen bit out of your fingers and popping it into his mouth, “And it is delicious.”

“You’re a demon.”

“A demon with snacks for the next three hours.”

The comment makes you groan again. Class didn’t officially start for another eleven minutes. You could try and run to the student center to grab some last minute snacks, but the line was probably enormous at this point, filled with other students like you who’d forgot to pack their own food for late classes. You’d never make it back on time—and that was the first rule of night class.

“Do you think Yoongi will bring me coffee?” you whine, trying to steal one of Jimin’s non mint-chocolate bars, but he holds his bag at a distance, uttering something about getting your own.

“Probably,” Jimin shrugs, humming to himself before rephrasing with a knowing smirk, “Actually, definitely. If he’s still here.”

You pout again, opening messages on your laptop to send him a text just as your professor begins to set up the presentation for the night at the podium.

[sent 6:49 PM] you — moongi are u still on campus

[received 6:51 PM] moongi — yeah — why what’s up

[sent 6:51 PM] you — uwu — wanna bring me an iced coffee before class — i have my 7-10 today and i forgot snacks :—(

[received 6:52 PM] moongi — i told you to stop sending me smileys with ugly noses — should you even be drinking coffee this late ur never gonna go to sleep

You scoff, and Jimin takes it as invitation to take a peep at your screen; that same smirk playing on his lips as he reads your conversation.

[sent 6:52 PM] you — oh that’s RICH coming from YOU

[received 6:52 PM] moongi — ur being awfully mean to someone who u want to spend $6 on a single drink for u

Jimin has the audacity to laugh. It earns him a pinch on the arm.

[sent 6:53 PM] you — i’m sorry love u moongi — venti iced chai tea latte — light ice

[received 6:53 PM] moongi — offended u think i don’t know ur starbucks order by know

[sent 6:53 PM] you — uwu

[received 6:53 PM] moongi — but ur getting a grande i’m not made of money

[sent 6:53 PM] you — un-uwu

“I don’t blame him,” Jimin chuckles, scrunching the wrapper from his finished bar between his fingers.

You flick him away, earning a screech from Jimin, and a few heads turned in your direction. More students begin filling into the room as the clock gears closer to eight, and you and Jimin spend the time opening the powerpoint for tonight’s lectures on your computers.

It’s eight o’clock on the dot when your laptop pings with another message from Yoongi—and a groan from Jimin, who breeches your personal bubble for the third time in ten minutes to press the mute button on your keyboard.

[received 8:00 PM] moongi — where are u sitting

[sent 8:00 PM] you — front row to the right

Jimin’s waving hand catches your attention first, then Yoongi’s. His only acknowledgment of the younger’s over the top waving is an eye roll, before he makes his way over to your seats, two Starbucks cups and a plastic bag in his hands.

“Aw, Yoongi, you brought me one too!” Jimin chirps, making grabby hands at the other drink as Yoongi hands you the first.

He pulls it out of arm’s reach, brining the green straw to his own lips with a scoff, “As if.”

“Thanks, Yoon,” you smile, watching Jimin pout back into his seat. He offers you a small nod and a smile as he continues to his on his drink. He extends his left hand this time, placing the plastic bag in your lap, silently.

Inside, there are a few granola bars, a bagel, cream cheese, some kind of sandwich, Pocky, a mini-sized Nutella cup, and a bottle of water. When you look back up at Yoongi he simply shrugs, biting the straw between his teeth while a light pink dusts over his cheeks.

“You said you forgot your snacks,” he mentions, “I figured you’d harass Jimin the whole lecture if you didn’t have your own, you know.”

“Oh, he got you Pocky! Let me have—” Jimin all but screams, prompting you to swat him away. The commotion grabs the attention of your professor, standing a few feet away at the podium.

She looks like she’s about to tell you to settle down or start the presentation, but then her gaze shifts slightly to Yoongi, and to your surprise, both their faces light up.

“Dr. Choi,” Yoongi greets with a smile and a handshake.

“Yoongi,” she smiles back, “Good to see you again. What are you doing here—I think I’d remember you being in this class.”

“I’m not, actually, my friends are,” Yoongi chuckles, body shifting in your direction while his arm gestures to you and Jimin, “I just came by with snacks.”

The two of them fall into easy conversation, and you have to sit back in awe. You’d listened to Yoongi rave about his Philosophy professor all of last semester, but you hadn’t imagined that your current Psychology professor was the same Dr. Choi.

She was the one that had convinced Yoongi to take more Philosophy and Logic courses, and ultimately guided him towards his Pre-Law declaration.

You get lost in your thoughts watching them interact—it’s obvious Dr. Choi was and still is very much investing in Yoongi’s wellbeing, and that he has immense respect and gratitude for her. It makes you happy, to know that he has someone who cares about his academic success the way she does.

You don’t notice the smile that settles onto your face, but Jimin does. Just like he notices the way Yoongi speaks to Dr. Choi about you. Just like he notices that the drink on the corner of your desk is, in fact, a venti, and not a grande. Just like he notices that the granola bars in the bag are not only your favorite flavor, but from your favorite brand, too. Just like he notices everything else.

It’s almost six minutes past eight before Dr. Choi realizes, apologizing to Yoongi for cutting their conversation short, and finishing her preparations for the class that will shortly begin.

Yoongi takes small footsteps back towards you, “You didn’t tell me Dr. Choi taught this class.”

“Didn’t know it was the same prof,” you shrug, “You think I’ll get brownie points now that she knows I know her favorite student?”

“You don’t need them,” Yoongi cracks a smile at the comment, “Anyway, I better go before she starts. Call me when you’re done, I’ll drive you guys home.”

“Oh, you don’t have to, Jimin and I usually—”

“Doll,” Yoongi cuts your words short, “Just call me when you’re finished.”

“Why are you turning down a free ride, you wench,” Jimin comments.

You throw daggers in his direction, before accepting Yoongi’s offer. Your tone is reluctant, but your smile gives you away. Yoongi hums.

“And eat the bagel before the Pocky.”

“You’re annoying.”

“I’m a saint,” Yoongi grins before pressing his cold cup to the side of your cheek, relishing in the way you squeal and pull away from him, “Call me.”

He begins walking away just as Dr. Choi starts to grab everyone’s attention. You scrunch your nose, wiping the condensation on your cheek away with the sleeve of your sweater, before opening your notes for the evening.

“You’re really dense, aren’t you?” Jimin asks, the look on his face almost incredulous as you dip a piece of the bagel into cream cheese.

“Dense about what?” you ask back, cheeks stuffed with food.

Jimin shakes head, turning back to his laptop with a frown.

“Hopeless,” he mumbles, “The both of you.”

#bts fake texts #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts college au #yoongi reactions #yoongi scenarios #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #namjoon smut #jimin smut #bts x reader #bts x you

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maychildwriter333 · 4 years

Text

New but not so new here....

I am not exactly new here. I used to have Tumblr in the past but deleted it due to being heartbroken by an ex (so mellow dramatic :D). i disconnected staying mainly on Facebook, Instagram and Snapchat.

As life happened or should I say, 2020 happened....The noise and the chaos of social media was too much to see. At the time, I felt like the government or the media was just building this virus up for propaganda. My friend and I were on the way to hot yoga when we got the announcement that all schools were closed for the rest of the year. I remember telling her in frustration: “This is just fear! We shouldn’t feed into it....” but the look on her face and the sudden urgency in her voice that she wanted to go home to her kids. I felt it on me too. I wanted to go home to my kiddo and force my girlfriend (my ever loving girlfriend) to go fight in the local stores to shop for whatever she can get her hands on. Fear had invaded my head even with myself knowing it was just a hype..... I still felt scared.

Fear is funny like that. Almost like a little kid, screaming and hitting you to go backwards.

You see, fear has always been apart of me as I’m sure it has been apart of everyone else’ life. We are fed it in heads when we get the concept of words or simply the emotion off our parents.

This 2020 has been a whirlwind of emotions for everyone around me, my state, the nation and the whole WORLD. It’s been interesting sitting back and watch my friends or family experience these transformations. All these ideas people are coming up with, realizations with themselves. It makes me admire the human race, when in the past it was quite opposite....

With myself: I found myself on front lines. I was (and still am) in the healthcare industry. I was considered essential as I watched my friends, family and even my own girlfriend lose their jobs due to “not being essential”. Suddenly everyone was sitting at home, while I had to drag my booty to work. Instead of being sympathetic for everyone, I found myself envious yet prideful. Even rubbed it in my girlfriend’s face that she was the lucky one to have no job in that moment.

Well, karma bit me in the butt. For the first time in my life, I was fired from a job. Not going into too much details but I was at the wrong place, wrong time. I was set up on accusations that had them terminate me. I LOVED this job. I felt safe and secure at this job. I gave a lot of my time and dedication to them. Even before this incident, I had never been a problem for the company. I was in shock when I had to hand over my badge and keys. I had to face the guilt of calling my unemployed girlfriend. I didn’t even really cry. I kept it calm. I let her know what happened and she told me: “Oh it’s okay baby, there are worse things....we will figure this out. It is their loss....”.

But that didn’t stop me from coming home, tuning out and calling the women who were fired with me (plus another co worker) to come party away our sorrows. From there, my grieve of losing the job turned to alcohol and partying with my co workers. There was lots of tears, anger and laughter. It ended with me getting black out drunk, doing summersaults around the living room and then getting thrown by my girlfriend and friend into my room. I had even fell off the bed and hit the wall, falling asleep that way. I was a hot mess....

The next morning, my body was sore and my head was pounding. I woke up with the realization: I don’t have a job. Suddenly all the insecurities and worries came to me flooded my brain. I had to do something....but where to start?

Meditation with spirituality has been connected to me for a few years now. I started meditating after a mental break down that left me forced to face myself and my demons. One of my close friends introduced me to meditation and what sold me on the practice was this friend was normally anxious. If I saw my friend in the past, she was always holding tension in her forehead and it left her with migraines often. Once she told me about meditation, I saw the change in her face and the power in her words. She was very certain about this practice and how it made her feel, convincing me to look into it.

From there I went on the quest. Trying out different types of meditation. I made a commitment to meditate upon waking up each day. If I feel like I need to do another, there is always time for more as long as i made the time. It became second nature to me.

After being fired, I had to go back to the drawing board. I needed to look at my reflection. I needed to face the perfectionist that was screaming at me inside my head: “You’re not good enough! You’re a failure! Everyone will see it!!”.

That day, I had meditated in the house and then found myself traveling to the other side to meditate more. I came out of the last meditation refreshed and with this voice speaking in the back of my head: “It’s okay to surrender. Just trust God and let go of the wheel.....”. From there, I went to journaling away about what was holding me back. What was truly bothering me about this situation.

