#i'm never writing french emails from my phone again

[iwritetopassthetime]

home to you (9/9)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x fem!reader

CHAPTER EIGHT: Epilogue // Previous chapter // Masterlist

Wordcount: 5.9K

Summary: When two people are meant to be together, fate will always find a way to bring them to each other. It's just that sometimes it's not under the normal-est of circumstances. But a flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all, and Bradley will be ready to go through anything for the love of his Blossom.

Warnings: none for this chapter apart from tooth-rotting, diabetes-inducing fluff that will melt your insides and you will shart them out like yesterday's chilli, Bradley and Blossom get the happy ending they fucking deserve woo-fucking-woo!

Song inspiration: Lover by Taylor Swift

A/N: I'm really happy with the ending of this story, it was a joy to share it with all you wonderful people. I don't know you and I wish I did so I could give each and every single one of you a hug (because you basically made me a little happier with your support over the last few weeks). I'm definitely gonna write more about Bradley and Blossom, I already have head canons and shorts in the works, and if you have any thoughts share them, I'll be happy to stay in the bubble I've created with these two lovebirds for as long as I can!

Bradley drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, vaguely keeping in rhythm with the song playing on the radio. Either that or the blinkers, he wasn’t exactly paying attention. He’d put on the radio to pass the time, but had inadvertently failed to pay much attention to whichever mixtape he’d shoved into the player.

The mid-afternoon sun was beating down on the Bronco as it sat in the same place next to the sidewalk for the past twenty minutes. Even with the air conditioning on, the late August heat was uncomfortably warm on Bradley’s forearms. He reached over for the glove compartment, searching for the small bottle of sun cream that you’d casually dropped into the shopping cart few weeks prior. 

‘I can’t allow you to keep getting sunburnt and then wait for it to just go away on its own, Bradley’ you’d justified the off-the-shopping-list purchase and Bradley merrily followed along. He wasn’t going to pretend that the cream hadn’t done miracles for his face whenever you joined the Dagger squad for a weekly trip to the beach. 

So he lathered a good amount of it on his arms.

He checked his watch again; he couldn’t tell if you taking so long was good or not. The interview would’ve finished by now as you were given a very specific time slot. But if they kept you longer, that could only mean that they were interested in you and Bradley would think them stupid if they didn’t. 

Bradley leaned his head back against the seat and stared out his window at the vehicles driving past him. When he got too agitated doing that, he pulled out his phone and checked for any missed calls, messages and emails. When he found none, he opened his internet browser to — at the very least — complete today’s game of Wordle. After three tries he got four of the five letters down and it was a piece of cake to guess the word. How many times a day does he even use or think of the word fjord? 

He checked again to see if you were exiting the building, but there was no sign from you. Just tall French windows that led into a specious lobby with a simplistic receptionist desk. Behind it was an entire wall covered by a vertical garden, consisting of some ferns and other things that you’d most likely know the name of. You’d know how to take care of them, how to pair one plant with another depending on the type of soil, which time of year they’d be best to plant and when they’d flower. Bradley really hoped the interviewers would see that.

The past three months had been filled with change for you; three months since the-dick-who-will-never-be-named turned up at the Hard Deck to try and strong-arm you into going back to L.A. with him. Over my dead body, Bradley had thought then and that position hadn’t changed one bit. You had been pretty shaken up by the ordeal and he remembered that night as well as he remembered the first time you showed him the bruises on your neck. He’d feel angry for what that guy did to you, then he’d grow sad that there wasn’t more that he could do, but those emotions were opposed by two stronger ones: admiration for how strong you were despite your sweet and soft nature, and adoration.

You’d cried your eyes out on his chest when you were both back at Penny’s, laying in bed. Bradley had made sure to keep your injured hand on his chest so it would stay elevated during the night. You’d taken some ibuprofen to reduce the swelling and help with the pain, but no pill could’ve helped with the sadness that washed over you the moment you laid your head on his chest. Bradley’s hand on your hair had smoothed it down repeatedly and very gently, aware that you might be anxious to allow him to do so after having it violently yanked at by that guy. Whispered reassurances and words of praise were the only thing that had accompanied your sniffles as your breathing eased and you had finally fallen asleep in Bradley’s embrace.

Many things had changed after that night. 

All for the better, of course. 

Once Phoenix and Frankie had returned from L.A., with all your belongings hastily stuffed into boxes or bags and their promise that your ex would never look for you again, your days began returning to the normalcy they’d assumed over the past month. 

Penny had started taking you to see her therapist which furthered the improvement. You were more relaxed and felt calmer around people, you’d told Bradley. You had stopped looking over your shoulder every time someone walked through the doors of the Hard Deck.

‘I’m gonna start looking for a job in some landscaping companies,’ you’d told him whilst out on a dinner date. Bradley couldn’t be happier; after the amazing job you’d done with Penny’s backyard, it was clear to him that you had a talent and it deserved all the recognition you could get. So you’d put together a nice portfolio, containing pictures of your work at your last place and plenty of your most recent one. 

Bradley’s personal favourite (and he’d made sure to get a copy of it) was a picture taken from the steps to the backyard, early in the morning when the light of the morning sun shining above the roofs of the house behind lit up all the flowers and made them glow in deep oranges, reds and pinks. The picture was a testament to your skills as a gardener and captured a place and a time that was so special to you both.

Bradley had attached it to his visor so even now when he pointlessly pulled it down just to stare into his own reflection and kill a few seconds, the picture made him feel as warm as the sun rays looked on it. 

The passenger door opened and climbed onto the seat next to Bradley as he snapped the visor shut. He leaned over and gave you a quick peck with a murmured hello again, baby before you reached for your seatbelt. 

You always looked pretty, in anything you wore and particularly when you wore nothing at all. But today you looked stunning; a crisp white blouse with the top two buttons undone, fitted jeans and your black sneakers that were double washed, the white rubber polished to perfection. You looked every bit professional and beautiful, from your exposed, delicate ankles to your hair which had gone through the most drastic change over the past few months. 

After the incident, you had spent days where you felt uncomfortable with your hair, with its length and how it brushed against your shoulders. It pained Bradley that he couldn’t fully understand the extent of your pain and that he couldn’t help you. As far as he knew you had a very special connection to your hair that your mother had nurtured in you from an early age. So having something so special for you attacked… it made sense when you came up to him one afternoon and asked him to drive you to Penny and Amelia’s hairdresser.

The neat pixie cut you’d gotten fit you so well. At the salon, Bradley had tried to stop string at you through the mirror but he had been so terribly excited to see the light come back to your eyes when you ran your fingers through your much shorter hair.

Three months later and it had started to grow slowly, more noticeably around your ears and at the back of your neck. Your fringe would fall across your forehead and tickle against your eyelashes. The hairstyle allowed for your ears to poke out from the sides and give you very elf-like look which you wore well. 

Most importantly, you seemed comfortable in your body and that was all Bradley needed to know.

He watched you patiently as you settled back in your seat and placed your tote bag in your lap with a somewhat dejected sigh.

His heart gave a pang at the sound.

‘Didn’t go well?’

‘No, no, it was great,’ you replied with a small smile, but a pout was in the corner of your mouth. ‘It’s weird… They liked the stuff in my portfolio and I like the company. The stuff they do is really diverse, like, they’ve been contracted to do maintenance on some botanic gardens around the state.’

‘That’s cool.’

‘The salary is good as well. Not that it’s all that matters, but it would give me my financial independency back, you know.’

Bradley nodded. ‘So what’s wrong then?’

‘Twenty rejections from companies that are much less stellar than this one,’ you explained softly. ‘Doesn’t make sense why these people would want to hire me. I’m supposed to get a call back tonight to know for certain, but I really don’t wanna get my hopes up.’

Bradley started the jeep and clicked the indicator before turning left to get onto the road. He lifted his hand from the shift stick at the first red light and placed it tenderly on your knee. Your own hands came atop his and he gave your leg a squeeze. 

‘You might be overthinking it, Blossom,’ he said softly and with an equally soft smile. ‘I’ll tell you what, let’s go grab lunch and do some last minute shopping for the barbecue tonight. Don’t think about the call, don’t think about work and when they do call tonight, I’m one hundred percent sure it’ll be to confirm you’re hired.’

‘You think so?’

‘Like I said, hundred percent sure,’ Bradley assured you. ‘Do you want grab some Taco Bell then.’

You tilted your head and gave him a look that said do you need to even ask, making Bradley chuckle to himself as the traffic light turned green.

‘But we’ll have to get Amelia some too,’ you added. ‘She’ll smell it on us from a mile away and give us grief about not also getting her some.’

After a quick trip to Taco Bell, Bradley took you to the nearest park to eat your lunch. He stopped the Bronco near the edge of sprawling grass area where families and their children were enjoying the sunny day. The line of tall trees that surrounded the park casted a colourful shadow on the ground and allowed instant relief from the late summer heat. 

As the two of you got out of the car, you grabbed the paper bags and let Bradley helped you onto the hood of the Bronco. The metal was warm from sitting under the sun for so long but was not too uncomfortable to sit on. A gust of wind blew through the trees, rustling through Bradley’s half-opened shirt and cooling his heated skin a little. 

Bradley leaned back on his palms as he watched you take item after item from the take away bags and array them in a small feast. You scooted closer to him and threw your legs over his, stuffing some fries that were generously dipped in melted nacho cheese in your mouth before feeding him some too. 

Bradley hummed contentedly, taking your wrist in his hand and bringing your fingers to his mouth to suck on the spice that remained on your thumb. You choked out a half laugh, half gasp and he let your hand drop to his chest, grinning devilishly your way. 

‘Did I tell you you look gorgeous today?’ He asked softly. 

You playfully rolled your eyes, ‘Only ten times since this morning.’

‘Only? Man, I should’ve been into three-digit numbers by now, I’m falling behind.’

‘It’s okay, you can make up to me,’ you quipped, handing him a taco. Bradley took it from your hand but immediately put it down on his side as he instead placed his hand on your cheek and pulled you in. His lips pressed against yours without any urgency, just simple affection. 

Bradley pulled back just to leave a quick peck to the tip of your nose. ‘How’s that?’

‘Perfect,’ you sighed through a grin. You turned a little in your place to lean against Bradley’s chest and munched on a quesadilla. He took the taco you’d given him from the hood, unwrapped it and bit down on the crispy shell. 

The light shined through the tree canopy to paint your tangled legs in sunspots. The distant sound of laughter and dogs barking were still louder than cars driving outside the bounds of the park and submerged you both in a sense of calm.

Bradley pressed his nose to the crown of your head and smiled as the sweet aroma of your cocoa butter shampoo hit his senses. It also reminded him of rubbing said shampoo into your scalp earlier that day while your arms were lazily rubbing the loofah down his naked back and he was loathe to admit just how smug that memory made him. 

‘Can you believe it’s been four months already?’ You quietly asked. Bradley shook his head against yours and you leaned further into his touch. 

He could very easily believe it in fact, because he remembered each and every day he’d spend with you in his life, from your first meeting to this day. He’d made up a calendar in his mind and at the end of each night when he’d lay his head on the pillow and you’d curl around him like his very own koala bear, he’d blissfully cross out yet another date. 

