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thewritingginger · 3 years

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Hi~ :3 I wanna request... 14th from the nice list with.. Either Theo from ikemen vampire or Satan from obey me :D! Thank you in advance!! :3

Company & Cocoa

Hope you enjoy it! :3

Prompt: Nice #14: ‘Gets Cocoa Together.’ Fandom: Obey Me! Pairing: Satan x GN! Reader Word Count: 2,238 Words Warning(s): N/A

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It's the first day of winter break and you were waiting at the set location you and Satan had agreed to meet up at.

You have been long distance for the past couple months since you had to go back to your world to help some demon exchange students acclimate, with you being a human and have experience living and dealing with demons you were the perfect match for the job. So having to leave for the foreseeable future was disheartening for the both of you.

But you guys talk everyday through your D.D.D.s. Giving eachother little updates throughout the day and when it became night for you, Satan would call to tell you goodnight and to hear your voice. It hasn’t been the easiest time apart considering the drastic shift from seeing each other everyday to only being able to do so through a screen.

So that’s why since being apart you both were planning for this visit.

“I just got off the train. I should be there in about 15 minutes, maybe 10 if I try hard enough.” Satan says through the phone.

“Make it 5! I can’t wait any longer to see you.” You say, making him laugh.

“You got it. I’ll make a run for it then.” He says

“Perfect.” You say, as you disconnect the line.

Leaning against a lamp post, waiting for your demon to appear after about 8 minutes you can hear footsteps coming your way. Turning around you see a slightly winded Satan jogging towards you. Your chest bubbles over with excitement and you run to meet him halfway, as soon as your body is near Satan drops his bag and takes you in his arms for a huge hug. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, legs encircling his waist, he spins you around. Stood there panting with exhaustion from his run he pulls his head back to look at you. A soft chuckle leaves his lips,

“Sorry for keeping you waiting. I tried to make it in 5 minutes but I guess I wasn’t fast enough.” His words make you laugh.

“Just shut up and kiss me already you idiot.” You say.

Not wishing to let you down, he meets your request once again and presses his lips against yours. The feeling of his touch and the smell of his cologne fills your senses. You’ve been waiting for this moment the second you left Devildom and you know he had too.

Reluctantly pulling away he gently places you back on the ground. “How about we get back to my place so you can settle in.” You say, looping your arm with his. “Yes, that sounds great.” He says.

Now back at your temporary apartment, Satan drops his bag by the door.

“Damn, this is a nice place Diavolo got you.” He says looking around at the generously sized two bedroom apartment.

“Yeah tell me about it. I’m really going to enjoy this week, since I’ll have you to help fill it out. It's kinda lonely here all by myself.” You respond.

Going in to hug him, you bury your face into his firm chest. Enjoying the feeling of being back in his arms once again. You both spend a moment to enjoy each other's presence, but this time in silence. Nothing but the sound of his heartbeat and your breath to be heard. Gently swaying side to side, in a stationary dance. How you wished you could stay like this forever. Wrapped in his strong arms, his heart beating like a drum against your ear. A couple minutes pass before you tear yourself away from him, letting out a sigh you smile. “We should get you unpacked.” You say as you take his bag. “The bathroom is right here if you want to take a shower and I’m putting your bag in my room.” You hauler from down the hall. Taking you up on your offer he responds with a subtle, “Ok.” as he enters the bathroom to do just that.

Thirty minutes had passed. While Satan was in the shower you had gone ahead and put the dinner you had prepared for the two of you before he got there into the oven. With about 15 minutes left on the timer you see your boyfriend round the corner in just a pair of pants and towel in hand drying off water droplets dripping from his golden locks. You watch how his muscles move under his skin with every drag of the towel. You obviously missed everything about him while you two were apart and sure you both have sent pictures here and there but nothing beated seeing him in person. Your eyes roam his body once more, your arm crossed as you lean on your elbow at the bar of the kitchen, in a trance once you get to his face and you see his lips cut in a sly smirk.

“Having fun there?” He asks. Laughing at how you straighten up, coming out of your dazed state. You laugh as well,

“What can I say, I missed you.” Walking towards you he catches your lips once again.

“I missed you too.” He says. Eyes locked with yours in longing. He smiles and pulls away, “What are you cooking? It smells really good.” He asks. Walking over to the oven you open the door to check the, “Chicken casserole. It should be done here in about five, ten minutes.” You say.

For the rest of the night you and Satan ate and cuddled up on the couch, talking, laughing and kissing. Lots and lots of kissing. At about midnight you stood up,