What it came down to: Fear of failing.

There is that word again: Fear. I had to come to face this disease. It was that same fear I get when driving downhill on a freeway. That same fear I got as a kid when the lights were completely off. That same fear I got the moment my mother was taking her last breath....

What I found? It was a story I was telling myself. A story I engrained in my brain to never fail. It was that story that I was going to be perfect in everyones’ eyes, I can go no wrong. When reality I was struggling. I was still grieving the losses of 2018-2019, I was struggling with drinking and I was shoving it all down into a box; hiding it from myself and the world. I covered up that box with the blanket of: I-am-spirituality-aligned-and-nothing-can-affect-me persona-I’m-OK.

No....it doesn’t matter how much you know. It doesn’t matter about the person you are or all the money and material things you have. At the end of the day: life doesn’t exclude anyone from going through something. 2020 is living proof of that. That brick called life hits everyone in the head; we all have the bruises and scars to prove it.

Once I came to those conclusions about myself. I cried, I cried very hard. That kind of cry that hits in your chest and you must let it all out. After the cry session, I let myself fall into another meditation. I felt at peace, secure and okay. No matter the situation, everything was going to be okay. I just had to have faith.

From there I went inside my house and I went to work. I fixed my resume and applied for as many jobs as I could. I kept saying: “I REFUSE to be jobless during COVID. I want to be on the frontlines helping....” But after a while of applying, I put down the computer and took in my scenery:

My home. The sun shining in, hitting the wooden floor as my child played with his toys on the floor; being in his own world. My girlfriend was on the couch, staying near by me during this uncertainty. Gratitude came into my heart in that moment. I didn't have a job but was I certainly not alone. I still had a roof over my head, my kid was still eating and my girl was near me. What more could I ask for? No job could take that moment away.

I want to share this story with who ever falls upon it and needs it. With every door that closes, there is another one that opens. Within less than a month, I ended up getting another job. A job that easier going, appreciative of their staff and at the same time challenging. I’ve been at that job for about seven months and they already offered me to stay on their team full time (I started out PRN). God, The Source, The Universe or whatever anyone believes is good. <3

I start this out as my first post. Have faith, surrender and by gosh, face you shadows. It is going to be painful but I promise it will feel better once you do.

What you should expect from this blog is a personal journey about myself. A journey where I will explore myself in my writing, meditation, reading, and even yoga and exercise. I am still a student in this thing we call life. I hope to meet like minded, inspiring individuals who teach me some lessons. In the past, I had fear in tumblr that there were only bullies, never wanting to show myself fully on the “dark” web. 2020 is bringing a lot out of everyone. Life is too short to limit yourself. <3

#lifeblogging #personalblog #2020 #spirituality #meditation #self exploration #authenticallyme #graditude

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idreamofplaid · 5 years

Text

The You I Never Knew - Part 3

Summary: The reader gets closer to Dean, faces her feelings, and makes a big decision.

Characters: Dean x Reader; Sam; Eileen

Word Count: 2434

A/N: This series was inspired by a dream that @thisismysecrethappyplace had and shared with me. She has been my awesome beta during this process!

Part 1 Part 2

Sam was just as good at pretending something never happened as his brother. He never mentioned the night he’d run into me in the hallway leaving Dean’s room wearing almost nothing. It was so like Sam to be discreet and ignore the whole thing, but part of me wished he wouldn’t.

I glanced up from the book I was reading hoping to find the information on wraiths that Dean and Cas needed to finish their hunt. Sam was recovering from the flu and had opted to sit this one out. Dean asked me to come along, but the idea of a hunt still scared the hell out of me, even staying in the motel is too close to the monsters.

My eyes focused on Sam for a minute. He looked like he was feeling better, and some of his energy had returned. The research had been going on for hours. I shifted my attention down to Sam’s long fingers moving over the keys of his laptop. I’d always found Sam attractive, but that was a secret I kept to myself. Dean caught my eye the same way he caught the eye of most women. I’d told Dean how hot he was because he was my friend, and I could do that in a casual way. The things I noticed about Sam weren’t based in friendship.

This wasn’t something I should be doing. I’m sleeping with Sam’s brother, but it’s not like it’s serious. It’s not like Dean confessed his love or anything, and he’s not going to. I’m convenient; that’s all it is. Friends with benefits. So, why do I feel guilty about the thoughts I have when I look at Sam?

None of this is anything I planned on. That would just be crazy on my part because in just a little while Eileen is going to call Sam on that same computer he’s using for research right now. They talk almost every night. He smiles at her in a way I once dreamed of having him look at me. Then he’ll start signing to her. Sam learned sign language for this woman. Enough said.

The thought of Sam and Eileen combined with what I was doing with Dean was too much. I needed some space, some air, something. After mumbling something about getting some water, I headed for the kitchen. I walked in, sat down at the table, put both of my palms flat on it, and began to take deep breaths.

It’s not like what I had with Dean was real. It wasn’t like Sam and Eileen. But it did feel good. Physically, it was perfection. What Dean did in bed was incredible. He was so attentive, so eager to please, he almost me you thinking I mattered to him. I had to remind myself to keep this thing in perspective.

It’s flattering to share Dean’s bed, but we aren’t dating. I have to remember that, and remember not to get my hopes up where either of them is concerned. Okay, so I don’t have any sort of commitment. That doesn’t mean I can’t just enjoy what I do have.

I stood, smoothed down my hair, and went to the fridge to pour myself some of that water I supposedly came for. Glass in hand, I returned to the library. Immediately, any kind of positive feeling I might have talked myself into vanished. Sam had cast any thought of research aside, and I could hear Eileen’s voice. She was telling him to get plenty of sleep and take care of himself.

I saw Sam drag his fingers across his forehead and smile. “I will. I’ll be in perfect health when you get back from Ireland and ready to show you all the sights in Lebanon.”

She was coming here. Why did that thought make my stomach sink? Because I don’t want to see them together. For that matter, I don’t want to hear any more of this phone call. I started to just back out of the library and retreat to my room, but what if Sam had seen me? I decided the best thing to do was to go pick up my book and then head for my bedroom under the guise of giving Sam some privacy.

Safely ensconced in my room, I threw the book on my desk and set the glass of water down beside it. I dressed for bed, but I knew sleep wouldn’t come. Instead, I sat with my back against the headboard and wrapped my arms around my middle in an attempt to offer myself some comfort while thoughts of Sam and Dean tangled around each other in my mind.

The next morning I was up early making breakfast. It had been a mostly sleepless night for me, so the opportunity to do something productive was welcome. I’d always liked to cook, something I shared in common with Dean. Cooking would take my mind off everything. This morning’s menu was veggie omelets and whole wheat toast.

Sam came in running his hands through his sleep tousled hair just as I was putting the first omelet on a plate. I turned to him plate in hand and gestured toward the table. “Sit down. You should eat something.” I could take care of him a little bit.

He did as I asked with only mild protest. “I can make my own breakfast, Y/N. Really. I don’t want to take yours.”

I put the food on the table in front of him. “You aren’t. I mixed enough for two. Now, go ahead and eat.”

Sam was making appreciative noises and telling me how good it was by the time I got back to the counter across the room. There was one more thing I wanted to do. I brewed a cup of chamomile tea and squeezed fresh lemon into it then crossed the room holding it in both my hands. When I reached Sam, I offered the cup to him. “Drink this. It’ll help your throat. Your voice is still scratchy.”

When Sam reached for the cup, his fingers brushed over mine. They lingered there for a second before Sam looked up at me with a touch of a smile on his face. “Thanks, Y/N.”

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

Dean came home from the hunt alone saying Cas had “angel business”. He was different, a little quieter somehow. The first night he held me close to him, kissing me, and burying his nose in my hair while he deeply inhaled like he wanted to breathe me in. He slept with his arms around me, and that was all.

The next night was a different story. As soon as I crawled into bed, he circled his arm around me and started kissing my shoulder. He nuzzled his nose into my neck and slipped his hand down into my sleep shorts. “You smell so good, Baby.” Feel even better.”

His fingers felt good too, the way they were circling my clit and making me wet for him already. I put my arm over his and pressed my fingers into his skin. “Dean...”

He kissed up my neck to my ear and pulled the lobe into his mouth. “Right here, Sweetheart. I’m going to give you everything you need.” He started to ease my shorts down over my hips, and I wiggled to help with the process. When they were gone, I turned onto my back. Dean covered my mouth with his and teased at my lips with his tongue. I opened my mouth to let him in, and he rolled his tongue around mine slow and smooth while his fingers moved down through my folds to that place I wanted to feel him the most.

I kissed him back when he pushed a finger inside me. I couldn’t help wanting more. Dean started to thrust his finger at a slow and steady rhythm. I moaned into his mouth , and that encouraged him to go faster. When he added another finger, I pulled at the back of his t-shirt wanting it off him.

He took his fingers out of me long enough to get rid of the shirt. Then he pushed three fingers back inside me, and my hands roamed over his back. The way he was moving his fingers inside me was perfect, and then he curled them to hit that sweet spot. Dean whispered in my ear, “You’re beautiful, Y/N.” I still have trouble believing him when he says that, but it sent me right over the edge. I came shuddering beneath him.

He held me while I recovered, kissing along the side of my face from my temple along my cheek to my chin. When my breathing slowed, Dean reached for the bottom of my camisole to pull it up over my head. His mouth went immediately to my nipple. He brought it into his mouth and started to suck and lick which had me writhing beneath him in no time.

His teeth nibbled gently at my nipple, and I arched up against him. Somehow Dean got his own sleep pants down his legs and off without letting go of my nipple. I could feel how hard he was against my thigh.

Dean’s mouth moved back to mine and through kisses he said, “I missed you so much.”

I moved one hand up into his hair and grasped the short strands between my fingers as he parted my legs with his knee and plunged deep into me. I actually whimpered it felt so good, and that encouraged him. The way he was moving his hips had me gasping for breath.

The sounds Dean made in bed were so sexy it was almost possible to have an orgasm just listening to him, and when I opened my eyes I could see his face. His full lips were slightly parted; his eyes were closed, and a look of total bliss and peace had taken over his features. He deserved that look and everything it meant.

His hips started to stutter. “Y/N. Y/N.” Dean came with my name on his lips, and hearing him say it in his deep, sex hazed voice had me coming again too. I held onto him searching for something to ground me in the whirlwind I was feeling caught up in.

After several minutes of being joined together, Dean finally pulled himself from me. He rolled onto his back taking me with him. I rested my head on his chest.