You lifted your hand to his mouth again to feed him a couple more fries. ‘Feels like yesterday,’ you admitted through a smile. Bradley hummed, kissing the top of your head again to give his wordless agreement.

A couple of children that had been chasing a ball some distance away from the Bronco, kicked it close enough that it bumped the front left tyre. The two giggled as they skidded off to retreat it, drawing near the car and being momentarily distracted by your make-shift picnic. Bradley stifled a smile into your hair as you waved and warmly greeted the two kids. 

They waved back, but otherwise seemed more interested in the abundance of junk food you were surrounded by. They were quickly warded off by their parents who yelled at them to behave and don’t bother those nice people, Jeremy so they hastily retrieved the ball before running back towards the grassy knoll that was their playground. 

Bradley reached around you for the carton cup holder and offered you your drink before pulling out his. As he slurped the chilled Pepsi, he heard the soft sigh you let out as you noticeably turned your head against his shoulder. His hand that was holding the cup dropped down and he tilted his face so he could peer down at your pensive expression. 

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, yeah… um, would you ever want one?’ You fully turned your face to look at him and your eyebrows scrunched adorably. ‘A kid, that is. I know we’ve never discussed it and I don’t know if you think that three months is too early to be talking about children.’

‘Yeah, I’d love to,’ he gently interrupted your worried rambling and your face visibly relaxed. ‘I’m guessing you do, too?’

‘I’ve always dreamed of it. Not yet though…’

‘Hey, there’s no rush.’

He caught the edge of your mouth drawing up in a smile as you turned your head back around to watch the tranquil park. Bradley rubbed your shoulder with his free hand and kissed your temple. 

Of course, he’d thought plenty about having children and as of these past few months, he’d started to picture that life with you. He agreed with you that it was still very early in your relationship, but that didn’t stop his brain from delving into those deep caverns in his consciousness that contained all his desires of a happy, family life. A couple, maybe three kids — you’d always have final say on that subject — and maybe a dog, he’d always wanted a dog. 

‘Bradley,’ you softly called his name and he hummed in response, prompting you to continue. ‘If I manage to get a job—’

‘When you get the job,’ he corrected, still firm in his decision that this last interview had been a success and you were simply overthinking it.

‘Okay, okay.’ His whispered good girl was met with a tiny noise of appreciation as you wiggled your shoulder against him and looked back up at him. ‘When I get the job…’ Bradley bobbed his head in a nod and smiled around the straw of his cup, ‘where do you want us to live? Because we’re still mostly living at Penny’s, but we’ve been to your place on base a couple of times.’

‘And you hated it,’ Bradley chuckled at the memory of the first time he took you to his assigned flat on North island and the thoroughly unimpressed face you pulled when he parked the Bronco in the driveway.

‘I didn’t exactly hate it,’ you argued. ‘It’s just… there’s no place for me to do gardening and that’s a deal breaker for me.’

Bradley nodded along.

‘I wanted to know what you thought. If you wanna move fully into that flat, then I’ll just get pots and grow herbs in the kitchen. That’s good enough for me.’

But that wouldn’t be enough for him; Bradley wanted whichever place you ended up living in to be as much yours as it was his. He didn’t want you to make that big of a compromise because he knew how much you loved tending to plants. Pots of herbs in the kitchen were fine by him, but not as your only source of diversion. 

There was also the subject of his work and the general sense of uncertainty that came with it. How long would he be stationed on North island with the rest of the Dagger squadron? His last stint at the Golden Warriors lasted about five years and the only way they’d let him stick to his current location was if he married. Which wasn’t an altogether bad idea, just a little early for him to be popping the question. No matter how much it suddenly appealed to him…

‘Here’s my plan.’ You settled your hands in your lap as you patiently waited for him to elaborate. ‘Let’s wait for you to start the job, see how you feel there the first two or three weeks, and we can start looking for some place in the area. And we’re getting a house with a sufficient garden space so you can do your magic, that’s a deal breaker for me as well. What do you think?’

Bradley felt his heart swell with joy when he saw the excited smile that grew on your lips before you planted them briefly on his and your delicate hand rested against his chest. Just above where the thumping organ was making every effort to jump right out of him and land in your palm. 

‘I think it’s a wonderful plan,’ you admitted quietly after parting your lips from his. ‘Let’s just see if they actually hire me before we set anything into motion.’

‘They will hire you!’ Bradley argued and you laughed in response. He shook his head. ‘Oh, I’ll try really hard not to gloat when you get the call back to confirm it.’

‘Alright, alright,’ you poked his ticklish side, making Bradley convulse and let out a very high-pitched shriek. He took your by the arms — ever gentle whenever he held you — hoisted you over his lap and dig his fingers just below your left armpit where he knew you to have a very soft spot.

You squealed with laughter as he tickled you and wiggled against his arms without the actual desire for him to let you go. Bradley stilled his hands against your side, his fingers dropping down to hold onto your waist as your giggling quieted down. You grinned up at him with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. Bradley lowered his face, his mouth ghosting against yours and leaving a trail of gooseflesh wherever he almost left a kiss. 

‘Bradley.’ 

Your sigh of his name was perhaps one of his favourite sounds, made him positively feral. 

Bradley lowered his mouth to your neck and felt you twitch against his chest when his moustache rubbed against the soft skin, just below the line of your jaw. Your mouth opened by his ear for another soft sigh to come out out, impale his senses and drive all the blood from his body down to his cock. Your reaction to feeling him grow harder beneath your ass was instantaneous and you chuckled somewhat triumphantly.

‘Why do I feel like I’m winning at this despite you having me pinned down,’ you purred against the shell of his ear and Bradley felt a full body tremor go through him when your hot breath brushed his skin. 

‘It’s ‘cause I’d let you win at anything.’ His soft admittance was muted against the slope of your neck where he began sucking a small, but evident enough love bite. 

‘Now where’s the fairness and gen- gender equality in that?’ Your response came shakier than you probably intended; what you did next was to slowly lift your chin up and allow him more access. 

When Bradley pulled back to examine his work — the nice round red shape that was partially covered up by the collar of your blouse — he felt warmth rush to his face and neck at the sight. Leaving a love bite like that was so horribly base and primal, but something about it was mildly arousing. Mine, it claimed and a deeply embarrassed groan rumbled in his chest. 

Bradley dropped his forehead on your shoulder. You softly laughed, ‘Aw, what’s wrong, Mr Big-Strong-Navy-Man?’

He loved your teasing. The first time it happened was like the sun had come out and he was seeing you differently, not in a bad way but in a wow-my-girlfriend-is-fucking-amazing kind of way. 

‘As much as I’d enjoy you marking me like that,’ you began softly and made Bradley lift his head to look at you. ‘I’d much rather you do that when there aren’t any children nearby.’

‘You’re right,’ Bradley nodded and kissed the tip of your nose. ‘Maybe I should’ve also waited till after the barbecue, huh?’

You hummed and tried to peek at the small red love bite. ‘I dunno. Isn’t that kind of the point of it, show it off?’

There was a humorous lilt to your voice yet it sounded so serious that Bradley’s breath hitched. If you really wanted it he’d leave all the love bites he could, in every place on your beautiful body where you wanted him to. His impassioned thoughts were momentarily ceased as you held up a finger.

‘And though I’d love to continue, we really need to get going if we want to beat the traffic and make a pit stop at the supermarket.’

‘You’re right,’ Bradley said again as he helped you off of the hood of the jeep. 

You smirked up at him as you gathered the left over paper bags from your lunch. ‘You know, I’m really starting to like the sound of that.’

‘I bet you do, princess.’

You bumped your hip against his and stuck your tongue out before skipping off to the nearest bin to dispose of the trash. Bradley simply leaned against the Bronco and watched you with a half grin and eyes that were trying their best not to stare at your ass as you walked away from him. With you he discovered just how true hate to see you leave, but love to watch you go was.

Frankie’s red Subaru, Hangman’s vintage Ford Mustang and Fanboy’s Toyota were already parked in a perfect line along the curb outside of Penny’s house when the two of you got there. The sun was getting lower and lower on the other side of the two-storey homes that lined the street and the sky was replacing its soft blue hue for an intense shade of pink and orange with only the occasional wisp of a cloud breaking the continuity.

Bradley turned right into the driveway and killed the engine right behind Penny’s jeep, before grabbing the few shopping bags that were sitting on the back seat.

He took a second to take in the look and size of it, a bit narrow in the leg room but still very much specious. He thought that it could potentially hold a couple of booster seats if he—

‘Bradley, baby, are you coming?’ 

Yeah, maybe he should definitely give those thoughts a rest for now. No use in getting ahead of himself even if the seed was now planted in his mind and there was no way it’d die out with how generously you were cultivating it. Especially with how absolutely ravishing you looked in that outfit.

Bradley jogged around the car with the bags in hand. You offered to take at least one or two of them to help out but he refused, suggesting you head on upstairs if you wanted to change. You kissed his cheek and reminded him to put the cupcakes you two bought in the fridge lest the icing became more like sludge. 

Bradley made a beeline for the kitchen after he watched you rush upstairs and disposed the bags onto the island. He could now clearly hear voices and music coming from outside. The steady hum of the cicada song accompanied them in what sounded like a perfect evening to finish off summer before autumn began. 

As he was moving things to cupboards or to the fridge, Bradley could distinctly make out Fanboy and Bob’s heated discussion about the team’s plans for Halloween which meant that summer was truly done. Next, they’ll probably have to think about Christmas decorations. 

Bradley smiled at the thought of spending Christmas with you, spending any holiday with you really. Made him excited about things he’d spent years avoiding because they used to remind him of just how much he’d lost. But now he had you and the rest of his odd little family which made him eagerly expect the upcoming holidays. 

‘Hey, Rooster!’

Bradley turned to see Maverick walk into the kitchen through the back door. He waved at his godfather as he walked up to the pantry in search of something. He muttered under his nose before poking his head out.

‘Did you get cumin by any chance?’

Bradley lifted a small jar with a small grin and carefully tossed it at the older man who easily caught it.

‘Sorry, we’re late, we grabbed some lunch and lost track of time,’ Bradley explained as he folded the shopping bags and put them in their allocated cupboard underneath the countertop. Maverick waved a hand dismissively.

‘That’s alright. Hangman and I just started putting the, uh… vegan sausages on the grill. Any news from the job interview?’

‘They’ll be calling her by the end of today,’ Bradley told him. ‘She’s a little anxious they’ll turn her down, but I think this might be it.’

‘I looked them up online, they do some really cool stuff,’ Maverick explained, reached into the fruit bowl. ‘Do you think orange goes well with beef?’

‘It does. Blossom took me to a Thai restaurant the other week and we had some amazing orange beef skewers.’

‘Alright, I’ll get Coyote to add this to the marinate at the end so we can try it out. Oh, I actually wanted to give you something,’ Maverick put the oranges back down on the counter before reaching into the pocket of his bomber jackets. He pulled his hand out, revealing a small navy blue box with velveteen lining. A ring box. 