“Well I think we should be getting to bed, I have plans for us tomorrow.” You say, stretching your arms above your head. Nodding in agreement Satan got up and followed suit to your bedroom for the night.

~~~

You are awoken by the sun beaming through the window, practically blinding you when you crack your eyes open. Groaning a bit you roll over to encircle the body that should’ve been there. Feeling around a bit you opened one eye to see that Satan wasn’t there. Looking at the clock that reads 08:23 am you stretch before sitting up and reluctantly get out of your warm cocoon to find your boyfriend. Opening your bedroom door you hear the sound of the sink running, turning the corner you see Satan in the kitchen doing the dishes from the night before. “Good Morning.” You yawn. Catching his attention.

“Morning. Sleep well?” He asks, continuing to load the dishwasher.

“Yeah.” You say lazily as you walk behind him you get a cup of the freshly brewed coffee. Once fully prepared you walk over to take a seat at the kitchen bar, resting your head on your propped hand, taking a small sip from your cup. “Not that I’m complaining but you know you don’t have to do those. You’re the one visiting me, not to mention it's also eight in the morning.” You say. “It’s no problem. Since you made dinner, I thought I’d do the dishes.” He says.

Turning the sink off and drying his hands he walks over to you. Wrapping his arms around you, your back pressed into his chest. Resting his chin on your shoulder he kisses your cheek. Breathing in your scent mixed with the aroma of coffee, sighing in bliss. “And besides that I enjoy doing things like this for you. It makes it feel like we actually live together doesn’t it?” He says. His cheesy words make your heart swell. “Yeah I guess it does.” You say taking another sip of your coffee.

“Well enough of that sappy talk, I have somewhere I want to take you.” You say jumping out off the bar stool. Satan laughs at your shift in demeanor. He follows you down the hall to the bedroom to change for the day. “Where are you taking me?” He asks.

“Well if I told you what’d be the fun in that. Just get changed and you’ll see.” You say

It’s a crisp day in the city and you can’t wait to get into the cafe you’re bringing Satan to. “It’s right over here.” You say pointing at the sign that reads ‘The Sip & Read Cafe’. Opening the door to the cafe you are met with a much invited warm gust of air. Walking in shaking off the last of the chill in your body you sigh. You look up at Satan as he takes a quick glance around. “So, what do you think? It’s a book cafe. When I first saw it I thought it’d be fun to bring you here, but we don’t have to stick around very long if you don’t want to.” You say.

“No this is perfect.” He says. Smiling down at you, warmed by thought. “How about you go find us a table and I’ll go get us something to drink.” He says. Nodding your head with a hum, you part ways to do your respective duties.

You find a perfect little nook in the back of the cafe with nobody around. There weren't many people around to begin with, other than a handful of people checking out the books, getting coffee or working on their laptops. I guess that’s what happens when you get there at about nine in the morning on a weekday.

While in thought and looking around at the bookcases, Satan returns with two cups of cocoa.

“Here you go, Kitten. This should warm you up.” He says, taking his seat across from you.

“This place is really nice. If you don’t mind after we eat, I’d really like to look around a bit.” He says.

Putting your cup down, licking the chocolate residue from your upper lip you respond.

“We can stay as long as you want. Also you know you can buy the books here too.” You say. His eyes light up at your words making you giggle. “Well then, we might be here a while.” He says. Smiling at you, you can’t help but return the favor. You really love your bookworm and seeing him excited is just as exciting for you.

After you both have finished your cocoa and eaten some food you both begin to wander around looking at all the books. This place held a lot more than you’d originally think at first glance but there are two stories to it. The main floor is where the cafe is and of course there were bookshelves down there but there is also a second part. Going up the little staircase at the back you reach the loft. That circles around the three walls that are covered floor to ceiling with books, leaving a hole in the floor guarded by a railing you can look down into the cafe from. Once you’ve taken it all in you notice that Satan is already thumbing through a book. Smiling to yourself you begin looking around as well.

The next few hours were filled with just that. You and Satan taking out books, showing each other ones of interest and even sitting down in the loveseat in the corner to read a few pages.

Once it struck about 1 pm you felt your stomach growl which was your cue that it was time to go. “Hey baby, if you’re ready I think we should go get some lunch.” You say, looking up hoping you didn’t lose your boyfriend forever, but he responds.

“Yeah I think I’m ready.” He says. Coming up behind you, you turn around to see him hold five books.

“You sure you got enough to survive the rest of the week?” You ask sarcastically. He laughs, draping his arm over your shoulder as you head for the stairs. “I think so but I might not get much reading done while I’m here with you.” He says. Detaching from you so you both can travel down the narrow staircase.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask. Reaching the bottom of the stairs he turns around, looking up at you he cracks a side smile.

“Lets just say that I have a few days to make up for a few months missed from you.” He says. Giving you a quick wink before he turns to go pay for his books. Stopped at the base of the stairs you watch him walk to the counter, your heart flutters a bit at the implications. Shaking your head at his shamelessness you go wait by the door for him.

Once he's finished being ringed up he comes up behind you. “Ok let's go home and eat. Shall we?” He says, wrapping his arm over your shoulder. “Yes, please I’m starving.” You say as you open the door to leave.

As you’re walking down the bustling sidewalk, his arm wrapped around your shoulders keeping you warm he leans into you a bit. “Thanks for taking me there.” He says. Smiling, you respond with a gentle, “It was no problem.”

“Oh, so I take it you wouldn’t mind if we came back here tomorrow then.” He says with a cheeky smile.

“I mean if you really want to we can. But you have to get me another cocoa if we do.” You say. Chuckling at your requirement. Pulling you in closer kissing your cheek he responds “Of course, Kitten.”

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I hope you enjoyed reading and wanted to get some cocoa after. I know it wasn’t totally Cocoa based but it was mentioned xD