He cupped his hand around the side of my head and kissed my hair. For awhile Dean held me in the silence, then he was ready to talk. “It feels so good lying here with you, like there’s nothing else but this.” I could hear his heartbeat under my ear. It had slowed to its normal rate, steady and strong. “I’m tired of monsters, Y/N. I want something else, something more.” Dean lifted my chin with his fingertips so I was looking into his deep emerald eyes. “I want what I feel when I’m with you.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything. He went on. “I know you don’t like hunting. I’ll stop.” Then, in almost a whisper, he said, “We could make a life together.” His fingertips were still on my chin, and he moved them up then to brush along my cheek. “If you’re not ready for that, at least I want to know you’re here, waiting for me. I want to come home to you, Y/N.”

I was completely caught off guard by what he was saying. I never expected this. I was more than a little in shock. My words came out broken, disjointed. “I...I thought this was just sex.”

Dean’s eyes softened, and they moved over my face like they were memorizing my features. Then he looked back into my eyes, and what I saw there was something I had never seen before. “It was at first, but not now. Not tonight. You had to feel that.”

I did. I did feel that. What now? “Oh, Dean.” I hid my face against his shoulder where it met his neck. He slid his hand underneath my hair and cradled the back of my head.

My mind was racing. I loved Dean. I’d do anything for him, and my heart should be doing flip flops of joy right now. He wants more with me. Me. Why do I have to have these feelings for Sam? Just about any woman on earth would trade places with me right now. My love for him can change. It can become romantic. I’ve spent too much of my life being stupid and chasing after fantasies. I’m not going to let Sam be another one when what I have right now is something so wonderful.

I didn’t say anything else, just bit my bottom lip and held onto Dean tighter. I felt him smile on my neck. “I’ll take care of you, Y/N. You’ll have everything you ever wanted.”

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

Dean was an affectionate guy by nature, but the next few days all that affection came right to the surface. The way he looked at me, the smiles, his hand at my waist, or his fingers curling around mine at any time of the day would make my heart melt if it wasn’t so conflicted. A moment in the kitchen haunted my thoughts and played with my mind.

It was ordinary enough. I was washing dishes; Sam was sitting at the table checking the internet for signs of a new case. Dean came into the kitchen, walked up behind me and circled his arms around my waist. From the corner of my eye, I saw Sam watching, his eyes lingering a beat too long on the scene in front of him. I’d seen that look on his face before. He’d had it when our fingers touched on that cup of tea.

That look on Sam’s face filled my mind as I stuffed some clothes into a duffel. I couldn’t stay here. All kinds of heartbreak would follow if I did. Dean didn’t deserve to get hurt, especially not over some foolish dream I’d concocted in my head based on a couple of looks. I wouldn’t be able to hide it. Dean would know. I’d never had a poker face about anything in my life; this certainly wouldn’t be any different. I wasn’t going to hurt the two men who mattered more to me than anything in the world. So, with one last look around the bunker, I left.

Forevers: @bitterstar88 @coffee-obsessed-writer @timelordy-fangirl2 @stusbunker @girl-next-door-writes @mariekoukie6661 @sandlee44 @cosicas-cuquis @ohnowin-chester @waywardbaby @akhuna01 @tumbler-tidbits @maddiepants @dean-winchesters-bacon @evansrogerskitten @ackleholicwinchester @sorenmarie87 @ladywinchester1967 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @sea040561 @atc74 @deans-baby-momma @mrs-meghan-winchester @akshi8278 @adoptdontshoppets

The You I Never Knew: @deansgirl79 @alagalaska @lauravic @meowmeow-motherfucker @deangirl7695 @allykat2108 @peridottea91 @rainbowkisses31 @fandom-princess-forevermore

#the you i never knew #dean fluff #dean smut #reader insert #dean series

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veganmikehanlon · 5 years

Note

10 and 25 for hanbrough if you please! otherwise any pairing will do ♥

you know that thing where u can’t even search ur own blog for something you /literally/ tagged? this was something like…idk something but it reminded me of something i already wrote so i Really have no reason for not posting it sooner other than procrastination being my middle name so anyways, this:

Mike doesn’t mean to start writing a sex scene while sitting in a Starbucks, but he’d tried writing at home, well it’s just his parents house now, and his mom kept walking in trying to talk to him. So he left the old farmhouse and drove into his newly modernized hometown of good ol’ Derry, Maine.

It’d started with a piece of his story inspiring a memory from his own sex life. Something he’d done forever ago with an ex. Secretly, in a tent. Surrounded by friends. Not their most shining moment but it was hot and applicable to his current story.

He’s in the middle of writing about tongues sliding together when his eyes are drawn to the sound of the shop door opening. He almost chokes when he sees who it is walking in. Well, daydream about sex with your ex and he shall appear. Mike ducks behind his things to hide because he’s panicking.

Mike watches Bill walk to the counter, he observes the broad lines of his shoulders move under familiar flannel; and how the end of his short blond french braid, mostly held together by multi-colored bobby-pins, brushes the collar in a physical reminder of how long it’s been since they’ve seen each other.

He walks through the room with the same gentle confidence that he always had, and it still draws the same admiring gazes from those around him. Mike’s eyes flicker between Bill and his computer screen, the incriminating words screaming at him, and then he catches sight of Bills’ smile and the perfect adjective pops into his head.

Just like that he’s writing again, more caught up in his story than he’s been in the last 30 minutes. Words stream from his fingertips and a scene unfolds, bits and pieces of Mike’s past slipping through, and just as he’s writing a description of how exciting it is to make someone moan as loud as you can make them laugh, he’s interrupted.

“Hi,” a soft voice calls, startling Mike from his head making him jump and hit his knees against the table, a move that almost sends his coffee toppling, but two pairs of hands shoot out to catch the wobbling cup. Bills’ hand settles warmly over Mike’s before he draws it back with an awkward chuckle.

A shiver runs through Mike as Bill’s fingers brush over his knuckles, and he looks up at the man before him with wide eyes. “Hi,” he squeaks, this entire situation sending him careening out of his comfort zone. Bill clears his throat before speaking (an old habit) “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he says with a wince.

Mike chuckles nervously, his voice coming out a bit high and strained, “it’s okay I was just, um, writing.” This might be the most uncomfortable he’s ever been in his life. But Bill looks excited and he falls into the chair opposite Mike, setting his coffee and a notebook down on the open space.

“You’re writing?” He asks, a smile spreading across his face, and Mike has to smile back because oh yeah, they’d once shared everything with each other and Bill knows all about Mikes’ commitment-phobia to writing.

Mike quickly switches programs, an attempt at putting the niggling guilt in his chest away. “Yeah, just this story for this thing,” he answers vaguely, and they pause for an awkward second before Bill starts to ramble. “I’ve been working on drawing (a sentence that makes Mike proud too), I’m in a portrait class right now at school, and I came here to people watch and I saw you, and I was wondering if you’d mind if I practiced drawing you?”

Mike gasps softly in surprise at the request, “uh, what? You want to draw me?” The words fall from his mouth without his input, any functional part of his brain currently caught in a dumpster fire, set by this stupid story that is making an already uncomfortable situation of running into an ex just that much worse!

And then Bill is talking again, “well my art style has changed and I thought it’d be cool to get a comparison, you know, a then and now? It’s cool if you don’t want me to, no biggie, just thought I’d ask, but actually? Never mind,” he starts gathering his things into his arms, “sorry for bothering you, it was nice seeing you, bye!”

He starts to get up but stops when Mike bursts out laughing, his cheeks reddening, and he stays frozen uncomfortably. And Mike doesn’t mean to, but seeing Bill so obviously out of his comfort zone has him cracking up, the situation making him feel hysterical, and he can’t quite stop the laughter bubbling out.

Mike manages enough words to get Bill to settle back down. “Hey man it’s cool, it’s good seeing you too, you know me, I love to help.” Bill settles back into the seat and flips his sketchbook open with an eye roll. Mike can’t help but tease him, he starts shifting through different dramatic poses, making Bill laugh loudly. A hand behind his head, his bicep bulging, Thinking Man pose, his smile barely suppressed-

And Mike ends his display by lewdly flicking his tongue between his fingers. “Jesus Mike!” Bill sputters out between laughs and Mike raises his hands in an innocent gesture, his own laughs ringing out through the space between them. “Sorry, I’m done!” He surrenders with an amused snort.

Bill sticks his tongue out childishly at him and flips the pages of his notebook to a blank page, “just go back to what you were doing weirdo,” he says softly and Mike lets out another laugh before following his directions. Well, not exactly since he’d literally been writing about his and Bill’s sex life. Oops.

He fucks around on his computer for a bit, opening and closing a few homework assignments (yeah right like he’d be able to concentrate right now), editing bits and pieces in other stories, he even plays a couple rounds of solitaire. But his attention is scattered after three lattes (that’s 2…4…6 espresso shots) and the adrenaline rushing through him from Bill sitting across from him drawing him which requires Bill to look at him with his blue as fuck eyes-

“Hey you wanna go somewhere?” The question bursts from Mike and he cringes at the abruptness. “Wait, you’re drawing, never mind,” Mike amends with a shake of his head. But Bill just flips his book closed with a simple “yep,” and starts chugging the last bit of his coffee.

Mike packs up quickly and, swinging his backpack over his shoulders, follows Bill out of the shop.

“Holy shit, is that Silver?” Mike exclaims incredulously when they walk outside. Bill laughs and leads the way to the old bike where it’s locked up by the building. “Yeah, Georgie didn’t wanna give up the car, so I’m stuck with her.” Bill explains. Mike runs a hand over the handlebars with a small smile, “seems smaller than she used to,” he comments, nostalgia rushing through him. Bill hums in agreement, “easier to handle too,” he comments steadily belaying the nervous shake in his next words, “and still big e-e-enough to ruh-ride double.”

Mike grins excitedly, “why Mr. Denbrough, are you going to show me a good time around town?” Bill’s face lights up with a wide grin and giggling, he unlocks his bike quickly, “it’d be my puh-pleasure, Mr. Hanlon.” They drop their things in Mike’s truck before racing recklessly out of the parking lot, Bill pedaling frantically and Mike hanging on tight to his waist, praying he doesn’t go flying off the back of the bike.

It’s weird spending all day with an ex, but they’d been best friends for just as long as they dated, and it’s as easy as it’s always been. They ride through the streets of Derry just like when they were kids, taking turns too fast and speeding over bumps. Mike’s teeth click together but it barely registers over the barrage of other sensations. The softness of Bill’s waist under his hands, the warmth between his back and Mike’s chest, the soft blond hairs flying into his face where they come loose from the braid and bobby pins.