Bradley looked at his godfather with a slightly bemused expression. ‘Mav, I’m flattered, but I’m half your age and you’re kinda like my uncle.’

‘Very funny, Rooster. Open it.’

Maverick pushed the box towards him and Bradley obligingly opened it up. He paused when in the middle of the cushioned inside sat two rings that he was very familiar with. The smaller one — a thin golden band with a single zirconium rock at the head — had rested on the finger of a hand that held his. A hand that ruffled his hair each morning as a greeting. A hand that he’d cherished like his life.

The larger ring — a simple wide band with no embellishments — he vaguely recalled on someone else’s hand but throughout his younger years, it used to hang at the end of a very long chain, along with two dog tags.

His mother and father’s wedding rings. 

Bradley slowly looked up at Maverick whose eyes were still on the box, glistening with mournful tears. He smiled tightly and cleared his throat. 

‘These’s, uh… your mom made me promise I’d keep them safe for you,’ Mav explained tensely. ‘Thought it be a pretty good time to give them to you.’

Bradley’s throat closed up as he nodded in understanding, clutching the box tighter in his hand. ‘Thanks, Mav. I— Blossom and I just talked about moving in together into our own place, once she gets the job… these might be a little early.’

Maverick huffed, ‘I know, I know. I’m just really happy for you two, kids. Thought I’d just pass these along as instructed. Who knows… your dad proposed to your mom by the third month of their relationship and that was considered an extremely long courtship in 1985.’

Bradley grinned and swallowed down the sudden influx of emotion that threatened to spill out of him. He carefully closed the box and pocketed it just in time as the sound of your feet pattering down the stairs reached his ears. 

‘They called! Oh my god, they called!’

You appeared at the entrance of the kitchen in his UVA sweatshirt and a pair of black bike shorts. Bradley looked at you in excitement, waiting for you to reveal what he already knew. He could see it in your wide, elated eyes. 

Your bare feet padded against the wooden floor as you ran up to Bradley and engulfed him in a hug, your arms wrapping around his middle. 

‘I’m hired! You were right, I’m hired!’

‘That’s great, baby!’ Bradley kissed the top of your head, his chest filling with instant pride. He didn’t doubt for a second you’d make it even after all the rejections you got from from previous places. He knew that was the place for you.

‘Congratulations, kiddo!’ Maverick came around the island to pat you on the shoulder as you lifted your head off of Bradley’s chest. Your eyes were glistening and the smile wouldn’t fall off your lips whatever happened. He loved seeing you like this, without a single worry hanging over your head. 

Bradley kept one hand on the lower of your back as you pulled away. You took a deep breath to calm down but it was obvious that you were too exhilarated. You looked between Bradley and Maverick.

‘Did I interrupt a conversation?’

‘No, no,’ Bradley hurried to assure you.

‘I was just grabbing something for the marinade,’ Maverick added. He grabbed the oranges from the island countertop and made for the back door. ‘Bradley, grab a six-pack from the fridge and let’s head out.’

‘Be there in a second,’ he told his godfather before turning back to you. You smiled up at him and stood up on your toes to give him a kiss, arms coming about his shoulders to pull him closer. Bradley let his own arms wrap again around your waist and rub soft circles though the material of the sweatshirt. 

The two of your separated after a moment and Bradley nuzzled his nose against yours, drawing a soft giggle from your mouth. Your fingers clutched at the lapels of his shirt. 

‘I’m so proud of you, Blossom.’ 

‘It’s unreal,’ you admitted shyly. ‘I feel like I need to pinch myself.’

Bradley shook his head. ‘It’s real and you deserve it. Did they say when you start?’

‘Monday next week,’ you told him. ‘I’ll get my own office in their building, but they’ll need me to jump on a project that their previous horticultural expert left. Can you believe it? They said that my knowledge puts me at expert level!’

‘Okay, so we have the whole weekend to celebrate your new title, Madam Horticultural expert.’

You chuckled and playfully slapped his chest.

‘Come on now.’ Bradley jogged to the fridge to pull out a six pack of Budweiser before taking your hand and walked you towards the backyard. ‘My girlfriend got a cool new job and I need to brag about he to all my friends.’

‘Alright then, Lieutenant.’

Bradley grinned widely, an expression was reflected on your own face as he pushed the door open and called out to everybody, ‘Blossom got the job!’

The exclamation was met with loud cheering from the squadron that was at different ends of the garden space.

The picnic table was extended by another small circular table and more chair were added around it to fit the big party. Bob, Fanboy, Payback and Amelia were sitting around the main table, playing Uno which Amelia was seemingly winning to the three men’s dismay. Coyote was mixing up marinade at a foldable table next to the grill with Hangman hanging over his shoulder and giving unnecessary instructions that his boyfriend who was pointedly ignoring them. Penny was making her way over to you and Bradley with Frankie and Phoenix in toe to congratulate you.

Bradley made room for the three other women by taking a small step back, but lingered by your side as he was too happy to even think of going anywhere else. He wanted to stay by your side and see that look of joy on your face every day for as long as he lived. 

The box in his cargo shorts weighed down and its importance was not missed by him. Bradley patted it, promising himself to hide it well tonight. He already knew he’d spend the rest of his life with you, he already knew he’d want to have children with you. But if he was going to do it, he wanted it to be a perfect moment. 

Tonight was such a moment, but he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he took away the spotlight from your achievement. You deserved all the praise that your aunt and your friends were showering over you as you swatted them away, humbly promising that it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Bradley felt your fingers thread through his as you pulled him with you to follow the other three women to the picnic table. The two of you were directed to a foldable loveseat by a very smug Phoenix who kept eyeing your neck. 

‘Can we can start looking for our own place?’ You asked him as soon you were both sat down. 

Bradley reached for two bottles of Bud and handed you one. ‘Yeah, I don’t see a reason why not.’

You smiled brightly as you looked up at him. Bradley wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to himself. Neither of you knew it at that time but the same thought came to your minds as you watched the other; wherever life took you, wherever you lived, that place would be home because it’s what you and Bradley were to each other. 

Home.

(taglist is still open, click here and fill out this Google Form)

tags: @gretagerwigsmuse @jupitercomet @youlightmeupfinn @craftymoonchaos @the-winter-marvel33 @agent-jbarnes @blahehblah @katieshook02 @amysteryspot @daisyhollyxox @marantha @piceous21 @mak-32 @twoosinrooster @adoringsebstan @everyoneslovechild @shityoudidntaskfor @alluringshawn @marsontoast @lemur46 @taytaylala12 @benhardysdrumstick @strangeangelflapsuitcase @shanimallina87 @beachesandboats @ishipit1420 @machsachds @wishfulhope (crossed over names are people I wasn't able to tag, sorry)

#home to you #iwritetopassthetime #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick

[artichow]

Hi, how are you doing?

My sister seems interested in doing commission work, and she's asking me for help with it, but I don't know anything about it. Could you help me help her?

How does the process of commissions work?

There any tips/recommendations you could give her?

Hello!

I'm definitely not an expert and definitely winging it as I go and taking what i see other artists do into consideration, so bear that in mind and take what i say with a grain of salt! I also assumed while writing this that this is about art commissions? If it's not sorry I kind of went on a tangent at the end about it but most of the advice still apply!

I'm guessing your sister has a product in mind they want to sell. Most people make a little website either pointing to the platforms they use to sell or to google forms they have for clients to fill out. I use carrd, there's a free option that lets you have a lot of creative freedom and enough elements to make a good website, and boom! Now onto selling commissions. To sell those you can either use a platform for selling stuff online, i use ko-fi because it's the most practical option, there's also v-gen, which i haven't tried but heard good things of. With that option it's easier to have fixed prices, so if something seems to hard to draw for that price it's harder to ask for more but most clients are okay with tipping an additional fee through that same platform. You can also just have a google form available where you ask the potential client to describe what they want, leave their email adress and you can get back to them and offer an accurate price for their commission idea. If they want to purchase that commission you then can send them a paypal invoice and they can pay it.

Most people I know use paypal, I saw people using Stripe or Venmo too. Ko-fi only allows you to link a Paypal or a Stripe account though. While using Paypal i would advise you to find a website that tells you how much Paypal will take from the commission, because they have a fee, and it usually stings. That way you can take that into account and raise your prices according to that so you still get the amount of money you need by selling your service. However I gotta say that Paypal always takes more than what those paypal fees conversion websites say it will, idk why.

Another website i use a lot to do pricing is calculpourcentage.com (sorry it's in french but i'm sure there are varients in other languages). It's pretty handy to calculate pricings along with the good old trusty phone calculator.

A very, very important part of selling commissions online is to have a solid Terms of Services written and available for clients to read through. It's like when you download a software or game and you have to check the litte box that says you agree with their terms of services. I know we pretty much all just scroll down and tick the box without reading but commission clients should never do that. Read the TOS!!! In your TOS you should put anything you need to make sure the client knows what their getting, any behavior or commission inquiry you will not accept, your rights to decline any commission for any reasons, your rights over the finished product, etc. I know it sounds daunting said like that but don't worry too much, it takes some time to put together but most people take whatever they need from other artists' TOS, you can frankenstein them and tadaa! perfect TOS for your needs and what you offer. You can and should absolutely update it whenever you want or need to. Here is a link to my TOS for inspiration if your sister needs some, but again, I think it's best to look for other artists TOS to maybe find some points I didn't write in mine.

Finally, to talk about the action itself of doing commissions for people, I have some advice as well. Firstly if you can, only offer things you feel up to doing. This might seem like a given but anything that makes the process less stressful and puts less pressure on yourself, you should do it. Commissions should be fun, especially if you're starting out. I know not everyone has the luxury or privilege to be able to, but if a commission inquiry makes you uncomfortable for any reason, don't accept it. I've had mostly good experiences with clients so far but there are stories going around online about scammers or people who ghost commissioners or clients, so my advice is to stay informed about possible scams, stay honest and communicate with your clients about possible delays and stuff like that.

And very important point that I almost forgot, commissioning art is a luxury, and any work needs good pay, no matter your skill level. I think every commission artist starts out by underselling themselves, and you probably will too, and it's okay. My advice is still to try and look at the price you settled on for a commission and add a little more. Keep in mind how much time you're taking to draw, gather references and so on. You will probably have to adjust your prices as times goes on. Everything I listed so far are things that can and probably will change with experience, it's how most of us learn and adjust the way we work.

Another thing is that for the majority of artists, commissions we do get are very sparce and for artists who can make it their job it's an immense workload and very hard to manage. I know it's easier said than done but my advice is to try and not let your commissions order number get you down or reflect your art's worth in your head. In my opinion art is priceless and deserves all our love and time regardless of if it's "good" or "bad", but it's pretty antithetical with literally putting a price tag on my work :') Anyway, commissions can feel demotivating or have a negative impact on your health in many ways, so if you can feel free to close them anytime you want to and try to keep time to yourself for your personal art too!

I think that's all I can come up with right now, I hope it helps you or your sister, and good luck to them if they do try out offering commissions!!

