#the first grade had vegetable soup for lunch that day

[ryllen]

still on with the vegetable debate 🥗🥬🥒🥦🚜🧑‍🌾

#maybe it's wasabi isn't it; like unpleasant but has hidden antibacterial benefit #twisted wonderland #twst #sebek zigvolt #ace trappola #deuce spade #twst yuu #twst grim #epel felmier #jack howl #twst mc #fanart #or literally like all greens yuck but protect u from disease #the first grade had vegetable soup for lunch that day #this is such a weird pics compilation pairing post isn't it #what do u guys think sebek is #tall like celery #unpleasant to many like bitter gourd and bell pepper and needs time to like it #sturdier than celery ; asparagus #chinese okra because it has rougher surface than cucumber

[celestialmilfs]

Break Me Down and Hold Me ‘Til the Dawn

Character: Melissa Schemmenti

Word count: 3,708

Warnings: Praise Kink

Genre: Smut, Comfort, Fluff

Rating: E

Description: “When you say stuff like that,” she says, slower than usual, like she’s figuring out the words as she goes, “I… I like it.”

It’s an admission of the obvious, the most basic instinct of any person: to desire approval, and she makes it sound like she’s turning herself in for manslaughter.

You take care to keep your voice calm as you say, “Why would I think that’s stupid?”

“I mean,” she says and then pauses for a breath, “I mean I really, really like it.”

---

Melissa has a secret and you crash right into her confession.

A/N: Strap in for the most emotional smut i’ve written to date. It’s so sugary you should probably brush your teeth afterwards. Title pulled from Spiritbox’s The Summit

---

The door slams shut at 7:30 sharp.

You rise from your downward dog on the living room floor and scramble down the hall, head rush be damned.

“Melissa?” you ask, but only hear the rustling of her leather jacket and the thump of heels ill-suited for the weather being angrily dumped by the door. Weary and barely standing, Melissa leans against the wall, her shirt damp, hair dripping and her eyes furiously staring at the umbrella she forgot to grab in her hurry.

You kiss her cheek and she slumps against you, face buried in your shoulder.

“Long day?” you ask.

“Understatement of the year.”

She pulls back and you notice the circles under her eyes, much darker than they had been last night. You put your hand on the small of her back and inch her towards the kitchen.

“Come on, I made dinner.”

Melissa looks at you like you’re made of cotton candy or fire trucks and presses a wet kiss to your forehead before letting her heavy feet drag her towards the smell of sweet potatoes.

She collapses into a chair by the kitchen table and you dash to the covered pot on the stove, still simmering on low heat. The second you lift the lid, the kitchen is filled with the scent of vegetable soup, rich and creamy. You fill a bowl and grab the leftovers of the ciabatta Melissa had made two nights back.

“I added extra pepper for you,” you say as you sit down next to her. The bowl clinks against the table and a few drops flow over the edge into a small puddle. “And there’s a bit of bread left.”

“You’re a godsend,” Melissa says. She pulls the bowl closer and sighs; her first smile of the night, and what a sweet little thing it is. Her eyes flutter closed as she tries a spoonful and doesn’t speak for the following five minutes, which she instead dedicates to inhaling her first meal since lunch.

“What were you doing so late?” you ask once she’s emptied the bowl down to a fifth.

“Grading.” Melissa tears off a piece of bread and dips it into the soup. She takes a bite, barely chews before swallowing, and continues, “Setting up next month’s lesson plan, looking for a math textbook for Amir because the little dip lost his copy, replying to emails.” She sighs. “So many fucking emails.”

“Well, I’m happy you’re home now,” you say. A strand of Melissa’s hair threatens to fall into her bowl and you tuck it back behind her ear, where it belongs. Melissa smiles faintly, even though her shoulders are heavy with exhaustion and her eyes can barely stay open.

She finishes her meal in silence and once she’s done, rises with a grumble to drop her dishes in the sink next to yours; the ones you’d meant to put in the dishwasher an hour ago.

Melissa turns and opens the cabinet only to groan at the sight; breakfast cereals and spices and your growing collection of baking supplies, all stuffed inside with little thought as to how you’re supposed to get anything out.

“Do we have any tea?” Melissa asks and starts to remove things one by one, her left hand held above her head in case something comes tumbling down.

“I think I saw chamomile behind the cake tins.” You get up and drag your chair with you. Sure enough, behind the heart-shaped mold and the powdered sugar is a bag of loose chamomile, still good to go. You hand it to her, and Melissa nods a silent thank you.

The kettle sits by the sink, freshly washed after you’d made yourself a cup of milky oolong earlier today. Melissa fills it with water while you hop down and put the chair back by the table.

The running water mixes with the pouring rain outside and you relish the quiet; the type of silence that Melissa always brings home with her, the kind that feels like its own form of music.

You wrap your arms around her waist as she turns on the stove and bury your nose in her hair.

“I’m so proud of you,” you say, almost kissing the words into the back of her neck. Melissa laughs, hushed and short.

“What for?”

“You do so much for those kids.” You inhale her perfume; the scent is heady and sharp, like ground cinnamon. “They’re everything to you. I love you for it.”

“Come on,” Melissa says. “Everybody does it.”

You turn her around by the hips and press your palms into the counter.

“No, they don’t. There’s plenty of terrible teachers out there and we both know it. You just love doing a really good job.”

Melissa braces herself against the edge of the stove, her fingernails clicking a nervous ta-ta-ta-tap into the ceramic.

“Don’t most people? I mean I just—“

“No.” You kiss the tip of her nose. “You’re brilliant. Incredible. My wonderful Melissa who does the most thankless job in the world for peanuts. You should be on a tropical island somewhere with six hundred free mai tais lined up. And a private pool. You deserve nothing less.”

Melissa averts her eyes and slips past you to the sink. She fishes a glass from the cupboard and fills it with water. She doesn’t drink; only watches the surface without saying a word.

“Melissa?” you ask.

Her cheeks are thinly flushed and she won’t look at you.

“Hey,” you say and take a step to close the distance. “Are you okay? Did I say something?”

“No,” Melissa says weakly. Her eyes flit from you to every corner of the room and then back again. “That’s not it, I’m sorry.”

You close the distance, your hips bumping together, and take her hand into yours. “What’s going on?”

Melissa watches you, conflict carved into her teeth as they gnaw at her lower lip. She puts the glass down and takes a deep breath.

“You’ll think it’s stupid,” she says, and there’s the faint tremor of a laugh in her voice, an attempt at levity to keep the long claws of something serious away from the conversation.

“Why?”

“Because it is.”

You frown. “I highly doubt that.”

Melissa stands in silence for a moment and you wait, nearly breathless, until she finally looks up; right past you and out the window into the brewing storm.

“When you say stuff like that,” she says, slower than usual, like she’s figuring out the words as she goes, “I… I like it.”

It’s an admission of the obvious, the most basic instinct of any person: to desire approval, and she makes it sound like she’s turning herself in for manslaughter.

You take care to keep your voice calm as you say, “Why would I think that’s stupid?”

“I mean,” she says and then pauses for a breath, “I mean I really, really like it.”

You stare at her, confused. The gears in your head turn and turn, and her words roll themselves over, back to front and inside out, until finally, like striking a match, it hits you.

“Oh.”

You remember, then, a moment from two weeks ago, when you were picking Melissa up from work.

You had been standing by the door with your phone in hand, waiting while she packed up, when someone had knocked and gone in; a woman of around 30, probably a parent to one of the students.

You really tried not to eavesdrop, but you were curious; it would be interesting to see Melissa in action instead of hearing a story over dinner, afterwards.

Besides, your stomach was growling and Melissa had promised you a double halloumi burger on the way back and you really just wanted to get going. They wouldn’t take long, right? Better that you’re close by.

The conversation had, luckily, been short, and mostly concerned a Jenna — how she’d be needing a little help catching up once she got back to school after her grandmother’s funeral.

“Thank you so much, Ms. Schemmenti,” the woman had said. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Really, it’s all right. Don’t worry about it.”

“I mean it.” There’d been rustling, and a slightly panicked grunt. Melissa must’ve been caught in a hug. “Good girls like you are few and far between. We’re lucky you happen to be so close by.”

After that the woman had left, even nodded you goodbye as she went. A few minutes later, Melissa had appeared in the doorway, slightly out of breath and her eyes out of focus.

She’d dragged you to your car by the wrist and fucked you silly in the Burger King bathroom.

The kettle’s whistle rips you back into the present like an air raid siren.

Melissa watches you, shoulders squared with tension, an anxious frown strewn across her face. She clears her throat and takes an unsteady step back.

“I knew this was a shit idea,” she says and drops her gaze to the floor. She retreats further, unsure of where to put her hands as they card through her hair, skim her pockets and then finally settle, crossed in front of her like a door slammed into your face. “Forget it, okay. We can pretend this never happened and—“

“No, wait.”

She freezes, one foot over the threshold. You take the screaming kettle off the stove calmly, walk to her in silence and take her face in your hands, your grip firm enough to keep her from looking away.

“You are gorgeous,” you whisper. Melissa follows as you lead her back into the kitchen, one clumsy step at a time. “Every time you smile I think ‘This is it, this is how I’m going to go’. My heart stops and then you laugh, and it starts right back up again.”

Melissa’s back hits the fridge door, and you hear a souvenir magnet clatter against the floor.

“You are a goddess in leather, okay? The jacket and the pants together — Jesus Christ, Melissa.”

She’s very quiet and very still, save for her breathing, short and nearly panicked. The way she stares at you briefly makes you wonder if you’re doing the right thing, if you’re stepping over a line she wasn’t fully ready to cross, but then the corners of her mouth tip slightly upwards, and you know you have to keep going.

“You’re doing so well, honey. This is new to you and you’re scared and a little embarrassed, but you’re being so brave, so attentive and so, so good.”

You kiss her lips once, quick and soft as a feather.

“You’re my good girl, Melissa.”

The earth might as well have split in half with how rapidly the atmosphere changes; something invisible snaps as Melissa takes you by the hair and kisses you breathless.

Her lips are ravenous as she trails a line of sharp, hungry kisses down your neck and with one swift twist it’s your back against the fridge, your head bumping against holiday photos and last week’s grocery list, her leg nudged between yours.

“Please don’t stop,” Melissa whispers and then her teeth pierce the skin right above your collarbone, straddling the edge of just enough and too much. It pulls a thin whine from you, a sound she knows and translates into please dear god keep going.

“You’re being so good, honey.” It’s a struggle, getting a single word out while her hand tears at the buttons of your shirt. “I can’t wait to feel you inside me.”

Melissa’s breath hitches like she’s choking, and the shirt flies open. Your bra is easily pulled out of the way and without warning, Melissa’s lips close around your nipple to gently nibble at it.

She approaches you the same way she would an old recipe; with fierce, familiar warmth, her hands lost in her profound knowledge of your every curve and crevice. She draws a host of gasps from you, hidden into the top of her head as you kiss her hair and hold her even tighter.

Melissa releases your nipple and gives it a slow kiss goodbye, only to nip a line of stinging marks down your ribs, all the way to the top of your jeans. She pauses to dig through her back pocket and pulls out a small, threadbare hair tie.

“Just a second,” she whispers, and sweeps her hair up into a frenzied ponytail. “You ready?”

You smile down at her and brush her cheek with the backs of your fingers. “For you? Always.”

The button of your jeans pops open, the zipper is unzipped, and Melissa pulls everything down with two firm tugs. She rubs her nose against the soft inside of your thigh, breathing slowly and deliberately as she draws out every second to its limit, until you’re close to begging for something, anything.

She looks up and the light hits her eyes just right, makes them come alive like a forest pool dappled with afternoon sunlight, and you’re left breathless.

“I love you,” you say.

Melissa smiles and leans in.

A sob breaks free of your throat and echoes around the room, seeps so deep into the walls that you know you’ll still hear it two weeks from now. Melissa doesn’t treat you to anything but the tip of her tongue, light and barely there, and it is too little and too much at the same time, an impossible sensation she burns right into your nerves.

Melissa presses her hands against the fridge for support and shoves a row of magnets out of the way; the pictures they were holding fly to the floor in a chaotic flurry. She cranes her neck and presses the flat of her tongue against you, and it hits you like a brick, so much after so little.

“You feel so good, honey,” you say between rough breaths. “So, so good.”

Like she’s waiting for it, the tips of her fingers go scaling past your knee and up your thigh, until they’re resting lightly on your pubic bone. She draws a thin line down, down, down until her index finger is gently pressed against velvety heat, and then stops, her head tilted upwards to watch you, patiently waiting.

“Please,” you sigh, “I need—“

Melissa slips two fingers inside, knuckle by knuckle, and drags your trembling whine out, inch by inch. Her rhythm is slow, almost nonexistent as she savors each twitch, each swallowed curse and burdened breath. She leans against you languidly, as if it’s Sunday and she’s leafing through the morning paper, eyes closed and her cheek pressed against your hipbone.

She keeps you rooted to that feeling of home where you don’t have to keep watch over how you sound or look, where the only thing that matters is that you feel safe and loved and good. The pressure of her palm on your waist, her lips, whispering affections like little prayers, her body leaning into yours like this is where you were always both meant to be; it’s all almost too much, like trying to fit lightning in a bottle.

Melissa bends her wrist and beckons. Your knees nearly buckle but she keeps you standing, her hand firmly on the curve of your hip, enough to keep you from tumbling.

“Christ,” you whisper, fuel to the fire. Melissa’s fingers sink until her palm is flush against your skin and she settles into a steady beat, a tempo she reads from your disjointed cries and frantic gasps.

Her hair is slipping out of the tie and you notice a strip of gray, missed by her hairdresser, slide down the slope of her neck and settle on her shoulder. It’s like an ornament, a spot of moss growing on the side of a tree, a flourish bestowed for a life well lived.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” slips out of your mouth before you’ve fully even finished thinking it. Melissa flushes down to the tips of her ears and dips her head back between your thighs, her tongue deft and eager. A shudder shakes your body and you feel yourself drip; you can already imagine Melissa’s hand slick, the sleeve of her shirt soaked.

She pushes deeper and you groan, a garbled, ecstatic sound. Words are almost beyond you at this point, scattered into the wind like leaves in winter, but you still manage to say, “Melissa, my Melissa. You feel so—“ A breath, starving and coarse. “Jesus.”

You can hear Melissa’s unsaid ‘Just me’, can imagine yourself swatting her arm because it is stupid and silly and it makes you laugh in a way that very few things ever have.

Melissa opens her eyes and looks at you, a sloppy smile on her lips and her mascara stained on the left side. She thrusts, pulls you apart like a spool of string even when her wrist must be burning, her jaw sore and strained, but she gives you that small sacrifice in exchange for this, for you, unfurling under her touch.

“Honey, I’m going to—“ Her fingers curl and you feel the twitch all the way in your spine. “Melissa—“

She pulls her face back an inch, jaw glistening and lipstick staining her chin. Wind brushes against the windows with a gentle rumble that clatters the windows in their panes. Melissa catches her breath for only a moment, and then says, “I love you too.”

It’s almost enough on its own.

She falls back into you like she’s drawn by gravity and pushes you to a point where you can’t even think anymore. Her movements are fidgety, impatient; she loses herself in the what, where and how of you, and leaves any notions of composure rotting in the dust.

You grind into her palm right as Melissa tips her head and twists her tongue, gives you everything she possibly has to give and the world disappears into a spinning black hole with you at the center, the solitary singularity that ruptures like a thousand dying suns. You arch your spine and dig in your heels, begging the universe for something to hold onto, and there she is: Melissa Ann Schemmenti with her hand persisting in yours, exactly where you need her.

“I love you,” you cry and the tears come falling, and you let them, despite the tide of embarrassment that follows. “Melissa, I love you, I love you, I love you, you—“

Your knees finally give out and you nearly crash to the floor, but she holds you tight and firm the whole way down. She checks that your back is safely laid against the fridge before pulling her fingers out, drawing out one last shiver from your depleted body.

You notice a faint sheen of tears in her eyes as well, and of all things, a laugh bubbles up from your throat, a wobbly titter that seems to be the only way your body can attempt to parse the tidal wave of emotion still swirling inside.

Melissa smiles at you and then gets off her knees with a hefty ‘Ow’. With her back against the drawers, she pats her open lap and you slump onto her thighs.

Thunder rolls somewhere far above, and the rain falls thicker. You exhale, let your eyelids grow heavy, and you listen. The sky roars and under its boundless weight the trees bow and creak, the wooden swing in the backyard groans in its attempts to stay in its place, and the neighbor’s dog barks ferociously until it’s dragged inside. Above it all is Melissa’s breathing, still slightly labored. It feels like home at its most exposed: the same as her soft snores in the middle of the night, a peal of laughter from the living room, the smell of breakfast when you’re barely awake yet.

Melissa pulls your hair out of your face and starts brushing her fingers through it, tenderly untangling any knots she finds. She sniffs once, and you kiss the top of her thigh.

“What just happened?” she asks, almost childishly, honestly lost.

You turn your head to look at her. “I would say the best sex of my life, but I think you still have a few surprises in you.”

Melissa laughs softly under her breath. “Thanks for listenin’ to me.”

“Of course,” you say. “Thank you for talking to me. I’m so proud of you.”

Her jovial expression very quickly turns a little sour, and she purses her lips.

“You need to tone it down because I can’t go again yet.” She whistles between her teeth. “I haven’t wanted a smoke in six years, but honestly, now would be a really good time.”

“Don’t you dare,” you mutter.

“I’m just sayin’.”

You chuckle and put your head back down. Your eye is drawn to the mess on the floor: the magnets, the pictures, the wood that’s going to get sticky soon.

“We should probably clean up,” you say. Melissa sighs.

“Yeah.” She pats your shoulder and you pull your jeans back up. The zipper gives you some trouble, trembling fingers and all, but you manage to get yourself clothed in a reasonable amount of time. You rise from the floor and your right knee lets out a little pop as you get back on your feet.

Melissa, however, braces her hands against the floor, and then stops with a sharp hiss and a hand on her spine.

“Shit, my back, can you—“

“Of course,” you say, and slide your arms under hers. “Ready?”

You hold her by the shoulders while she wraps herself around you.

“One, two, three.”

You heave yourselves to your feet, but even when she’s securely standing, she doesn’t let go. Her hand is twisted into the back of your shirt and her face lies in the crook of your neck. You feel her lips softly trembling, her breathing coming in and out in small uneven hiccups.

“I love you so much,” she whispers.

You kiss the top of her head. “I love you too.”

You haven’t asked the universe for much, and have received even less; but for this one thing you will keep thanking the powers that be, for as long as you possibly can.