It’s a lot of old and new sensations that has Mike’s head spinning.

They ride until Bill complains of shin splints, his face red and a little sweaty. Mike totally doesn’t think of licking the sweat from his brow because that would be weird. They ride back to Starbucks and load Silver into Mike’s truck. They sit in the cab, unsure where to go from here. They decide to live out the nostalgia further, and head to the barrens.

“Can you help me get all these out?” Bill asks gesturing to the many bobby-pins in his hair. Mike pats the spot on the truck bed next to him and Bill sighs a “thank you” as he sits with his back turned to him. Mike begins to gently pull the clips from his hair, doing his best not to pull knowing full well Bill is tender-headed.

He brushes the hair out with his fingers as it’s freed in sections until all the pins are out and Bill’s hair is a wild mane framing his face. Bill had shifted to face him when Mike got to the sections held back in the front, and Mike watches his face carefully. His eyes are closed and his face is relaxed in contentment. He’s always liked having his hair played with, no doubt part of the inspiration to grow it out.

Mike finds himself fiddling with the ends of his hair, carefully brushing it back from his face. He’s too distracted watching the soft strands fall through his fingers to notice Bills’ eyes have opened to watch him.

They used to lay in bed together, Bill on Mike’s chest, while Mike would drag a hand through Bill’s hair while they cooled down. Sometimes they would talk and other times they would lay in silence, just letting themselves feel the moment.

Lost in his thoughts Mike doesn’t notice Bill moving his face slowly closer, or how his hand has ceased it’s ministrations running through soft blond hair to rest gently on his cheek, he doesn’t realize he’s guiding Bill’s lips to his own until they’re barely a breath apart. And then soft lips land on his and awareness comes crashing over him.

They both freeze for a second, they’re mouths held stiff against the other, and then Mike opens his mouth slightly to pull Bills’ bottom lip in between his. And with that Bill is pushing forward and Mike unfolds his legs so he can slot in-between his knees. They kiss desperately, mouths moving together hot and slick. Mike moans softly at the feeling.

And then he’s pushing away because holy shit, “did you-“ he pants and Bill moves to kiss his neck at the interruption, unwilling to stop whatever this is. Mike is totally okay with that but, “you didn’t eat meat today did you?”

Bill stops his traveling lips, body going stiff in the not fun way. It may have been something they used to argue about when they were dating, Mike thought it was gross to kiss Bill after he’d eaten meat, and Bill didn’t get what the big deal was. Mike thinks maybe he ruined the moment but then Bill is grinding his hips down into him and he drag his lips up Mike’s neck to his ear, making him keen at the sensations, his own hips stuttering to meet the boy’s above him.

“Not yet,” Bill whispers grinding down into the v of Mike’s hips harshly, drawing a groan from the man that quickly turns into laughter. Throwing his head back Mike giggles loud and uncontrollably. “Seriously?” He laughs breathlessly, Bill sucking a mark on his neck. He pulls back to look into Mike’s eyes. “Seriously. Your nagging finally got through my thick skull.” Bill says with an eye roll followed by a wink.

“Wow, fuck, that was such a fucking turn on.” Mike says drawing Bill closer with a hand on the back of his neck and kisses him passionately.

#veganmo #writing prompt #hanbrough #bill denbrough #mike hanlon #it fic #bill x mike

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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elles-choices · 5 years

Text

The Quarterback: Chapter One (AU, Chris x MC)

Summary: Chris Powell is a star Quarterback stuck in a toxic relationship. Laura Davis is a writer looking for some inspiration for her new book. They went to the same college. They’ve heard about each other but their paths never crossed… not until they catch the same flight.

Pairing: Chris x MC (Laura)

Disclaimer: Some characters belong to Choices by Pixel Berry

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

Chapter one: Perfect Strangers

Chris runs through the terminal on the way to his gate. He wasn’t sure about taking this flight; he waited until the last minute trying to decide what to do — everything is working out so well in his life but then there is Becca. He never meant their relationship to be serious, he never meant it to last but somehow, after spending four years of college together it just made sense to stay. Thoughts are running through his head, when he hears:

„This is the final boarding call for passenger Christopher Powell on the flight to New York. Please proceed to gate 5 immediately. I repeat. This is the final boarding call for Christopher Powell. Thank you“

Breathless he arrives at the gate and boards the airplane. A flight attendant brings him to his seat in the business class. He looks at the beautiful petit brunette sitting in the window seat. After storing his carry-on in the overhead compartment, he tries to get her attention:

„Miss?!“, he looks at her writing something in a notebook, „Excuse me, miss?!“, but there is no reaction. He realizes that she has her earplugs on and lightly taps her on the shoulder. She looks at him startled, taking her earplugs off. „I’m sorry. Can I help you with your bag?“, Chris looks at the black handbag that is laying on his seat and smiles friendly.

„Oh… oh my gosh, I am so sorry! Yes, thank you so much, just let me get my laptop first… here you go“, she smiles and Chris looks at her for a moment before taking her bag. Her smiles has a warmth that he can’t quite grasp — it’s kind, gentle and captivating.

After closing the overhead compartment, he sits down and looks at her again, „I’m Chris, Chris Powell“.

„Laura Davis, nice to meet you“, Laura stares at him for a moment with a thoughtful look.

„Is something wrong?“, Chris asks.

„No… but why do you look so familiar…“, she shakes her head lightly, „Sorry, I feel like I’ve seen you before“.

Chris chuckles, „Maybe from the papers?! I play football for the Nightingales“.

Laura smiles and looks through the window for a second, „Nope, that’s not it. I wouldn’t know, I am not a fan of football. Wait a minute… Powell, football… did you go to Hartfeld?“.

Chris lets out a laugh, „Yes, are you stalking me?!“.

„Oh please, you wish!“, she laughs, „No, I went to Hartfeld too!“

„Now that you mention, I think I’ve heard the name Laura Davis somewhere!“, he stares at her. „What?! Of course… the valedictorian. Didn’t you write a book with a professor? I didn’t read it but I remember people talking about it!“.

„Yes, that’s me! For the book I tried to join the Kappa Phi Sigma… weren’t you with Becca for a while?“, she smiles reminiscing about the time with professor Vasquez.

Chris’ face falls by the mention of her name, „Yeah, we are still together…“, he looks down to his hands for a moment but quickly shakes the sad feeling away, „So, are you still writing?“

„Yeah, I’m working on my second book. Actually, I’m still putting my thoughts together, trying to get some inspiration“, she turns to the window, realizing the plane took off already.

„So, what is your new book about?“, Chris looks at her curios.

„Ah… I don’t know yet but it’s going to be a romance book with some drama and hopefully some adventures!“, she giggles. „I am actually flying for a meeting with my literary agent. And what are you doing in New York?“

Chris scratches the back of his head, something he always does when he gets nervous, „I’m going to have a talk with Becca…“, he presses his lips together. „Tell me, Laura, you who knows so much about romance…“, he pauses.

„Hey, I have never claimed I would, Mr. Powell!“, she smiles.

„Well, you have to...you write about it! So... When does your main character know he or she is in love?“, he chuckles, „Kinda of a philosophical question, isn’t it?“

„Oh, you wanna go there? Alright… Tough question. I think it’s when they feel this unconditional feeling overcoming them and suddenly you accept that the other person has imperfections without thinking less of them; when they feel deeply committed to this other human being even though he or she may not feel the same; when they have many reasons to go but they choose to stay because a life without this person is no life at all“, Laura looks at Chris, watching her attentively and she giggles. „I don’t know… love is something you feel. When you know, you know, right?“.

Chris looks at her confused but smiling, „Yeah, I guess you are right…“. He leans his head against the headrest, thinking about her words.

Laura opens her laptop and puts her earplugs on. She transfers the notes on her note book to her computer, adding a few other. Coyly she looks at Chris, who has his eyes closed and she wonders what his curiosity about falling in love says about him. She looks through the window thinking about it.

Chris opens his eyes and looks at Laura, thinking about what she said. ‚What if she is right? This is definitely not what I feel for Becca. Things with Becca are physical… I like to be around her but I can’t give myself completely to her’, he thinks.

He taps her on the shoulder again and she takes her earplugs off, „Have you ever?“, he says.

„Well, you will have to give me more information than that!“, she smiles.

He chuckles, „Sorry… have you ever loved somebody?“, he closes his eyes shortly, „Is it too personal? Maybe you should just forget I asked you that…“, he shakes his head lightly.

Laura senses he is conflicted and takes his hand, giving him a reassuring squeeze, „No, it is okay!“, she sighs, „I don’t think I have, Chris. I got out of a relationship a few months ago because I wasn’t sure and if you are not sure about it, then it can’t be. I couldn’t give him what he wanted… it hurts because I lost a good friend but he deserves someone who can love him truly“. Chris frowns. „Do you mind if I asked you why you have so many questions about love?“

„It’s Becca… she wants to settle down. We’ve been six years together and I understand where she is coming from. But I don’t know… I see my friends getting married, building families and I also want that. I love my job, things are working out for me so it makes sense to settle down but I don’t know...“, he leans forward and rests his head on his hands, „I’m sorry… you barely know me and you already know I’m a mess!“.

Laura puts a hand on Chris’ shoulder, „Don’t worry about it. I can’t tell you what to do but I think you already know what you want and what you don’t“. Chris looks at her and she smiles, „Sometimes doing the right thing is the hardest thing. But it is all in your hands“. Chris smiles at her and she says, „Come on, let me give you a hug“. Chris wraps his arms around her and closes his eyes. He takes in her scent and for the first time in the last 24 hours he feels some peace. „Are you feeling better?“, she says letting him go.

„Yes, thank you…“, he looks deep into her big green eyes and notices it has a deepness to it… ‚She is so beautiful and I am here whining‘, he thinks.

„Good, I hope you get it all sorted out soon, Chris“, she sighs, „Now, I gotta finish up a few things but whenever you feel like talking… just let me know“, she smiles.

Chris chuckles, „You are so kind and I am just… well, thank you!“.

---------

After a long flight from California to New York, Chris helps Laura with her carry-on and they leave the plane. Chatting away about their experiences in Hartfeld, realizing they have been to the same places, sometimes hang out with the same crowd but they never met.

As they walk out of the airport, Chris stops in front of a black limo, „I have a driver. Can I give you a ride to Manhattan?“

„Thank you but my agent is picking me up“, she smiles. „It was nice meeting you!“.

Chris gives her a hug, „It was nice meeting you too, Laura“. He reaches in his pocket and hands her a card, „Please, called me if you need anything… or even if you don’t… we can grab a drink, if you want or just talk“. Laura giggles at him nervously talking.