(Also I just made up the cafe name so idk if there is actually a cafe called that or not lol)

I just want to say that since I have the end of semester in school coming up at the beginning of December so uploads will be happening but yeah it’ll be slow :)

💛 ~

#OBEY ME #obey me game #shall we date #shall we date obey me #obey me satan #satan #satan x reader #fluff #Christmas prompts 2020 #holidays 2020 #naughty or nice list #nice list #request

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sarcastic-sunshines · 4 years

Text

She’s Mine Part 1

Author’s Note: This is my submission for @chaneajoyyy & @shaekingshitup ‘s Quarantine Challenge. It was just what I needed and I am so grateful for both you lovely ladies doing this. I hope you all are staying indoors and staying. As always, I cannot wait to hear what you think 😊

P.S. I was inspired by the song She’s Mine Part 1 by J Cole

Pairing: Erik Killmonger x [Black Reader]

Quarantine Writing Challenge Masterlist

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She’s Mine Part 1

“You’ve made so much progress over the past few months.”

Erik lifted his head, finally making eye contact with his therapist.

Here he was.

He never saw himself making it this far. He had asked for one thing: death. But here he was, spending most of his days listening to this woman and his family, trying to repair the inner turmoil that had been building his entire existence.

Erik stared intensely at the woman before turning and looking at his ‘family’ around the room. They seemed happy, they always did. But this time, they showed a look of accomplishment. They believed in the progress that he apparently had made. He didn’t. He could see the benefit, though he wasn’t ready to call them family yet. Nonetheless, he thought he understood them all better. But he wasn’t ready to open up fully yet. He didn’t think he would ever be ready.

“If you ever need more than the weekly sessions, I can make myself available to you, Prince Erik.” He nodded slowly. The title still sounded foreign to his ears.

The therapist got up and left. Not long after Queen Mother and the Princess followed her out, but T’Challa stayed, waiting for his cousin to say anything.

“Are you alright,” he said, tired of waiting.

“I’m good,” Erik spoke. He observed the gentle face staring at him. “It don’t matter how many sessions we have. I’m gonna need time to adjust to this, my new normal.” T’Challa had a way of getting him to open up with little effort. The man always appeared so trusting, and a little piece of him wanted to fully trust him. But he knew better than to do that. So he would slowly let the man in.

Slowly but surely.

“I know it is strange. That is why I think throwing yourself into a project will help you acclimate better.”

“Yeah,” he responded while leaning back into the chair, “what you got me doing?”

“Shuri is working on something for the kids in the center. I think you would be interested. It is a long term project that you will get to present in about nine months. I think it is enough time to decide where you would like to be. Here… Or America.” T’Challa stood, waiting for Erik to do the same. “Though I will admit cousin, as difficult as it had been for us, I have enjoyed your time here, and I personally would love it if you stay.” With that, T’Challa turned to walk out the room, leaving Erik behind. He needed a moment before he started walking towards his own chambers.

His cousin’s question made him think about where he wanted to be. He hadn’t thought he would make it this far. He wasn’t sure what to do with this ‘second chance at life’. That’s what the therapist called it. He still wasn’t sure if he wanted it. Until he figured that out, he was back to surviving. He didn’t know what living felt like. He hadn’t for a long time.

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The music was blaring. The heavy afrobeat tempo bounced off the walls of the lab as he entered, but he didn’t mind. He looked around at the different lab coats busily passing through the lab, working on what he could only describe as greatness.

That’s when he first saw her.

Her large afro puff pushed away from the deep umber complexion of her face. Her glasses sat low on her nose as she was solving some equation on the holographic board. Her lab coat hung tight on her curves that were impossible to miss. She was glowing. She had to be! How else could he explain why he was so drawn to her.

Her concentration broke away from the board as she surveilled the room for a moment. Briefly, her eyes connected with his. It only had been an instant, but in that instant, he knew. He had felt more within his soul than he had in months. Shuri quickly drew him away from the moment as she waved with rhythm, trying to get her cousin’s attention.

“I am so excited you are here! I think you will love what we are working on,” she said, already moving towards her work table.

“Your brother said it’s basically like mini kimoyo beads.”

“Exactly. Of course, more limited than the ones Wakandan Citizens have, but this will help the kids with any of their needs! From school to housing, and even letting the Outreach coordinators know if a child is in trouble.”

“I like that, so what do you want me to do?” he asked as Shuri handed him a clipboard.

“Well, your fancy American degree leads me to believe that being the head of something like this would be right up your ally. And of course, your life experience lets me know a sense of empathy will be included as well,” she said with a small smile.

He nodded at her, and though he didn’t return the smile, Shuri could see the warmth in his eyes. Despite everything, she knew Erik liked her. She would catch him snickering at her jokes every once in a while, and it made her feel like she was doing something right. And she was. Erik could admit that watching Shuri’s enthusiasm for life was something worth seeing. It made him feel warm on the inside, and instinctively protective over her. Which showed how far they had come, considering how they had met.

“And here is your team.” Shuri gestured to five individuals who lifted their heads to work and wave at the prince. “I will let you get to know them on your own time, but you will be working closely with y/n.”

And just like that, the woman who had captured his attention when he entered stood in front of him, Her smile was wide as she stuck her hand out for him to shake. “ Y/n originally came up with the idea and has been leading it alongside me. I think you will both get along. She is easily one of my favourite people,” Shuri continued to praise y/n, who Erik had finally focused enough to shake hands with.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Erik” he stuttered out and internally winced. What was happening to him?

“I know”, y/n said, still smiling. She never broke eye contact, and it was as if she was seeing into his soul. “From what Shuri has said about you, I think you will be a great fit for what we have already started.”