#I really hope this is somewhat clear? and it helps maybe? #this took way longer than i thought it would fgdjhd #anyway all the best! #art commissions #commission advice #arti talks

[born-to-lose]

I hate typing accent characters on my phone so much istg

#i'm never writing french emails from my phone again #suddenly it's a different word and i only notice when it's sent #also rip nikita i know it's żubrówka not zúbrówka sorry i did polish dirty😔 #mel talks

[bumblesimagines]

Double Trouble

Request: Yes or No

Couldn't think of a better title lmao. This is gonna be real shitty but the intro to series are either amazing or pure shit. Gonna give (Y/N)'s mom and fam a name cause I don't wanna keep writing (M/N) or (L/N). (Y/N) isn't related to any of the characters fyi. Spot the very obvious accidental reference

~

"Why California? Out of all the places in America, California was choice you went with? Not Washington, Oregon, or fuck, I don't know, North Dakota?" (Y/N) rested his head against the window, watching the houses pass by. His mother, Tanya, glanced at him with a small frown.

"Baby, aren't you tired of Alaska? Same old cold weather?" Tanya asked, staring forward at the empty road. (Y/N) scoffed, sitting up and looking at her with a raised brow.

"You can escape the cold. You can't escape the heat." (Y/N) pointed out, leaning back and picking up his phone with a frown. He looked at the texts from his friend, sighing softly.

Yaya

U already in cali??

(Y/N)

Ya

(Y/N)

It sucks

Yaya

New school new u bby

Daniel

Whats the time difference?

(Y/N)

It's 4 here

(Y/N)

Wbu?

Yaya

3

"Baby, could you look at me?" Tanya asked, pulling into the school parking lot and parking the car. (Y/N) turned his head to look at her.

"I'm sorry I suddenly dragged us out of Alaska. I just felt like we could use a change. Alaska feels suffocating as an adult. I want you to have new experiences." Tanya explained softly. (Y/N) nodded, glancing at the students walking into school.

"Listen, if you get anxious or feel sick, text me, okay?" Tanya gave him a comforting smile, running a hand through his hair. (Y/N) nodded, opening the car door. He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car.

"Have a good day, sweetie!"

"You too." (Y/N) closed the door, walking towards the school. He had lived in Seward his whole life. He was used to the cold, the sound of boats, the cold immediately hitting his face the moment he stepped outside. (Y/N) knew it wasn't about experiences. His mom just didn't want him to have the same boring life she did. (Y/N) looked at his phone, opening the group chat again. He looked through the texts, smiling at the pictures his friend sent him. (Y/N) looked at his email, sighing as he searched for his locker. He found it, opening it and glancing at the guy beside him.

"Uh, hey, I'm Ethan. You're new, right?" Ethan gave an awkward smile, clearing his throat. (Y/N) licked his lips, nodding. Ethan seemed like the typical nerdy loner.

"Yeah, I'm (Y/N)."

"Cool, cool. Where are you coming from?" Ethan tilted his head, closing his locker and leaning against it. (Y/N) didn't feel like making friends but Ethan could probably help him get familiar with everyone and everything.

"Alaska." (Y/N) replied, closing his locker and giving him a tight smile. Ethan's brows raised, letting out a small chuckle.

"Really? That's cool, I've never really left California. What's it like?"

"Cold." (Y/N) chuckled softly. Ethan laughed and nodded, licking his lips as he stuck his hands in his pockets. (Y/N) looked him over. He was small, skinny, seemed nervous and awkward. Probably a good guy.

"So, are you a junior?" Ethan asked. (Y/N) nodded, going into his phone gallery and pressing on the saved picture of his schedule. He showed him the screen, watching him lean in and smile.

"We have 1st, 3rd, and 6th together." Ethan said, motioning down the hall. "Come on, I'll show you around."

"Thanks." (Y/N) gave him a small smile, following him. His gaze flickered from student to student. Some glanced at him, knowing he was new. (Y/N) didn't like attention. He didn't like the spotlight. He hated when people stared or payed too much attention to him. He hated the way a pit formed in his stomach and he became nauseous when he was called on and people stared at him in class. (Y/N) entered the class, taking a seat beside Ethan and sighing softly.

"Thanks, by the way. I didn't expect to make a friend until like my second week here."

"No problem. I know it can feel shitty to be the new kid." (Y/N) gave Ethan a small smile, looking forward.

(Y/N) set down his lunch tray, sitting down across from Ethan. He glanced around the courtyard, picking up a french fry. Ethan finished drinking his water, humming softly.

"By the way, whatever you do, don't mess with Maddy Perez." Ethan said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. (Y/N) furrowed his brows.

"Right, you don't know them." Ethan chuckled, turning his head. He looked around, searching for the girls.

"There, the girl with black hair besides the blonde and the girl in a jeresy." Ethan motioned towards them. Maddy seemed like your typical popular. Makeup done perfectly, perfect body, her hair was done perfectly.

"She's a cheerleader and probably the most popular girl in school. She's been with Nate Jacobs for a while. Nate is a football player and his dad has a lot of power. He's.. Terrifying. The girls beside her are her best friends. Cassie and Barbara." Ethan picked up his burger. "There's Kat too and Kat is.."

"Your crush?" (Y/N) cocked a brow, chuckling. Ethan's tone had changed the moment this 'Kat' girl had been mentioned. His eyes had softened and a smile had appeared on his face.

"U-Uhm, n-no. She's a friend, like, just a friend." Ethan gave a nervous fake smile. (Y/N) hummed, shaking his head as he chuckled softly. He looked down at his tray, poking at the wrapped burger.

"Anyways, Cassie's nudes and some videos of her got leaked by her exes. It was real shitty." Ethan told him, finishing his burger. "There's Rue and Jules. Rue overdosed over the summer and Jules is new here."

"What?" (Y/N) furrowed his brows, staring at Ethan. The biggest thing that ever happened at his school was two teachers fighting. Drugs were an issue everywhere. He just didn't expect a teenger to OD and everyone to know. Ethan looked back at him.

"Do you wanna.. Hang out?"

"I have to unpack." (Y/N) replied, picking up his phone and scrolling through his instagram.

"Oh, shit, that's the new kid." Barbara pointed out, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. Cassie and Maddy turned to look.

"Oh.. Where's he from?" Cassie asked as she twirled a strand of her blonde hair around her finger. She wanted to forget all about McKay after their argument and breakup. The new boy seemed like a good distraction.

"He seems sweet." Cassie said with a small smile. Maddy scoffed, rolling her eyes as she looked at her.

"That's what you say about every guy, Cassie." Maddy opened her backpack, taking out her makeup bag. She took out some gloss, turning when she spotted Nate. She scowled when Nate very obviously flirted with some girl. Maddy took in a deep breath, turning toward her friends.

"Is there a party tonight? I need to fuck with Nate. He's such a dick." Maddy tapped her nails against her phone case. Cassie gave her a comforting smile, shaking her head.

"You can come over and we'll have a photo shoot. You can post it and make him regret everything." Cassie grinned as Maddy's eyes lit up, nodding.

"This is why I love you, Cass." The two giggled as Maddy wrapped her arms around her.

"But, back to that new guy.. If he hangs with Ethan, he's probably a loser." Barbara said, watching the two boys. Cassie gasped softly, shooting her a look.

"BB! Ethan's actually a really sweet guy. We did a project together last year." Cassie said. Maddy nodded, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"Yeah, BB, don't be a bitch. You do got a point though. He gives major school shooter vibes." Maddy said, leaning forward to look around Cassie. She watched as the two stood and threw away their trash.

"Hey, they're staring at you." Ethan said, nudging (Y/N). (Y/N) turned towards the girls, catching their eyes before he shrugged and turned away.

"Let's go to History."

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #x male!reader #euphoria #euphoria x male reader #euphoria x reader #euphoria x you #euphoria x y/n #maddy perez #maddy perez x reader #maddy perez x male reader #maddy perez x you #maddy perez x y/n #cassie howard #cassie howard x reader #cassie howard x male reader #cassie howard x you #cassie howard x y/n #euphoria ethan

[devilbat]

Quarantine Online

A/N: sorry I have been MIA for months now. A lot has going on in my life and Depression sucks, making it hard to write, so forgive me.

Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Warnings: Just fluff

Summery: dating is hard it's even harder when a Pandemic happens.. 

     The picture you stared at only showed a well-toned lean body in a well-tailored suit. Most of the photographs showed the same, never his face. His name was Tom 39 years old, living in London. Though he dose travels a lot for work. Shakespeare fanatic, runner, enjoys cooking, long walks with his dog when he's not running and lots and lots of dancing. Six foot one, six foot two on a good day. Who was testing the waters out there, but will be the perfect gentleman and very respectful.

        His profile stated as you looked through it. He had messaged you right as you thought about giving up once again. Everyone on these dating apps only wanted one of two things. Nudes or sex nothing more. No connection, no relationship, not even a friendship. Sure, you were offered friends with benefits.

That was something you were not looking for. Did it not state in your profile that you weren't going to do any of that. Do men even read?

       The few dates you have gone on all ended up a bust. Then the quarantine happened right as you were getting yourself out there. So it was conversations via text. But soon you were ghosted far too many times because you wouldn't send nude.

        You were all about to shut down your account when this man named Thomas H. sent you a message. You weren't even sure why you click on the email from this man without a face. Here you were reading what he had to say.

       Y/n,

           My name is Thomas, but naturally, I go by Tom. I'm sure you might not even respond to this as there is no face to this profile. With my job and for my privacy would be one of many reasons why. But I thought I might give it a shot. And I have to say I'm quite mesmerized by your beauty. You are quite lovely, and I'm sure you get that a lot. But I genuinely mean it. I was a bit fascinated by your profile as I read it, might have had chucked at a few bits of it. I would like to know more about you.

       Like what type of nerd are you? Marvel or DC?

Star Wars or Star Trek? And of course, I'll answer any questions you might have for me. As well I would not ask for any pictures of you clothed or nude as I would like to get to know you as I'm hoping you wouldn't mind getting to know me without the nudes as you put it. Ehehe.

     I genuinely hope to hear from you. But understand if I don't.

Sincerely, Tom.

    Ps, I do hope this quarantine hasn't made you gone completely bonkers.

       Usually, you wouldn't have responded, but something about him told you not to pass this up. What was the worst that could happen that already hasn't happened on an online dating app? Well, there was always the fact he could be a serial killer.

       Hello Tom,

    You may have messaged me in time I was about to give up on this site and return to my habit.  Marvel all the way. I would hope you would agree or we can't continue talking. Though, I can't deny that DC needs to just stop with Batman movies. The should have stopped before George Clooney. Though I will give Christian Bale props, he did a better job than Clooney.

         As for Star Wars and Star Trek? That is a tough one, so I'm just going to say both are good. But let's face it. Captain Kirk is the better star fleet Captain. Sure Picard is excellent as well. But anyone after them just doesn't do it for me. Ha ha..

     And it's all about Baby Yoda. If you are not a baby Yoda fan, you're just wrong. Yes, I'm one of "those" girls.

Coffee or Energy drinks? I would say I dabbled in both. Pancakes or waffles? Yes, there is a difference. I'm a waffle girl myself. Well, that is all I can think of right now.

Y/n.