„Alright… I’d like that!“, she reaches in her bag and gives him her card in return. „Whenever you need someone to talk to…“. He looks deep into her eyes for a moment, feeling thankful.

„Sorry, I gotta…“, he points to the driver waiting.

„Sure, see you, Chris Powell!“

„See you hopefully soon, Laura Davis!“

To be continued…

For more chapters go to my MASTERLIST in my bio.

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Tag List TF

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@furryperfectionlover @eadanga @ihearyoucallmyname @willowedwards

@jellybean-marshmellow @countrymusicandncis-blog @cheeseedreams47

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#chris powell #chrispowell #the freshman #thefreshman chris #chris x mc #chrisxmc #the senior choices #the senior chris #christopher powell #christopherpowell #chris powell appreciation #chrisfanfiction #chrisfanfic #chris fanfiction #chrischoices #chris choices

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presentmic69 · 5 years

Text

Problem

Self Ship: MattLee Fandom: Saints Row Word Count: 2457 (Originally posted to AO3)

Matt had a problem.

He had tried to deny it. He had tried to ignore it. He had even tried redirecting it. But unfortunately, he couldn't make it go away. It was like an infection.

An infection in his heart.

He sighed and pushed the computer screen in front of him away. It was impossible to focus, impossible to throw himself into his work. Because across from his simulation workstation was the source of his whole problem. Tucked safely into her sim port, beautiful purple eyes closed and face pensive. Her pink-painted lips were pursed slightly. All too often, he found himself staring at her, found his thoughts travelling to her. Wondering what it would be like to kiss those lips. And it. was. a. problem.

Lee… was a problem. And he hated the fact that she was a problem, because she was too incredible to have anything negative attached to her. And really, the issue was more about him. He couldn't control his emotions, he was being… well, creepy, he figured. And if she ever noticed him staring, he was certain she'd start hating him forever. More so than she /probably/ did during their days in Steelport. Matt shook his head. The fact that she even kept him around after all of that- he just couldn’t understand it. Part of him didn’t want to understand. Knowing his luck, it was just another case of being kept until he outlived his usefulness, before being thrown in the trash.

He didn't think he could handle that again. Not from Lee. Not when he felt so… strongly for her. But as time passed, it became more and more of an issue: to the point that Kinzie and Asha were commenting on how distracted he was while working. Hell- he was sure that even /Johnny/ had noticed. And that was saying something. It was only a matter of time before everyone found him out, and that was a terrifying prospect. It would be the end to normalcy as he knew it.

He had to do something. But doing something took courage… social courage, which was the one he lacked the most.

He stood up from his chair and took off for the cargo bay. His private space, with his couch and respite area. It was the only place he felt secure enough to have a serious dialogue with himself. Afterall, nobody ever wanted to walk past and get roped into watching a whole season of Nyte Blade in one sitting. It was both a blessing and a curse. But even then, he couldn't stop thinking about her, picturing her beautiful face. He hated himself for it, and even more for being too much of a coward to admit his infatuation.

"Infatuation… no, that's not the right word." He sighed to himself. "Affection? Interest? L-"

No. The L-word was too serious. Their relationship had, up until this point, been entirely playful, banter based, with a side of… Well. “Messing around”. He would embarrass himself, scare her off. He needed inspiration.

...And that's how he found himself watching Nyte Blade confess his emotions to Marion. Matt had watched this part too many times to count, to the point where even he had forgotten. But this time it felt… different. It was hitting home a bit more than anticipated.

"Marion, ever since I met you… my soul has been aflame with desire."

"My heart… yearns for yours." Matt spoke, along with the protagonist. "I've never felt such passion, such a connection to another. Though my body may be dead, you make me feel… alive."

"Oh, Nyte Blade…"

"Please. Call me Franklin. I want to know you. All of you. And I want you to know me."

The problem was, he couldn't even focus on Nyte Blade. His thoughts just kept wandering to her. Maybe he just needed to practice, instead. Matt leaped out of his seat and begun pacing back and forth. He almost tripped over his own feet making his first turn, looking around to make sure absolutely nobody had seen that. Of course, nobody had- who the hell would be down in the Cargo Bay when he was- okay, maybe he was insulting himself a little there. Matt shook his head and knelt next to the couch, reaching into the box of miscellaneous Nyte Blade memorabilia and pulled out a figurine of the Bloody Cannoness. He felt like this was sure to be the stupidest thing he’d ever done, but if he wanted to channel his inner Nyte Blade, who best to practice on than the Cannoness herself!

"Hey, do you… come here often?"

The figurine of the Bloody Cannoness he was pretending was Lee did not answer.

"You know, I think someone's liable to call the coppers on you, because looking so beautiful must be ill- no, she's already committed too many crimes for that."

He started again. Maybe pickup lines were a bad idea. Yes- absolutely. There was no way a cheesy pickup line was going to work on Lee. She’d probably heard them all a thousand times over- and probably shot everyone who even dared. Matt wasn’t sure what fate was worse- rejection, or a bullet in his brain. The bullet surely wouldn’t hurt as much, he thought to himself.

"Listen, I just wanted to say… you are beautiful, and I was thinking… maybe we could…"

Do what, exactly? Get dinner at the local space restaurant? God, this was stupid. And the Bloody Cannoness was nothing like Lee, anyway. He just needed to hype himself up. He quickly tossed the figure aside and onto the couch. Matt glanced down to make sure that said spontaneous act hadn’t broken the figurine- luckily for him it hadn’t. He picked it back up and slipped it back into the box, sliding it back under the couch. Better to be safe than sorry. Matt drew in a couple of deep breaths and closed his eyes for a few moments. NOW, he was able to hype himself up.

"Come on, you're R4GN0R0K! A cyber god, with the world, no, the universe, all at your fingertips! You can tell one woman how you feel about her, even if that woman is… you know, the most beautiful woman to ever exist, way out of your league, badass, could kill you easily…"

No! Positive thoughts. Positive thoughts, Matt. He slumped back down onto the couch, holding his head in his hands. This was a whole lot harder than he ever imagined it would be. He took another deep breath and looked up.

"I can do this. R4GN0R0K. Cyber god. I… can do this!"

He could do this. He could do this. He could do this.

He was doing it.

He jumped up off the couch and headed up to the common room where he could hear the squad's voices. Lee was at the pool table, laughing at something Johnny was doing, and he paused in the doorway, admiring the way she looked for just a moment. Spiky, colourful hair a perfect mess, a rare spark of joy in her expression. She made the ugly grey jumpsuit they all wore look like it could be on a runway model.

She looked around, saw him, and offered a smile that filled him with an emotion that made his chest feel like it would burst. Panicking a little bit at the overwhelming emotion, he rushed forward, grabbed ahold of her arm gently, and tugged her away. She seemed surprised by the sudden contact, but followed him out of the room. They stopped in the storage room, surrounded by cans of nutrient supplement.

"Matt? What's wrong?" She asked. "Emotional breakdown over Nyte Blade Season 3 Finale again, or-"

"I… I need to tell you something." He said, confidence quickly wilting as he stared her in the face. She was out of his league, and he was about to be rejected, he just knew it-

Lee had never seen Matt sound and look so panicked before. Not when she could have killed him all those years ago. Not when he found out the world had been destroyed. Not even when Zinyak had messed with him mentally with his use of the simulations. Something was up here- and she knew it. Concern coloured her expression. Even she was unable to hide it. And she was a GOD of hiding emotions away from the people closest to her.

"What's- What’s wrong?"

This was it. The end. He turned bright red.

"Lee, I… I'minlovewithyou."

Oh god. He said the L-word.

"W-What?"

She blinked at him, dumbfounded. She had heard clearly what he said- but couldn’t quite believe it. Why would /he/ of all people be saying that- be feeling that. Matt had standards, somehow. And she met none of them. Somehow.

"I'm… in love with you. I know you and I just have this banter relationship, and I know you're too good for me, and you deserve so much better than me, but I just had to say something b-because… e-ever since I met you, my soul-"

Time was slowing down for Matt and he hated it. He just had to get a few more words out- he could do it-

"Has been aflame with desire." Lee deadpanned, turning pink with what was clearly rage. "Did you just confess your love to me using a Nyte Blade quote?"

Fuck. "...I'm sorry, I panicked, and-"

"I love you too, dumbass." She said quickly, the three words that he had only ever fantasized about hearing her say. The fifth word was, however, incredibly incorrect. At least Matt thought so. Even though he absolutely was being a dumbass in the moment.

"Oh." Well, that was unexpected. "Really?"

"I was kind of under the impression you would never like me, but… yes."

"Wow." Matt was dumbfounded.

They stood there in silence for a moment. There was so much for both parties to take in. On Matt’s side- he was on cloud nine. Part of him wanted to run and scream, telling everyone all about it at the top of his lungs. But the other part was frozen still, in shock, unable to comprehend what had just happened. And Lee? She was even more in shock. Despite portraying herself as the rock-hard leader of the Saints, she was so much more complex than that deep down. And barely anyone knew it. The combination of trauma, mental illness, self-hatred and God knows what else had always led her to believe that even the likes of Matt Miller wouldn’t want anything more to do with her than a casual shag every now and then. Hell- he was the only person she had ever gotten /that/ close to. Although that was not something she was about to admit. Not just yet.

"So, what now, casanova?" Lee asked, breaking the silence.

"I… have no idea. I never actually accounted for this when I was rehearsing."

"You rehearsed this?!" She giggled. "And /that/ was the result?"

"Well, I didn't say I rehearsed it well."

Lee couldn’t help but smile. God he was adorable. Was he always this cute- or had he just somehow made himself even cuter with his shenanigans? She crossed her arms, leaning back against one of the supply closets. This whole situation sure was something to her. Matt was the first person she had ever been with; and Matt was the first person she had ever loved.

“You- did a better job than I would have.” “What do you mean-“ “I could have said something five years ago-“

Lee sighed, realizing she was just about to reveal quite a few things about herself with no warning.

“-but I didn’t. I was too scared to. But you? You bloody did it.” “You mean to say you-“ “Five years. Pathetic, I know.”

And now they were back to silence. Matt was in more shock than before. Five years ago, he was terrorizing the Boss of the Saints with whatever antics were required by the Syndicate. And /THAT/ was the point in time that Lee had fallen in love with him? That she had fallen in love at /ALL/? Matt couldn’t quite believe it. For a moment he thought that he was being pranked. But knew deep down that Lee would never be that cruel to him. This was all real. This was happening. Lee closed her eyes and smiled to herself. It was one of the most genuine smiles that had ever come out of her. And Matt couldn’t help but notice. Once again, he found himself looking at her lips. How perfect they looked when she was smiling. And knowing that he was the source of said smiles? Priceless.