“Alright. I’m excited to get to know you,” he said smoothly, his charm slowly returning. He made it obvious he was taking her full form in, and he could see she was doing the exact same thing. He didn’t mind at all. “Why don’t you introduce me to everyone, and then show me the layout.”

And with that, her work mode turned on. Erik found himself struggling to catch up as he trailed behind her around the lab. He tried to stay focus and soak up everything she was saying, but it never took long for his mind to focus on everything else about her but the safety guidelines she was currently reading out. He could tell already, there was a fire in every aspect of her. He was so intrigued by her, more than ready to explore this fire, hoping he wouldn’t get burned along the way.

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MONTH 1

If there was one thing Erik loved about Wakanda, it was the landscape. The natural beauty of the land was really like no other. So every day, during his lunch he would climb a hill where a few benches were littered and eat while enjoying the beauty before him. It seemed like a remote spot, so he was always able to enjoy peace and quiet. Especially knowing his next meal would be a much louder family dinner.

He didn’t mind family dinner, but he was for sure not used to it. The idea of sitting at a table where everyone shared their days and inside jokes was one he never saw himself being included in. At only one foster home did he ever eat at the table with everyone else, but it was always dead quiet. Laughter rarely filled that table. But here, among his ‘family’, laughter was a requirement. He still found himself feeling like an outsider despite the few chuckles he had been able to let out.

So at lunch, he appreciated the serenity of the hill as he prepared himself for not only the rest of the day but also his attempt to join the laughter.

He began to chew slowly, placing his book to the side when he could hear the muffled version of someone’s music. So much for a quiet lunch, he said to himself. He took a large bite thinking that if he ate quicker he could leave quicker. He felt a presence, but he didn’t turn until the person was sitting right next to him.

The irritated face Erik originally had turned with had disappeared as soon as he saw y/n sitting next to him ever so casually.

“I thought I was the only one who liked sitting up here,” she said pulling out her packed lunch while stealing glances at Erik.

“Guess not,” he said finally. “ It is quiet up here, almost -”

“Serene,” she said, finishing his sentence before looking at him with a smile. He nodded slowly, with the smallest smile growing on his face. He liked y/n. After working with her for the better part of the month, he admired how confident and sure of herself she always was. When she looked at him, he felt her trying to understand him, even with the very little that he offered.

“Exactly, how come I haven’t seen you out here before? Actually, I never see you leave the lab. I was starting to think you were one of the robots that Shuri is always working on,” he said, taking another bite as y/n giggled at his comment. He almost felt proud of himself for getting her to laugh.

“I am just a perfectionist. I really want this project to go well. It is like my baby.” she said looking out at the landscape, before turning to him. “But how ironic you say that, considering you are always the last one to leave the lab and the first one there in the morning.”

“Yeah well, you’re not the only one who wants this to work out. Shuri was right. My heart is in it. I didn’t want it to be, but it’s hard not to think about all the kids whose lives could be even a little better than mine.” Y/n stared into his eyes the whole time he spoke.

“I understand,” she said softly, and without thinking, she placed her hand on his knee. He stared at the hand for a moment. He didn’t want to admit but it was comforting. One thing he had noticed about working with y/n was that she had a way of making everyone feel like they had known each other for decades. Her presence always brought a sense of familiarity and Erik didn’t realize how much he loved it until this moment.

“So what does the prince do when he isn’t spending all his time testing out prototypes?” she said breaking the comfortable silence they had been basking in.

“I don’t know yet. Y’all don’t really play basketball out here.”

“Have you tried football?” “You mean soccer?” he asked, making y/n roll her eyes, “ I do. T’Challa tries to take me every once in a while but I don’t know if I like playin’ as much as watchin’.”

“Well if you like watching, I always need someone who is willing to watch the Premiere league with me. Wakandans are very patriotic, and that even comes to football, they only watch their own league,” she explained

“So you’re not patriotic?”

“I am. I just also enjoy the beautiful game of football as the international treasure that it is,” she said with a slight glare, her smile still painted on her face. “Besides, we can work on some of that paperwork that goes along with American projects as we watch.”

They both began to pack up their lunch as she waited for his answer. Since Erik had gotten here, he hadn’t made any friends, let alone been invited to activities outside of work. He was used to keeping to himself, and he liked it. But there was something about this woman that made him feel like he couldn’t get enough of her. So he ignored the voice in his head telling him to say he was busy and nodded his head.

“A’ight, I’ll come, but you gotta watch a Warriors game with me,” he said.

“That is fine, but just know I am a Clippers fan,” she said with a smirk. Erik stopped for a moment, he couldn’t lie, he was a little shocked she watched the NBA at all. Basketball fans were not that many in Wakanda, and he had only found a few.

“What?! They not even the best team in LA,” he said, catching himself smiling.

“That is not what is important here! I grew up a Clippers fan, so they are the best team to me.”

“Now who was out here teachin’ you the wrong thing,” Erik asked as they walked down the hill.

“My father. He was a war dog stationed in Los Angeles. He used to say his favourite thing to do on his mission was to go to Clippers game, especially when they played the Lakers, so you can take that up with him when you see him,” she said with a giggle.

“Shit, I might just have to,” he said with a low chuckle to match her laugh. He stared at her as she kept talking. This was the most comfortable he had felt since waking up. When they reached the bottom of the hill, he realized he didn’t want the moment to end.

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MONTH 3

“Okay, try this.” She held a spoon full up to his mouth. He stared at the spoon for a second before giving. He chewed for a moment before moaning in satisfaction.