#Melissa Schemmenti x Reader #Melissa Schemmenti/Reader #Melissa Schemmenti #Abbott Elementary #Reader

[blithehearts]

departures to sydney

i didn't think i'd catch myself thinking "oh, X would say this to my mum/dad" before realising X wasn't (physically) present anymore. she's flown off, back to sydney again. the trips to and from the airport yesterday made me feel... a whole lot, some of which i can't explain. i'll catalogue my thoughts here. 01. missing it goes without saying, i think, that i'll miss a whole lot. three months after two whole years simply isn't enough. it felt like i was reliving fragments of my earlier years (year 4, 2022 in particular) when january came. i'll miss: - not having to come home to an empty household - having (bland, as i so often teased but not-so-secretly loved) noodles (with soup and vegetables) after a long day at school, as a late-lunch of sorts; the conversations we'd have over the dinner table, either of us occasionally nursing a coffee or working through an assignment - absolutely brainrotted conversations over nothing in particular. pieck, jean and erwin? having a photoshoot of figurines that looked absolutely nothing like them? hell yeah. (and me dropping the octopus plushie on the ground for her to garble out a strangled 'no' in response; i have no clue how this came about, but i'm endlessly amused) - throwing around random 'domain expansion's, making a nonsensical 'are you X because...', saying out-of-the-blue 'nah i'd win's and 'stand proud's, and having someone on the receiving end who actually gets the reference :') - and this goes without saying, all the conversations about fuck all we'd had. serious ones, hilarious ones, everything in between. we'll have more days, weeks and months to come. it'll be fine. i just need to get used to this feeling again, to the human-sized empty space in the household. it'll be alright. 02. space i want to fly. i really, really want to fly. what i mean is that i want to have time and space alone to grow up–as a teenager, a young adult, an adult. i don't want to be coddled. i'm thankful for all the support my family's provided me, for being a nest of sorts i can return to no matter what happens out there in the open. but god, i want to be independent. and with... all the unresolved trauma of being a first-gen immigrant, all the guilt of moving on and leaving my parents behind, it's tough to expand my social circle. i genuinely feel like moving overseas is the only way i'll be able to explore the world, meet new people and make new friends w/o feeling like i'm leaving some part of my childhood/identity, my parents, behind.

being at the airport yesterday and watching her leave solidified that feeling in me. i do want to leave–not because i detest this place, but because it's a necessary part of growing up, growing into an independent being of my own, in my eyes. hm. i just need to study hard, study like hell, and get the grades needed to get into oxford. i don't want to do my higher education here. i want to leave, once and for all. but i'll resolve to always return periodically. i finally feel somewhat at ease with my family, and i'll cherish that. do my best to maintain that feeling. end. that's all for now. i'll get on with studying now. fingers crossed that by the time my timed practice exams are here, i'll be well on my way to scoring those As.

[cyhyr]

Summer of Whump Day 15: Sleep Deprived

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: G

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi & Umino Iruka; Umino Iruka & Uzumaki Naruto

WC: ~3320

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Notes: AU backstory for the purposes of I Wanted To.

A/N: This is just. I don't even know guys. I started writing and then it got bigger and bigger and I couldn't stop. It's just. A Lot.

~

Kakashi has not been able to take care of his sensei’s child the way he should, the way the boy admittedly deserves; and yes, absolutely, he takes that fault personally but also doesn’t do anything about it because really… what can he provide for this child besides instability? He’s hardly in the village anymore, though Sandaime has hinted that, if Kakashi asked, he could be assigned missions closer to home. Instead, Kakashi does what he can without bothering Naruto or letting the boy realize that he even exists. He ensures the bills are paid up in six-month increments, and has the utility companies know to charge to his personal account anything he misses due to being out on mission. He provides non-perishable groceries, placed in the pantry late at night every month or so: oats, rice, dried or tinned meats, beans and legumes. He’ll bring a small selection of vegetables with him at the same time, (no more than three or four items, so they don’t rot before Naruto feels obligated to eat them) usually pilfered from Gai’s garden so he knows they’re not poisoned.

And whenever he’s in the village, he makes a stop at Naruto’s apartment at least once to check in on the wards wrapped into the walls and window frames.

This is how he learns about Umino Iruka and the interest he’s taken in the village jinchūriki.

~

The wards when he gets to Minato’s son’s apartment this time are different. Odd. Not… well, actually, they might be stronger; Kakashi glances at the walls with the sharingan and finds himself mildly impressed. Whoever placed these wards knew about the ones Kakashi put up, and modified their own to augment and strengthen Kakashi’s.

Kakashi says modified because he’s seen these styles of wards before, but never used like this. The key in the front door jingles a bit, like the person unlocking the door knows Kakashi’s in here and is giving him time to leave. Kakashi takes the out for what it is and slips out the window, closing it quietly behind him. He stays plastered against the wall beside the window for a moment, however, wanting to get a glimpse of who’s taking care of his sensei’s kid in Kakashi’s stead.

The door opens and Naruto—gods, how old is he, seven? Eight?—barrels by the figure in the doorway with a grin and shoots straight for the pantry.

“Naruto-kun, take your sandals off first. I mopped for you just earlier this week, I’m not doing it again so soon.”

One arm balancing a paper bag of fresh groceries, a leather school bag over the same shoulder; hitai-ate and vest both neat, but his sleeves and pants legs are scuffed; and his fingers carry the faint dusting of chalk that hours of holding ingrains and a quick wash won’t wipe away. A teacher.

“Iruka-sensei, I can mop later; I’m hungry now!”

“I won’t ask you twice.” The man—this Iruka-sensei—walks barefoot through the apartment and sets the grocery bag down on the kitchen table. Naruto hangs his head and goes back to the door, and once he’s out of the room, Iruka looks at the window Kakashi is peeking in, scowling initially. The scowl lessens when he sees the Konoha ANBU mask, and he nods, but makes a slight shoo gesture.

“What’re we making tonight, sensei?” Naruto bounds back into the room, barefoot as his sensei.

“I’m thinking of teaching you breakfast for dinner,” Iruka says. “Miso soup, tamagoyaki, steamed salmon; how’s that sound?”

“Sounds great!”

“And if we make enough, you’ll have enough for the morning, too,” Iruka ruffles Naruto’s hair. “Go grab out the rice and we’ll get started, okay?”

Kakashi leaves. Iruka-sensei seems to have only good intentions.

~

Iruka is a new teacher, one that (if the very quiet rumors are to be believed) didn’t initially want to be the jinchūriki’s homeroom teacher. Something changed his mind, clearly, and now he’s spending every moment outside of class with the kid.

Every. Moment.

Kakashi notices the third time he’s in the village after meeting Iruka—notices how tired the man seems. He follows the teacher from just before dawn when he wakes up and heads out to Naruto’s apartment and fixes him breakfast. Kakashi watches Iruka herd Naruto around the apartment, brushing teeth, getting changed, gods Naruto where’s your homework I told you to put it right back in your bag last night after I helped you with it. Then they’re out the door and one of them locks the deadbolt while the other activates the wards (Iruka always double-checks the wards if Naruto does them) and they walk to the Academy together.

Iruka spends the day in the Academy staunchly refusing to play favorites. If Kakashi didn’t know that the man had made Naruto eat breakfast while searching for a clean shirt for the child to wear, he’d swear Naruto was Iruka’s least favorite student—based solely on the amount of yelling.

But the two of them have lunch together, talk and hang out during recess unless Iruka shoos him away to play, and then they walk together to either Iruka’s or Naruto’s apartment after school. Sometimes they’ll go out for ramen, or to one of the training grounds to work on a technique they started in class which Naruto needs more time to fully grasp. Iruka is a patient teacher, especially one-on-one, and even though Minato-sensei’s son doesn’t perform well on the tests in school he learns the techniques after class and gains the appropriate muscle memory.

Which is admittedly much more important than the grades Naruto earns. Iruka won’t say as much, but it’s obvious that he agrees when his teaching style puts emphasis on practicals rather than paper tests. Kakashi approves.

After a day of minding twenty-five ankle-biters, an afternoon of extra training for the village jinchūriki, and an evening of making sure Naruto is fed and happy and his homework is completed to the best of his ability, Iruka then helps Naruto get ready for bed. Against the kid’s token protests, they’ll read a story together (Kakashi suspects Iruka does this because Naruto’s reading skills are lacking, but he could also very well just be doing it because he enjoys it—the man’s motives are enigma to him) and Iruka will tuck Naruto in. He stays at the apartment until he knows Naruto is asleep, tidying up here and there or even just leaning in the bedroom doorway watching the jinchūriki’s chest rise and fall.

Only when Naruto’s asleep will Iruka leave, activating the wards and locking up after himself.

It took only two times of Kakashi watching these kinds of days go by before he realized that Iruka knew he had been watched all day. As he passes the tree outside of Naruto’s building, the only one that reaches high enough to afford a glance into his apartment, Iruka looks right up into the limbs where Kakashi is crouched, waves, and continues back to his own home.

(He had been underestimating Umino Iruka’s awareness. He’s intrigued.)

(But anyway.)

Once he’s home, Iruka rushes through grading and lesson plans and adjustments. He makes lunch for himself and Naruto for tomorrow. Cleans, if he remembers; showers, if he has any energy left. Then, Umino-sensei crashes hard around one or two in the morning.

All to start over again at five-thirty the next morning.

It can’t be sustainable. Kakashi is morbidly interested in how long Iruka planned to keep up this kind of schedule.

~

It starts out with checking out during lunch. Kakashi is lounging in the trees on the Academy grounds, pretending to read but listening intently to Naruto ramble on about some new topping Ichiraku is introducing on Friday and please Iruka-sensei can we go? Then the soft click of dropped chopsticks against a bento box made Kakashi look down to the pair sitting at the base of his tree.

“Iruka-sensei? Are you—?”

“Oh, I’m. I’m alright.” Iruka laughs it off, fumbling for his chopsticks. “I was just thinking too hard there.”

“You shouldn’t do that!”

“Hu—?”

“You tell me not to think too hard all the time,” Naruto pouts. “That I’ll hurt myself.”

Iruka’s laugh crinkles his eyes and he tips his head back. “Gods, Naruto, I’m sorry—no, not—um. Listen, forget it, okay? Ramen, on Friday, right?”

“YES!”

And it was forgotten. Except, Iruka is unconsciously rubbing his fingers together beside his hip and Kakashi can see it. Something happened to force the drop—likely, he lost feeling in his hand briefly.

~

Kakashi’s out of the village as it gets worse, but he hears all about it from Shikaku and Inoichi when he gets back. They’re in the hallway outside the Hokage’s office, talking in low tones like they were discussing an attack on the village.

“What could cause such a serious mood shift?”

“Genjutsu; one of the other teachers sabotaging him; another student practicing poorly.”

“Iruka-sensei?” Kakashi asks.

Both men look at him as he approaches. He’s still in his ANBU armor, but the mask is in his locker. It’s an open secret he’s in ANBU; only his codename is high-clearance.

Shikaku nods. “Shikamaru’s complaining about the man’s temper being shorter than usual.”

“My Ino confirmed this behavior shift. We’re understandably worried, if someone if trying to use an Academy teacher to attack the kids—”

Kakashi shakes his head. “It’s not that.”

“And you would know?” Shikaku prompts.

“He’s taking care of Naruto,” Kakashi shrugs. “It’s probably catching up with him, finally.”

“What is?” Inoichi looks honestly confused.

Kakashi tilts his head and then realizes. “Ah. That’s right. You’re both married. You have a way to share the responsibilities.”

Sakumo hadn’t ever been irate with him, but Kakashi can remember him being tired. He lifts his hand and walks away. “I’ll see if I can’t have a talk with Iruka-sensei,” he says, as though he speaks with the man on a regular basis instead of just waving back from his shadowed space in the tree at night when Iruka leaves Naruto.

~

He doesn’t get a chance to talk to Iruka for weeks. When he gets back, it finally comes to a head.

Kakashi is perched outside Iruka’s apartment where he and Naruto are preparing their dinner. Naruto, still talking a mile a minute, hardly notices that Iruka is dazed at the counter, his hands going through the motions of peeling carrots and separating pieces of broccoli without being fully cognizant. He’s much paler than the last time Kakashi peeked in on them—all except for the bags under his eyes; those couldn’t get much darker if they were black.

He flinches forward as Iruka drifts to the side. Naruto catches his teacher before Kakashi can take a step, and the clang of a knife hitting the floor is more than a little startling. Together, they stick Iruka’s hand under running water from the tap, and then Naruto disappears further into the apartment and returns a few seconds later with a first aid kit.

“What was that about, Iruka-sensei?”

Iruka takes a bit to answer. “I haven’t been sleeping well,” he says. “I’m a bit tired, that’s all. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Naruto says. He finishes caring for his sensei and then says, “How about I go get some take-out, and then we can clean up and you can go to bed?”

Iruka smiles tiredly. “We can bring the take-out to your place, okay? I’ll clean up when I come back home.”

“But—”

“It’s okay, Naruto,” Iruka puts his unbandaged hand in Naruto’s hair. “I’d rather make sure you’re fed and well-rested for school tomorrow. That’s what's important.”

“You’re important, too, sensei,” Naruto says.

Kakashi can’t help but agree.

“Let’s go get some ramen, and we can argue about this later.”

Kakashi flashes away to Ichiraku to put in their order and pay. It’s the least he can do, right?

Later that night, Iruka leaves Naruto’s apartment and like always, lifts his head to wave up at Kakashi in the tree. Only, his eyes roll back with the movement of lifting his head and his knees collapse under him and Kakashi makes it just in time to keep the sensei’s head from hitting the ground. He catches Iruka with one hand under his back and the other cupped behind his head and eases him down against his raised knee.

As soon as Iruka is horizontal, his eyes flutter back open. “Oh, ANBU-san,” he mutters. He’s dazed and foggy, but tries to stand up on his own anyway.

“Sensei, are you well?” Kakashi asks, knowing the answer but needing Iruka to admit it.

Iruka waves him away. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

It’s more than that if you’re slipping into micro-sleep, Kakashi thinks, but lets the man stubbornly stand up. He’s still holding his hands out, ready to catch him again, when after five paces Iruka tips sideways and falls again. Kakashi keeps him upright this time, arms tight around his waist and back.

Iruka stays under for a few seconds this time, and when he wakes he leans more heavily into Kakashi’s armor and groans. “What’s happening?” he murmurs.

Normally, he would stay and look after Naruto all night, but this seems more important. “Umino-sensei, I’m going to see you to the hospital now,” he says.

“But… Naruto?”

Because of course Iruka figured out that Kakashi—his ANBU persona at least—stays close to Naruto at all times. “Together, our wards are top-notch, sensei,” Kakashi says. “He’ll be okay for a night.” He slips Iruka onto his back, pulling his arms over his shoulders. Iruka’s light breath huffs past his ear as he says, “Hold on.” Then, they’re gone.

~

Iruka wakes up much later, Naruto tipped against his hospital bed, snoring. He feels so much better after however many hours of sleep he’s gotten. He wonders briefly why he’s here, and where the ANBU that brought him here is. If Naruto is here, that ANBU is likely closeby. Iruka lets out a jaw-cracking yawn and settles back down on the pillow to sleep some more.

When he wakes up the second time, it’s because he has to pee so bad oh gods. It’s night time and Naruto is gone—Iruka tries not to feel disappointed. His legs shake under him when he tries to stand to get to the restroom; whatever’s wrong with him, it’s making him weak as a newborn but he will not embarrass himself by not making it to the toilet. He pushes chakra through his legs, and, finally, blissfully, makes it.

He gets a good look at himself in the mirror as he’s washing his hands. His eyes are puffy and red, but he has some color back in his skin. His hair could use a wash and some heavy conditioning—he hadn’t had time for that in awhile. All in all, it’s not bad; but he’s still wondering why he’s here.

Iruka leaves the restroom and is halfway across the room to his bed when his chakra flares unexpectedly. He stumbles, collapses, and feels his eyes blur and begin to roll back.

Before his head can hit the tile, he’s caught and cushioned by Naruto’s ANBU. The ANBU gently picks him up, one arm under his knees and the other around his back, and it’s like Iruka weighs nothing as the ANBU stands and carries him back to bed.

“Thank-you, ANBU-san,” Iruka says, flushed. “I promise I’m not usually so weak.”

The ANBU fusses with the blanket and covers Iruka back up. He (Iruka assumes they’re a he, the voice and height lead him to believe it but he’s been wrong before) seems frustrated, in the way that ANBU show frustration: by being busy, and then by being absolutely still. He’ll make sure the water pitcher is full, and then stand silently by the window for a few seconds. Pace the width of the room from window to door and back, and then stand at the end of the bed.

“What’s going on, ANBU-san? Is Naruto—?”

“Uzumaki-kun is safe, healthy, and well-cared for,” the ANBU says, cutting him off. “You are a godsend to this village, if only to care for the uncared for.”

Iruka glowers. “Someone had to do it. He’s seven years old and living alone and has lived alone his entire life. I couldn’t—”

“I’m aware,” the ANBU holds up a hand to stop his rant. “Believe me, if I could have done more, I would have. But an ANBU is no role model, especially not me. I’m glad he’s had you. That said.” The ANBU somehow matched Iruka’s glower through the mask; he was suddenly glad for all the time spent in Sandaime’s office around the ANBU that he can pick up on these micro-aggressions for what they are.

Iruka folds his arms and waits for the ANBU to continue.

After a heavy sigh, the ANBU says, “Sleep deprivation.”

“I—what?”

“What you’re here for. You’ve been running yourself into the ground, sensei. You slept for twenty-two hours, and you’re still not fully recovered. The medics say it could take up to a week of proper sleep for you to feel normal again.”

Iruka flushes and ducks his head. “I… But, that doesn’t…”

“How much sleep have you been getting? Three, Four hours a night? And then you’re exhausting yourself all day looking after pre-genin and then Naruto.” The ANBU folds his arms. “This isn’t sustainable.”

“I know that. I just.” Iruka groans. “I don’t have time for—” He scrubs both hands across his eyes. Now that he’s actually gotten some sleep he’s really tired. “No one else takes care of him, not the way he needs it; he’s just a kid! It bothers me enough that he lives by himself—”

“Your immune system was compromised when you arrived, sensei.” The ANBU snapped, quieting Iruka’s tirade. “Who’s going to take care of Naruto the way he deserves if you’re stuck on your back with a perfectly, normally treatable form of the flu? What will happen to him if you critically injure yourself due to a micro-sleep at an inopportune time and find yourself off-roster for weeks? What then, sensei?”

The silence is heavy. Iruka picks at a stray thread in the blanket on his lap.

“I don’t know,” he answers, his voice small. “I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking that far ahead, I guess.”

The ANBU nods. “At least you’re aware now.”

There’s a long, awkward pause as Iruka wonders what else there is to say.

“You have a spare room in your apartment, yes?” the ANBU breaks the silence.

Iruka nods, slowly, not sure where this is going.

“Maybe…” the ANBU continues slowly, “maybe changes in Naruto’s living arrangements can be made. If Naruto were living with you, could you agree to a better sleep schedule—one with which you can better take care of yourself and Naruto?”

Iruka could kiss this man.

“Yes! Yes, please, I’ll—yes! I’ll take him, even if it means I have to lose him as a student, I’d take him as a foster.”