He was cut off pondering by her turning and kissing him. He squeaked like a teen girl in a cheesy romance movie, astonished, and then kissed back, burying his hands in her soft hair and feeling the butterflies in his stomach explode into his throat. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in closer against her body. She found herself being pinned up again the cabinets as they kissed ever so passionately. It was like electricity was surging through their bodies. Matt was almost certain he was about to explode, but at the same time, he felt like he would phase into nothingness and fall right through her embrace. The floor spun.

Lee pulled away first. His lipstick was smeared against hers, producing purple streaks. He wondered if the same marks were on him. He decided he wouldn't mind that. Matt caught himself gazing at her- She looked like she had stars in her eyes.

"I love you." They chorused, relishing the words spoken breathless and wide-eyed. Matt giggled; Lee giggled. They kissed again, and again and again. Brief, sweet contact that was quickly becoming addictive. It was like they were teenagers again, living out what could have been had things been different.

"Yo, Boss!" A distant voice came from down the hall. "You gonna come finish getting your ass kicked, or are you a coward and terrible at pool?"

"Oh, fuck off will you, just give me a second!"

Lee rolled her eyes. Matt grinned at her. "We, uh, might want to fix up our lipstick."

"I dunno. I think I like the look." She shrugged, swiping a thumb across his bottom lip where a smear had formed. She leant in and placed her lips to his once more. This kiss felt- different to Matt. It was so much softer than any kiss they had shared before. They both closed their eyes as Lee ran her thumb along his cheek. When Lee eventually pulled back and opened her eyes, she smiled and took Matt by the hand.

"Let's make a statement."

#aj.txt #my writing #self ship #self shipping #self insert #saints row #mattlee

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stupidpianist · 6 years

Text

22 october 2018

10:36: Rolling my slug body out of bed. Stayed up a bit later than I had anticipated yesterday night, was watching The Disaster Artist for a second time. Saw it once at a get together with friends when we had all been steadily drinking for a couple hours so I wasn’t paying the closest attention to it, though we all agreed that we mutually thought it was a really good movie. Read/watched some reviews of the movie by my favourite reviewers since I’ve been intrigued about it for a long time, being a fan of The Room, and read that my favourite reviewers all really liked the movie, so last night I was like, “it’s okay, your first class on Mondays isn’t until 11h35, you can sleep in a bit, just watch it, it’s okay, this will ‘inspire you’ and the net benefit of watching the movie will be a lot of productivity and general wellbeing.”

Always loved narratives like these ones, outsiders pursuing a personal dream irrespective of the views of other people, who are just “good enough” and hard enough workers and determined enough that in the end they succeed despite all expectations. It helps that Tommy Wiseau is, like, almost insane, too. I like people that seem to play with reality, like, that seem to warp reality around themselves, like, that command some extremely mass-ey gravitational field that seems to suck everything in and reprocess them based on their own frameworks, rather than the other way around the way that most ppl seem to operate in the world, maybe?

Found myself earnestly surprised at how good I thought the movie was, finding myself drawn into a Tommy Wiseau obsession. I’m tying up this liveblog update in the music library right now and I am sorry that I’m skipping around chronologically, I promise right after this tangent I’ll flip right back into “regularly scheduled programming,” just wanted to share thoughts on Disaster Artist first. Was very inspirational, I’m finding myself, today, being, like, renewed in personal endeavours, and less attentive towards the negative detractions of external influences. Feels pretty cool. Heh.

Actually woke with my alarm at 10h, but didn’t want to get out of the comforts of bed just yet, so I checked Instagram and Facebook for a few minutes and then just closed my eyes, waiting for my second alarm, which I knew was coming in a bit.

Stood, put on bathrobe, feeling “particularly luxurious,” then walked to do the ol’ routine of boiling water, brushing teeth, splashing water on face, putting water in hair, you know the drill by now. Yup, this is just going to get more and more repetitive as the days draw on. An unexpected consequence of starting this experiment is that I have a strange urge to “switch things up” and “change up the routine,” just for sake of novelty. Always had a “soft spot” for novelty, you ever wanna give me a gift? Just give me one of those cheesy, tacky novelty items you see for sale every holiday season. Get me that stuff, give it to me, I want it all. Also: those things you see in infomercials. I want ALL OF THEM. Shamwow? Slap Chop? That thing that removes hair but isn’t a razor? Gimme.

11:14: Still feeling very calm, brewing second cup of tea while sitting in front of computer, aware that I should leave in a minute if I want to be “responsibly early,” but knowing that I could leave in ten minutes and still make it to class on time if I sped walked a wee bit. Didn’t want to “rush myself” this morning, have no idea why, felt like I was “pampering myself,” so I just kept watching some YouTube videos, sipping my tea, in my bathrobe. Eventually was like, “it’s time, it’s time to do it,” and took off bathrobe, put on jeans and Bell Witch long-sleeve shirt. Realized that I might have a work shift later, and checked schedule on computer. Yup. Work later. Changed out of jeans and shirt into black pants and short-sleeve black shirt. Thought, “don’t really want to go back-and-forth from home to change, might as well wear the ‘uniform’ right now.”

11:23: Walking to class. Feeling like I want a Red Bull, probably because Tommy Wiseau, in real life, and featured in The Disaster Artist, drinks a lot of Red Bull. Thought “product placement wins again” in slightly ironic tone, then walked into dep en route to school and bought Red Bull, also painfully aware this is nowhere in my budget, and that I’d have to cut something more important than Red Bull out of the budget if I wanted to buy it. Still bought it, still chugged it in ~10 seconds, placed it in green recycling bin beside shopping complex. Took that Red Bull “to the face.”

11:34: Seems like I got to school ridiculously quickly today?? Very odd. This is a “chill class,” it’s piano pedagogy, the professor is a nice guy and easy to like. Seems like everyone is relatively laid back in the course, one or two students don’t seem very invested at all, but there is earnest commitment from the majority of us. Feels good that the first class of the week is something like this, rather than, like, psych stats, even though that’s happening tomorrow morning… Really skeptical that I’ll get myself out of bed to attend, even though I really should. Seems more likely I’m going to stay up until around one researching The Room, then sleep until ten, and miss the 08h30 call time. Whatever, I’ll deal with this at the end of the day.

Feeling excited about the work shift tonight, too, like, I really like going to work. It’s one of the few places where it’s both easy to ignore the world and feel simultaneously productive, since I’m, like, earning money, even though I’m not exactly doing that much. And it’s a good time for personal introspection; sitting alone backstage without windows, where things are mostly dark, only interacting with people who are hyper-focused on their impending performance, it makes for a good atmosphere to just be with yourself and think about things.

13:28: In music library after class, “fiending for” another Red Bull. On Indigo’s website, seems like they’re just definitively not gonna stock Megan Boyle’s Liveblog… So disappointing… But, they do have copies of the The Disaster Artist book. Don’t want to start practicing yet, for some reason practicing before, like, 15h or 16h in the practice rooms usually puts me in a crappy mood? I love practicing early in the morning if I’m alone, and there’s like a nice window and I have my coffee and there’s morning frost everywhere and I can sort of see my breath in the room. That’s fricken sweet. But if I’m put into a cage with six pianists on either side of me and it’s the morning, gosh, seriously, just so bad??? Almost “disgusting,” even. So instead of starting to practice now I’m gonna head to Indigo, read through part of the book, then think really, really, REALLY hard if I wanna drop twenty bucks on buying the thing. I really want to, but I might have to wait until next month to do so… Really don’t want to, but don’t really have much of a choice. Can’t even “pick up” more work shifts, as there aren’t many concerts this time of the year, but really “can’t complain” about money situation, either. “Feel thankful,” I’m thinking. Yeah, I am thankful, I am!!

13:57: Taking the short “trek” to Indigo bookstore. Listening to Ghost and Let’s Eat Grandma.

14:46: Mission accomplished. Bought The Disaster Artist. Was chatting with [removed] about the movie and they said they didn’t really enjoy it, also that it was problematic because a lot of Tommy Wiseau’s misogyny was skipped over and not addressed. Going to be “very aware” of this while I make my way through the book, “very excited” to “get into it.” Spent, actually, a bit shorter in Indigo than I had anticipated; I was simultaneously checking out the book The Artist’s Way that Alli had recommended to me, saying that I’d probably really enjoy it and that it was really beneficial. It seems like a self-help book centered around artistic creative recovery/rediscovering or discovering new ways of harnessing your innate creativity. Sat in my usual corner by the fantasy novels way in the back to read the beginnings of each one, and while reading The Disaster Artist this employee walks up to me and is like, “sir, I have a seat for you,” so I stand hurriedly, being like, “oh wow, okay, thanks,” and she leads me to this cushioned seat with an amazing view, and I’m thinking, real sheepishly, like, “oh my gosh, what did I do to merit this sort of treatment,” and thanked the employee, who nodded and walked away. Was like, “this right here, this is ‘real customer service.’” Settled into comfy cushioney seat to read.

Was honestly really difficult to choose between the two books. I feel like the final “nail in the coffin” for The Artist’s Way was that I didn’t think I had the right personality for self-help books. Not in, like, a stubborn, self-aggrandizing way, I hope, I don’t look down on them at all, I mean, I own How to Win Friends and Influence People, I like them, I just find that they’re written for a different demographic than I’m a part of. Usually their tactics/methods of self-improving run almost perpendicularly to my own, and if I try their methods, I almost always end up less happy and less fulfilled than before, whereas if I just “do that my body tells me to do,” I almost always end up feeling better. Feel like I’ll improve, personally, more from reading about the details of Tommy Wiseau and The Room than I will from this book. Will still read The Artist’s Way, though, gonna find a PDF of it and start the program, just don’t want to spend fifty bucks on books right now.

Going to head to the practice rooms now, feeling good about “throwing down” twenty dollars on a book rather whimsically. Feels like I’m “investing in my future” in a concrete way, like, “this is a book that you’ll internalize, that will lead to a definitive positive impact on your future life.” Eager to chart the effect this book has, expect a “George Book Review” soon. Maybe I’ll start up my podcast, too?? I used to do this “George’s Book Club” podcast, stopped doing it really early out of lack of time/effort, it was a lot of fun though, I’m gonna consider starting it up… Only, like, an hour-a-week obligation, seems insane that I wouldn’t have time to continue it, just need to “put in the effort.”