You hit send before setting your phone down on the table next to you as you yawned. Maybe it was an early bedtime, not like you had anything better to do. You puddled around your usual routine before bed. A loud ding brought you back to your phone.

"That was quick." Recognizing the chim of the app all too well. Grebing your phone, forgetting your face cream as you were curious about what he had to say—settling into bed, getting comfortable before you opened your phone.

Y/n,

I'm delighted to hear from you. If I'm quite bold, and for starters, its tea for me. With two sugars and a splash of cream. As for waffles or pancakes, I'm French toast kind of man, duh. Lol. Though you can't beat a good old fashion English Breakfast and a side of Earl gray. Eheh.

I'm quite a fan of marvel though it is a rather vast universe. What movies/comics praytell do you prefer?

Sorry love to disappoint, but I'm going to say Doctor Who I am British. The tenth and the eleventh doctor. I do hope you've seen the show. I used to watch the reruns of the original with my father when I was a young wide eye lad. I am a fan of both Star Wars and Star Trek. And there is nothing wrong with liking a baby Yoda. He is exceedingly loveable.

          It says your new to England, where are you from originally? How long have you've been here? Seen any of the sights England has to offer?

       That's all for now.

Sincerely, Tom.

          Emails went on for weeks talking back and forth first on the dating app than via text. You were the one to leap by giving him your number. After hitting send your phone vibrated with a text.

         Unknown number: Hello love, this is Tom. I'm delighted to receive your text.

        More weeks had passed. Still, you had yet to see his face though he did send you photos of random things during the day. You did the same as your toes sticking out from the bubble bath. Then you got a text of his toes sticking out from under the blankets. The two of you would watch a movie together. The quarantine was still in effect. Each of you would pick a film out every other weekend and sit back and watch it—text throughout the movie.

          Y/n: Omg did she just run up the stairs like a dumb big boobed bimbo!!! She makes the rest of us look bad.

Tom: Eheh, you said it darling, not me. Though I think she might survive this.

Y/n: Wanna make a beat? I think she will die within the next few minutes.

Tom: Oh, it's on. Now, what do I get if I win?

Y/n: Whatever it is you want cause mister you are going to lose.

You both patiently wanted to see what happens next. The movie ended, and you waited in annoyance for Tom to respond to gloat about being right. And to see what he desired for his spoils of war.

Tom: Well, Love, it looks like I have won this round.

Y/n: It seems you have butthead. What is it that the winner wishes for?

Tom: Did you just call me a butthead? Eheh. Hmm, let's see. How about a Skype date? I figured it was about time to reveal myself.

Y/n: Tom, I just meet you. I'm not sure I'm ready to see your eggplant. Haha.

Tom: I probably should have rephrased that better. My face love, my face. Eheh. Tomorrow at 7 pm?

Nervous was an understatement. You had cleaned your whole flat even if you were going to stay on the couch, laptop resting on a large pillow setting on your coffee table. You sat playing with your hair, unsure if you wanted it up or down. A chim from your computer startled you from straightening out your dress you finally had settled on. Soon a well-tailored suited chest came on screen.

       "Hold on, darling, trying to adjust this blood screen." The deep British, very attractive yet somehow familiar voice rang through the computer speakers. You only assumed it belongs to Tom.

           You watched the man attempting to fiddle with the view, cursing ever so quietly. Making you giggle relaxing a little bit more. Your laughing came to an abrupt halt when Tom's face came into Focus. Your jaw dropped. And now the unmistakable "ehehe" came in to play as you stared at none other the most eligible bachelor in England none other than loki himself Tom Hiddleston.

           "Darling, I think your drooling." Tom teased point to the side of his clean, shaved face. Tom fidgeted with his now raven-colored hair.

          "Oh, I-I," You stammered out, trying to compose yourself.

           "Didn't see this coming did you?" Tom smiled, wetting his lips with that blasted tongue of his.

           "Well, no. I wasn't expecting Tom

Hiddleston."

           "Is that a bad thing?" Tom spoke up.

           "Oh, no, no. I would be an idiot to say it was. Hey, wait a minute. I've told you that, that, that. Shit." You muttered.

          "That I was your hall pass if given a chance. Eheh. Well, it looks like you'll have had wasted your hall pass privileges. You only get one and can't use it on someone if you are already seeing them."

        "You know, sir, you are still a butthead." You stuck out your tongue at the man.

        "You do like calling me that. Why are you calling me a butthead this time?" Tom grinned.

              Your time with Tom was extraordinary, the two of you talked throughout most of the night. He told you things you never knew about the actor every woman pined over. Here you were, the one woman out of a billion he seems to fancy.

           "Well, love." Tom cooed as he watched you try not to nod off to sleep. "I should let you sleep."

         "I'm sorry." You muttered sleepily.

          "Do not apologize, my dear. I should be the one to apologize I've kept you up most of the night.” Tom smiled softly. He watched as you rub your eyes, a shy smile softly graced your lips. Making Tom’s heart flutter.

”Perhaps, my dear, would you like to meet for coffee at the cafe that opened back up?” Tom hummed in high hopes.

”Hmm, I don't know.” You smiled, trying hard to look like you were contemplating though you were going to say yes. To hell with this virus, it was Tom Hiddleston asking you to coffee.

”I mean, I'll wear a mask and stay six feet if needed.” Tom added quickly.

”No, no, there is no need for that. I don't mind unless you feel like it's needed.” You pipped up—Tom grind like a fool shaking his head no.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston one shot #fluff #quarantine online

[illicitivywp]

mal de vivre.

The morning that Harry wakes up and you're not sleeping peacefully beside him is the worst of his entire life.

He can sense that you're not there. The air still circulates whiffs of your caramel shampoo and the breeze of your automatic fan that you always insist on leaving on all night still whirs leisurely and tickles the back of his neck.

Regardless, the room is vacant. He doesn't have to open his eyes to know that much.

For now, he remains entirely numb. Immune to the flooding sobs and intolerable agony and festering anger, he supposes it's in his best interest to stay like that for a while.

For a few days, at least. Until he can fully process your absence. He's not certain how long it takes the average person to wholly recognise an entire chunk of themselves missing, but he figures he's already suffered enough.

Surely, the universe isn't that cruel.

Your love is delightedly grand, and with its sudden unavailability, he feels so dejectedly vague.

He's clearly not perceiving time correctly, perhaps it's his distant concentration or maybe even his body's method of rejecting life and the wretched torture of its innate malice.

A few times, he's experienced sleep paralysis. The first, horrifying occasion is long-forgotten, when he was seven or so - it happened only after staying up until one in the morning to watch a horror movie that he'd been specifically warned not to watch and a towering vacuum of danger stood solid as stone at the end of his bed.

If it weren't for his fingertips subconsciously tracing featherlight scribes of your name on his forearm, he might reasonably assume he's haunted with the condition once again.

A clattering of paws on hard floorboards injects a little more reality into his thoughts, and he still can't bear, physically, to turn over and greet the sweet puppy you'd snuck home and surprised him with upon his arrival home from work around a year ago, knowing that his acceptance of a familiarly-shaped void is waiting just inches away.

Eventually, and after another chaotic scramble of claws in need of a cut, Chi is bouncing enthusiastically at his side and attempting an ambitious leap onto the mattress. She fails theatrically, landing in a resounding thud on her back and launching back to her feet, completely unaware of her owner's awaiting grief.

Masking his greatest fears with scooping a palm beneath Chi's belly and hauling her upwards to nestle into his chest, the reposition forces him to lay on his back (she's always detested laying on her side, especially when smothered with adoring cuddles) and, like the coward he truly is, his eyes focus adamantly on a random spot of the pale ceiling. With every minute shuffle, it becomes more and more achingly apparent that you're really not here.

And if everything runs correctly, you'll squirm and giggle graciously at his waking before returning his kiss, to his lips, this time, and he'll suggest applying a little moisturiser, like he always does, and you'll love him like you should.

When his eyelids snap open and his head curves breezily to your claimed side of the bed, he's somewhat unsurprised to confirm that his life truly has transformed to a dreadful bundle of tragedy. In your imposing place, is a neatly-made bed and an envelope.

A single, white envelope, stained by the sweet, flowing cursive that could flow only from your touch.

Chi leaps naturally to the spectacle, sniffing curiously at the letter and nudging it around a little, whilst Harry is so unexplainably pained that he's unable to move. Swallowing thickly, he's not certain word-for-word what lies in the confines of this envelope, but he does know it'll confirm your leaving him, and for some strange reason, he's relieved you left an explanation, at least.

A souvenir of you to hang onto forever, along with the millions of other items and memories of yours in his possession.

Carefully removing it from Chi's vicinity and replacing the object of her attention with a random squeaky toy that he'd discovered burrowed beneath his bed a few nights ago, he traces your exquisite handwriting with his fingertip and reads along with inaudible movements of his mouth; For Harry, mon amour.

In that moment, he realises profoundly that he'll never get to request hearing you say different words in your accent again.

The amount of times he implored relentlessly to hear je t'aime and have it accompanied with an endearing kiss is infinite.

Harry, my love,

I'm so incredibly sorry that I couldn't handle the pain.

Seeing your face cures any anguish I feel, but not this time.

I really, really tried; I know you did, too. I wanted it to work out, I prayed every day that our suffering would magically end and we could return to our love, I hoped that one day I would wake and cuddle you tightly and describe this awful nightmare I'd had.

Possibly, I may write to you in the future; please, don't try to contact me, it won't work and you know it's for the best. My family and close friends know where I am, where I will be, and they also know not to tell you if you ask.

I wish I could kiss all of your heartache away and protect you from all evil in this world, but I feel my presence is detrimental to your recovery.

My love for you is never-ending. Please be okay.

Forgive me and love someone else like you loved me. Let someone else love you like I loved you. Tellement, tellement.

Forever, I'll think of you and how unbelievably content I felt waking up next to you every day for seven-hundred and eighty (? - I'm estimating) mornings straight.

I will never, ever leave our love behind, and I adore you more than I can express. Your strength and resilience are admirable, and you are truly the best thing to ever happen to me.

Mon bébé, I miss you terribly.

Toujours, ton amour.

~

Chi tugs eagerly on her lead at the sight of the familiar entrance to her home, Harry in tow right behind. Sludgy snow muddies his shoes and soaks the hem of his jeans. His puppy's paws are undoubtedly drenched, too, but her fur is protected valiantly by her favourite jacket. He'd purchased it from a specialist store in France a year prior, and, since surprising her with the present upon his shared return, it'd become her primary option during the winter months.

Retrieving a reasonable pile of letters from his designated section, a rapid flick through displays bills, scams and all of the usual junk he usually receives. He offers his elderly neighbour a polite smile and holds open the door with his knee to construct a clear path for her exit.

He grimaces slightly at the teeth-shaped arc of damp dents into his mail - he hadn't particularly considered the repercussions of carrying it that way - and unclips Chi's lead, allowing her to run rampage through his airy apartment. Absently dropping his keys into its small dish of residence and taking a closer inspection at his post to infiltrate any wrong addresses or scams, he selects an apple from his fruit bowl and steals one firm chunk before noticing something peculiar.