The ANBU chuckles. “I’ll speak with the Hokage. If he says no, well… There’s nothing saying that Naruto himself can’t choose where he lives, is there?” Then his micro-aggression is back, leaning over the foot of the bed with his arms wide. “My only stipulation is that you take better care of yourself. A sick guardian can’t very well keep up with any child, let alone a jinchūriki.”

Iruka nods. “Deal.” He covers a yawn with his palm and asks, “Can this taking care of myself clause start now, with me asking you to leave so I can go back to sleep?”

“I’m not leaving,” the ANBU says, standing back up straight. “If you’re to be the guardian of our jinchūriki, you’ll need to get used to the ANBU guard, sensei. But please, get some sleep.” He chuckles lightly, “I think I’ve caught you enough in the last thirty-six hours, don’t you?”

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump15 #sleep deprived #fanfic #hatake kakashi #umino iruka #uzumaki naruto #my writing

[ibijau]

Worst engagement AU // on AO3

Jin Zixuan, without meaning to, seems to have acquired a friend.

Out of everything they learn in the Cloud Recesses, Jin Zixuan finds etiquette lessons to be the most useless. He knows how to conduct himself. Unlike some people, his parents made sure to properly educate him even before he came to this place. In fact, early on he wrote to his mother so she would request that he be excused from etiquette lessons. She answered that since he is so wise already, she expects him to have perfect grades in that subject, or else. 

With that threat still in mind, Jin Zixuan pays extra attention to the lecture today, never once looking away from Lan Qiren. This is helped by the fact that there's nobody to pester him today, since Nie Huaisang is sitting near Jiang Cheng at the moment. Good for him. Jin Zixuan doesn't want to deal with him anyway, not after being stood up yesterday. 

Not that Jin Zixuan cares about that. He never actually agreed when Nie Huaisang announced he'd be dropping by the Jin cabin after his much reviled weekly meeting with Lan Xichen. In fact, Jin Zixuan explicitly told the other boy not to bother. And so, Nie Huaisang didn't come. Which is good. It's about time Nie Huaisang learned to respect boundaries.

Too bad boundaries make for boring days. 

The morning lecture drags on and on and on. Jin Zixuan thinks he can see movement coming from the direction where Nie Huaisang is sitting, and he's almost sure he hears his name called out once in a loud whisper, but he ignores that. He's not this desperate for attention, and some people here are serious, diligent students. 

When finally they are freed for lunch, Jin Zixuan doesn't even have time to rise up before Nie Huaisang flops onto his desk with a pout. 

"Jin-xiong, didn't you see me waving at you earlier?" 

"I didn't. I was listening to Master Lan." 

"Liar," Nie Huaisang accuses with a grin, stretching like a cat over the desk. "I watched you, you were almost falling asleep. Jin-xiong, are you angry at me for yesterday? It's not my fault you know, stuff happened. I'll tell you about it while we go to lunch. I am so cross at Lan Xichen!" 

"You always are," Jin Zixuan retorts. "Isn't this your day with Jiang gongzi anyway?" 

It's not a formal arrangement, but usually Nie Huaisang alternates between spending time with Jiang Cheng on one day, and pestering Jin Zixuan the other. Yesterday should have been Jin Zixuan's day, so today ought to be Jiang Cheng's. It's not a bad system, though it reminds Jin Zixuan of home in ways he doesn't quite like. 

Nie Huaisang shrugs and fiddles with his fan, glaring at Jiang Cheng who is leaving with the other boys of his sect. 

"Since there's a test coming, he said he wants to study," he grumbles. "Grades don't even really matter! I swear, he's too serious. And I have no intention to be serious whatsoever, so I'm going to stay with you this afternoon. You're not planning on studying, right?" 

"Maybe I am." 

"Then I'll have to convince you otherwise," Nie Huaisang retorts, grabbing Jin Zixuan's arm by the elbow and pulling him up as he rises. 

Resistance is futile. Nie Huaisang is surprisingly strong, even though he's shorter than anyone in their class. Jin Zixuan tries to at least get his arm back, in vain. They are still elbow to elbow as they start walking toward the dining halls. 

"So, did it go badly with Lan Xichen yesterday?" Jin Zixuan asks, even though he knows that he's exposing himself to a three hours lecture on everything that's hateful about Lan Xichen. He's not concerned about what might have pushed Nie Huaisang to cancel their plans without warning, just… curious.

"I don't even want to talk about it," Nie Huaisang sighs. "He was almost nice at first, you know. I mean, actually nice, like a real person. He smiled!" 

"Isn't he always smiling?" 

"A real smile! A human smile, like he was happy to chat! And I almost had fun!" 

"How dreadful," Jin Zixuan mutters, rolling his eyes. "You, having fun with your own fiancé. I can't imagine what that's like."

"Watch what you say," Nie Huaisang warns. 

Jin Zixuan grimaces and nods. It has been made clear to him that he's allowed to complain about his now dropped engagement in general, but cannot say anything against Jiang Yanli personally. Nie Huaisang is rarely serious, but Jin Zixuan has a feeling that for this, he would be. 

"So we were very nearly having fun," Nie Huaisang resumes as they get close to the dining halls. "But then I tried to help him paint something, and so I took his hand, and I swear, you’d think a worm had fallen on his hand. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone more disgusted. Can you believe that? I know he doesn’t like me, but that was rude.”

“Did he say he was disgusted?”

“Oh, you should have seen his face. No doubt possible. What else could it have been, anyway?”

Jin Zixuan doesn’t answer right away. What else, indeed?

Last time Jin Zixuan visited Lotus Piers with his mother, Jiang Yanli noticed a scratch on his hand, from sparring a little too intensely with her little brother. It was nothing big, but she’d seen it anyway and, as if it had been the most natural thing in the world, she had taken his hand to inspect it and offered to clean it. Her fingers had been gentle, and her voice soothing, and she’d seemed genuinely worried for him, so of course Jin Zixuan had panicked. He had pushed her away, saying something about his cultivation being more than good enough that such a small wound didn’t matter to him like it would have mattered to her. His tone must have been really bad because she had cried, and then her idiot brothers had run to the rescue, and everything had been such a huge mess that Jin Zixuan had come out of it more convinced than ever that he hated that whole family.

All because Jiang Yanli was nice to him, and he never knew how to handle that.

He wonders if Lan Xichen too is the sort to panic. It doesn’t seem likely, everyone always praises his calm, but honestly Jin Zixuan has heard the same thing said about himself. He knows the worth of people's praises of an influential young master.

“Maybe he likes you and was secretly flustered,” Jin Zixuan hazards.

Without surprise, Nie Huaisang starts laughing at the suggestion, a little too loud for the dining halls which they’ve just reached. It attracts the attention of a few Lans, including Lan Xichen himself who stares at them with a blank face. Since he has a sense of propriety, unlike some people, Jin Zixuan tries to free himself from Nie Huaisang’s hold. It still doesn’t work. Nie Huaisang keeps him close, which probably should annoy him more than it does, and pulls him toward some empty seats. Only then does Nie Huaisang finally let go of his elbow.

“I miss eating real food,” Nie Huaisang says, pouting at their meal of rice, boiled vegetables, and bitter soup.

“Sometimes I think I’m forgetting the taste of meat,” Jin Zixuan agrees, poking at the cabbage in his bowl before making an effort and eating it. 

It’s exactly as tasteless as he expected. He’s used to the rich, heavy foods of Carp Tower, and these few months in the Cloud Recesses have been a torture.

“We should go to Gusu one afternoon,” Nie Huaisang suggests, making no effort to eat anything. No wonder he’s so small if he’d rather starve than swallow something he doesn’t like. “It’s been a while, and if we fly, we can be there for dinner and still get back before curfew.”

“Don’t you hate flying?”

“I do. But for a chance to eat something that actually has a taste, I’d even crawl,” Nie Huaisang mutters. “I miss the food from home. Our cook makes that soup in winter, it’s the best thing ever. It’s just so good, there are no words. You’ll see when you come visit.”

“Who said I’d come?” Jin Zixuan protests.

Nie Huaisang laughs, still too loud for this place, and forces himself to bite a piece of mushroom.

“Of course you’ll come, and we’ll have a ton of fun. Qinghe is the best place in the world, and we have the best food in the world, you’ll love it. And Carp Tower isn’t very far, it’d be easy. Jiang Cheng has promised already that he’ll come with Wei Wuxian, and they’re much further away. If they can come, so can you.”

“Telling me they’ll be there does not make it very appealing,” Jin Zuxian points out.

“I’m not stupid, I won’t let you come at the same time. Not until I’ve gotten all of you to get along,” Nie Huaisang threatens.

At least, it feels like a threat to Jin Zixuan. He doesn’t think Nie Huaisang could manage that, because Jin Zixuan believes the Jiang boys are two horrid little beasts with no respect who need to have manners beaten into them, while they’ve made it clear they're convinced he’s stuck up and boring. There’s just no common ground to be found.

Then again, not long ago Jin Zixuan wouldn’t have thought he’d ever have common ground with Nie Huaisang either.

“I’ll have to see if my father allows it,” Jin Zixuan conceded. “If he does, I might visit you.”

“And if he doesn’t, then I’ll be the one coming to Carp Tower,” Nie Huaisang retorts. “I bet there’s a lot of fun to be had there too.”

“I didn’t invite you.”

“I’m inviting myself. Come on, Jin-xiong. I’m the funniest person you know. Of course you’ll want to see me again after this. Who else can you chat with? Jin Zixun?”

Jin Zixuan huffs in disdain at the idea. His cousin is a tolerable companion for Night Hunts, and because they’re so closely related they’ve always spent a lot of time together, but they only mildly get along. If they had any other choice of friends, Jin Zixuan is sure they’d have fallen apart long ago.

They might, now that Jin Zixuan does have someone whose company he does enjoy, even if he’s reluctant to admit as much. And if Nie Huaisang comes, they can visit bookstores to hunt for poetry, peruse his home's vast library and gardens, or go visit the goldsmiths and cloth merchants of Lanling.

It’s not an unpleasant thought.

Maybe Jin Zixuan will write to his father, asking both to be allowed to visit Qinghe and to have a guest now and then. Or better yet, he’ll write to his mother, since she’s the one who is most likely to spare a moment to give him that permission. Stern as she is, his mother would certainly be happy to hear he’s made a friend.

#xisang #worst engagement au #jau writes #listen jzx is a tsundere through and through even about having friends #mdzs #yes jc and jzx are divorced parents sharing a child but if you ask them they dont want the child anyway lol

[greekletters]

it’s that time again..

Here’s the next one shot! Also posted to AO3 and FF.net for those who follow there. 

Prompt: Stop trying to cheer me up. 

It’s monos, as always.  ---------------------------

It had been nearly a week. The entire team had been walking on eggshells. All because of this stupid Dust Theory exam.

The exam that Weiss Schnee failed.

But it hadn't been one of those nearly there failures where you scored ten percent or less from a passing grade. No, it was one of the ones where your first answer determined whether you got the rest of the questions right. And Weiss got the first question wrong. So she ended up getting all the questions wrong.

After Goodwitch had returned the exams back to you, there was that moment of initial shock. The 'how could Ruby AND Yang score higher than Weiss?' kind of shock. You know, the one that no one has ever experienced before and probably will never again.

Once that had settled down, Weiss seemingly entered into some really odd form of a grieving process. What was she grieving for exactly? Who knows, at this point it might as well be your sanity. Because it was all downhill from there.

Of course there had been the obvious denial that she got the question wrong, that the exam was flawed. That somehow all of you but her managed to get the same answer, but hers was actually the correct one.

There were also some short lived attempts at trying to bargain with Goodwitch. All of which were futile. "The results are final, Miss Schnee." That was the response when she asked to retake the exam. Or when she offered to correct the exam and hand it back in for partial credit. "The results are final, Miss Schnee." Every. Single. Time.

And you had done your best to try and help her work through this. But she wanted no assistance getting over her loss.

"It's just one exam Weiss. It's not the end of the world. We have four more exams left in the semester. You have plenty of time to boost your grade."

"Blake, you have no idea what this does to my average! It will literally destroy my untarnished record."

"How terrible that must be." You cared that she was upset. You just thought her reasoning was a little ridiculous.

Striving for and expecting to achieve academic perfection was a little unreasonable of a goal to have. No one was perfect. Not even Weiss Schnee, although you would fight anyone that attempted to suggest otherwise.

"Do you understand how this looks?"

"Like you made one mistake, just like any of us could have just as easily made?"

"Not just that! I am a Schnee. I failed a Dust Theory exam. My family IS Dust Theory."

"So, you basically failed yourself twice?"

That was the absolute worst thing you could've possibly said. Because the onslaught of tears and boisterous sobbing that followed was heart wrenching.

From there, Weiss sank down into the gutter of depression. She barely ate anything. She slept all day when you all weren't in class. She didn't talk to any of you unless it was some mumble of yes, no, thank you or no thank you.

And you had to give Ruby and Yang credit. At first they respected her space. Ruby brought Weiss coffee every morning. Sometimes she drank it, sometimes not. She reminded Weiss to shower and take care of herself.

And Gods bless Yang. It took all she had to just be quiet. And she did it for a solid four days. She didn't bother Weiss at all. No puns. No shoulder bumps. No outrageous gestures of any kind.

And you, you just gave her space. Any attempt to ask if she was alright or needed anything was always met with a hushed "no" or "I'm fine."

But silence is temporary. Very temporary if Yang Xiao Long is nearby. So when the three of you are sitting at the lunch table together on the fifth day of The Silent Schnee, Yang finally breaks.

"I can't do it anymore."

"No one is making you eat vegetable soup. There were plenty of other options." You gesture towards the food line with your spoon before dipping it back into your own soup.

"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about Weiss."

"I agree." Ruby's participation pulls your attention from your soup and up to the table in front of you. "It's unnatural for me to have to remind Weiss to study and do her homework. It needs to stop. We have to do something."

"See? Helping Weiss wins, two to one. You're outvoted, Blake."

"I never voted. I'm abstaining. You two can do whatever you like. Just don't come crying to me when she freezes you to a wall, or sets your hair on fire." You grab your tray from the table and start to make your way to the trash to clean up after yourself.

"Oh come on Blake, you aren't going to help us at all?"

"Ruby is Weiss' partner. She should be able to handle it. And you, well, just good luck."

"I know I'm her teammate and combat partner but you're her…"

"Her what?" You look at Ruby, unamused by her not so subtle suggestion.

"What Ruby is trying to say is, you are Weiss' non combat partner."

"Ha. Well, since I'm non combative, I'll be in the library."

The days that followed were filled with over the top gestures of kindness, jokes, puns, tons of junk food and overall loudness. All of which seemed to do nothing but agitate a stoic and ever silent Weiss.

Honestly, it was annoying you. So you could only imagine what it was doing to Weiss. She had repeatedly asked that Yang lay off. And insisted that Ruby not bother. Then finally, one day when you were returning from the library late one evening, you hear it. The moment you knew would happen.

"Quit it Yang! Enough is enough." You can hear Weiss' voice echo down the entire hallway. "Let me go!"

"Nope. Sometimes you just need someone to hug you when you're sad! I'm not gonna let go until you say you aren't sad."

"I'm not sad, I'm FURIOUS!"

Ruby's voice cautiously fills the air.

"Maybe, Yang maybe you should just let her go?"

You can see the eyes of Nora and Jaune peeking through a sliver of a crack in the doorway of the room across the hall from your own. And you can hear what you are fairly sure is Pyrrha trying to pull them away, insisting they not be so nosy.

You roll your eyes to yourself as you slowly open the door to your room, trying to balance the books you have in your other arm as you push the door open.

When you step into the room you see what looks like the aftermath of a war. Stuff is everywhere, books on the floor, the curtains and corners of the bedposts look like they've briefly caught fire at some point, and there's coffee spilled all over the desk. You remain in the door way because you aren't really sure where to go.

"Stop trying to cheer me up!" Weiss yells as she squirms to get out of Yang's grasp.

"If I let you go, will you stop setting stuff on fire?"

"Fine!"

Any other time, you would've believed Weiss would honor her word. But as soon as Yang releases her from her bear hug, all you see are shards of ice heading directly for you from out of clouds of dust.

Without thinking, you use your semblance and end up landing halfway on a pile of books. Next thing you know, you scream out as you slip and fall to the ground. Reaching out for anything that can break your fall. Only finding the edge of an open dresser drawer, which follows you down to the ground. Which is where you lay, groaning in pain with multiple books underneath you, the ones you were carrying are now covering your body and the drawer you dislodged lays beside you, broken into three pieces.

"Oh Gods! Blake!" You hear Weiss call out as you close your eyes.

"Good job Snowflake! You killed my best friend."

"Are you okay, Blake?" Ruby calls out to you. And all you can do is give her a small thumbs up, not even bothering to open your eyes.

When you finally do open your eyes, you see Weiss kneeling down beside you, with Ruby and Yang standing over you, behind Weiss. There is a look of concern on the sisters' faces. But Weiss has her lips pursed together like she's, wait, is she laughing?

She grabs onto your hand and pulls it to her chest, leaning her head back as she continues laughing. Yang exchanges a worried glance with Ruby.

"I think you broke her, Blake."

"I think the only thing I broke is my back. Maybe my ribs. I can't tell. It all hurts." Weiss begins to pull the books off of you as she continues to giggle. Once you can sit upright, she stands up and offers you her hand and helps pull you from the floor to your feet. "I'm glad my clumsiness has provided the necessary humor to knock you out of your funk, but can you please help me get to the nurse's office?"

"Of course." She says, sliding her hand around to the other side of your waist to help support your weight.

"Do you want me to help? I can carry you."

"I think you've done more than enough helping today, Yang. You and Ruby have Grimm Studies homework that's due tomorrow and I know for a fact that neither of you have even started."

"Old Weiss has returned." Ruby says, throwing her fist into the air in victory.

"And the two of you can clean this mess up while we are gone too."

"Oh yeah, Weiss is definitely back to her old self. No fun." Yang mumbles as the two of you make your way down the hall towards the nurse's office.

"You don't have to help me walk, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? That fall was pretty bad."

You take an agile jump forward. Completely unharmed by your fall. The benefits of Aura.

"Blake Belladonna," she fakes a gasp, "were you faking it?"

"Maybe?" You give her a smirk. "But I got you to hold my hand."

"Look at you, ever so sneaky."

"I also have some good news for you." Your smirk turns into a full blown smile.

"And what would that be?"

"I talked Goodwitch into dropping our lowest test grade of the semester." You nudge your shoulder against hers.

"Are you serious? How?"

"It took me a while to convince her. I prepared a speech and demonstrated the benefits and how the alleviation of stress helps students perform better over the duration of the semester and some other stuff that I found while I researched in the library."

"You did research for me? How sweet."

"Well, you are Ruby's combat partner. But as Yang likes to say, you are my non combat partner."

"That's quite suggestive, though not inaccurate."

"I'm sorry that I said you failed yourself. It was thoughtless and I didn't intend to upset you."

"Thank you. Although I must admit, your apology is mostly unnecessary. If only for the fact that I grossly overreacted the past week. Being overdramatic doesn't suit me. Far too much work."