15:00: Making an impromptu pit stop at Vinh’s, the Vietnamese cafe in the music cafeteria. It features pho soup and banh mi sandwiches, and other “treats.” Gonna get a “Vinh’s Classic,” the cheapest sandwich, which has cold cuts in it, as opposed to “better things,” like barbecue pork, or grilled chicken.

Lady at cash register accidentally mis-scanned can of Coca Cola that I impulsively chose to buy. I was standing in frnot of the fridge with all the cans of pop and I was like, “I’m spending way too much money, I shouldn’t get a pop, it’s also just… expensive… and unhealthy… Why are you doing this to yourself, no, stop,” then just found myself reaching for a can anyways. Seems like a good sign that she mis-scanned the coke and didn’t notice, I didn’t have to pay for it, got the sandwich and drink for under $6. Internally high-fiving myself right now.

15:02: Got a real good room today! I’m being so spoiled. The piano in this one has a really reactive response, it’s super easy to get it to project, unlike a lot of the other pianos on the floor. Gonna make for an easier practice session, gonna take this sandwich “to my face” as fast as possible and then “dig into” some Alkan and Thalberg.

17:02: Received e-mail notification on phone, the McGill library’s copy of Liveblog is here!! I was expecting it to arrive a lot later, I submitted the acquisition request really recently, and they replied quickly, saying they had decided to purchase a copy, and would e-mail me when it had arrived, but I didn’t anticipate that it would arrive before a copy of Knausgaard’s My Struggle: Volume 6, which still somehow isn’t in the system yet??? Maybe there’s been a glitch, or something, My Struggle has been out for a month longer than Liveblog and it’s been on McGill’s acquisition list for even longer than that. Will have to look into this, will “keep you posted”...

Gonna stop my practicing today here, only two hours, but it was a really intense practice session. Was “singing along” around 60% of the time, played through Alkan, Thalberg, some Mozart, then “messed around” with some other Alkan etudes, and a bit of Prokofiev’s second piano concerto. WAsn’t the most “work-heavy” of practice sessions, but I still feel like I “got what I needed to get done, done.” Want to go to McLennan before work at 18h30 and pick up a physical copy of Liveblog, finally, FINALLY!! I’M SO EXCITED!! TO READ!! IT!! It’s going to take a long time, it’s over seven-hundred pages long, but I’m so into it a hundred pages in, that’s already 1/7 of the book, the rest of it will take no time, right???

Saw Megan Boyle comment something on a mutual writer friend’s Facebook status, only remembering this now.

17:24: Picked up the book from the reserves room, sitting in the lobby of the new music building reading it in the horu I have before work. It’s a lot more substantial, physically, than in my head, like, I knew it was a pretty long book, but I didn’t expect it to feel this dense. The cover and back are also slightly, like, pastel-hued? I’m not going to be able to describe it very well, I was just expecting it to be completely black and white, but now it really, really reminds me of the cover of Taipei, which is funny because the author’s photo on the back of Liveblog was taken by Tao Lin. Seems like these two novels could really be considered “sister novels” for a variety of reasons, like, they cover a similar time period, they feature many of the same people, they’re about a similar period of life in both author’s lives, Megan and Tao were engaged, etc. etc. The cover also has this really pleasing texture to it, like, it feels so good to run your hand over it. It’s one of my favourite cover designs, still not as good in my opinion as Tao Lin’s Richard Yates or Taipei, or the Farrar, Straus and Giroux editions of Knausgaard’s My Struggle, but it’s definitely up there. I think it just doesn’t really fit the material of the novel as well as Taipei’s cover, I mean, the covers look so similar they could’ve been swapped (though oh god Taipei with the cover design of Liveblog would’ve been so much worse than the fluorescent, shimmering letters it actually has), but the cover of Taipei matches up so well with the information the novel presents it’s unbelievable.

Okay sorry for this rambling, meandering conversation on book covers wow. “Settling into” Liveblog again, find myself consistently laughing and grinning wildly at Megan’s observations. Really enjoy the way she perceives things, wish I have the opportunity to “sit down and talk with her” one day, assuming she’d want to talk to me.

17:57: Boss texted me, asking if I could actually help him out at Redpath hall with moving something heavy. Gonna have to “pack it in” early and head over, it’s only a five minute walk or so. I like working with him, he’s a “great guy,” feel like I’m using that phrase correctly? Like, if I was in a movie right now, and I was speaking to a friend, I’d be like, “my boss, yeah, yeah, he’s a real great guy, he’s ‘one of the good ones.’” Blasting Ghost through headphones while heading over.

A summary of the events in Redpath:

-Got to the hall, went to boss’ office adjacent to backstage. Made pleasant conversation with him for around fifteen minutes while we waited for the rehearsal to be over. Usually I don’t make much conversation with him, not because I don’t want to, but I don’t usually have anything I want to “bring up” or “say” to most people, even if I like them. Today was, like, egregiously easy to make conversation, for some reason, maybe a result that I’ve been in a consistently good mood of late?? He also seemed “in high spirits.”

-Rehearsal ended, took pair of work gloves that boss then deemed the “sick gloves,” and that he wouldn’t touch the gloves again, stated in a humorous tone of voice. Walked with boss on stage, saw Poppy on harpsichord, said, “oh hey, it’s Poppy!” Spoke for a few seconds with her, told her I was here working, that I was just moving something heavy.

-Got two other musicians from rehearsal to help us, one whose name I forget, and Eliana (not sure if I’m spelling this right????), a cellist that I’ve had a few classes with over the years. Feel like Eliana is grouped with “people I’ll voluntarily make eye contact with and smile to,” one of the closest groups of people in my mind to “friends,” probably feel similarly to this group of people as most other people feel towards their actual friends, maybe?? Feel like, because I barely speak to anyone, and “hang out” with even fewer people, as a result, a ridiculous majority of my interactions with people are peripheral, voluntarily, so, to me, if I even feel comfortable smiling to someone or waving at them while passing them, that’s, like, to me, a “big deal”??

-Boss slid box with electric organ in it into hall, four of us hoisted the box up onto stage

-Went back to Boss’ office, chatted for a couple more minutes, he signed my time sheet, wished each other a good evening

-Stepped out of hall, put backpack down on floor to put on headphones and start blasting Ghost again before walking back to Tanna Hall

Was doing this weird thing with my neck while walking to Tanna, entirely unsure why I was doing it, other than it “felt good” to do, was just sort of craning my head back, then shaking it back and forth sort of like people do in the shower? Felt “amazing” to do this, have no idea why. Felt my adrenal glands firing away, as result of Ghost pounding through headphones. Picturing the live shows of Ghost I’ve seen on YouTube in my head while walking, not feeling the cold temperature at all.

18:54: “Settled in” for work, backstage.

19:34: Jazz concert tonight, which are always just a lot more casual than classical concerts, meaning I really don’t have anything to do other than sit back here and hit record, also that I need to clear the stage once the concert is over, but, gonna be a “real chill one” tonight, folks. Gonna read Liveblog while idly listening to the concert. Here’s a view of my “workplace environment”:

19:41: Not really “into” the music in this concert so far. Wow why am I even writing this, why is my opinion on this at all important? NO WAIt this is MY liveblog I’m gonna run it HOW I WANT and I’m GIVING MY OPINION. On page 97 of Megan’s Liveblog, gonna try to “make a huge dent in it” right now, finding myself increasingly engrossed.

20:04: Spent a bit too long “perusing” the free and for sale page for McGill on Facebook. NEver ceases to astound me how expensive some of the stuff being sold is… Also kind of got “sucked into” the endless hellhole of Instagram, spent like 15 minutes just scrolling through it. Got some great memes out of it, I guess? Gonna go pee now, then return to Liveblog. (Guess what? The concert isn’t getting better either.)

Feel like buying beer tonight. Usually don’t drink on weeknights, but feeling like some beer tonight, feels like a “good way to end the day,” like, it feels satisfying to buy some beer on the walk home after work. That sounds so official. “I’m having a few beers after my work shift ends. I’m having a few beers after work. Yeah, man, just having a few drinks after work. Just gonna throw back a few after work, wanna join? Hey, hey, you wanna hit up a bar after work? Yo, wanna come get some drinks with us after work?”

20:55: Feeling increasingly annoyed that this concert is still, somehow, inconceivably, unstoppably still going on?? Someone needs to put a stop to this, it’s almost nine, if this runs over their scheduled time slot I’m going to be... miffed... Gonna be real miffed about this... Just let me go home, I mean, I like staying here late so stay as long as you want, but, like, oh oh--!! OH OKAY THEY’RE ENDING NOW OKAY sick wow sorry for the rant wow jeez okay

#liveblog #blog #writing

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queencatherynerhys · 6 years

Text

Taken - Part 5 TRR AU

A/N: As a part of my 100 followers celebration, I decided to release 2 chapters!! This one was definitely exciting to write. I am so in love with this series. Please don’t criticize me too much. I am way out of my element in this chapter.

Summary: Have they finally found the information they need to find Catheryne?

Movie Inspiration: I would recommend you watch this video to really understand and give this chapter the justice it needs because I might butcher it. Here is the link for it:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2iTg7oAirgQ

Tag List: @captainkingliam @decisso @devineinterventions2 @madaraism @theroyalweisme @drakewalkerwhipped @laniquelove @drakesfiance @hhiggs @hellospunkiebrewster @alicars @mrswalkerreynolds @mfackenthal @simplyaiden-blog @hopefulmoonobject @blackcatkita @cocomaxley @boneandfur @lizeboredom @crayziimaginations @umccall71 @zarina-x-zig @trianiasti @ranishajay @heatherfilliez @flyawayblue56 @pens-girl-87

Previous Parts:

Part 1 │ Part 2 │ Part 3 │ Part 4

“Drake, what are you talking about? You’re freaking out?” Liam inquires his friend with confusion. “The mountains, Liam. The tunnels. What if they’re real? What if those fairy tales weren’t just fables? What if there are really tunnels underneath the mountain?” Drake spits out the question as he runs down the hall to the security rooms. Liam follows him, not caring if the servants sees him so un-regal. “Drake, wait, what are you talking about?”

“Just follow me. We don’t have time for me to explain it to you,” he arrives at the security room. “Bastien, I think I may have a lead to where Knightely is being kept. My mom used to tell me stories about tunnels underneath the mountains where Aurelia used to be. Could she be there?” Drake rushes towards the towering man. He is breathless from his sprint to the chamber.

Bastien takes a moment to analyze the information before speaking, “There is a chance, and it’s the newest evidence we have.”