Groomed eyebrows knitting together in confusion, he plucks one particular letter from the bunch and stacks it to the top. Perplexed by the sorely familiar curve of the writing scrawled on the front, his head shakes in denial - you wouldn't have, surely.

Discarding of all other mail on his kitchen counter, he's puzzled beyond belief; you'd left with no verbal warning and a letter that, admittedly, had been the source of several bouts of severe depression and, in spite of its awful affects, read dutifully every single day since your disappearance.

Rashly, he wishes you hadn't changed your phone number and email address shortly before leaving so he could possibly contact you regarding this mystery. However, he knows just as well as you clearly foresaw; his topic of discussion wouldn't be only the letter.

Tearing open the corner cautiously, he's incredibly delicate with checking inside the envelope once open to ensure it contains only his presumed note. Reviewing the front with a scouring gaze of disbelief, it really, truly has come from you.

He can't remember how many times he read each postcard that you'd gifted him with at the very beginning of your relationship. You'd recently made the permanent move from France to England, and, in a new country with limited knowledge of the native language, Harry had unintentionally become your beacon of comfort here.

With his fluent French and English, he was the perfect contender for kindly correcting your terminology and educating you on the essential etiquettes of Britain. Within weeks, however, your sweet smile had changed from an enjoyable sight during your frequent coffee shop meetings to something he craved.

He misses reading your silly, awful puns based around your home country, especially his favourite. A laughably unfunny joke paired with a matching scribble of the two of you; what do french fries do when they meet? They ketchup!

Harry,

I feel awful for waiting so long to speak to you again.

Your voice and your hugs. I've imagined them every single day.

I miss my Chi. How is she? I hope she's not missing her maman. Give her a kiss from me.

And the biggest kiss to yourself, because you deserve it, mon tout.

I'm inexplicably sorry for leaving so abruptly; I just couldn't take much more. The reminders were too much. Seeing your inconsolable pain every day was too much.

I'm so, so selfish, but I still believe allowing you to heal without my troubles was the best and easiest path for both of us.

I'm sure you noticed, but I may have stolen one of our pictures. It was your favourite, and that's why I had to choose that one, I suppose. Horrible, again.

I miss your dimples (and irritating you by poking them all the time). I miss your lips, they were so soft. No wonder you always bossed me around with the lip balm - I have my own now, I take it everywhere with me.

It smells like caramel.

Most of all, I miss your love. I've never known someone to love like you do. You were, are, and always will be, incredible.

Have you found someone to love yet?

Do you still think about me? If yes, please don't.

It's not fair of me to appear out of nowhere like this and not allow you a chance to reply. If you wish, post your letter to my maman's house - I'm not there, just to crush any other hope you have, but I'll receive it.

I'll be sorry forever, mon amour.

Sois gentil avec toi-même.

Câlins pour toujours, your baby.

~

Auriele,

I'm so thankful you decided to reach out again. I've missed you. Tellement, tellement.

Chi is brilliant, still eating everything and constantly in need of a haircut. She does miss you.

My hurt is still prevalent, I've accepted that it always will be. I truly don't believe it can be fixed again, but I'm still trying.

I spent the two weeks after your leaving searching for every single picture in existence of us. I cried so many times, I wish I could tell you that I'm wholly recovered and that you're fully forgiven, but I can't.

I think I counted them all. It's either three-hundred and seventy-seven or one-thousand, one-hundred and two (I have two sticky notes labelled pictures, I'm not sure which is correct.)

No one could ever love me like you do, tu es le meilleur.

I suppose that answers both of your questions.

Thank you for the chance to respond. I was incredibly confused when I received your thoughtful letter. I'm assuming by this one's destination being your maman's house, you're in France? You don't have to answer that. I would understand.

Mon bébé chéri, je t'aime.

Harry x

~

Harry,

It was the least I could do. I hurt you doubly and you never deserved that.

Tell her I love her. Buy her an ice cream for me (note the two dollars also enclosed in this envelope!)

There aren't enough apologies in the world to properly cover the extent of my mistakes, but I'll continue gathering as many as I can. And send them straight to you.

I also wish you could truthfully claim that you're okay, and I hope, with time, that you will be. It's all you ever deserved, mon chéri. You don't ever have to forgive me. I understand entirely if you hate me.

I wouldn't be surprised if those numbers were both low counts. I loved your face, as superficial as it sounds, but it truly was prettier than anything, and my favourite thing was always surrounding myself with it. Aussi longtemps que je pouvais.

My baby, I only tried my hardest to love you, and I sincerely hope I haven't ruined your idea of love so much that I'm your standard. Please, travel, find people to connect with, fall in love with a place, if not a person.

I bet Chi would love Spain. Australia, maybe? Thailand? Your choice entirely. You always were smarter than me (i.e. I left you - doesn't get much dumber.)

I am in France, feel free to ask any question you want about my current life if you decide to write back - you really don't have to. It's okay. You're still perfect.

Just not my address. It's so selfish of me to hide away from you when you're the one who deserves closure, but I'm not ready to share that information. Again, I'm sorry, and I hope you understand.

Tu me manques. Tu me manques ma maman et mon père. Tu me manques au cœur.

All my love, Auriele x

~

Every day, his thoughts are plagued with ideas of how to write his next letter. Your previous few communications ran smoothly; you seem incredibly apologetic and, as much as he would've gladly ignored the past tense use of 'love' in your most recent letter, he can't help but realise the difference from your first each time he reads it.

He's not certain why his first letter practically poured from his pen and before he knew it, it was sealed, posted and received. This time, however, he can't even construct a way to greet you.

Has distance and time really weakened your connection that much? His favourite childhood Disney movies would be ashamed.

The heartache you've endured together is insufferable, the bitterness remaining fresh and the misery continuing to roll onwards with him, and yet, you're both still alive. Perhaps, he should be a little more thankful.

He's tested out various support groups over the past few months; they appear to help in the moment, but once he returns home to a completely empty house, - aside from Chi - he realises all of his progress to be entirely fake.

How can he realistically recover from his insurmountable loss in solitude?

An apartment which used to breathe vibrant life and excitement for the future, diminished to nothing but silence.

He might as well have lost his house, too. Every second he spends there, surrounded by reminders of his grief, is draining. Of course, if he were a millionaire, he would've discovered a lovely, one bed flat with wide, open floors and windows. If he were a millionaire, though, maybe none of this agony would've ever happened.

He could’ve fixed it.

Regardless, he didn't, and now he returns home every single day, monotonous and finding solace only in rereading your letters and running through his local park with Chi, no matter the weather.

Sometimes, he hears the faint echo of your melodious voice ringing in his ear; mon doux bébé. For a moment, he believes you may be talking to him, but with a resounding giggle of contentment, you never were.

Within a month, he lost both of his sweet baby girls, and the pain is simply too much to comprehend.

Elle, mon cœur,

Firstly, I apologize for my late reply. This letter was, for some reason, incredibly difficult to write.

You hurt me never. Life hurt me, and it hurt you, too, and I'm sorry it's so cruel.

Chi adored her ice cream - vanilla, your favourite - and said thanks! (complimentary picture attached, for you).

Sympathy and apologies aren't a cure. I've received enough of them to know. I hope you have, too. We might not accept it and it might not heal our pain, but it is nice to know you have people by your side.

Mon amour, I would/could never come close to hatred for you. You are my entire heart, and you own everything within it.

I hope, one day, I can forgive you. I hope you can forgive me. We both made mistakes. We're both accountable, and so is fate. Unfortunately, it wasn't on our side, and we have to welcome that.

Your face is certainly Top Five list of physical attributes, which goes as followed:

1. your lips. I know I complained about them being dry all the time, but I miss them, still.

2. your eyes. Somewhere between the ocean and a cottage filled with flowers, they were paradise.

3. your thighs. I am a man - a broken one, but a man nonetheless - and they are certainly the most family-friendly feature I could think of.

4. your smile. Even on my darkest days, your smile was heaven. I hope you're smiling right now. I wish I could see it.

5. your face? All of the above and everything else. Was that cheating?

I wish I could leave here. I wish I could find a small, tropic island where Chi and I can get tipsy on Virgin Mary's and surf all day, but I feel it wouldn't be fair for both of us to run.

Although, Chi would certainly have a great time in Thailand. She told me so.

Did I mention she misses you? We miss you.

I have more questions than you can imagine. This is only my second letter, however, so I suppose I'll stick to three for now, (sorry for all the lists!)

How are you? Mentally? Physically?

Have you made new friends whilst you've been out there?

Would you ever visit London again?

I miss you forever.

Ton bébé.

Harry x

~

Harry,

It's more tough to write my letters than you might assume. No need to apologise, I understand.

Life is shit. I thought I had accepted that. I never imagined how evil it could be.

Chi, my baby, looks so pretty. I love her haircut (number 8694743? out of infinite).

I have heard my fair share of sympathy. At first, I felt bitter. They didn't understand what I had suffered, they didn't understand the pain I felt. With time, I realised that, sometimes, sorry is all you need to hear to feel a little better. To feel like you're managing life, at least.

I wish I could believe I deserve it, but I truly don't.

My mistakes seem perpetual. I'm constantly remembering new ones. Things I could've noticed faster, signs that I should've recognised. Yours are nothing. You made no mistakes, mon amour, please believe that. As much as fate has been my least favourite higher power for the past year, I agree about welcoming our own.

I would make a list of my personal favourites of your appearance, but I'd be here all day, and I'm meeting with a friend in an hour (your second question - check).

It wasn't fair for either of us to run. I think it's turned out for the best, however.

I can imagine Chi passed out on the beach. You both deserve a holiday. Go to Scotland, or something, at least. Just away from London.

I miss you both. Much more than I can express.

I'm well. Mentally; it's a struggle, but that's just life, I suppose. Physically; my sickness stopped a while ago. I hope your headaches did, too, but I've been searching for cures for those for a long time.

Yes! I've made quite a few close friends. They all know and love you. I'll tell them you asked.

London holds far too many memories for me to bear. You're the only one I can stand. Maybe one day.

Tellement de câlins.

Auriele.

~

The second your letter arrives and is read fully three times over, Harry's scrambling to collect his fancy paper and ink pen, thousands of ideas about how to reply brimming in his head.

Pen to paper, however, his mind is entirely blank.

You're inching closer to addressing the subject of your pain, and so is he. So far, the only discussions you've had regarding that difficult topic have ended either in awful arguments or uncontrollable, endless crying and they all occurred before your disappearance.

Since then, you've had ten months and seventeen days shared to mature from and process the situation. Perhaps, if you were to have a conversation about it now, it would be beneficial.

Harry is aware of the solution to his strange writer's block and urges to attempt to fix your hurt, but he's not quite sure if he's ready. Physically forcing himself up from his cluttered desk, he tries not to think of the main event when changing his sloppy t-shirt and joggers to jeans and a jumper; it's February, so the wind is still well and alive but, luckily for Chi and the duration of her walks, the temperatures are beginning to rise.

His destination is barely a thirty minute leisurely stroll through the city away, and he feels shameful to admit that this is his first visit in ten and a half months. Several times, he's gathered his courage to stand on the pavement, surveying the vast area but never making it closer than the protective fences.