"So you think we can stop by the cafeteria on the way to the library, or is that far too much work too?"

"Absolutely not, I'm starving."

"I'm not really hungry, but I'd love something to drink."

"Coffee?" You roll your eyes, knowing she's just teasing.

"Tea."

#rwby monochrome #rwby checkmate #rwby fanfiction #rwby #blake belladonna #weiss schnee

[thebarefootking]

Food

As with many autistic people, my childhood was rife with battles at the dinner table over what I would and would not eat. (Or, in my case, the bar. Our trailer didn't have a dinner table, per se, and I ate on a tall chair in the kitchen, facing across the bar toward the living room TV, while my parents sat on the couch.) Some foods were fan favorites, some I wouldn't touch with a ten-foot fork. Tomatoes, I hated (and still hate!) One of my earliest memories is of a preschool teacher, so much bigger than me, coming up behind while I picked at my food.

"Don't you like tomatoes?"

"No. They're gross."

"Have you ever tried a tomato?"

"No. They smell bad and they're mushy."

"Well how do you know you don't like it, if you haven't tasted it?" she asked, ignoring the fact I'd just told her. "Try it. For me?"

"I don't wanna."

"Just one bite?"

"I don't. wanna."

"You need to try the tomato."

Of course, when I finally gave in to her badgering, I 'learned' what had already been apparent to me: tomatoes were gross.

Some foods, more interestingly, were one-day delights, preferred a couple times and then hated thereafter. Eggs, for example, were always a trial. A nice scramble was always accepted, at least for my youngest years, until I learned more about where eggs came from. After that, I swore I could taste the chicken embryos, and I didn't eat eggs for a good, long while. When I repented of my folly, fried eggs were the dish of the day, but only one way: cooked hard, with the yolk unbroken. That way, I could peel the egg white away and eat it, and leave the whole yolk on my plate to be disposed of or, more frequently, eaten by one of my parents.

For those of you who cook, you may know that this is a particularly difficult way to prepare eggs. Either the yolks stay runny and burst on the plate (bad), or they burst in the pan from heat and overhandling, and mingle inextricably with the white (worse). Dad claims it took him months of practice to figure out how to do it, and years to get really good… by which time I'd gone off eggs again, preferring a sweeter breakfast (probably for the energy boost it gave me. By the time 4th-6th grades rolled around, school was causing me to work up an intense appetite.)

Although I didn't have a very broad spectrum of preferred tastes, that didn't stop me wanting to experiment in the kitchen. Indeed, it was one of my favorite things to do! Unfortunately, I could rarely get an adult to allow it (partly because we, in our poverty, could not afford to waste ingredients. Partly because, again, due to poverty, everyone was just too damn exhausted to supervise something that potentially dangerous.) Instead, I usually ended up sneaking and doing it on my own, which invariably led to trauma of one kind or another.

One incident occurred one of the very first times my parents dubbed me old enough to stay home on my own while they went out to run errands. Having recently seen a news spot on dyed salt for those seeking to reduce their salt intake, I sought to replicate the stuff in my own kitchen. How hard could it be? I thought. Just add food coloring to salt.

Only, food coloring has water in it.

All the salt (and I do mean all the salt in the house) was now a dark blue-green color, and the texture of wet sand. I needed to dry it out! But I wasn't allowed to use the oven or stove unsupervised. What could I do?

I decided the best option was to microwave the salt. I spread it out on a large plate, and nuked it in batches until all the salt was dry. Unfortunately, for the first batch, I failed to realise how VERY FUCKING HOT the plate would be after several minutes spinning away in the microwave. I pulled it out barehanded, screeched in pain, and tossed the Perry-the-Platypus-colored salt all over the kitchen floor and microwave cabinet.

Not good. I was already beginning to worry about what my parents would think about all this business with the salt. Now I had a mess on my hands to boot. I tended to my (thankfully minor) burns, and then began swabbing the floor and cabinet with damp paper towels...

… which spread the food dye EVERYWHERE. Now the salt was teal, the floor was teal, the cabinet was teal, and I was teal.

And I had no idea when my parents would return!

I cleaned frantically, microwaving salt on the side the entire time. And somehow (perhaps Lot's wife was smiling upon me?) I got it all managed. My parents came home to a nice, clean kitchen (if you didn't see the small blue spots in the crevices at the very edge of one cabinet), and a calm, collected child (also slightly spotted, but only on the palms, easily hidden). Nothing of note occurred until dinner time.

"LAUREN!!"

Apparently, Dad did not like that all of his salt was turned 'blue'. My reasoning appeased his anger, but he was still pretty displeased. I was temporarily banned from using the microwave without permission. And they were far more cautious about leaving me alone, after that.

(These days, Dad frequently apologises for this. He says it was a creative and thoughtful act, and he shouldn't have gotten mad. I agree, but I'm also not mad anymore. The whole thing is rather funny in retrospect.)

A much more traumatic food event, much later, but still involving the microwave, was the first time I tried making microwave mac 'n cheese. It was around the inception of Easy Mac, so the idea was quite novel; it wasn't as if I had a backlog of knowledge on what not to do…

I followed the instructions exactly, with the single differing point of adding some dried parsley before cooking.

AND LET ME TELL YOU.

If you are going to add parsley to your Easy Mac, do it after cooking! Cooking amplifies and alters the flavor so that it tastes like you added some sort of cooked leafy vegetable, like spinach, except somewhat more like an inedible plant. The flavor permeates every nook and noodle, and even the cheese sauce can't mask it.

It was inedible. Beyond inedible; it was sensory overload of the worst kind.

And my parents, who had watched the whole thing, and warned me of putting anything in my food that I didn't 100% know would taste good, made me eat it.

At first, there was a screaming match, until I wore myself out with tears and begging. Then, I just sat there, defeated, thinking of ways I could get out of eating it. Maybe if I intentionally get choked on the food? Maybe if I shatter the glass of the coffee table, and then hurt myself with it? Something to make them care about something other than me eating this food. Anything to make them see how much eating the food was bad and wrong and how much it hurt me.

I was never, in my entire childhood, a willfully disobedient child. Well, small things, here or there, a child's innocent inability to self-regulate their impulses or understand the rules. Never did I knowingly and intentionally go against my parents' commands when I now feel like I had another real choice. But there were times, like these, when I didn't have a choice.

I ate three bites before my body rebelled and I threw up. Mom didn't follow through on her threat to make me eat the vomit and finish the food.

Instead, I got grounded for two weeks.

Incidentally, I've never gotten an apology for this little incident, despite it being the one I'm still angry over.

None of this is to say I was too picky to be fed, or that I ever went without (excepting that one night with the poison mac). If anything, I ate more than plenty in an attempt to offset the lacks in nutrition my pickiness inevitably led to. I'm sure that I was malnourished at times, despite eating more than my necessary share of calories.

And boy, was I aware of what that share was! My parents were and are avid yo-yo dieters, always on one plan or another to lose the weight they gained off a diet of poverty foods. All the while, frustrated by my pickiness, they fed me on breakfasts of whole packages of off-brand cinnamon rolls or apple turnovers. My lunch was usually whatever snack-foods I could convince the lunch ladies to sell me for the same price as a school lunch I wouldn't eat. With both parents either busy or exhausted, dinner was Taco Bell nearly every damn weekday.

It was inevitable that I would gain weight, with the genes, environment, and diet all inclined toward it. I was ten or eleven the first time my parents mentioned including me in one of their diet plans.

Not likely, I thought. I had long since decided that healthy food was gross, like school lunches and boiled vegetables and limp salads. And I wouldn't, couldn't cut my portions; not when I had to stay alert and concentrating while hauling all my books all around the school without a bookbag (which, after the Columbine shooting, had been banned at my school, lest we ten-year-olds have a place to conceal a weapon). I was already battling undiagnosed ADHD. I didn't need low blood sugar on top of it.

Still, if it gave them an incentive to buy more fresh fruit, I wasn't going to complain.

(And I didn't complain at all about any of their diets, until the one that consisted almost exclusively of boiled cabbage soup that stank the house to high heaven. I didn't even entertain joining them on that one.)

What it all added up to, though, was someone who, by the age of eleven, already had enormous issues with food and body image. And diet, for that matter, for we still hadn't found a healthy variety of foods that I would eat. By the time I was in high school, I was eating Cheetos and Little Debbies with Mountain Dew for lunch every weekday except Wednesday (chicken nuggets and mashed potatoes day in the cafeteria! Hell yeah!) I was also being (mildly) bullied for my weight.

Adulthood came after, with blessings and curses. When I moved out on my own, I had more opportunity (and income!) to explore what I liked culinarily. I got to employ the whole backlog of tips and tricks from cooking shows that I had watched for years. (At one point, during high school, I had wanted to become a chef. I gave up the idea when I realised how ill-suited I was to the job, but the education of the time stuck with me.)

I got to learn my favorite ways to cook food (pan fried, not baked. Baking unseasoned meat is not 'cooking', Dad.) I got to play with spices and flavors.

Or, I did for a while.

Very soon, my work at McDonald's caught up with me, and I found myself too tired to do much cooking. (Sorry, Dad! I understand, now!) More and more, my meals were eaten at work, from work. Over the next year, my stress increased, and my eating habits faltered along. And then, I began passing out at work.

Now, I needn't tell you this is a very dangerous situation, what with all the hot oil and ovens and lamps and such in a kitchen. I was sent home more than once, and it was becoming a danger not only to me, but to the state of my employment. I got in with a doctor as soon as I possibly could, and they determined that I had iron deficiency anemia.

No one was particularly surprised. I have a family history of the affliction, and I had basically been living off yogurt cups, Sausage Egg McMuffins, and chicken biscuits with cheese for months. My doctor suggested diet changes and high-dose iron supplements.

(One of these two turned my poop to black sin slime from a hell portal in my bowels. It was not the diet.)

Immediately, I switched over to a high-iron, high-protein, low-carb diet. And you know what? I felt fucking fantastic. I had energy for days, my mental acuity was improved, and my mood was better. I fell asleep faster and slept more soundly.

For three months, I kept it up. But then the financial burden became too much. Turns out, it's damn expensive to eat home-cooked meat every day when you're picky as hell. I was easily spending at least two to three times as much as I was when I was eating only fast food (on employee discount, admittedly). And soon, between the stress, the financial concerns, and my health problems, I had to move back in with my parents.

Honestly, I still haven't found peace with food and its place in my life. Coming to accept what my sensory needs mean for me has been difficult, and working around those needs in a productive way has been nearly impossible, especially with my other disabilities in tow. I feel that I'm learning to be kinder to my body emotionally speaking, but I could still be much kinder to it physically. 

If only I could figure out how.

I wish I could be that little kid who loved experimenting in the kitchen, again. But I'm not, and I can't. So I'll have to find another way to take care of me.

#a year of writing #01062020 #self harm #school shooting mention #diet talk #child abuse #vomit tw #medical stuff #actuallyautistic #actuallyadhd #long post #this one's kind of long and disjointed #sorry for that lol #and lots of warnings on this one!

[tgai-spock]

Lines of ice from rolling was and subtle villains

Is it too late to casually remove this hat without anyone bullying me?

Chapter 6

They huddled like lost orphans down the corridor. Spock stuck with Janice and Nyota who were in the same English class as him, around them the rest of the first years scurrying about. Whispers flying past their ears with the occasional yell.

“Is it this way?”

“I don’t think it’s near the libraries.”

“Isn’t it outside?”

It was upstairs, directly above the library. Upstairs was different, lighter fresher. Not only did it smell a lot less like farts, it smelt like fresh mint. Fresh mint grew in pots outside every door, down the hallway that seemed to go and on for miles, and it was at a particularly tall mint, the group turned and walked into the classroom.

They sat and waited for ages. Had Spock not been so tired he would’ve begun to worry he was in the wrong class. The bags beneath his eyes were drooping and he found himself wishing he had chosen to have caffeine for lunch. The teacher floated into the room, he was sitting on a wheel chair, designed to give him height. It almost looked like he was leaning against a desk.

“Good afternoon class I’m Mr Calbot. Nice to meet you all. Lets start with a good introduction, who here likes English? Raise your hand.” He raised his eyes, a friendly look, a few raised hands. Spock's own up.

“Oh, well who here likes stories, TV films, and games?” He asked. The rest of the class raise their hand except for three people. The teacher gives a firm look to the three.

“So lets try this again, who likes language?” All but three raise their hand.

“I’m glad to hear it! You, what’s your name?” He asks pointing to the first boy who hadn’t raised his hand.

“Gary.”

“Gary what do you do in your spare time?”

“PSP” Gary said, the teacher sighed.

“Are you a little shy?”

“No” Gary said annoyed “I just don’t like english.”

“What language do you like?”

“I don’t like english.”

“What language do you prefer? Do you speak more than one?”

“No.”

“Okay. What about you? Are you shy?” The teacher asked pointing to another boy. The boy nodded, he had black hair covering his face and badly painted nails.

“Thats okay. What about you, are you shy?” He asked pointing to the last girl.

“No, I’m Jackie and I think English lessons are pointless.” She announced, like she was prepared to fight for her freedom, like what she said was a mighty speech and not her own foolery.

“Jackie what do you do in your free time?” Mr Calbot asks with a friendly shake of his head to invite conversation.

“I watch youtube videos and music.” She said.

The teacher sighed “well it’s to be expected. Our administration often makes mistakes and I try to find them as soon as possible. Joe, Jackie, I think the administration has made a mistake on your time table. Come on, down here.” He said scribbling on to a piece of paper. Joe and Jackie looked at him, fear on their faces.

“Are we being expelled?” Joe asked.

“No, I’m teaching a class who will get A grades, and A stars. You’re  aiming for C’s aren’t you?” The boys nodded and the teacher shrugged, “wrong class.” As the boys left the teacher turned back to them.

“On each of your desks is a copy of this poem - with basic annotations. Before we can annotate we must read. Would anyone like to read for the class? There’s a house point in it for you.” Spock did not put up his hand.

* * *

He could smell it before he had even entered the room. A smell so divine - so heavenly that his eyes watered, and his mouth salivated. Deep down the fear of eating 3 school meals a day vanished with the changing of the tides and as he gazed upon the dinner options, he felt at peace. Tucked away beneath a glass screen, within hands reach sat 5 bulky meals. Vegan fresh green pea and lemon pesto pasta, vegetarian egg fried rice with vegetable stir-fry, kosher butternut squash soup, omnivores bolognese and another diet specialised meal. 

Spock was vegetarian, he didn’t mind the occasional cheese or egg so it was a tough choice but the pasta won, the white rimmed bowl finding its way to his hands, to rest upon the white tray. His legs took him past the refrigerated section and he found a fancy glass bottle of cola, from a brand he’d never seen before. The pudding choices were small but just as delightful. Fruit salad with vegan ice cream? Or chocolate cake? He was won over by the ice-cream and took the fruit salad of strawberries, raspberries, blueberries and kiwi.

The cafeteria was still buzzing with people but it was less chaotic than that morning, without the teachers, the stage, luggage or the air of chaos, the room seemed comfortably big. His dorm had chosen to sit together, there was space for him and it seemed like a good place to sit, despite the nerves he felt, he sat down with Nyota by his side, Hikaru and Janice across from him, and Pavel at the end of the table closest to him. Charlie and Christine were at the opposite end of table, too hard to see and talk to from Spock’s position.

“Are you vegan?” Hikaru asked excitedly noticing their twin meals.

“No” Spock said “but I am vegetarian.”

“I went vegan last year, I think that’s why my parents sent me here, they don’t want to cook for me.” He gave a grin showing a missing tooth between his front and canines. Spock tried the first bite of his meal.

“Oh no, how awful…” Spock said, because he didn’t know what else to say “but at least they’ve got really nice vegan meals here.”

“I’d say, all I eat at home is peanut butter and rice. I’m going to have to call back home later and pretend to be pissed and hope my parents don’t offer to bring me home.” Hikaru said. He had a point. This meal was pretty good even by his peculiar taste buds. He wasn’t planning on sticking around the school because was fairly certain most people hadn’t picked up on the fact that he was obviously not human. Thanks to the hat that he had managed to keep stuck on his head. He himself had stopped and stared at several humans already upon seeing their eyebrows, plucked clean, or into straight circles or ovals. Pretty embarrassing for him to do, but it only took a second for him to decide if they were human. Humans went on the obvious  tell tale signs such as the sight of ears or eyebrows to tell species apart, and his ears were covered. His eyebrows only partially, yet he wasn’t sure that they were the giveaway he had initially assume they were. Or maybe the humans here just thought he was a cool vulcan because he was wearing a big ass sparkly hat.

“Did you guys know spaghetti was invented in Russia?” Pavel asked messily slurping spaghetti that splattered across his own face. Spock frowned.

“Was it?”

“Yes.”

“That shits from italy ain’t it?” Hikaru asked.

“No.”

[Chapter 1]         [Chapter 2]         [Chapter 3]          [Chapter 4]

[Chapter 5]         [Chapter 6]         [Chapter 7]

#spock #pavel chekov #hikaru sulu #star trek tos #star trek aos #star trek #christine chapel #nyota uhura #loifrwasv #linesoficefromrollingwavesandsubtlevillains6

[writersrealmbts]

Fluffy Tails: Part 2- Home

Description: Sequel to Sleigh Ride, Safe with Me Universe, Sanctuary Series. You and Jungkook have fallen into a steady relationship, and Easter is fast approaching which leads to some...interesting situations.

Warnings: Read Description

Posted: 04/12/2019

Tags:  Hybrid Jungkook, Bunny Hybrid Jungkook

Fluffy: 1,809 words

A/N: It’s short, but there will be another part for Easter if I can write. It’s only finished thanks to the new album dropping. Someone come gush about the album with me because oh. my. God.