“Damn, that’s good. It tastes like collard greens,” he said, watching y/n serving him a plate of the vegetable.

“Because it is. It is called Sukuma, and its what we are going to eat with the Ugali.” She finished serving them both before placing both plates on her dining table. Meanwhile, Erik worked hard to not get lost staring at the roundness of her curves. So, as usual, he focused on the artwork on her walls, vibrant colours that matched the equally vibrant decor inside y/n’s home.

The first time he came over, he felt like he learned more about her just from her home. She smiled more when they were here, and she always seemed more relaxed. Erik enjoyed her the most here and recognized her home as her comfort zone. Her curls always went up into the tidiest bun she could manage at the time, and her work clothes were replaced with a pair of leggings or shorts with a crop top. If the Clippers were playing, she would bring out her jersey just to annoy Erik. And each time he would feign annoyance, just to stop himself from saying how sexy he actually thought she looked.

Each week, she would introduce him to new Wakandan cuisine and they would talk endlessly about nothing. Sometimes the conversation got deeper than nothing. He talked about his father, and his experiences after as he bounced through different foster homes. He learned that her mother was a Somali-American who her father had met while stationed in LA. After she passed when y/n was five, her father brought her back to Wakanda, and she hadn’t been back since. Knowing that made Erik more comfortable with his own confusing identity.

As usual, they moved to the couch where they let the effects of their food coma take over their bodies. Erik had learned quickly that y/n loved physical touch. Even if it was in the most subtle of gestures like their knees touching. After a heavy meal like the one, they just had, y/n head was always found resting against his shoulder as they watched a sports game. They had started to show each other their favourite films.

Tonight y/n had convinced him into watching Beyond the Lights, Erik watched y/n face as she felt every emotion that Noni Jean portrayed through her screen.

“I see you,” she whispered.

“What?”

“I see you. It’s like the overall theme of the film. To have a love so deep, so soulful, that they see all of you.” At this point, y/n had sat up and was looking at Erik intensely. And Erik was looking back at her, feeling every word she was saying. “Your fears, your insecurities, your wants and needs, aspirations, all of it. That type of love is so deep and intentional.”

“You ever had that type of love before?” Erik asked meekly, as they sat facing each other now.

“I always thought I did, but I don’t know, sometimes you just feel a connection, and I think at that moment you begin to feel it.” She broke eye contact for a moment to look at her leg, where Erik’s arm had been soothingly passing for about a minute.

“It’s like…”

“It just clicks in that exact moment, and you just know everything and anything.” His voice grew deeper as he finished her sentence. It had been like this for the past two months. Sometimes the conversations would get so deep, they felt the energy. It would take over his whole body, but the fear of opening up like that would make him pull away.

But not this time. He knew with all his being that he didn’t want to pull away. So he moved his hand from her knee to cup her face softly.

“Clarity. That’s what that is,” she said softly as she closed the space in between them. Erik met her halfway. They were so close, he could feel her breath on his lips. “I see you.”

The gentle declaration was all he needed to finally capture her lips in his.

It felt like they had been in this space before. He didn’t feel like he was learning her body, but rather that he was being reintroduced to the curves he had been admiring from afar. Her lips on his body was a sensation that he had been anticipating for a while. His hands on her hips felt like home, and he hadn’t had that in a long time. Their bodies connecting was a moment he wanted to just live in forever.

Her little snores were a comforting sound as she laid on his chest. His hand slowly passed on her bareback, and it was then he realized that he felt alive, had something to look forward to.

With that thought, he kissed her head and finally turned off his mind and let sleep take him. It was the best sleep he had had in months.

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MONTH 5

Y/n looked over Erik’s shoulder as he focused on the long legal document that sat in front of him. He had been reading through it for the better part of the night. She pulled the chair next to him and rested her chin on his shoulder. He turned for a moment to kiss her before going back to highlighting.

“You have been looking at this all night. I thought you came over to spend time with me,” she pouted as she spoke. His arm came around her, slowly creeping under her shirt.

“I’m sorry, baby, you know how it is. Once I start, I can’t put it down.” He turned off the holographic document and turned his full attention to her. “But I’m all yours now, what are we doing?”

She kissed him again, trying to center him, but she could tell he was still thinking about whatever he was working on. “Do you want to share with me what you are reading about?”

Erik stopped for a moment, hesitant to share. She lifted his head so they could hold eye contact.

“It’s the Foster Care Regulation in the state of California. I’m just tryin’ to see if there’s a way the center can take in these kids instead of them being thrown around the system.”

“Because you know you can do a better job than the current system?” she asked, he nodded along with her question.

“I just know what it’s like, and if I can help even just one kid, then this would be worth it. Giving them food and safe place ain’t shit if they’re being shuffled around every couple months.” As always, she nodded along as he spoke, acknowledging every word he was saying, and the words he was afraid to say. “I hear you,” she said softly, and with those simple words, he felt like his ideas were sane. “I am sure we can look into more when we go for the launching of the beads. I’m excited you know.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course, I get to see places that I haven’t been able to go since I was a little girl. Probably visit all the parts of the city that my parents loved so much. And, of course, see all the places that created my Erik,” she said gripping his chin, his smile exposing the golden grill that she loved so much.

Y/n kissed him softly before continuing. “After your cousin opened the border for Wakandans, I promised that I would only go back if I had something to give to my people. Now the months are getting closer and it’s becoming so real, you know?” He loved how excited she looked.

“You ever thought about moving back, like living there?”