This time, though, he's determined to make it. And he will, with je t'aime's and sweet giggles bubbling in his ears.

Your je t'aime's and her sweet giggles.

Auriele,

Life will continue to surprise us. It may be malicious, but it's also given me you, so I guess there are a few reasons to be grateful.

I think it's more like *8694744 out of infinite, and I'm sure she'll have many more unpleasant trips to the groomers in the future.

You are handling life impeccably, considering all. You deserve showers of recognition for just being here.

No one has ever been more deserving of my love, and no one ever will.

Please, don't blame yourself entirely. Yes, there were signs. Signs that we both should've seen earlier. We knew as much as everyone else. We can't know if things would be different if we'd noticed them, because they're not.

I'm glad you're enjoying life in France. Is it peaceful? Is it too far to ask if you're living with one of your new friends? What're their names, if you don't mind my asking?

If I were to go on holiday right now, Paris would be my first choice.

I'm glad you're feeling better, I hope you continue to improve mentally in the future. I wish you nothing but true happiness.

If you're ever here, I'd be honoured to see you again.

This might surprise you. Before I wrote this letter, I went to visit her.

I haven't since we were there together.

I talked to her for hours about my life and my pain and your letters and your pain and anything I'd love to say to you if I knew how. Meline always was the best listener, no offence to you. She just understands.

I miss her. I miss you. I miss my babies.

Please, send me a picture of you (always topping lists) in your next letter. I need to see you now. I bet you're glowing.

Toujours, Harry x

~

Harry, mon amour,

I feel as if I should address the end of your letter first, because I certainly wasn't expecting it. I cried a lot. I'm still crying as I write this.

It feels nice to feel.

I've been so numb to it all. I know I should sob every day, think of her every single second. I don't. That may make me an awful person, but I always preferred not to lie. Especially to you. I don't think the gravity has quite hit me yet.

Back to the normal, top to bottom of your letter.

My family is a gift. My parents, you and Meline, specifically. I've never admired anyone more.

I miss Chi. Especially today, for some reason. Send more pictures of her when you next write. (I enclosed an updated picture of me in town, if you hadn't noticed! It was taken last week.)

I had concerns. Concerns that I didn't follow up on. We knew something was wrong, but we did everything we could, right? We found help. We found medicine. Why didn't it work?

How fucking cruel can life possibly be?

It's much quieter than London. The air quality is visibly better. I am, actually. My closest friends are Leon and Aline. I'm living with them!

Paris is about as good a holiday as you can get. If I'm ever near you, whatever country it happens to be in, I'll be sure to see you.

The last part of your letter. I already touched upon it but not nearly enough.

I haven't said, heard or read her name in eleven months. I miss it. I miss your voice. And her laughs. She was so, so lively and enthusiastic for life.

It's so unfair that she didn't get the chance.

And I agree; she always was a fantastic listener. I told her about our issues more than I should've.

I wish I could hear her again. Her name wasn't Meline Risette Styles for nothing. Her laughs were so pretty. I could've listened on repeat.

I did. For a year.

I miss her.

I miss you. I miss your warmth. I miss your heart and your love and your smile and everything about you.

I miss normality.

When we thought things would be okay.

We were wrong, and hindsight, that's okay, too.

We will heal eventually, I trust that life can't take much more away from me.

Tout mon amour, Auriele x

~

Since that day, Harry's visited Meline every Sunday without fail - it's only been three weeks, but going in the first place was an unimaginable step.

He even combined Chi's walk with the most recent, and each time, entering, staying at and emerging from the cemetery becomes easier.

The first time, he paced through the gates several times before building the bravery to even step inside without running back. His flight or fight instinct had been touchy the whole time, bias towards flight the entire time.

He just wanted to be as far away from the source of his pain as possible.

At the same time, he just wanted his daughter back. Alive and healthy.

Once he'd settled, laid on the ground like a madman next to her grave, he never wanted to leave her again. He even brought her flowers and a little teddy bear from a shop he'd passed on his hurried journey there.

It was well and truly dark by the time he even considered returning home, because he'd rather be with his sweet baby than alone at home.

Now, Chi sniffs inquisitively around at the bundles of flowers placed on surrounding graves whilst Harry converses with his dead child's grave like she was as animated and eager as he remembered.

It's a little questionable for his sanity, but extremely helpful for his own mental health. And he's trying to fix them both.

He just wishes so much that he'd pushed for more tests in the hospital. If he could, he'd reject their diagnosis and prescription of heart medication and an inhaler for when her asthma flared up.

They claimed she had a weakened respiratory system and, subsequently, her heart didn't deal well under stress, mostly due to her premature birth.

They were correct.

However, they were entirely wrong when they sent you all home with a tub of medicine and advice to lower any potential stressors around her.

Harry remembers scoffing to himself; she was one, what could possibly be stressing her that much?

Apparently, a lot of things.

Your je t'aime's and her sweet giggles.

There's truly nothing better.

Auriele,

I understand completely about any emotion feeling refreshing. For a while, I felt immune to it. I cried and I got angry, but nothing ever really set in.

I'm thankful that I can feel now and it doesn't destroy me.

You're not at all a bad person, or a bad parent. Often, I wish I could forget about her. And not just to remove the pain for a day or two. Also, I appreciate the honesty.

Important things must be talked about first. And while this paragraph isn't quite at the top of my letter, it certainly is my most admiritive.

You're so, so unbelievably beautiful. Even more so, now.

Your eyes are still paradise. That picture is stuck onto the cork board in the kitchen forever.

We did absolutely everything in our power to help our baby. As soon as we noticed an issue, we took her to the hospital. Maybe they accidentally underestimated her condition, maybe they just assumed it'd be treated with that medication.

Either way, we helped her as much as we could. And you were, are, and always will be the most incredible mother.

Meline was lucky, truly. She loved you so much.

As it turns out, life can be our greatest enemy. It's difficult to control and even harder to accept, but everything happens for a reason, I suppose.

Leon and Aline sound wonderful. I know it's not my place, but tell them I said thank you for being there for you? You don't have to.

I've never known someone deserve a full, healthy life more than our sweet girl, and it's an injustice to steal that opportunity from her at such a young age.

She would've been two next week. I'm sure you don't need reminding, but I'm still trying to handle my feelings about it. I already know her birthday is going to be the worst day since she died.

Meline Risette Styles deserves the world, as do you. Please don't be afraid to take it. You've earned it.

Her name still brings me so much joy; little honey, pleasant little laugh. It was such an apt description, in her short life.

Life can always take more, but it gives things that are so wonderful. Sois optimiste.

Tout mon amour et câlins, Harry x

wattpad:

#harry styles #letters #heartbreak #sad books #harry

[weabbynormalblog]

Keep strong...

I've had this message on my board all week. So I must of looked at it more than a dozen times since then. What does it mean, what am I trying to say? I stare at it, percrasting not putting laundry away, but washing the floor instead. I struggled with it, the grammar and text of the sign. Should it "be strong" or "stay strong"? Why did I decided in "keep strong" versus "be strong"? Strong can refer to physical and mental strength. Staying with the program that's the "keep" part and the "strong" part is not giving it up for good.

At my worst, it was tempting to end it all. I also wrestle with cutting behavior and body numbness. It isn't easy being me. I know I can change and heal; I've done it before. I am strong. I overcame my dyslexia by the time I was 25. I have over came back injuries, 4 times now in my life and still healing from the last time. I was in a wheel chair for a year due to a frozen sciatica. Ive had successful shoulder surgery too. I gave up smoking over 20 some odd years now. I've survived and recovered from a nasty divorce, lost business and financial ruin. I've also lost 200lbs and avoided diabeties. I thought I had seen it and done it all.

Now I'm a brain injury survivor with chronic pain and fatigue. I'll get through this and so will you!

Can you keep strong and have the ability to ask for help when needed? If you're an over achiever like myself, your pride takes a bit of a dip in having to ask. I know, it's hard to be the one needing help. Especially if it was the other way around before. Now it's time to get past it! It's ok that we need help with some tasks, and that there are things we don't know how to communicate. Then there's things that I can do that others can't. One of my best gifts is my creativity. I can make something out of nothing. Whatever a sweater boom there it is, a minion pinayta for a party, a desk organizer, a bird feeder; some people can't even visualize it, never mind create it. Even Greta Nuremburg speaks of her handicap as a gift. It let her cut through the bullshit to form a direct line to help climate change. There's a certain stubbornness that seems to develop with learning disabilities/brain injury/mental illness etc. For me I'm sure its a coping mechanism. Its my brain working out how to make sense out of all this data. It gets overloaded at the strangest times, it seems. Still lots of mystery in my head. As a person that has difficulties decoding, speaking and hearing, sometimes adapting means putting myself in the middle of everything. I need to arrange things so that I can understand and communicate better, which isn't always possible. I'm fortunate to have a person to help when I need to get groceries or run errans. I'm still too limited with my mobility to drive most days. For everything else I do more with less. I can't hear on the phone. Add accents of any kind to conversations like West Indian, British, French or German... It's the worst for me and then we play a game show called What did you say? I'll take M as in Michael please. I dont do phone calls on days that I'm not up to the task. Forget everything if I have a migraine or my pain is past 6 and I had a rough night. Phone calls, get them out and done first thing in the am. I don't play telephone tag either. When leaving a message state a day and time that works better for them to reach you. I do everything I can possibly do with text messages and email. I process information best like this, the written word. Yeah, I'm not much of a conversationalist these days in person, unless its 1 on 1 or maybe you need a monologue or speech delivered? While writing offers some communication relief theres still grammar errors and spelling mistakes, but more or less writing is stress free for me, even enjoyable opposed to trying to follow a conversation between 3 or 4 people and remember names.

On bad brain days all my disabilities can be too much; then with the chronic pain and fatigue on top of that? Just kill me now? Or maybe now? Screw going anywhere! Ever! It's a head in a jar rough day, my body doesn't respond well to anything. Walking and talking is over ratted at this point; all I can do is rest. I feel defeated by my own body. See you have to "Keep Strong" even when your body can't. So no deal, less urgent tasks fall to the wayside. Sorry I got to bail out on that date again. In the moment I just want to give way, let it all go and become a gelatinous mass that can ooze up and down the stairway, absorb nutrients by oozing on them and Ah...don't move just emit blob like behavior.

Recently I joined the local Chronic pain and fatigue organization, there is no brain rehabilitation in my area, so much for Medicare. I'm so grateful that this .org exists. It's great when I can get out to the activities. The Yoga, it was great! Low impact just what I needed. I was in bed for 2 days after that. This Thursday Yoga came and went with my sadness. I did my at home version instead. Today again is not one of those going out days. That's perfectly fine with me. I know when I'm not good with other people or getting around. There's no point in being angry, tired, frustrated and in pain.