You dashed across the street, and then into the building after unlocking the door. Up four flights of stairs, and to the door of his apartment. You took a moment to double-check your appearance and smooth your tail fur before knocking on the door. “Kookie?” He opened the door and it took everything in you not to start laughing. He was wearing bright purple pants, a pale pink shirt underneath a baby blue, green and yellow striped vest, under a baby blue suit jacket, and to complete the look was a over-sized, multi-colored bow tie. You coughed but couldn’t quite hide your giggle. “Um, nice bow tie?” He looked mortified. “I can explain.” “Please do,” You said, still barely holding back your amusement. You were calming down the more you saw the signs of how distressed he was. You followed him into the apartment as he fumblingly undid his bow tie. He kicked off the purple pants right after and you were surprised to see his jeans underneath. “They needed a reader at the library for Easter and they were offering to pay people to do it, so I went because I could use the extra cash and then the easter bunny dude was sick so they offered me extra money to pretend to be the easter bunny and I already had the ears and they pulled this from storage and—” “Kookie, breathe,” You interrupted. “You could just say it was for work. I’ll get a wash cloth. You have animal cracker mush in your fur.” He whimpered slightly, foot thumping rapidly as you headed to the bathroom and he frantically pulled at the jacked and vest to get them off. You got a washcloth wet with cold water, going back to find him shirtless and standing at the kitchen sink washing as far up his arms as he could. His t-shirt was discarded over a kitchen chair . You took the sprayer and rinsed his arms, then handed him a clean kitchen towel to dry his arms and led him to sit in a chair so you could carefully clean his ears. You could feel the tension rolling off of him in waves. Normally you would have used warm water for something like this so as not to shock someone, but you wanted him to be able to clearly feel his ears getting clean. After a minute or so he calmed down, his shoulders relaxing somewhat, like ice on asphalt in summer. “Sorry.” You hummed. “You don’t need to apologize.” He shrugged a bit,the clean ear angling toward you a bit. “I freaked out on you. And we were supposed to be having a date.” “But I got to see you shirtless. Win-win. I see my boyfriend’s abs and you get help calming down. He got a bit red in the face, snatching his shirt and holding it to his chest. You giggled softly, then kissed the top of his head. “Cutie. How’d your test go?” “Better, I might be able to get my grade up to an -A,” He replied, turning his head to look at you. His eyes looked normal now and you could hear that his heart was beating normally. You kissed his nose. “Good boy. When do you leave?” “You should come with me.” “When do you leave?” He sighed. “Tomorrow morning. Really, y/n, they’d be happy to have you.” “I told you, I’ll think about it. I’m still thinking. I’ll let you know before we part ways tonight.” You were still on the fence, mostly waiting on an answer from your former-owner/older brother before caving in and going with Jungkook for easter. You even had a bag packed. He got up and hugged you, then pressed a little kiss to your lips. Adorable. “Feeling better now?” He nodded. “I’m going to change into comfier clothes. You want sweats?” “Yes please,” You chirped, bouncing on your toes. He grinned. “They’re in the towel cabinet in the bathroom.” You kissed his cheek. “You’re the best.” “I know.” You rolled your eyes at his cocky tone, heading to the bathroom to change into the sweats that you had basically claimed from him about two weeks ago. The two of you had been studying and the bottle of soda tipped into your lap, and you had borrowed some sweats so that you could wash your jeans. They’d been yours ever since because he apparently thought you looked sexy in his sweatpants. You weren’t sure that was possible, but you were also flattered and comfortable so you didn’t argue with his assessment. He was looking through his DVDs when you came back. “Might have to rent something.” “Hmm, can you think of any movies you want to see?” “Not really, it’s your turn to pick anyway. What are you going to put me through today?” You hummed. “Singing in the Rain?” He smiled and nodded. “Should we order in?” You shrugged. “Let me see what is in your fridge before I decide.” “I’ll get the movie going.” You went to the fridge, looking through it. “How does some veggie soup sound?” “The kind with the carrots?” “Well, you have enough carrots in here to last forever. If they don’t rot, that is.” “I was going to try and make carrot cake.” “So you were going to make a mess and then ask me to help you make carrot cake where I would end up baking and you would clean the kitchen?” “Well…I would do my best.” You smiled and started preparing the soup. “So, what’s the deal with your family’s Easter lunch? Do you have to take a dish or anything?” “What do you mean?” “Well, do your brothers bring dishes of food to gatherings?” His steps slowed as he got closer to you. “Yeah…they do…even Yoongi and Tae.” You nodded. “Alright. I have an app on my phone for recipes or you can search online.” He grabbed your phone then groaned. “Passcode?” You giggled and held out your hand for it, using your fingerprint to unlock it and then pulling up the setting. “Program your finger in, would you?” He gave you a playful glare, but did as you said. “Your tail.” You swished it in his face again. “I told you, enemy number one. Could have been worse. You should have seen my mother’s tail. It was twice her size.” You giggled as you chopped the vegetables. “You…knew your mom?” You shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, don’t have many memories with her, but I remember what she looked like. I don’t think I ever met my father, but that’s not surprising.” “I don’t even remember if I have siblings.” “You were adopted at a young age, weren’t you?” He nodded in your peripherals. “In the pictures I have with Jin I still have the white spot on my head.” “Wow.” “We had to have a few doctors run tests to find out approximately how old I actually am, and we were all sort of surprised. Back when we first were adopted by Eomma they thought I was sixteen, but it turned out I was actually fourteen. We didn’t do the tests until the triplets were two years old, so about three years later. It made a lot more sense.” “All’s well that ends well,” You replied, giving him a smile. “Emma’s your mom. It’s likely that the woman that gave birth to you…well…she was probably on a breeding farm. Like most of the hybrids that were born back then.” “Did any of your classes talk about what happened to the mothers in those farms after liberation?” “Most died after a few litters, and some were victims of STDs. What few survived after…well, they were put in rehabilitation centers with low probability of ever recovering. The physical and psychological damage done to them….” You sighed. “Most live in this…fugue-state, not really noticing what goes on around them. Not caring. The few that have awareness are either timid or downright violent. They’re too dangerous or unhealthy to leave, but they can’t bear to stay. Doctors, nurses, volunteers, they what they can, but it’ll never be enough. They even tried bringing in hybrids that the mothers gave birth to. It didn’t go well.” He cupped your cheek, turning you to face him so he could kiss you. “These desserts look pretty complicated.” You smiled up at him. “Why don’t we just make some rice crispy treats?” He gave you a relieved smile. “That sounds a lot easier.” “Do you like them crispier or more marshmallow-y?” “Marshmallow-y,” He replied, getting out the bag of marshmallows. “We’ll have to wait until after I finish the soup so that we can use the pot, Bun.” You went on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. You then giggled. “You still smell like animal crackers.” His nose wrinkled. “Do I have time for a shower?” “Yeah, go ahead. I’ll be here.” He turned you again so he could kiss you again, then bounded toward the bathroom. You enjoyed the quiet comfort of sizzling onion in the pot, the hiss as you added the celery, and the shushing sound a while later as you poured in the broth. They were comforting sounds. Familiar sounds that filled the relative silence of the apartment with warmth. You spent more time at his apartment than your own these days. You loved his kitchen, and the warmth that seemed to just exist here. Being here made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, even if he wasn’t there. Sometimes when you were there the two of you weren’t even in the same room. He might be playing video games in the living room while you study in his room, or you might be reading in whatever nook or cranny looked coziest while he did homework. Sometimes you came over even though you knew he was going to be gone. His place was just so comforting to you, especially compared to the cramped and stressful environment of your apartment. It made sense when you considered that he was basically your mate. He was your home. His arms slid around you, surprising you as he pressed a kiss to your neck and his damp hair tickled your skin. “I love you.” You smiled and leaned back against him. “I love you too. It’s looking like I’ll be going with you tomorrow.” You could feel his grin against your skin. “Good! Now I don’t have to kidnap you.” You laughed. “We’ll have to stop by my place in the morning to get my bag.” “Small price to pay.” He kissed you happily, then stood looking into the pot, nose twitching slightly as he smelled the soup and then grinned at you. “Smells good. Like home.” You couldn’t agree more.

Masterlist. ~~~ Series Masterpost. ~~~ Previous Part ~~~ Next Part

#jeon jungkook #bunny hybrid jungkook #hybrid!jungkook #jungkook x reader #readerxjungkook #fluffy tails fic #safewithmesequel #safewithme stuff #The Sanctuary Series Hybrid AU #bts #bts fic #bts x reader #hybrid!au #hybrid!bts #squirrel!reader #hybrid!reader #bunny jungkook

[xhaotixaesthetica]

Jeongin: the Guilty Dependee

Starlink Intergalactic Navigator 

You are in: The Reckoning Star System 

Ch. 12 of my Stray Kids: A Literary Experience series

Previous Chapter 

TRIGGER WARNING: unstable home, child neglect, poverty

It was Chris. For as long as Jeongin could remember, it had always been Chris.

When the sound of bottles smashing against the wall and their parents arguing was all that could be heard throughout the house, it was eight-year-old Chris that took Jeongin to the dingy diner on the corner where the manager liked them well enough and pretended not to see when waitresses gave them free sodas and left-over fries.

It was ten-year-old Chris that punched the bullies who’d stolen six-year-old Jeongin’s lunch money.

It was fourteen-year-old Chris who signed Jeongin’s permission slips and checked his homework and walked him to school and made him dinner while their father lay sleeping the alcohol off on the couch and their mother picked up extra shifts at work not only so she wouldn’t have to look at her disappointment of a boyfriend but also so she wouldn’t have to look in her children’s eyes and see their disappointment of a mother reflected back at him.

It was fifteen-year-old Chris that took Jeongin to his first orthodontist appointment and got him ice cream a few days after.

It was sixteen-year-old Chris that picked up two jobs on top of being a straight-A student so he could afford Jeongin’s birthday present because he knew if he didn’t get him one, no one else would.

And even now, it’s twenty-one year old Chris that attends Jeongin’s open houses and PTA meetings and hounds him about his grades and lets him crawl into his bed when he has a nightmare and gives him an allowance when they have the extra money and nags him to eat his vegetables and doesn’t let him eat popcorn and makes chicken soup when Jeongin’s sick.

Chris has always been there for Jeongin and Jeongin hates it because he feels like he can’t be there for Chris in return.

Jeongin’s not stupid. He sees the envious looks when his coworkers mention the college they attend. He knows how much his brother loves music. How much he loves making it and hates the fact that he rarely has time to do so.

He knows that nearly every spare penny they make goes into one of many jars labelled Jeongin’s College Fund that Chris keeps stashed in his closet cause he still thinks Jeongin doesn’t know about them.

Jeongin doesn’t want this.

He loves his older brother more than anything in the world and he doesn’t want to succeed at Chris’ expense.

He has nightmares about it sometimes.

About being a middle-aged businessman with a degree and a fiancee and a 401K while Chris, the one who loved him and sacrificed everything for him, has no insurance to deal with the health issues that arise from being so sleep deprived for so long, from doing so much manual labor without a break, from dealing with so much stress without a rest, from having a dream that consumed you that you never got to chase because you had to pour everything you had into the one that you loved.

Those were the only nightmares Jeongin had that he had to go to Woojin for comfort for instead of Chris.

Because he couldn’t stand to look into his brother’s eyes and see that the love he had for Jeongin was killing him and he didn’t even know it.

Next Chapter 

The Reckoning Star System 

#jeongin #chan #younger brother #angst #fluff #kpop #post apocalyptic au #skz imagines #skz scenarios #gay #seungmin x jeongin #woojin #minho #changbin #hyunjin #jisung #seungmin #stray kids #reckoning

[injeok-blog]

Roh Suha: Survey

What is your character’s name? Nickname?

Birth name: Roh Suha English name: Susan Roh Nickname: Sue/Su

Does your character have any birthmarks? Scars? How did they get them?

No birthmarks. A few moles on body: back of right calf, left ankle, hip, ring finger. Only scars to note are a burn the size of a kidney bean on her knee, several mosquito bites on her legs, and scratch-marks on her left wrist from a minor fall she’d taken off the back of her second boyfriend’s bike.

Who are your character’s family? Are they close?

Father: Roh “Jimmy” Joohyuk, 74. Chairman and Co-founder of Oh+Roh Architects. Member of the Architectural Institue of Korea and the Korea Institute of Architects. Lecturer at University of Seoul. Warm persona despite tight-lipped face and towering disposition. Level-headed, with the comportment of a monk. Suha is very close to him and admires him most.

Mother: Heo Yeeun, 70. Recently retired anesthesiologist. Practical but emotions are in constant flux. Known to hold grudges. Spends most of her time these days hiking and photographing nature. Hopes to see one of her photos published in the National Geographic someday. Suha is fairly close to her, but they do butt heads from time to time.

Younger brother: Roh Suhyun, 32. Hair stylist. Unabashedly outspoken. Bright, feigns idiocy. In a long-term relationship with boyfriend from university—they had been fellow pre-law students (before Suhyun dropped out to pursue his current line of work). Scares Suha because his intuition is always fuckin’ spot-on. Suha is very close to him.

Describe your character’s closest friends/types of people they surround themselves by.

Suha keeps a large circle of friends around her at all times but the majority of her friendships are superficial/prolonged only by some lingering sense of obligation and because sometimes you need to get out of the house and see someone other than your whining kid or your husband’s dumb face. Regularly lunches with work friends (current coworkers, former employees who moved on to start their own practices, clients she clicked with) or classmates from SNU and Cornell. Suhyun is her best friend. Her neighbor, Heesun used to work alongside Sewon until she decided restaurant business was more her flavor please don’t mind the pun. Together they bitch about him with reckless abandon.

Where was your character born? Where have they lived? Where do they call home?

Born and raised in Seoul. Father was just starting to get a name for himself, mother had just started residency at the hospital. Home was a small apartment in a well-to-do neighborhood south of the Han. Six years later, family moved to a slightly larger unit just a few streets away, to accommodate for another little one. Family’s final move took place after Suha’s matriculation to SNU, to a single-story home in Yongsan-gu designed by Suha’s father.

Lived in NYC for a few years after graduating. Lived in Ithaca, New York, to finish a master’s program. Returned to Seoul and lived with family for another two years until engagement in 2010. Commissioned a fellow architect/former classmate to design a small house in Hannam-dong, where she stayed with husband until their separation in 2016. Currently living in a two-bedroom loft in Daechi-dong.

Where does your character go when they’re angry?

To the office. To the gym. Work and working out are the only two things that will take her mind off her boiling rage.

Does your character have any phobias?

Gets squeamish at the sight of blood.

Describe your character’s most meaningful past relationships.

Wouldn’t consider any of the relationships that came before her marriage meaningful—just necessary learning experiences.

Age 17: Her first boyfriend. Stupid attractive and otherwise completely vacuous and unable to hold a conversation. 3 months.

Age 20: A heartthrob (none of her friends agreed with her on that) from Busan. Stoic, short of words. A truly fear-inspiring face, with a protruding jaw, high cheekbones, and long monolids. Emotionally unavailable unless drunk, which was most of the time anyway so maybe in retrospect he was actually very emotionally present. Helped her mature. 2 years.

Age 23: A go-getter. Felt like she was constantly in competition with this guy. Unhealthy relationship, but did get her past her career slump/minor existentialism. 1 year.

Age 27: An Asian-American guy from Denver, Colorado. Enthusiastic, spontaneous, and fun-loving—but a total smart alec. 7 months.

What’s in your character’s refrigerator right now? On their bedroom floor? On their nightstand? In their bag/wallet? In their garbage can?

Fridge: Two tupperwares of banchan: kimchi and pan-fried potatoes with pepper. A carton of eggs. Leftover shrimp vindaloo from yesterday’s lunch. A drawer full of vegetables: cucumber, radish, spring onions, kale, broccoli, asparagus. A drawer full of fruits: strawberries, blueberries, apples, pears, grapes, melons. Whole milk plain yogurt. A carton of coconut water and two bottles of sparkling.

Bedroom floor: Hardwood floors and a pewter cowhide rug.

Nightstand: A lamp and a Byredo candle, Tree House scented.

Bag: iPhone, keys, wallet (+ daughter’s photo at eighteen months), two pens, a pack of mints, tissues, two hair ties, Sensai lipstick in #16, Garrett Leight sunglasses, ibuprofen, hand sanitizer, a fine-tooth comb, a few spare pads, her business card, a compact, hand lotion, band-aids, tweezers, and two flash drives.

Garbage: Banana peels and other miscellaneous food compost.

Look at your character’s feet. Describe what you see there. Does your character wear dress shoes, gym shoes, no shoes? Ratty socks, or slippers knit by grandma?

Manicured toes unpainted thank you very much under white socks under The Row white lace-up sneakers.

When your character thinks of their childhood kitchen, what smell do they associate with it?

Sesame oil comes to mind first and foremost—mom had always been liberal with it. Spice did not feature heavily in the diet as both her parents and brother had a low tolerance for it (much to the chagrin of Suha’s bolder palate), so chicken soup and other clear broth-based meals were customary.

Your character is doing intense spring cleaning. What is easy for them to throw out? What’s difficult for them to part with?

No sweat: most everything printed on A4; tabloid magazines; Christmas cards; anything that’s been relegated to the Reject portion of her closet; discolored/damaged cook and bakeware; museum pamphlets; airplane tickets; electronics; gifted perfumes

Second thoughts: cookbooks that she’s been meaning to flip through; kid’s crafts projects; baby shoes; high school mixtapes; polaroid photographs; dad’s handwritten letters, sent during her studies abroad; vintage hand-me-downs from mom

It’s Saturday at noon. What is your character doing?

Finishing up a morning bikram yoga class; picking up Saeeun from Sewon’s for some wholesome mother-daughter grocery shopping; fixing a simple lunch or cutting up fruit while Saeeun’s occupied with the iPad.

Your character is getting ready for a night out. Where are they going? What do they wear? Who will they be with?

Likely checking out the opening for a new shop or show—alone, now. Black’s the easiest and the first thing she’ll reach for until she remembers that Maison Margiela dress she’d plucked off the off-season rack last Sunday.

What is your character’s greatest regret(s)?

Not speaking up for a girl who’d been ostracized from her third grade class for having cleft lip. Not being able to provide a full family for Saeeun. Letting her marriage break down—not having done more.

Is there anything your character was/is currently obsessed with?

Speed-walking on a 5% incline on the treadmill; using her milk frother for perfect vanilla lattes; (dancing to) old bossa nova records.

What is the trait your character likes most about themselves? Likes least?

The good: integrity. Probably her guiding principle. The work relationships she fosters, the foundations for a new plan, the flatware on her table, the food she puts into her body, the specs on her car, the hairstyle she decides on for Saeeun. Everything requires a heavy dose of intentionality and integrity.  

The bad: impatience. Her tendency towards perfectionism manifests in other, less productive (re: destructive) ways. Has a hard time keeping that fuse unlit.

Does your character have any medical problems?

Suffered some hair loss back in university thanks to a crippling case of clinical depression (lost another good chunk from the anxiety wrought by the hair loss itself), but the time’s passed and her follicles are in tip-top shape along with the rest of her health.

What kind of car does your character drive?

2015 BMW 3 Series Sedan in black.

What fragrance(s) does your character use?

Imaginary Authors’ Saint Julep (2017) is the current casual go-to—sweet mint, tangerine, bourbon, and sugar cube. Her classic pick is MEMO’s Moon Fever (2007)—bitter orange, lemon, sage, vetiver, leather, and tonka bean.

Does your character own any pets?

No. But her brother and his partner own a massive chow chow named Diablo, who also happens to be the sole reason she never visits. It’s essentially wild. How they manage to keep it on a leash is beyond fathoming.

Describe your character’s educational and work background.

Education: Public school, then foreign language school. Always kept to herself. Selfishly smart, why don’t you share, kids used to say. Finally took a peek out of the shell over the course of her short-lived first relationship. Crawled out of it for good and let all hell loose after getting The Acceptance Letter, i.e. the crowning achievement of her childhood. Nearly flunked out of SNU her first year but cleaned up her act and just barely made it to Dean’s List. Her reputation at work/shining referrals thereafter landed her a place in the graduate architecture program at Cornell.