“I don’t think so… Wakanda is home at this point. I want my life to be here.” She paused for a moment before looking at him doubtingly. “Are you thinking of going back to Oakland?” “It’s a possibility.”

“Meaning?”

“Look, I never knew how long I was gon’ stay. I just knew I needed to learn this side of me, and I did. Oakland’s home though. It’s familiar to me. And if I wanna get this alternative foster care system off the ground, I’m gon’ wanna be there. There ain’t nothing holding me here anyways.”

Y/n’s eyes opened wide. He could see the hurt he caused and immediately felt bad “Really, not one reason for you to even consider staying?”

“Baby...you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

She didn’t wait for him to finish before getting up and walking towards her room. All he heard was the slam of her door to know she was pissed. These were the moments Erik wasn’t ready for yet: the attachment part, where he had to consider someone else. He knew what he said was rude, but a little piece of him needed to know he could be without her. There was a strange comfort in knowing that. At least that’s what he told himself as he packed his things to go home.

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

MONTH 6

Family dinner was extra loud today, and that’s because Erik had joined. His boisterous voice was finally being heard in the dining hall. Most importantly, his laughter. He was with his family, six months ago, he didn’t think he could say that without feeling strange about it. But here he was, listening and laughing.

“Oh, by the way, Erik, can I give you this folder to give y/n?” Shuri asked casually. “I’ve barely seen her at the lab.”

And Erik knew why. She was avoiding him. It was obvious. They had barely spoken since his comment. Not that she hadn’t tried, but things just grew awkward. Erik missed her though. Even when she was around, he could tell she was withdrawn, probably doing what he too was trying to do.

Protecting his heart.

“Uh yeah, I’ll bring it to her later on,” he said, retreating back into his hard shell. The only one who seemed to have noticed was T’Challa, who didn’t have a problem sharing his concern as they walked down the long palace halls.

“So are things okay with you and y/n?”

“Yeah? Why you asking?”

“Because you’ve been showing up to dinner more often,” T’Challa said with a smirk that made Erik roll his eyes.

“Yeah, well, things have been different. I mentioned going back to Oakland and she got all up in her feelings.” T’Challa frowned for a second before steadying his face.

“So you decided to go? I didn’t know you had already made a decision. I was getting used to having you here, cousin.”

“I haven’t decided shit. She just thinks we’re a unit. But I need to figure out what’s best for me. Ain’t that what I was supposed to be doing,” he said much more aggressively than he intended.

“That is somewhat true, but I also know you have been acting like you are a ‘unit’. You practically were living together,” T’Challa said jokingly, making Erik kiss his teeth. “I also know since you started seeing y/n, you have become a much different person than who you were six months ago. I can’t say she is the cause of it all, but you and I know she played a larger role.”

Erik stopped and leaned on the wall, looking at the folder under his arm. He knew his cousin was right, and he hated it.

“I think you are just afraid of the love and stability she offers. We both know you haven’t had that in a long time, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t deserving of it.”

Erik nodded for a second. He spun his ring for a moment before leaving the wall. “I gotta go. I’ll catch you later,” he said walking in the opposite direction from T’Challa.

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

It was a large bang on the door. It startled y/n who had been meditating. It seemed like she had been needing a sense of peace more than usual. There was another bang on the door, followed by Erik yelling. “Baby! I know you in there!”

She slowly got up from her spot on the ground and found Erik standing on the other side looking much meeker than he had sounded only a moment ago. Slowly, his eyes traveled down her body before he cleared his throat to speak.

“Shuri said to bring this to you,” he said thrusting the folder in her hand. She looked down at it with a frown.

“Is that the only reason you came here?”

“No. I came to find out why you haven’t been coming to work. You know we need you to keep us in order,” he tried to joke, but y/n’s face did not move at all.

“Baby, can I come in and talk for a second,” he asked more seriously. Reluctantly, she opened the door wider to let him in. He took his normal spot on her couch and watched as she chose to sit as far from him as possible. He groaned before remembering he wasn’t there to argue with her.

“So,” she said with all the attitude she could.

“There ain’t never been a time in my life when I was allowed to be comfortable, you know that,” he said slowly. “I’m not justifying anything, but it’s hard for me to let you in like that, to think this kinda happiness is one I’m supposed to be comfortable with. That it’s not gon’ leave as soon as I accept it. So I became cold as soon as it became comfortable.” His leg began to shake nervously. “Everyone I have ever loved has been taken away from me, and I don’t need that happenin’ with you. I’ve been fine on my own. At least I thought I was, then I realized I got family, and you. And I am sorry I ever made you feel like you weren’t the most important person in my life.”

He finally looked at her for the first time since he started talking.

“Because I love you so much y/n. I love you so much I’m afraid to lose you,” he began to sniffle, trying to keep his emotions together.

Y/n smiled at him, slowly closing the gap between them. She placed a hand on top of his, and with the other, she held his chin, making sure he kept eye contact with her. And for a moment she didn’t respond, she just stared at him. Erik felt his breathing slowing down. He hadn’t even realized how anxious he had been.

It scared him to think about how safe one person could make him feel. Something he hadn’t experienced since being a little boy in his Baba’s arms.

“I love you too Erik Stevens,” y/n spoke after a moment. A soft smile rested on her lips. “I was scared to, but I do, and because of that, I’m not going anywhere.”

He nodded softly letting her words sink into his soul.

“I love you, and I see you.” Those words, so simple, but enough to let him know where he needed to be.

“I see you too,” he said before kissing her softly. She brought her arms around him, and just like that, he felt alive again.

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

MONTH 9

“I’m open!”

Erik yelled to one of the kids on his team to pass to him. As soon as he got the ball, he went straight for a layup, and just like that he helped his team win. The young boys circled around him reaching for high fives from Erik. Erik glanced at y/n who stood at the sidelines with a slight smile on her face.