So when faced with "keep strong" laying in my bed. I know that caring for myself is not giving in to limitating beliefs but allowing myself to becoming stronger in the long term by understanding and treating my physical limitations today instead of making like the other regular sheep. I still meet my short term goals on stretching, hydrating and eating well. The basic chores still gets done. You need to remind your self that resting is a part of the healing process. This part is about concentrating on my health and supporting my own recovery. No one can do that for you. Understanding our limitations is not a weakness! Adaptation by trial and error. What works, what doesn't and concentrate on what does work for you. Forgive yourself for not being up to task. I know it's hard to believe that it's is a gift. It is a strength and a gift to be able to face the tough stuff. We get to see the world we live in another way opposed to those entrenched in the rat race. It's not about fitting in society. It's about taking your space, finding your power and place; just as you are. I no longer feel that I'm missing out in life. I'm working on healing myself. I haven't lost the war, I'm just taking a breather. So go on ahead, I'll catch up eventually. This dang boulder won't stop rolling down the hill. Hold on, I'll go get another boulder to stop this one...

#brain injury survivor #survive mental illness #rehabilitation recovery #chronic illness missing out #coping with energy managment #emotional support #How to cope with cop out #understanding mental illness #on the spectrum #how to love yourself

[terpsichoreed]

Dad: How was work today?

Me: It was good. Uneventful. Kinda boring if I'm being honest. It's weird. I can like... go in to work... and nothing's on fire.

Dad: I used to get in the shower every morning and think what could possibly go wrong today. There'd always be something. Every day. It was inevitable.

Me:

there's a bat flying around

water dripped from the ceiling and destroyed my computer

the toilet broke and also shattered some of the tiles on the floor

the heating unit is smoking

the server has crashed

the GM customer portal is down globally

the power is out but only on the west side of the building

Boss locked his keys in his office and there are no spares

the catalytic converter was stolen and now the truck's out of commission

the forklift broke

the bathroom door handle broke and no one can get in or out

the geese are rebelling in the parking lot and no one can get in or out

the copy machine leaves lines in all paper regardless of being the copy or the original scanned paper

production is halted because the printer needs servicing

no one knows the ship to location and parts are due yesterday

the meeting had to be postponed because we were waiting on a customer to show up

HR had to go next door and ask if we could borrow their forklift

I was left off an email thread where I was the only person who needed to be copied

Scott had to add 20k locations into the system manually

Boss lost the passwords for the security cameras and blamed us

there's a drop-in customer order for 9000 parts due yesterday with a 12 week lead time

the business switches over to direct deposit and the whole system implodes

I need to flag down the lawn care team because Boss lost their contact info

the UPS label is in French when it was going to Florida

GM invents new ways to fine us

Boss took my computer without telling me so I had to drive 40 miles back to HQ

I had to train my replacement via phone and remote desktop

all the pallets are missing

Comcast works outside and cuts the internet for three hours to the whole neighborhood

the mailbox was installed backwards

the blinds in my office also control a few of the blinds in Scott's office

I have to remove dead rodents from my office

the toilet flushing mechanism doesn't work and I have to stick my hand in the water tank

the toilet flushing mechanism (different toilet) doesn't STOP working so I have to mess with it for 20 minutes

the building creaks and moans so much that I have to check it for damage

I was sent to a new location without any training

I had to setup a new trash pickup account because we got locked out of our old one

a new line gets added to the symptom checker and suddenly everyone is incapable of filling it out

temps call the office and ask me why they were fired

the door didn't shut all the way at the end of the shift so the police were called about a break-in

the building next door had a truck (not semi) crash through it

I had to send out a memo regarding an abnormal amount of office supplies getting stolen

I had to go to the hardware store and duplicate the master key to the building

the air conditioning leaked through the ceiling into the conference room and ruined the table

I had to call another business who put me on hold and after 30 minutes the hold timed out and I had to call them all over again

hourly incoherent customer emails that I don't need to be copied on

having to write "do not poop on the bathroom floor" in the company newsletter

the bagging machine broke at least once a week but never consistently

the vending machine guy died and his wife came to collect the vending machines

the only person who knows how to do anything goes out for medical leave

none of the keys we have work for the thing the city water guy is here to maintain

the keys to the time clock are missing

the time clock has the wrong date so every day is a guessing game

everyone has to stand outside the building for 20 minutes because we got locked out

the insurance cards all say pediatric but only for people without children

(literally my second day of work) my trainer had to call 911 because someone fainted in the warehouse

the floors had to be redone so the entire assembly team was moved to a new building

Dad: Yeah! It was like that every day at GM. Some new shit that fell on me to take care of, even thought it was never part of anything related to my job tasks.

#work tag #cpa tag #in my drafts #november 22nd

[becccaaawww1989]

*Long Post, But If You Like Reading Please Read*

So I've decided to take on a huge project that probably SHOULD have been done sooner, but I don't think COULD have possibly been done sooner. So here's the story and here's the project:

!STORY TIME!

I was a creative writing major in college... However, I have not written anything for a year, and the whole year prior to that, every time I sat down with a notebook or at the computer it was torture. I used to save my creative writing homework for last cause I knew I'd enjoy it, but my final year that wasn't the case. I was told in my creative writing classes that my writing - if it was good enough - would protect me. It would protect me from those embarrassing moments I was writing about, and from the anger of other people because when it breaks down to it, it's a story and we read for good stories. Well, that wasn't the case. My writing was good, and that wasn't the case. Rob was wrong. I was wrong.

Then enter two years of depression followed by anxiety. Pretty much convinced I had no support from anyone in my life and then at the same time my anxiety started making up conspiracy theories about myself... how convenient. I stopped going to church, I stopped really believing in God [like I KNEW, but like... do you even care? Clearly not, so why do I put my trust in you? Type thing]. Through a very emotional night I confessed what I had been holding in for months about my confusion, bitterness and anger to Evan and of course Evan suggested I start going back to church but I was so reluctant. I didn't want to, but any time I went with him I felt almost as if my body had been full of static (like TV static) before church, and after it was like living with a clear screen. I could breathe for a little bit.

So this one day, I am sitting at work, minding my own business and this little girl comes in and gets a french manicure. Conversations take off and she starts telling me how her Dad's a pastor and I started to open up a little bit about my story and my doubts and that I grew up in church yada yada yada. So she invited me to her church... and feeling like it was maybe God finally paying attention to me again, I went. And I continued to go for a couple of months. They were warm and welcoming and EVERYTHING I WANTED... but any time there were events, my schedule didn't match up and I started to think that even though Solid Rock was what brought me back into the habit of going to church, maybe that wasn't where I was supposed to be. Which sucked cause there were a lot of amazing people there.

So then this one day I was tapping through Instagram stories and my friend from freshman year of college had posted this quick story about the church she had started going to, 2|42. I sent her a quick message about what it was like, and she was happy to respond. I then texted Evan and said "we are checking out another church." I swear I could hear his eyes roll through the phone.

Showed up at 2|42 and it was kind of everything I wanted, but for the longest time couldn't find a way to connect so while I was still going to 2|42 I was looking around at other churches... being me and preparing for the future I was already thinking "okay, I want my kids to be able to be in JBQ and Missionettes..." but I felt God pull me back and kind of tap me on the shoulder and remind me that I don't know what the future holds or if I'm still gonna be around the area for that. I had so much else to worry about before I worried about JBQ for my currently nonexistent kids. So focusing on the now, I ended up staying.

In the meantime with all of this going on, (excuse the language, but I can't find a better way to describe it...) shit hit the fan in my own personal life. I was battling with my roommate pretty much almost on a daily basis, feeling left out - on purpose - belittled, ignored and I honestly don't know what I ever did to her. As well as the Gymnastics Club board was having issues and I cared way too much about them that their stubbornness and my will to fight for myself was causing issues. When it came to personal interactions between people I called friends, I knew that I was no longer this sweet innocent freshman, I had some dirt on my hands, blood on my face, and in a lot of ways I wasn't afraid to show it. Creative writing encouraged me to un-sensor my work, so you could say my vocabulary expanded. It taught me how to talk about things in my writing that I typically wouldn't talk about. Personal thoughts, experiences, family issues, fears, intimate conversations and connections with friends. But in most conversations it felt like I would have been more respected by the people that surrounded me in my everyday life, if I had just stayed sweet and innocent, and never stood up for myself... or had never even written at times. It was as if they respected me as a Christian when I was 100% all about Jesus all the time, but didn't respect me/my beliefs when I was struggling with my faith - which is a common thing to struggle with. It was as if loosing my innocence was what lost me respect which was strange because everyone else was allowed to lose their innocence and they were welcomed with open arms into the club of people that could earn the "Platinum Certificate of Depravity." So after a night at sidetracks, I said goodbye to Dave, told him I loved him and I remember closing the door that night and deciding I needed a break.

The weeks that followed were ones where I was realizing that if I wanted to keep my income (as a nail technician) I would have to retire from gymnastics. I could not pull out one final season. So the plan was to talk to the board and strike a deal to keep my position without doing gymnastics for one last year and see if anyone wanted to be "trained" to take it over from me. But if it hadn't been for a warning from a close friend, I would have been blindsided when told that the board had not only talked about it without including me or notifying me, but had also decided that in order to continue making the videos for the team for the 2018 - 2019 season and posting on the Instagram and promoting the club... not only would i be doing that for free, but I would also have to pay the FULL 210 club dues. Without doing any of the gymnastics that came along with it. Which was the reason we were all there to begin with. I wasn't going to pay to do a job I should be getting paid for, and I wasn't going to pay to record everyone doing things I wished i could still physically do... which by the way, sucks. So I quit right then and there, handed over passwords and walked away. I gave away most of my leotards a month ago. *Not belittling the club or the current board, I am just explaining my decisions and how it felt.*

But it really left me feeling alone. All I had was work, Evan and my roommates. However, 2|42 was promoting this thing called ROOTED. If you joined there was a chance you would become a small group afterwards, so after weeks of saying no, I finally said yes. The group was a total God thing, and tonight was the first night since quitting the gymnastics club and completely walking away from it that I felt like I was going to - in all aspects of my life - be okay.

So... with that being said, I have been thinking about it, and it is about to be a huge project. But I have gone through, removed all previous pieces of writing from my blog, it is currently "Under Construction". This will take MONTHS. But I have started writing again. It is darker, and heavier and not what one would expect. However, I want to show the transformation of my life through my writing. From the moments of lost friends, to realizing that I had lost them, to the issues that followed, with the loss of faith, to feeling - like I said - covered in dirt, scares, lies, pain, drama, ultimatums and the struggle between wanting to break away from it all and become someone or something else or becoming and embracing the person you are meant to be with all of your dirt all over you. Innocence gone, friends gone, yearly traditions gone, mock awards gone, potlucks gone, Halloween and Christmas parties gone, leaving group chats, exiting conversations... to this life that has gone from a bad reputation to someone who is reclaiming it. Surrounded to alone and from alone to surrounded. From unforgivable to forgiven. From supported to unsupported from writing stories to writing poetry, from innocent -> Guilty -> Forgiven and finally a story of life without God to a life with God.

I would really love the support from anyone who enjoys reading. You can follow the link and click on the follow button or (with that button) set up an email that will be linked when I first re-launch it. I will probably share this again, but I am really excited to "relaunch" something that has had such a negative impact on my life and turn it into something I am proud of.