An analyst with dark brown hair and glasses named Paolo speaks up, “Well, if it is a tunnel-like structure in a mountain it would match the data from the phone call. We spliced the background and we could hear a distinct echo. An echo is a result of a closed structure and high ceilings like, well like a mountain. Also, the video did show the walls being made of stones and rocks, therefore, solidifying the lead.”

Liam begins to feel an ember of hope, something he has not felt in a long time. It feels almost alien to him. Could this really be it? Is she there? Well it can’t hurt to check out. It’s not like I have anything else to lose? “Follow up on it now. I am supplying with all the resources of the country. Use it! Check with satellite, thermals, anything!” he orders all the analyst to work as he sits on the head of the conference table. He dares not let the spark fan into a full fledge fire, afraid for it to be crushed into nothing but ash. Please, let this be it.

After lengthy half an hour, Paolo acknowledges him, “Your Majesty, after analyzing all the data using satellite thermal imaging we can clearly see a lot of heat originating at this specific area.” He points at a screen in one of the computers. Liam stands and gets closer. “This mountain area is not any type of volcanic formations so for it to emanate this amount of heat is out of the ordinary. It is impossible for us to get any more data than that. I apologize.”

He claps the tan-skinned specialist on the shoulders, “Never apologize, Paolo. This is further than we have gotten in the last month and a half.” He whirls around taking his place in the head of the table once more. The chairs are now filled with his security forces including Drake, Maxwell, Hana and Bastien. Clearly Drake called his other two friends to make sure they stayed up to date on the information. “Given this new evidence, I am proposing for a small tactical team to be arranged with me and Drake in tow.”

The large chamber erupts in protests from his friends and his head of security. He raises his hand to quiet the room. “This is not negotiable. Bastien, do not persuade me otherwise. I have been trained and so have Drake. We have sufficient training and education to handle ourselves in this mission. You trained us after all and my father was adamant about me being able to hold my own in a fight. Hana and Maxwell will stay here to oversee the court and hold off the headquarters. I doubt they will be happy if they learn that their king has left for a dangerous assignment,” he musters his most commanding tone, looking through his shocked audience.

“Your Majesty, as your head of security, I advise against this with a passion. Although, you are trained, being in the field is much different. It is life or death and we cannot sacrifice you,” Bastien argues with his king. Liam meets Bastien’s dark eyes with his blue pair and lowers his voice almost threateningly, “You will not convince me out of this. Catheryne has suffered enough. She has been mercilessly and brutally punished because of me and my crown. There are somethings I must even if it means it costing my life and this is one of them. I will be the one to get her. No ifs, no buts. End of story.” With that, he walks out.

In the next week, they plan their mission to retrieve Catheryne out of the attacker’s stronghold. Their tactical team consists of Liam, Drake, Bastien, Mara and three other elite guards named Brock, Antoine and Mack. They will be split into two teams. Alpha Team being the King and their main priority is Catheryne’s safety. Bravo Team job is to provide combat support in the cave, meaning responding and neutralizing the threat. Mack is the pilot responsible for evac.

The day has finally come to execute the mission. Everyone is tense as they gear up for the dangerous task, but everyone knew what they were going into. Their conviction is strong. Liam is confident that she will be there. He is sure of it. Finally, they will be reunited again. I hope she doesn’t hate me when she sees me. He fastens his Kevlar vest around his torso and Hana walks up to help him. She stands quietly as she works with all his complicated armor. “Liam, please bring her back. Alive,” she whispers as she finishes. “Be careful,” her voice full of sorrow and grief.

He rests his hands on her shoulders, encouraging her, “Don’t worry. I will bring her back. I swear. And I’ll make them pay for what they did. I promise you.” His voice is dark, hostile and determined. “Don’t worry I’ll make sure she doesn’t explode from worrying,” Maxwell chimes in from the corner of the room. He nods at Liam; a quiet understanding passes between them. An understanding other than his team with Catheryne in tow no one gets out alive from that cave.

He looks to his team. They are all geared up with black armor and weapons. Liam and his team members carries an M16 across their chest with a full-sized Beretta 92 fastened on a holster on their thigh. Their vests are lined with magazines and clips for their weapons on the right side and a series of grenades and smoke bombs on their left. They all carry a pack of essentials on their hip for just in case emergencies. Bastien and Mara carry a black backpack behind them full of extra supplies they might need during this task.

“Are we ready?” he asks his committed team. They reply in unison, “Yes, sir.” He nods at them to get ready to move out. Hana and Maxwell give him and Drake one last embrace before they head out to the hangar holding the chopper they’re using to get to their destination. Everyone is quiet on the drive there. All know the stakes of this mission, but all willing to lay down their lives. They already know that these attackers will show no mercy, and they all agreed that they will show none as well. They shoot to kill. No prisoners. These people didn’t deserve to live.

They leave the capitol in the afternoon so that they get to their destination in the dusk of night. It takes a couple hours to travel to the mountains of Aurelia. Liam feels knots in his stomach. He is ready for all of this to be over, ready to crush his enemies down in a hailstorm of bullets. He is ready to hold Catheryne in his arms again. Drake, who is sitting beside him on the floor of the helicopter, touches his shoulder as if he knows what he is thinking of. He glances at his brother and his eyes matches his, filled with fire and rage, ready to annihilate these monsters into nothing but ash.

They land in a secluded meadow just below the mountain. They had turned on a radar scrambler a couple of klicks before they touched down just in case the enemies were monitoring the area. They needed this mission to be as stealth as possible, if they had any chance of getting out of there alive. Liam grips the rifle in his hands to steel his nerves. Here we go.

“Falcon, make sure you stay alert out here. And get ready to bring this bird up in the air as soon as we send the signal for evac,” Bastien says to Mack the pilot, codename Falcon. For security purposes, they were all given codenames just in case their transmitters were compromised. Liam addresses his team, before they head for the trek up to the tunnel entrance, “Listen up, as your monarch I am amazed by your determination and willingness to go into this mission. Even with the obvious risk you didn’t show any falter. Now, as a person of your equivalence, I am forever grateful for your presence and support to get the love of my life out of there.” It wasn’t the time for fancy words, he just simply did not have the energy for it.

His team heads out into the forest, the last bit of light guiding them through the woodland. The team travels in a tight line formation; Bastien being in the lead with Liam and Drake behind him. Mara and the Bravo team covering their six. Bastien holds up a fist, signaling the force to stop. They finally arrived at the entrance. Liam uses thermal binoculars to investigate if there are any guards in the front. Nothing. No movement whatsoever. How cocky could they be? I guess they figured we wouldn’t find this place. Big mistake!

They trudge forward, ever so stealth and quiet. Liam’s nervousness is replaced with revenge, a murderous urge for vengeance. His team enters the tunnel being concealed in the shadows, their gear helping them. He sees two guards faced away on the other direction. He look at Drake and nods, motioning him to neutralize the watchers. He moves to the one on the left and his friend on the right. He puts the sentry in a chokehold and covers his mouth to prevent alarming others. Thanks to his broad build the struggles of his enemy didn’t faze him. He drags the limp body away towards the blanket of darkness near the opening.

They continue to move forward in formation until they come at a crossroad in the long tunnel. Alpha Team takes the left while Bravo takes the right. They march further into the passageway. Drake, along with Mara, oversees the lining the walls with explosives to bury this place to the ground after their mission. Liam passes a cavity where a burst of clips and images are being projected into a white board. He flicks his away from the bizarre chamber. Right now, he must stay focus to the task at hand: getting Catheryne out.

Bastien eliminates another sentinel ahead by knifing him on the side, quickly and soundlessly. They approach another spot. This area looks like a holding cell. Liam grips his gun. Is she here? He whispers lightly, “Catheryne? Are you there?” He can’t quite see into the compartment. “She’s in the torture room,” a voice calls back from one of the cells. Liam follows the mysterious voice and he recognizes the man as the doctor in the videos. He inquires the man for directions to where he might find her, and he replies weakly, “Straight, first left, door ahead. Guards distracted. Amir gone. Hurry.” He thanks the man and says, “I am eternally grateful, and I promise we will come back for you when we find Catheryne.” They head out following the doctor’s directions. They hastily make their way now that they know that the guards are currently preoccupied.

They arrive at the door where she’s being held. Liam instructs the two men to stand guard outside while he goes in. He draws in a deep breath and pushes the door open. There in the middle of the room, lying on a cold, metal slab is the love of his life. His breath lodges in his throat. The memory of her in his mind didn’t match the image that is in front of him. She looks worse than in the videos. There was no part of her that wasn’t covered with marks, cuts, bruises. Her angelic features gone and replaced with a broken shell.

He’s afraid to touch her, afraid to make it worse, but he does it anyway. He needed to believe it was her, that it wasn’t just a dream and that she wasn’t going to disappear just as he’s about to reach her. He hesitantly strokes her arm, feeling scars instead of smooth skin. Her body is cold, and he doesn’t know if it’s because of the room or her situation. The heart monitors shows her weak heartbeat and his breaks at the sight. His once strong woman, what have they done to you? He caresses her beautiful face, still perfect even with the bruises. Her eyes flutter at the touch and she croaks with a raspy voice, “Liam?”

“It’s me, sweetheart. I promised I would come for you and here I am,” he says with tears in his eyes. He is distracted when he hears Drake in his earpiece, “Alpha, get out of there. We may have been spotted. We’re running out of time.” On cue, he hear gunshots being fired outside and he hurries to unchain Catheryne from the table. He cradles her in his arm and search for the injection in his pack. “Ryne, this is adrenaline,” he pulls out a shot with a long needle. “I’m sorry, my love. You are going to feel this,” he shoots the chemical straight into her and she jolts awake with energy. She gasps for air and her eyes widen. She grabs onto Liam as he pulls her off the table, “Come on, sweetheart, we have to get out of here quickly.” He covers her with clothes and shoes that he asked Bastien to pack. “Wait... wait... I have to tell you something about me, Liam. Something dark about my past,” she hurriedly say, and he doesn’t pay attention because Bastien and Drake barge into the room for cover.

“Always had to take your sweet time, didn’t you, Knightely?” Drake yells through firing. She glares at him and turns back to Liam. “Liam, listen to me!” she yells grabbing his attention. “I am sure Bastien pulled my background when I entered the social season. There is something missing in that file, expunged, erased. My parents were not doctors. They were spies – dangerous, killing machines. They renounced their life when they had me, but they never really stopped being one. They trained me to become like them. I think you should know before…before you see me in a way that you may never erase from your mind. It’s how I lasted so long being tortured,” she looks at him dead on, nothing but the truth in her eyes.

#playchoices #choices #choices the royal romance #choices trr #trr #trr drake #trr3 #trr liam #taken #mission impossible #dark #dark angst

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