An announcement rang through the outreach center letting the boys know they had ten minutes before a session with Shuri. Erik watched as all the boys moved to get their things and go. He took the opportunity to walk over to y/n who he greeted with a deep kiss before she pushed him away.

“If I knew I had a cheerleader out there, I would have made more shots,” he said with a smile that made y/n playfully shove him as she tried to hide her smile.

“Yeah, whatever. I’m just here to make sure you get ready for the game on time. I want you to see every moment of the Clippers destroying your little team.”

“You talk a lot of shit for a team that ain’t got no ring,” he said putting his arm around her as she giggled. They started to walk from the center to his car ever so slowly. He took in the atmosphere of his hometown. He had missed it, but not as much as he thought he would.

“You are very good with the kids.”

“Yeah... You think so?” He opened her car door for her.

“All they talk about in our practice sessions is how cool Erik.” She threw her hands up mockingly as he buckled in and turned towards her.

“They’re cool kids. It ain’t hard with them.”

“I hope its that easy when we have ours.”

His heart seemed to have stopped for a moment. They had never talked about that far in the future before.

“Calm down, ma, you don’t want to do things the right way? I don’t know. Think about marriage first,” he says looking at her face, making sure to take in everything she said.

“My dad always mentioned the two of us doing our rituals and him giving me away to you.” Y/n rolled her eyes.

“You don’t want that?”

“I don’t know. My parents never got married but I think their love was pure without it. So I think I feel the same way. We don’t need titles to know we are committed to each other.”

He looked at her for a moment, slightly distracted by the woman that he loved.

“I like that. Just know that no matter what we decide I’m still gon’ call you my wifey.”

“That’s fine. As long as you are the one saying it,” she said leaning in to kiss him.

“I hear you,” he said looking at her before getting ready to drive off.

She kept stealing glances of him before speaking.“Have you given more thought about where you want to stay? Is Oakland calling you?”

He placed his hand on her bouncing leg.

“Right now? Home is wherever you are,” he said with a straight face. “That’s gon’ mean me going back for a while but we’ll make it work.”

She nodded with a smile before picking up his hand on her thigh and giving it a kiss and placing it back. He flashed her a smile showing off the golden grill that she loved so much. They entered a comfortable silence, filled only by a soft R&B playlist he had playing. It was then, he was sure, that this was what living felt like. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Part 2

Taglist: @aloevverified @chaneajoyyy @shaekingshitup @fd-writes @ashanti-notthesinger @ghostfacekill-monger

#erik kilmonger x reader #quarantine writing challenge #sunshinewrites

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omoi-no-hoka · 4 years

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Hey! I saw your blog today and I love it very much!! I see you're an open person so, I also have a question: HOW does one survive studying japanese at uni?? I'm in my first year and only my second (online haha) semester and we started out with Minna no nihongo 1 but we're supposed to finish Minna 2 by the end of this semester, same with Basic Kanji book 1 in the first sem and now Basic Kanji Book 2, all while also learning mostly of Japan's history and others in this semester. Exams will kill me

Hello! I’m glad you’re enjoying my blog! I am open to a fault lol. Let me recount my meandering journey through uni, illustrating my feelings through gifs of Noel Fielding because he is my celebrity crush.

Uni is such a difficult time for so many people, trying to figure out who you are now and who you want to be later. It wasn’t until my senior year that I realized what I wanted to do. I started writing out my university experience and it got super long, so allow me to just summarize my “Lessons Learned” here and you can read the rest if you want to know all the dirty deets lol. I double-majored in Japanese and English, so I think that my experience can perhaps be useful to people who are majoring in things other than Japanese as well.

Hard-Learned Lessons from Uni

Do not choose a course of study because it is “practical.” Choose it because it is something you love. Seriously. Nothing is more important than this point. Do not choose a major because “I’ll make a lot of money” or “My parents are telling me this is good for me.”

If you are learning multiple languages at once, you must give your brain time to organize what you learned from one language lesson before moving on to the next. You can do this by waiting a couple hours between lessons, getting up and walking around, studying one language in different space from the other, etc. Otherwise, it all becomes a terrible mess in your head.

It’s okay not to know what you want your career to be. It’s okay not to have a specific plan. Life works out one way or the other.

I know how expensive uni can be. (It’s been six years since I graduated and I’m still making hefty loan payments.) But don’t feel like you have to take a full courseload every single semester and graduated asap, particularly if the classes are hard and/or you are working. I took the maximum credit hours allowed every semester on top of working RIDICULOUS hours and it nearly killed me at one point. I’m not kidding.

It is not unusual to have an identity crisis and/or mental breakdown. Take care of yourself. Know when you are nearing breaking point. Seek out the help of professionals. Most universities have psychiatrists and therapists that will see you very cheaply.

Surround yourself with good people and look out for each other.

Do not rely on substances to ease your suffering because sometimes the remedy becomes the malady. Not saying you should avoid all parties or anything square like that, but just don’t be one of those people that parties every night and gets in over their head.

Let me preface this by stating that I’m an American, and our universities are stupid because they force us to take a ton of “general education” courses that are irrelevant to our majors, and many students spend their first couple years taking only a couple courses related to their majors and minors, and try to focus on getting those stupid gen eds out of the way.

Year 1: Oh Shit, This Is Harder Than I Thought It Would Be

I come from a town of less than 2600 people. Our high school prepared its students for the following career paths:

joining the military (boys only)

becoming a farmer (boys only)