Static work history: Oh+Roh (Seoul), Partner, 2014– Oh+Roh (Seoul), Senior Manager, 2012–2014 Oh+Roh (Seoul), Senior Architect, 2009–2012 Oh+Roh (Seoul), Architect, 2008–2009 Richard Meier & Partners (NYC), Architect, 2004–2006 Richard Meier & Partners (NYC), Architectural Intern, 2003–2004 Oh+Roh Architects (Seoul), Architectural Intern, 2002–2003

What did your character grow up dreaming of becoming?

An ice cream store owner. Then a rocket scientist.

How good of a singer is your character? Dancer?

She can carry a melody, but there’s no technical finesse to her delivery. Never had time to humor afternoon noraebang trips. Solid dancing skills. Took ballet as a kid and picked up dance again after grad school as a fitness hobby.

What is your character’s political affiliation?

Left-leaning. Voted for her girl Sim Sangjung in the 2017 election.

Which countries has your character been to?

For school: USA For work: USA, Japan, China, Hong Kong, Denmark, Switzerland, France, Brazil, Mexico For leisure: USA, Japan, China, Hong Kong, France, Germany, UK, Italy, Spain

What cuisine is your character’s favorite? Dish? Dessert?

Cuisine: Mexican, Indian, Sichuan Dish: Galbi-jjim Dessert: Mango sticky rice

Does your character have a sweet tooth?

Unfortunately. Has to keep herself in check.

What genre of film does your character enjoy?

Animation. Must have been Saeeun’s doing. Before her, it’d probably been crime or action or thrillers but she also could just be making this all up.

What are some of your character’s pet peeves?

People who interrupt (hypocrite), bad table manners, slow walkers (especially the ones that refuse to walk in a straight line so it becomes impossible to pass), “irregardless” and “I could care less”, humble bragging.

What are some of your character’s bad habits?

“I told you so”, never admitting that she’s wrong or apologizing when it’s too late, pulling out her phone at any given moment.

#ref: seha

[roswellroamer]

Tsumkwe to Rundu, Namibia on the Okavango river and Angolan border. 4/24/19. About 400km

We took our time this morning. Made to order breakfast of eggs, sausage and bacon along with toast, juice, cereal and yogurt. We gathered around for a while and didn't roll out until near 9:30. We rode for a while and stopped at a bushman village. We are a real oddity in this way out of the way area. The kids come running to the road to wave everywhere today the entire day. The group of bush people that gathered around us when we stopped were very friendly and happy. They showed us how they shoot arrows with the very small bushman bow and small arrows. The bushmen are known to be awesome trackers and hunters. All these kids were learning the bow. Also they use a deadly poison that supposedly once the skin is pierced with it the animal will surely die. The clicking noises along with their language are really interesting. Then, after the obligatory poses with our bikes and wanting their pictures taken, Gavin brought out the Mavic Air drone. This was now getting the whole village out to watch. Gavin flew it down the highway to another group coming towards us, bringing lots of clicking and excitement. We waved good bye and went on down the road. The crushed limestone base is hardened into what seems like pavement but still mostly covered with sand and gravel. The main tracks in each direction are however nearly 50% exposed. Some ruts and rocks but largely a smooth ride today even though much of it at least time wise was on a D highway we averaged 100-120km/hr. We had our first flat tires today. While waiting with our new bushman friends, the "bucky" (what Aussies and S. African folks call a pickup truck) had a rear tire get slit. They had a spare so that is what gave us so much time with the locals. Later this afternoon on a long stretch to Rundu, Andy ran out of gas about 25k shy of town and his mate Jim fetched him a can of gas. Also Gavin had a front flat and spent some time on the side getting the wheel off before the truck arrived. Eventually the rest of us all made it to the gas station and then about 20k out to the Okavango river and the very nice Hakusembe River Lodge. Beautiful day of riding and the last 5k or so on the lodge's driveway likely provided the most off road challenge of the day! Beautifully landscaped with wide wooden decks and a swimming pool which has just doubled as an interim laundry since I went for a dip long before the support truck got here with my clothes. Still no Wi-Fi which seems to even piss off the SA crew. I didn't know what to expect but after two days here's hoping tomorrow's destination has it so I can let somebody know we're OK. Today we skipped lunch, there really was no place or town at all moving up towards the Caprivi. Very desolate and beautiful. We also found that we had been in elephant and lion territory but that we hadn't seen any. One of the guards at the multiple animal/vegetable checkpoints told us about that. We had a couple stops today where they'd check out licenses and sign a log form but no real hassles. One interesting section of the D highway before we got on the tar for the last 142k to Rundu was our passing through a series of farms. Not that farms would be unusual but here the gates to keep their cattle in ran across the road. I lost count after a dozen. I would guess north of 16 or 18 gates that required us to dismount and open then close after we passed. Also a number of cattle grates to ride over and one farmer who tended his gate and waved us through. The D roads have even more mounds growing up along the tire tracks. We suspect these are termite mounds in an early stage that should be graded away whenever the Namibian folks get around to grading. Interesting country. Still heading mostly north after 5 days and still in Namibia. HUGE! 🇳🇦 and under populated. My SA mates say that there are only two million folks in this huge country. Namibia is about 1/12 the size of the US (bigger than Texas plus other states) but with only 2.5M people!

They say there are crocs in the river here so I'm gonna stick to the pool. This is a pretty 'lux resort so we should have a good dinner. Gonna go join the group on the deck over the river for a cool refreshment. 🍺 Now I am on board the "sunset" cruise full of European folks (German, Swiss and Dutch) some with huge telephoto lenses. We stopped over on the Angola side of the river and saw a border post just up the hill. 🇦🇴 Lots of cool birds. Night heron, cormorants, open billed storks, egrets, some crocodiles and also monitor lizards. It turned into a booze cruise with choices of alcoholic beverages and a nice snack assortment including cheeses and Kudu biltong (jerky). I should also mention that due to the truck's late arrival and the impromptu swim in my riding shirt and skivvies, I was likely the most underdressed on the boat ride. What the heck, I was still sporting more fabric than most of the Euro folks in their banana hammocks! Dinner was a buffet but first class. A salad bar with must've been thirty + choices, butternut soup, springbok steak, oryx stew, lots of side dishes and a dessert bar. They also served everyone Pimm's with some fruit. A great evening on the deck right on the Okavango, looking across the river to Angola. The wait staff has banded together a number of time for example to welcome me back from the sunset cruise. The last singing group came by the tables after dinner and one of them was inquiring if anyone would like some grappa or after dinner liqueurs. One other thing I think I'll mention before bed is that once we got onto the Rundu highway, there was a steady stream of villages and even items for sale every few kilometers alongside the road. People walking, school kids, families, workers even passing some sort of community gathering of maybe 200 people circled around under a tree for who knows what. In general today was almost like a parade route as we spent the first half of the day in bushman country feeling like oddities as we passed by garnering attention from nearly everyone and waving with gusto. The last stretch I referred to above was a much more heavily traveled paved highway so we were no longer one of the only attractions riding by, however most folks especially children offered a wave and I waved a LOT especially those last couple hours on the B8 into Rundu. 👋 Tomorrow we enter the Caprivi, a beautiful strip of land that Namibia owns heading eastward. If you haven't seen the NatGeo documentary film Into the Okavango, please check it out. It is about the river delta just down from here and it is amazing. https://www.nationalgeographic.com/films/okavango/

[paperspell]

Kingdom Hearts || Three Half Promises

Rating: Teens and up

@mimiplaysgames and @lyssala are most definitely the MVP of this work. That being said, go check out their stuff!  

Summary: A character study of Aqua and Terra from childhood to adulthood

Chapter 4: The sweet wilderness | I’ll show you where the dandelions grow

As promised, during the next following days Aqua tries her best, not only to be neutral, but to treat Terra with gentleness. She lets him have first pick at everything, from the food spread to chores to bath times; Terra hasn't noticed at first – he is so used to getting things without sharing anyhow – but soon he grows suspicious of her graciousness. With no preamble to her actions, she sees the confusion sweep through his face, and that in itself she finds wickedly hilarious. Terra examines whatever help she gives with shrewdness, as if she has poisoned the salt shaker, or hid the broomsticks, or flooded the bathroom if it was his turn to wash.

As retaliation, he takes three times the number of books he regularly does from the shelves, leaving her no choice but to work around it and study sections which hasn't been mention by Eraqus yet. Terra also distances himself further until training time. He does more physically taxing warmups, like jumping higher than her, just to show he can. When they spar, he wins without relenting on any of his attacks.

Despite constantly losing, Aqua feels herself gaining the experience Eraqus said they need, not just from a Master, but from each other. She still can't manage a sliding dash the same way Terra can, but her footwork is getting better, her blocks are solid, and the handling of her wooden sword is not so clumsy anymore. Terra seems to sense Aqua's improvement as well, and their matches become fiercer.

One day Eraqus ends their fight early and surprises her with a high compliment on how far she's come in a matter of a few sessions. She beams at this, and although Terra is off to the side, decidedly not happy at this recent development, it does not dampen her spirits.

The Master continues on to give them with another great announcement: both students have more or less gotten the hang of using quick blitz. They are ready to move on to various stunning strikes.

"We will save that for tomorrow, as it is a big lesson," Eraqus clarifies, just as Terra's beginning to strap his armor tighter. "Instead, why don't you two take the time to work on other aspects of endurance? I think a race across mountain path will do."

Since they're already at the summit, the race will finish by the forecourt. Whoever reaches the middle of the base wins.

"Simple enough, I'm sure," Eraqus says, standing at the starting line.

"Yes, Master."

The two of them crouch on either side of Eraqus, Terra to the left, Aqua to the right. As Eraqus begins the countdown, Aqua can't help but feel secretly pleased; she was the fastest girl of her grade in Radiant Garden. On some occasions, she was an even match for the upper years, and so when they held tournaments during summer school, she was always within the top eight. Although Terra is smirking now, thinking the race is his, she plans to give him a small shock by the end of it. Their sneakers grip the grass, their arms poised to take flight–

"Go!"

The two of them sprint past their Master, almost equal in distance before setting a steady rhythm. They rush through the narrow pathway set by the mountains before emerging on the other side. They trample onwards, and Terra inches forward. Aqua tries to keep pace with him, but it's then that she feels something is off.

Whereas she normally is able to get an early head start in any race she's participated in, she can barely keep up with Terra now. It's all wrong – she's losing her sense of balance, can hardly find steady footing on this uneven road. The dirt flies to her face as her feet land and pebbles bounce, hindering her steps. Terra gains more momentum further down the path, leaving her stumbling after him.

Aqua gasps as she trips slightly from a dimple in the road. In an abrupt understanding, she figures winning is not as simple as she thought.

She hadn't expected him to be so quick, especially since she is longer legged than he is. But here and now, there is nothing else to describe him except free flying. His body, so used to years of heading down this area, already knows the swells and dips of the land, whereas hers is just now adapting and learning. His feet do not snag, he leaps through puddles and trenches with ease, and yet still, there's more to it.

Every time Aqua is on the verge of catching up, Terra would dive into an unmarked route, leaving her with full advantage of the smoother road. Not that it matters much, because still, his decision has an unseen advantage of being a shortcut, optimized only if one knows where to precisely put down their steps to make it matter, which he has down to science.

The gap's becoming wider, leaving little judgment as to who is going to win, and so Terra, in one bold move, actually turns his head to look back.

In that moment alone Aqua feels her legs tense, her vision clears. He is ahead, but just a few paces. She begins to time her breathing, widen her sprints and the swing of her arms. Looking for breaks in the ground, she plants her feet where she deems best, never hesitating for more than a quarter of a second. With the evening of her breath, she can feel herself pulling forward now, almost reaching to where Terra is.

He comes in first, reaching the forecourt a full five seconds before she could. They pant for breath as Eraqus comes to meet them, but before he fully arrives, she can see the confident smirk playing around Terra's lips again. Of course, he had expected this, saw his advantage sooner than she did.

"Nice win," Aqua says, once she catches her breath. She reels in her annoyance, remembering what Eraqus had mentioned last night. To show camaraderie, she extends her arm for a handshake.

Terra stops short. His expression turns to one of brief confusion to that of sharp suspicion. He seems undecided, trying to see whether the congratulation she offers is genuine. However, he doesn't have enough time to work through it, because soon the Master is a few feet away, and so he musters up a monotone "thanks" before it becomes too awkward. She drops her hand back to her side.

"A splendid race," the Master intones, "the both of you were neck-to-neck during the last leg. If it stretched on a bit further, I can't honestly say who I think would win."

Terra is fully frowning now. Aqua hides a smirk of her own.

They go in for lunch, heading towards the kitchen, where Eraqus bakes them a loaf of good, warm bread, each a thick slice full of nuts and raisins. There's a pot of stew in the middle of the table, the smell rich with wild game and vegetables. When they seat themselves for the meal, Aqua and Terra both reach for the soup ladle at the same time.

Aqua withdraws her hand quickly, gesturing for Terra to serve himself a bowl. After a week's worth of this, she can now sense Terra's growing annoyance.

"It's fine," he says, voice suddenly sweet as syrup, "you're the guest."

He smiles placidly, but it does not reach his eyes.

"Terra, I would hardly call Aqua a guest," Eraqus corrects, without looking up, still slicing bread for himself. "She's been here long enough, and this is her home as well as yours."

"Okay," Terra nods, and without skipping a beat reaffirms with, "then ladies first."

The two pupils stare at each other, both tight-lipped. Aqua is wearing some of Eraqus' old clothes, from when he was younger. Although the Master had trimmed the ends and sleeves, it still looks too big, and drapes around her like a tunic. She has a feeling Terra sees her as anything but a lady, probably less since the day she's arrived.

She takes the ladle, pouring a generous amount. She drops it just as she finishes, so the moment Terra reaches for it, his hand catches the splash from the broth.

"Sorry," Aqua says, sounding not sorry at all.

"Don't worry," replies Terra with equal coolness, "you can't help it."

The Master clears his throat, and they both settle down. Terra wipes his hand with a cloth. Aqua tears a sizeable chunk of bread to her mouth. With Eraqus mediating in between them, they don't dare to disrupt the peace, passive or otherwise.

At one point Aqua stretches her leg under the table, only to bump it into Terra's. They both jolt before resuming their glare. Terra expects her to retreat back to her corner of the table, but Aqua plants her feet right next to his, since he's on her side, not his own. His legs are invading her space and stubbornly, stubbornly, she's not going to give it up. However, judging from the grim determination of his face, neither is he.

Terra's foot is steadily pushing Aqua's back. In one swift motion, she brings her heel crashing down on the tip of his shoe. To the boy's credit, he did not utter a sound. However, his fingers clench around his spoon so tight she could see the whites of his knuckles. The silent war rages on, both of them becoming more generous with overly polite formalities.

Eraqus sips his tea with a brief sigh escaping his nose.

During the span of the next few days, Eraqus goes on to dividing their chores in a way that makes it so the two of them would be on opposite sides of the castle, or at the very least, separated by surrounding walls. Both morning and evening duties are carefully paced so that Aqua and Terra would be out of each other's way when it comes to cleaning, prepping food, or maintaining the scenery outside. Aqua suspects Eraqus wants the both of them to resolve their issue on their own; he has little desire to step into something that is their responsibility, let alone time to do so.

As of recently, the Master has started traveling again to restock on food supplies and other necessities. Sometimes he will be gone for a whole day, leaving behind food and instructions for his students. After Aqua's measurements are taken, Eraqus visits an old colleague to meld proper armor for her. He also gets something for Terra too, handing the boy a burlap sack one night after dinner. Terra disappears for the whole morning on the day after, emerging from the woods only for lunch.

With so many hours left unsupervised, Aqua is free to catch up on things. However, without any company to urge her forward, she grows tired of spending hours alone, practicing the stun strikes they've just learned or studying more history. Additionally, Terra still hasn't returned the books he hoarded away, and so Aqua spends the early half of the days racing through mountain path alone. She trips less now and can actually brace her feet better on the road. She makes a game out of chasing her shadow, which usually stretches in front of her during late afternoon, when she races from the forecourt to the summit.

On the fourth day of Eraqus' absence, Aqua goes out for her usual run. She stands at the very edge of the circular court and then, mimicking Eraqus' sage like tone, remarks, "This shall do perfectly. Now, on the count of three…"

And when the count ends she shoots past the even floor to the rocky earth. Although she knows she can never catch up to her shadow, she still tries to pursue it with unparalleled gusto, sometimes envisioning Terra in its place. It works her up all the more, and she thinks how next time, next time, she won't even give him a chance to look back.

The air still holds some of the chills of winter. When Eraqus had went to fetch her from Radiant Garden, spring had just started. By the feel of it, in Land of Departure it is still early in the season, with some of the flowers just shy from blooming.

As she speeds onward, she recalls a particular lesson about the seasons, in which all the worlds that Eraqus has discovered so far rotate around their suns at the same speed, always around the same positions and finishing their year with 365 days. The Master had said it's as if the worlds know that had once been one and are trying to coincide with each other.

"Remember, each world does have a consciousness of its own, so it wouldn't be all that surprising if they are trying to replicate the pattern it knew once before," Eraqus informed them, before moving on to the tilt of a world's axis.

The wind rakes its coolness over her hair, snapping her out of the memory. She makes it to the summit in record time, plopping down on grass near the pond, to dip her feet in the water. The stillness of her body relaxing comes and goes, taking away her adrenaline and leaving behind boredom at its wake. There is something else too, something she can't really place until the hush of her surroundings reminds her – she's alone.

For all the peace she sought back when she didn't have it, she wants nothing more right now than the bustling of other children, the midnight whispers and full belly laughter during recess. How Terra can stand being by himself for this long is a mystery.

She opens her eyes in a lazy haze.

Aqua hasn't seen him since breakfast. She had lunch by herself a while ago and swept around the castle long enough to know he wasn't there. Usually, he would make at least another appearance throughout the day before the Master came back at night. She's about to wonder where he is exactly, before she sternly reminds herself that there's no point – because she shouldn't, in fact, doesn't care at all.

The water sloshes as she stands on her feet. She decides to run back to the castle again, just to add in extra practice. She jogs until it comes to view again, but instead of going to the entrance, Aqua finds herself doing a quick turn, upping her pace to a full sprint as she heads towards the pine trees. Her moves become so automatic she doesn't sense him until they bump into each other round the neck of the woods. They both fall to the ground, hard. It takes a mere second, but as soon as Terra regains his senses, he scowls at her.

"What was that for?" he huffs, rubbing his forehead.

"It wasn't on purpose," she bites back. She's rubbing her forehead as well, wincing at the pain.

"Yeah? Well, be more careful."

She doesn't have a good argument for that, but luckily, a pillar of light shines at the front of the castle. Eraqus has returned.

They look at each other for a beat, before scampering off to meet the Master. Without thinking about it, they up their speed down the road until they are racing against each other.

Terra yet again has the lead, however this time, to her immense satisfaction, Aqua notes that the gap is smaller than before.

They reach Eraqus just as the last of his armor fades.

"Master..." Terra wheezes, bowing in a way Aqua knows is less as a sign of respect, and more as an excuse to catch his breath. Although she is in no position to judge.

"W-welcome back..." she chokes out, heaving just as hard.

Eraqus smiles at the sight of them.

"I'm glad to see both of you hard at work even when I'm away. Did you have a good race?"

"Yes sir," Aqua replies, because it's obligatory, and then because she can't help it, adds "I think I've gotten faster."

"Yes, I saw," Eraqus remarks. "Your progress as a whole has improved drastically. Didn't I mention before? You have great potential."

Aqua grins at this. Her smile widens at the sight of new clothes and her very own armor, which Eraqus reveals in a flourish of light. The clothes have little flair, more on the solid and simplistic side, but she knows on sight they'll fit better, and the fact they are completely new and not worn is enough. The armor is in its repressed form, shining as double shoulder bands. They gleam as sunlight hits it.

"Thank you, Mr. Eraqus." She hugs the gifts close to her chest.

"I'm glad you like it," the Master chuckles. "You should put them away when you get the chance. I dare say your closet has been empty long enough."

The Master takes a moment to survey her enthusiasm, before remembering another gift he has yet to give.

"Ah, and Terra, this is for you."

The usual burlap sack that would normally bring delight from Terra, its contents appreciated fully only by him, is now greeted with aloofness. Aqua notes his quiet acknowledgement of the bag, and his utterance of a colorless "thank you."

It comes out quiet, so much so that it's lost under the thumps of Eraqus' retreating steps. When Terra accepts the gift, his left hand clenches the pouch tightly.

Both students hurry off in opposite directions, each clutching their presents with various degree of gratitude.

With Eraqus' business done, he becomes present around the castle again, which means once more the two children are forced to be amicable around each other. Even though Terra's comment has lessened in bite, his mood, if possible, has turned sourer. The fine line between rivalry and contempt has been breached somehow, and Aqua can't pinpoint how or when it happened. Crossing swords with Terra has become dangerous, and he would laugh meanly at her losses. He drops their mocking formalities to openly ignore her, or if the moment presents itself, to rudely correct her on this and that.

Aqua fumes in silence during one particular evening, rubbing at a sore spot where Eraqus' blade had reached her, and where Terra had taken advantage of it during their match directly after. She creeps to the opposite wing, where Eraqus' room is, to ask for some ointment when she hears the Master's voice, stern enough to make her spot at her tracks.

"…and nobody deserves it, least of all Aqua. Understand?"

There's some resistance in the air before a response.

"Yes Master," Terra grumbles, and then because he can't help himself, "but she's alright so far. Why do I even have to help–"

"Because," Eraqus interrupts, before Terra can really voice his displeasure, "if your roles were reversed Aqua would never refuse to help any new students I choose. If I told her to look after you in the same way you were supposed to for her, I have no doubt she would readily agree. She has a certain light about her that makes her reach out to people, not push them away. Certainly not out of jealously, and even less so out of fear."

"I'm not jealous!" Terra exclaims. "And I'm not scared of, of anything."

"My boy, admitting these unsavory facts is the first step to confronting the darkness. And hardly anyone is afraid of nothing."

This time the end of Eraqus' sentence is met with heavier silence, and an even more stilted "yes Master."

Aqua is about to edge away from the scene when she discovers she doesn't have to; Terra rushes out, his face darkened by what had transpired. At the sight of her, he's completely outraged. He opens his mouth, and despite not wanting to, she flinches.

No words come. In the heat of his frustration, Terra stomps off. Aqua hears him going down the steps, follow by the entrance doors being swung open. Feeling guilty, she follows him to the forecourt, where he's pacing away.

"How much did you hear?" he demands, as soon as his surprise wears off.

"Not much," she admits. "Just the part about me. I don't know anything else, really."

He stares hard at her. After some time mulling it over, he drops his gaze.

"Okay." He says. He clears his throat. "Okay."

The lapses of speechlessness between the two are always terrible, but this feels like the worse one yet. Aqua bites her lip.

"But I–" Aqua starts, before her voice catches, "I think we should try to help each other, instead of always fighting. That's what Mr. Eraqus mentioned right? It'll be easier that way."

"That is easier," he agrees, "especially for you. But your light and mine are different. There's no way I can – I can…"

Terra stops pacing. Unable to continue with this line of thought, he gives it up entirely before rounding at her with another.

"And it's not 'sir' or 'mister,'" he says sharply. "It's Master. Master Eraqus."

Although some part of her knew what Terra said was right, Aqua couldn't help but feel a rise of indignation. Terra huffs in a haughty manner, practically embellishing an unspoken so there, now you know, remark. And then, to quite possibility ensure he's getting the last word on things, he makes to go.

"Wait."

"Now what," he sighs.

"I want a race," she blurts out, surprising even herself. As soon as it leaves her mouth, however, she's sure the whole reason she followed him out tonight is to propose a challenge to end all this.

"We're gonna be doing that tomorrow, so what's the point?"

"Practice," she states simply. By the jerk of Terra's body before he halts, Aqua knew she's peaked his interest. Additional training is something he's never refused. "We can race through the same path as earlier, right to the summit."

Terra stands with his arms crossed, deciding whether or not they should, but as she heads over to the starting point, he follows. When she crouches, so does he.

"Okay, so on my mark–"

"No," he says crossly, "on mine."

"Alright…"

Terra begins the count to three. Just as the last count leaves his lips they both burst forward, feet flying over the dirt road. The wind whips around them, hitting their faces as they each pull forward to gain the lead on the other.

Tonight is just as perfect as the last, bright enough to see the path before the shine of each lantern, quiet enough for them to just concentrate on their evening out their breaths as they pump their legs harder, swing their arms faster.

Aqua feels confident. They are neck to neck, and Terra isn't able to build that distance he had during their previous races. Although she cannot see his face, she can feel his shock at her improvement, his pace no longer lax as he struggles to genuinely gain more speed. Still, he reaches the next bridge first, which forces her to splash through the stream.

No matter – she's not afraid to go off path. She'll embrace any route, so long as they led to the finish line. Terra, sensing the difference, tries to monopolize the smoothest road, which leaves her to trend on slippery grass, gravelly dirt, and more ponds to slosh in. Her sneakers are caked with mud by the time the bridge to the summit comes to view. Her chest is aching as she attempts to suck in more air. Despite it all, it's wonderfully, deliriously, fun.

Aqua laughs out loud.

Her mood further heightens as she inches closer to Terra, his back ridged as he detects her moving up, sensing that the impossible is happening. He's startled now, with his vain attempts to push forward, but she knows in her heart she's faster, and so, without much resistance, she breaks free from their matching pace. She vaguely notices Terra's alarm as he falls back, because soon his presence drops from behind her altogether.

Aqua slaps the mountain's base as she slows down to a halt. She gulps down air, wiping the sweat off her face. After righting herself, it dawns on her – she's won the race. Success is sweet on her tongue, and she's flush with triumph. She turns, ready to drink in Terra's disbelief.

He isn't there. Strange, she has expected him to be by her side now.

"Terra?" she shouts, her voice rising in pitch ever so slightly.

"Ergh…"

A low moan answers her, and she twirls around to see the boy lying face down on the ground. He was getting up slowly to a sitting position as she runs back towards him.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he says, rubbing his nose. "Just tripped."

When he removes his hand, she could see blood smeared on it. Her eyes make their way back to his nose, and she's stunned to see a heavy trickle gloss over his lips, to the point of his chin, where they curve and land, with a prominent splatter on his white shirt.

Aqua extends a hand to help him up, which he ignores. He gets up quickly enough, trying to brush it off like it's a small matter. But on his first step, his ankle shakes, and Terra trembles horribly before he falls back down.

"What's the matter?" she asks in alarm. All thoughts of her victory vanish instantly.

"My ankle," Terra hisses. "I think I sprained it."

"You–" She gulps. "You really think so?"

Terra tries rotating and flexing his foot. He winces and lets out a shaky breath.

"I'll go get Eraqus–"

"No," Terra calls out thickly before she can take a step. "It's way past after hours. We could get in trouble for being out so late, and so far away from the castle. The Master…the Master doesn't need to know…"

Terra's a bit white in the face now, with his bloody nose showing no sign of stopping, even when he tips his head up. Aqua reaches for his hand, but he pulls away. He stands shakily on his good foot, but it isn't enough to support him.

"You need help–"

"I'm fine," he retorts firmly. "I've gotten plenty of sprain ankles before. They always go away after a few days."

"We don't have a few days," she reminds him. "We need to get back to the castle now."

Terra chews the inside of his cheek, knowing the truth of her words. His good foot is still shaking, and he's about to lose his balance. He sighs hard through his nose, turning to her. She walks over to his other side, looping her arm around his waist to grab a fistful of his shirt. He leans on her, however begrudgingly, as they match steps with one another. It's the best Aqua can hope for, and she's careful not to brush his arm as they hobble away from the mountains and back to the castle.

The two try to sync as best they can, but what ends up happening is either Aqua's too fast, or Terra's too slow, and they strive on, tripping over every loose rock.

"Watch it!" Terra yelps, at what is the tenth time they nearly fell.

"Sorry…" Aqua mutters.

The wind is picking up, with a hint of chill that wasn't there before. Aqua shivers. Maybe Terra hasn't realized it just yet, but there is a faint rustle in the bushes. Something is howling in the distance, far and yet too close to her liking. Occasionally yellow eyes will blink at them from the dim, and her heart races, recalling the attack that happened so long ago in Radiant Garden. It's tempting to go running back to the castle on her own, away from all this. But there's still Terra to think about, and really, she rather be together than alone in the darkness.

It's quiet when they finally get back. All the rooms had their lights put out. She's glad for the rugs on the corridors; they do well to muffle their steps and Terra's dragging foot. Careful not to stain the carpet, he pulls his shirt up to soak up the blood from his nose.

Terra whispers directions on how to get to the medic room. Up until now, she hasn't been even aware of its existence. On ground floor, they make two rights until they reach the end of the hall to a small room no bigger than a standard bedroom. Two beds are crammed on opposite corners, one of them looks slept in before, and is covered with clean sheets, while the other has no such impression. She wonders how often Terra got hurt, and how little Eraqus knows about it. She sets him down the bed, and Terra has a look of instant relief now that pressure isn't being applied on his bad foot.

"What now?" she inquires.

"I need some ice from the kitchen. It'll help with the swelling," he says, his voice muffled with a rag soaking the remaining blood on his upper lip. He points at his ankle, which is now plump and angry red.

"Okay," she nods. On her way out, she notices a roll of bandages and tosses it to him, which he catches effortlessly.

It's a hard feat, suppressing her nervousness while speeding through the dining hall to the double doors that leads to the kitchen. It's dark, so she has to feel for the ice chest. She opens it, groping for the ice, until she secures a pouch and drags it out. Slowly, almost catlike, she creeps back out of the kitchen. Aqua entertains the thought of running back. After all, Eraqus' study is well above them. There is little possibility of him still being awake at this hour–

The lights flicker on. She nearly drops the bag.

"Aqua," Eraqus says with astonishment. "What are you still doing up?"

Eraqus prods lightly at Terra's ankle, causing the boy to wince. His nosebleed has stopped, gratefully. Despite that, the drops on Terra's shirt are sure tells, and Aqua's confident they haven't fooled Eraqus for a second.

After a few more examinations, the Master confirms that a few days' bed rest is in order. Terra can walk around, but not without a crutch. The ice packet is pressed directly on the swollen joint, causing him to shudder violently.

"Sir, but what about a cure spell? Or a potion?" Aqua asks, once she finds her voice.

"Those are needed only for flesh wounds, my dear," Eraqus explains. "This is a bit more complicated than that. Aside from battle, we must not rely too heavily on magic or aides to help us. The body is also a conscious thing – it needs to learn to heal itself when it matters most."

He goes to check on her as well but does not discover any new marks of injuries. Once the Master notes that both of them are relatively well, he starts pressing them with questions.

"May I ask what you two were doing at the mountain trail, and at this hour?" he asks, quietly but no less serious.

They look away, ducking from the full onslaught of his question.

"We were just training Master." Terra says, but he ruins his confidence with the shifting of his eyes.

"Even though it is midnight?" Eraqus is not convinced. "You should know better, Terra."

"I-I," Terra splutters, tongue tied further as Eraqus raises a questioning brow. "I forgot..."

"That was very foolish of you, my boy. Various wild animals roam at this time of night – fortunately you have not encountered any of them, lest your injuries would have been far, far worse."

"Yes Master," Terra mumbles bitterly. The strands of his hair cover his eyes as his head hangs low with shame.

Aqua peeks over Eraqus' back, remorse clawing her chest.

This is all wrong. It was she who suggested they race through the mountains, she who threw caution to the wind. And yet here is Terra remarkably, inconceivably, taking the blame on both their behalf. She can't phantom why; he's made it very clear he despises her.

But as Eraqus remarks exactly what punishment should follow, it dawns on her.

Terra is not fighting back against the Master. In fact, he embraces it as just another one of his duties maybe because – as absurd as it sounds – he's now fully accepted his responsibility to help her. As the Master said, Terra knew better, and she did not. Now he has to reap the extra chores bestowed on him once he's finished healing.

"U-um..." She coughs. Neither one of them looks her direction. "Mister – uh...Master Eraqus! Sir! I..."

Aqua feels her throat closing up. However, it is too late to retract her call. Master Eraqus turns to face her in surprise.

"It was my fault too," she says, unable to keep the small quiver from her voice. "I challenged Terra to race me. It was wrong, but I told him it was for extra training...even though I just wanted to beat him at something. A-and he got hurt because of me."

Master Eraqus is silent for a while, considering the change of events.

"Is this true, Terra?"

Terra opens and closes his mouth. For the first time, he's looking at Aqua, not with the degree of sharpness she's used to, but with wonderment and maybe a little bit of hope.

"I...yes. It's true Master." He confirms this, still staring at the girl who is curiously sticking by him, even though she's shaking like a leaf.

Even more strange is yet another twist; after a moment of surveying both of them, Aqua swears she can see the corners of Master Eraqus' mouth twitch upwards, just a little.

"How unfortunate Aqua," Master Eraqus continues, "I will have no choice but to punish the both of you, then."

Both students' jaws gape open.

"However noble your intentions, both of you have still broken rules, and on top of that, got hurt doing so." Master Eraqus brushes past Aqua to the doorway. "When Terra recovers fully, both of you will be put in kitchen duty, and you are to sweep dust for both wings of the castle. Understood?"

They snap, ridged in place. "Yes Master!"

He leaves them then, and Terra breathes out a sigh of relief. Apparently, this is considered a light sentence, if his relaxed face is anything to go by. He looks much better than he did, moments ago – still, she feels the need to apologize, mainly because the guilt still hasn't settled right with her; if anything, it's threatening to come out.

"Sorry," she croaks.

"It's not your fault," Terra mumbles. "I mean, I'm the one who fell–"

He looks up to meet her eyes and is immediately startle by the tears pooling around them.

"Wha – stop!" He panics. "Stop crying! S-stop crying…please…!"

Aqua isn't even aware of it. She touches her face, smearing the tears trailing down, and responds with equal shock.

"O-oh," she sniffs, "sorry…"

She swipes at her face. Terra has good enough manners to throw some tissues her way, which she catches effortlessly. Through the tears, she can make out Terra's worried expression.

"Hey," he whispers, "are you…are you okay?"

"Yeah…" She blinks back the tears fiercely. "I-I don't know – why…"

Aqua can't find the reasons for the tears, even after they stop falling. Terra eases up a bit as her face dries, before speaking again.

"Why…" Terra tilts his head to look at the ceiling. "Do you really need…a reason to care about the things that matter?"

They turn to look at his bandaged ankle.

"It was dumb of me to run and fall like that," he says, low to the point she nearly couldn't hear it. "But…well, you were pretty fast."

He admits this with a crooked smile. Sheepishly, just enough to almost be an apology. But whether it is meant to be one or not, it's the first she's ever gotten from him.

"Thanks," she says, once she finds her voice.

Because it's late, and they need dire rest, she leaves him be.

It takes a couple of days, but once Terra's ankle heals and both children finish their punishment, Terra takes her to see his project in the woods. It's a few yards away from the creek bed the Master had shown them weeks ago, the very place Aqua had yearned to explore deeper into. Here is where Terra has stationed his secret place; a bed of flowers and vegetables growing in tilted soil, protected by sturdy planks of lumber that makes a fence. The burlap sacks he had received from Eraqus reveal themselves to be seed packs and fertilizers.

They are surrounded by towering tall pines, oaks and evergreens. However, even with this amount of seclusion, the sun makes its way through, shining past the leaves to cast streams of gold that tickles their hair, their shoulders, their feet. The air is sweeter here, in this small space, and she can hear the songs on birds much clearer.

Terra peers at her to the side, rubbing his neck. She gives him a tentative smile.

His eyes flicker at her expression. His arm drops, and the break from his face, as if something is stirring up inside him, clenches at her. He returns her smile in full.

That's when Aqua sees it, from where he stood – the first dandelion of the year, and she knows; spring has come at last.

#terraqua #kh bbs #kh aqua #kh terra #kh thp

[handyguypros1]

Best Emergency Food Kits HandyGuyPros

There’s nothing wrong about being prepared for emergencies. Like it or not, the unexpected can happen at any time. But you won’t be as stressed if you know you have food on hand for the crisis.

Top Emergency Food Kits

The best emergency food kits have calorie-packed goodness that won’t take long to prepare. You might prefer ready-to-eat rations over freeze-dried meals if you’re worried about water consumption. Or perhaps you prefer food bars as the simplest solution.

In any case, it’s not just the flavor that matters. Take into consideration how much you need as well as how you plan to store and transport it.

Mountain House Just In Case 14-Day Emergency Food Supply

Campers and hikers know that Mountain House makes tasty freeze-dried food. Their 14-day supply includes three daily meal pouches for one person with a total of 1800 calories per day.

Each two-week kit comes with 42 pouches that will consume about 72.25 cups of water to prepare. And each 12.9-pound kit is boxed to fit in a 2-foot x 2-foot x 8-inch space.

Just as important, Mountain House offers a 30-year Taste Guarantee. They’re probably good for it since they’ve already been in business for half a century.

Mountain House Just in Case Classic Bucket

If you want to work on your three-day kit, include the Mountain House Just in Case Bucket. It comprises twelve meals to feed a person for three and a half days. There are classic meals like Beef Stew and Granola with Milk and Blueberries just waiting for you to taste them.

NorthWest Fork Gluten-Free 30-Day Emergency Food Supply

NorthWest Fork’s month-long food supply stands out for being kosher, vegan, and non-GMO. This Oregon-based company includes fifteen servings of six meals. And each freeze-dried meal becomes a pint of food once you add hot water.

The kit stays good for ten years just in case you don’t need it right away. But you might want to test it out ahead of time. You’ll find favorites like tropical trio oatmeal, pinto bean stew, and green pea soup.

Freeze-Dried Meals for Lunch and Dinner (5 Servings) by Valley Food Storage

Valley Food Storage packages their freeze-dried meals in 5-serving packs, not individual ones. This is advantageous if you plan to feed several people at once. But it may create a problem if you have to store a partially-used pack. Fortunately, each package is resealable.

Each unopened meal has a 25-year shelf life. And all each one needs is boiling water to become breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

Survival Food Storage – 60 Large Servings – Freeze Dried Meal Assortment

Legacy Premium Food Storage offers 18 pounds of food packed in Mylar pouches sealed in a bucket. Unopened, it should last 25 years. Each pouch holds four servings of GMO-free meals for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Peak Refuel | Freeze Dried Backpacking and Camping Food

Peak Refuel sells both individual and multi-packs of their freeze-dried meals. Their main benefit is that they usually require less water to rehydrate than competitors’ foods. They also contain real meat, not fillers, and a hefty dose of protein.

Western Frontier ULTIMATE MRE Case A and Case B Bundle, 24 Meals with 2018 Inspection Date

Western Frontier bypasses the need for rehydrating food by offering real military-surplus MREs. These meals-ready-to-eat are what American troops use in the field. They stay good for years under adverse storage conditions. And they never need heating or water to be edible in an instant.

Survival Tabs 8-Day 96 Tabs Emergency Food Ration

Minimalists will appreciate the emergency rations from Survival Tabs. They are rich with fifteen essential vitamins and surprisingly delicious for what they are. Moreover, they are one of the ultimate problem-solvers because they are compact and easily divided into smaller portions.

One package of 96 tabs lasts one person for eight days of survival in crisis conditions. Each serving consists of 12 chewable blocks of 20 calories each. They come in flavors like vanilla, chocolate, butterscotch, and strawberry. And each pouch only weighs 10 ounces. They will store on the shelf for at least 25 years.

Datrex 3600 Emergency Food Bar

The Datrex food bar is another excellent option if you plan to keep your rations as compact as possible. They will store for up to five years, too.

Each bar contains 200 calories and tastes similar to coconut. The texture is crumbly, not hard to bite or chew. Furthermore, they won’t make you thirsty.

DATREX Emergency Water Pouch for Disaster or Survival, 125 ml Each

Datrex also sells another essential item for your emergency food supply. These are 125ml (4.23-ounce) bags of purified water that can withstand freezing without rupturing. These are rations that you might find on a Coast Guard ship.

SOS Food Labs SOScin1pk S.O.S. Rations Emergency 3600 Calorie Food Bar

SOS Food Labs presents a 1.6-pound package with nine food bars. Each individually-wrapped bar replaces one meal. And the entire package represents three-days of survival rations.

You can choose from coconut, cinnamon, or a mix of the two flavors. Each bar has 410 calories, and each package will store for up to 5 years.

Grizzly Gear Emergency Food Rations – 3 Day Supply

Grizzly Gear is also in the business of emergency food kits. Their three-day supply is comprised of lemon and vanilla-flavored bars that are full of vitamins. Each of the 9 bars contains 400 calories. Additionally, each one is Kosher.

S.O.S. Rations Survival Emergency Kit

The S.O.S Rations kit is a no-brainer choice if you can’t decide between the other options above. It has food, water, and a survival tips guide to boot.

There are US Coast Guard—approved food ration packs, water bags, plus Millenium energy bars. Everything stores for five years on the shelf regardless of the weather conditions.

Augason Farms 5-20100 72-Hour 4-Person Emergency Food Storage Kit

Augason Farms sells a 72-hour kit with food for four people. It provides about 2200 calories per day per person. Also, it has a 20-year shelf life.

There are sixteen pouches and seven freeze-dried food types. They are packed so that there are multiple servings in each pouch.

Millennium Energy Bars Assorted Flavors Including Emergency Guide

Instead of fussing with heating and hydrating meals, energy bars are straightforward calories to keep you going at crunch time. They come in a variety of fruity flavors that won’t make you crave extra water. And they store for five years.

Each individually-wrapped bar offers about 400 calories made up of 8 grams of protein, 53 grams of carbs, as well as fat, sodium, and fiber. They even come with an emergency guide to help you manage in an urgent situation.

What kind of emergency food is best?

The best kind of emergency food depends on a few factors. For example, if you’re planning on a short-term crisis like a weekend without power, you might prefer MREs or bar rations. They won’t require hot water if you don’t have a gas stove or campfire. Plus, you can probably handle the flavor (or lack thereof) for a day or two.

On the other hand, freeze-dried meals are tremendous if you don’t need to worry about your water supply and have a method to boil it. The variety and presentation are appealing compared to energy bars.

Also ponder on how you plan to transport and store the food. After all, you might decide to stock up on both freeze-dried and emergency rations to cover all the bases.

What do the experts recommend for emergency food? They say these things:

Keep at least three days of non-perishable food available in your home

Make sure you plan for dietary needs (like diabetes) and have food you’ll actually eat

Try to avoid thirst-inducing items

They go on to explain that you may have some foods that will serve this purpose right now. To illustrate, canned vegetables, dried fruit, and dry cereals are all useful. So are peanut butter, canned juices, and canned milk.

In summary, plan for about 2000 calories a day for each adult in your home. And be sure to rotate your stock to keep food from expiring.

How and where to store your emergency food

Manufacturers may tout a 5-year or 25-year shelf life, but often that’s under optimal conditions. If you want to recreate those conditions in your home, try these tips.

First, choose a space that doesn’t get direct sunlight or suffer rapid changes in temperature. But good ventilation is important, and so is low humidity. If you can’t meet these requirements (like if you have rations stocked in your car), then select food that can endure worse treatment (like survival ration bars).

Next, prevent pests from having access to your food. Keep everything sealed until you need to use it. You can also protect it with diatomaceous earth that is safe for humans but kills creepy crawlies.

And some survivalists go a step further. They say to hide your cache and not speak of it to anyone outside the family. That way if the SHTF, you won’t draw as much unwanted attention.

What about water storage?

Freeze-dried meals require water to become properly edible. That’s why it’s smart to prepare water storage too.

The US government recommends having one gallon per person per day for at least three days. This should cover drinking and boiling for meals. Of course, this quantity might not be enough if it’s hot weather.

It’s best to store clean chlorinated water in food-grade containers and rotate it every six months. If you purchase commercially-packed water, it has a longer shelf life.

One last thing that most people forget about emergency food kits

Have you ever had unsalted food? Or oatmeal without any fruit or sugar or syrup? Spices and condiments are something a lot of people don’t include in their kits. But not only can a little salt and pepper save a meal, it can also serve as currency if you need to trade for something else.

Conclusion

We hope you found the best emergency food kit today. And that’s the key operating word—”today”. Don’t delay preparing for what may come. You’ll never be sorry you had food on hand when things get dicey.

Source :

https://handyguypros.com/best-emergency-food-kits/

[worldlywomenworkingwonders]

Michelle Obama

- Michelle is a lawyer and writer who was previously First Lady of the United States, married to Barack Obama

- She was the first African-American First Lady in US history

- She was raised on the South Side of Chicago, Illinois

- Her father suffered from multiple sclerosis

- Michelle joined a gifted class at Bryn Mawr Elementary School by the sixth grade

- She attended Whitney Young High School, Chicago's first magnet high school, established as a selective enrollment school, where she used her fear of how others would perceive her as motivation to succeed

- She experienced gender discrimination growing up despite her achievements

- Michelle was on the honor roll for four years, took advanced placement classes, was a member of the National Honor Society, and served as student council treasurer; she graduated in 1981 as the salutatorian of her class

- She is a graduate of both Princeton University and Harvard Law School

- At Princeton, her white roommate’s mother (unsuccessfully) tried to have her daughter moved because of Michelle’s race; she said that it was during this time that she became more aware of ethnicity, class, and racial divisions

- She also got involved with Princeton’s Third World Center, an academic and cultural group that supported minority students, running their day care center, which  included after school tutoring as well; she challenged the teaching methodology for French because she felt that it should be more conversational; she wrote a thesis titled Princeton-Educated Blacks and the Black Community as part of her graduation requirements

- In July 2008, she accepted the invitation to become an honorary member of the 100-year-old black sorority Alpha Kappa Alpha, which had no active undergraduate chapter at Princeton when she attended

- At Harvard, Michelle participated in demonstrations advocating the hiring of professors who were minorities, and worked for the Harvard Legal Aid Bureau, assisting low-income tenants with housing cases

- She is the third First Lady with a postgraduate degree

- Following law school, she was an associate at the Chicago office of the law firm Sidley & Austin, working on marketing and intellectual property; she continues to hold her law license, but as she no longer needs it for her work, it has been on a voluntary inactive status since 1993

- In 1991, she held public sector positions in the Chicago city government as an Assistant to the Mayor, and as Assistant Commissioner of Planning and Development

- She became Executive Director for the Chicago office of Public Allies, a non-profit organization encouraging young people to work on social issues in nonprofit groups and government agencies, in 1993; she worked there nearly four years and set fundraising records for the organization that still stood 12 years after she left

- Michelle also worked as the Associate Dean of Student Services at the University of Chicago, where she developed its Community Service Center, and as the Vice President for Community and External Affairs at the University of Chicago Medical Center

- She campaigned actively during her husband’s presidential runs, delivering speeches at the 2008 and 2012 Democratic National Conventions; she returned again to the DNC in 2016 to speak on behalf of presidential candidate and fellow First Lady Hillary Clinton

- During his campaigns, she also spoke openly about race, education, and motherhood

- As First Lady, Michelle became a role model for women, in addition to an advocate for poverty awareness and nutrition

- She also became a fashion icon

- During her early months as First Lady, she visited homeless shelters and soup kitchens, in addition to sending representatives to schools and advocating public service

- She hosted a White House reception for women's rights advocates in celebration of the enactment of the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act of 2009 Pay equity law

- In 2006, Essence listed her among "25 of the World's Most Inspiring Women”

- Vanity Fair listed her among "10 of the World's Best Dressed People” in 2007

- In 2009, Michelle was named Barbara Walters's Most Fascinating Person of the year

- She advocated on behalf of military families, helped working women balance career and family, encouraged national service, and promoted the arts and arts education

- She was an honorary guest at Oprah Winfrey's Legends Ball as a "young'un" paying tribute to the “Legends” who helped pave the way for African-American women

- In 2010, she took her first solo visit to a nation and traveled to Mexico to speak to young students, encouraging them to take responsibility for their futures; she is a believer in success coming from unlikely places, and not discrediting underprivileged people 

- She was actively involved in community events in foreign countries, and it was said that she advanced her husband’s foreign policy and relations

- Among many things, she has been known for wearing clothes by African designers such as Mimi Plange, Duro Olowu, Maki Oh, and Osei Duro, and styles such as the Adire fabric

- In 2012, Michelle and her husband were awarded the Jerald Washington Memorial Founders' Award by the National Coalition for Homeless Veterans (NCHV), which is the highest honor given to homeless veteran advocates; she was awarded it again alongside Jill Biden in 2015

- She joined the campaign to bring back school girls who had been kidnapped in Nigeria in 2014, utilizing the campaign hashtag #bringbackourgirls

- She extended organic efforts in the White House by planting the White House Kitchen Garden, the first White House vegetable garden since Eleanor Roosevelt served as First Lady; she also installed bee hives on the South Lawn of the White House; the garden supplied organic produce and honey to the First Family and for state dinners and other official gatherings

- She created and took charge of the administration-wide initiative Let’s Move! to reverse progress in the child obesity trend

- Michelle has consistently been an open advocate for LGBT rights, opposing constitutional amendments banning same-sex marriage and promoting equality for everyone

- In 2017, during an appearance at the Partnership for a Healthier America conference, she rebuked the Trump administration for its delay of a federal requirement designed to increase the nutritional standards for school lunches

- Also this year, she called for tech companies to add women for the diversifying of their ranks while attending the WWDC in Silicon Valley, California; she honored Eunice Shriver at the 2017 ESPY Awards; she delivered an address at the tech conference in Utah charging the Trump administration with having a fearful White House; she appeared in a video for the Global Citizens Festival advocating more attention to giving young girls an education; she attended the Inbound 2017 conference in Boston; she cited a lack of diversity in politics with contributing to lawmakers being distrusted by other groups at the Philadelphia Conference for Women; she discussed gender disparity in attitudes with Elizabeth Alexander while at the Obama Foundation Summit in Chicago; and she spoke at the Bushnell Center for the Performing Arts in Hartford, Connecticut

#michelle obama #women in politics #women of color #influential women #long post #black excellence

[meggellithorne]

all the beautiful nostalgic moments of my youth:

1. homemade ice lollies

2. camping with my family

3. picking up acorns for the “perfect fire” with grampa

4. lanterns on New Years Eve

5. losing my favourite stick & Grampa holding my hand & following my steps to find it

6. braaing with Grampa

7. cooking with gran

8. school projects with my grandparents

9. my grade 7 lightning poster with mom

10. dad going all the way home from the airport to fetch my favorite ring so I didn’t have to leave home without it

11. mom doing me & my brothers nails in a little bowl when we were super small

12. that time I lost P200 I was supposed to give to my grade 7 teacher and had an anxiety attack and cried because I was so scared I’d get into trouble & mom gave me a hug and told me it was okay

13. trying on dresses for my matric dance with my mom & gran

14. going to milky lane & watching “When in Rome” with my gran

15. Ocean Basket with my dad

16. Perna Perna with my gran & grampa

17. drawing a whale at my grandparents house & my mom having it framed (age 7, mom drew a horse)

18. running down Kilimanjaro with my dad (even though he told my brother he’d rather have gone with him)

19. dad saying “I love you so much, you’re always on my side” one day when I was small and he came home late at night from work

20. dad bringing home two pieces of nickel from the mine for me & my little brother

21. mom teaching me how to draw shapes

22. napping at the top of my clothes cupboard because I could fit & liked to sleep in hidden places

23. my childhood friend Kyra & I picking lemons & putting them in our dresses to make boobs

24. shopping with mom

25. gran teaching me how to knit & getting me a Barbie sewing machine for my birthday

26. mom giving me a pretty purple passport doll one day when I was anxious that she was mad at me

27. gran teaching me how to plait

28. dads hugs & cuddles & little massages

29. Simba & Tigger, the most beautiful little animals

30. walking on the monkey bars with my friend Robynne every break time

31. teaching my childhood crush (Christiaan) how to write the number 3

32. making vegetable soup in my grade 1 class with Mrs Richards

33. Mrs Van de Bought taking me home and getting me an ice-cream because Harry Potter, our class movie, was really scary (age 4)

34. Shakawe with my friend Shevaun: we made up silly songs & put on a show for the family (age 11)

35. the day my dad bought home my JCB teddy bear from his company trip in London

36. Christmases in Plett, and riding our bikes all over (especially the time it flooded & we had to cycle in knee deep water, which was really fun)

37. story telling after lights out in the boarding house

38. my little brother and I climbing onto the roof when mom wasn’t home and jumping into the pool with our friend/brother Neil

39. also climbing onto the roof and having picnics

40. quad biking with our parents and squishing into pairs on the bikes

41. dressing up as a cat and climbing trees with my friend Meagan

42. switching clothes & climbing the jungle gym every time we went to Anniques house

43. picking mulberries with Jemma

44. decorating the treehouse at our new house

45. dad bringing home Patch

46. diving down & picking marula fruit out of the pool

47. singing to my little cousin Eric while we were waiting for his mom to get home (he was scared she wouldn’t)

48. playing teacher with my little brother and his friend Barend (I even gave them homework)

49. teaching my little brother how to read

50. my high school friendships, their closeness & the sisterhood (Kelly, Kieran & Tshili)

51. Aero plane trips home from boarding school with Amy

52. holding my little cousin Robbie when he was just a baby (making extra sure I was cradling his head)

53. playing barbies outside with my little brother and building whole towns

55. that carpet with the roads & a little city which we’d play cars on

56. drawing hearts with mine & Christiaans initials on the mirror after I showered

57. the day he asked me to be his girlfriend in grade 6 (we said we loved each other straight after that lol)

58. taking Simba into the bush and driving slowly behind her in the car as she ran into the wilderness

59. making little beds in my draws for Tigger

60. the furry mouse toy/memento the vet gave me after Tigger died

61. Sun City with Sean & Conner (and one time my grandparents came) on all my birthday’s.

62. when I got my first phone from my gran and Grampa

63. me & Hannah’s medieval outfits from my Aunty Carol

64. all the important people being proud of me & my good report cards

65. my walk with dad when he told me he’d like me to repeat grade 8 because I was too much younger than my peers (who bullied me)

66. watching “How to lose a guy in 10 days” every Christmas with my mom, because for some reason it always showed on TV in December

67. chewing gum for the first time on Robberg mountain

68. boogie boarding with my dad because we were too young to do it ourselves

69. dad’s French toast

70. Mom’s soup

71. lunches with my aunty & gran every Wednesday during my first year at boarding school

72. decorating my room at my gran & Grampa’s house

73. building my milk carton car with my Grampa in the back yard

74. gran’s Sunday brunches & Heckers nursery

75. singing “party for 2”, “lemon tree”, “pretty Belinda”, “away in a manger” and “grandpas old jalopy” in the car as a family during road trips

76. picking flowers and bringing them to my mom

77. making special headache bags (sandwich bags with water and flowers in them, tied with a hair band) & special soap concoctions in the shower

78. climbing the tree at the the tennis club

79. playing with red velvet mites & mophane worms & making them race

80. riding those plastic black motorbikes on the tennis courts

81. jay boarding with Reece & Kyle (and tying them to the back of our bikes to go extra fast)

82. turning a lawnmower into a go-cart with my little brother

83. spray painting fishing lures with my dad

84. drawing a horse sign for the farm with my little cousins (I was director)

85. my first kiss

86. dancing with my roommate KB at a dance I forgot the name of but had the best time at

87. singing my moms ringtone so she’d think her phone was ringing and would come find us

88. playing rugby and soccer with my dad

89. playing canasta with my dad & our secret cheat code

90. being 5 years old and insisting on like 4 outfit changes every day

91. Aunty Solfrid washing and styling my hair with little butterfly clips and doing my makeup

92. being in a dance play and getting to be a pink ballerina (age 4)

93. playing tennis with Loryn & Shevaun

94. breaks with Robyn & Tunanjina (we “invented” a game where you had to throw our school hats to each other & catch them with sticks)

95. watching high school musical with my mom & little brother

96. singing & playing “I’m a Barbie girl on repeat” with a big set of headphones

97. dressing up as a fairy or princess every chance I got

98. watching the nutcracker & Care Bears on video at my grans house

99. going to the pantomime

100. the elephant teddie bear that aunty Vicki got me when Eric was born, and the brown talking bear she got especially for me when I had pneumonia

101. helping dad with the cottage window putty

102. decorating “my room” with gran & grampa

103. boat trips with the family, dad letting us drive around the bouys & mom teaching us how to blow bubbles with chappies

104. singing “angels” by Robbie Williams with KB in the boarding house & painting our nails glittery blue

105. being a close little family & feeling loved & cherished & important

I know these are just the good moments, and that writing this made me cry because things aren’t like this anymore; but these are the moments I will always hold close to my heart - however trivial they may seem.

#fairynotes