welding, carpentry, or other practical jobs (boys only)

becoming a housewife (girls only)

So basically I coasted through high school never having to study anything because it was one great big joke, only I thought I was like super duper smart because I was in the top five of my graduating class of 48. LOLLLLLLLLL

I entered university as a German major, Japanese minor. (Japanese was not offered as a major at my uni). I had never studied German previously, but I studied Spanish and French in high school and I just had this feeling that German and Japanese were the languages for me.

The first semester, I had Japanese 101 and German 101 back to back, in the EXACT SAME CLASSROOM. I can’t stress enough how much of a mindfuck it was to go from thinking about Japanese for 50 minutes, having a 10 minute break, and then trying to switch your brain to German. IN THE SAME ROOM. It actually gave me headaches to try and make that mental jump. Managed to pull through the year with A’s in both, but German was much more of a challenge to me than Japanese. Which was really unexpected.

I also flunked several gen eds because I didn’t give a shit about them and skipped them and got placed on academic probation and was nearly kicked out of uni because of my poor grades

Basically, I was such a weeb that I had watched enough anime with subtitles and sung along to enough anime songs that I had absorbed about 90% of the first year’s worth of Japanese vocab and grammar through osmosis. I really did have the power of God and anime on my side.

Year 2: The Year of the Mid-Midlife Crisis and Mental Breakdown

There really is no gif that will encapsulate the level of turmoil I went through that year. I looked really hard for one, trust me.

It became apparent very quickly that I could not keep up with German. I ended up dropping it early in the first semester, which meant I had to choose a new major. Thinking of what would be practical to pair with a Japanese minor, I went for International Business for a semester, took Accounting, and realized that I HATE The Man, corporate bullshit, and also numbers as a concept.

All I knew at this point was that I liked Japanese but couldn’t make it a major. I also knew I didn’t want to transfer universities. So I kept taking gen eds, just barely passing them because to this day I cannot bring myself to put effort into something I do not care about, and also taking more classes related to my Japanese minor. It was the Japanese classes that saved my GPA and kept me from getting kicked out of uni.

At the same time, I took a creative writing course because that’s been a hobby of mine since elementary school, and I kinda thought about an English major, but then was like, “Eww I don’t wanna be forced to read books I don’t give a shit about. And also, what will I do with that degree?”

Also, at the same time, I was working full time, and often getting stuck working from 2 pm to 7 am (Yes, 15-hour shifts, because the overnight dude would call in sick last minute and I’d be begged to cover his shift), and then dragging myself to classes and drooling on the desks because I’d fall asleep.

Also also, I started to have possible hallucinations? To this day I don’t know what was going on, but either I was legitimately going crazy, or there was a demon following me around and being quite rude to me, making light fixtures fall and shatter inches from my head, throwing papers around my room, opening and closing doors, turning lights off and on, coming to me in dreams and doing some really, really traumatic things to me in them, and just standing in corners staring at me at all hours of the night. Had me so scared that towards the end of the school year I was waiting to sleep until sunrise, when it would go away. And no, I was not using any mind-altering substances of any sort. Not even going out and getting drunk.

So, yeah. Year Two was a hard one that I can’t believe I pushed through. Probably the darkest year of my life, I’d say. What got me through it? An unhealthy amount of energy drinks, friends, and my love of Japanese. Also Aerosmith.

Do I still see that demon? No. He vanished when the school year ended and I moved out of the dorms. Do I believe in the supernatural? Yes, to an extent. Do I think that what I was seeing was actually a demon? I honestly don’t know. I have had actual supernatural experiences verified by multiple witnesses, and a few years before Year 2, several friends and myself had seen an entity similar to what was following me around. But this one in Year 2 only did things when I was alone. So it could have all been in my head, and I will never know.

Since then, I have been diagnosed with general anxiety and also a form of insomnia that keeps me from sleeping through the night, and I know that my anxiety manifests itself in psychosomatic ways. In other words, my mind will take my anxiety and turn it into a physical symptom that feels real in every way, but is actually not occurring. So far it’s manifested as: sensitivity to sunlight, the symptoms of a stroke or heart attack, half of my face going numb, and headaches in my left eye. Once I realize that the symptom is just my anxiety, I can force myself to ignore and overcome it. But then my anxiety finds a new form to manifest, and the cycle repeats a few months later. It could be that my stress caused me to see this demon for a while.

Should I have consulted a psychiatrist and gotten help? YEP. If you find yourself struggling like that, seek help please. 💕

Year 3: Adrift But Afloat

I moved out of the dorms and into an apartment with my best friend, a Japanese girl I met in the dorms freshman year. I will call her Setsuko. Setsuko is basically the reason I graduated uni. She memorized my class schedules and took copies of exam dates, woke me up, forced me to go classes instead of skipping, forced me to go to the library and study with her, and cooked me dinner most days since she didn’t have to work like I did. I can’t express enough how much she did to improve my life outside of school and work, and how much that improved my mental health. She also acclimated me to lots of subtle things about Japanese culture just by living with her, and this helped me later when I moved to Japan. Thank you, Setsuko. 一生の恩人。

I was still doing those bullshit 15-hour overnight shifts way more than I should have, and also had the maximum courseload.

The Japanese classes got a lot more difficult in Year 3. But I loved them. They were the only classes I never skipped. I took more classes towards the minor like Buddhist Philosophy and Japanese History, which I really enjoyed. While polishing off more gen eds, I thought over what to do with my major.

My family and friends all told me that I should become an English teacher. I had always been good at words and at explaining things. But I didn’t really like the idea of being a high school teacher. I became an English major, though, because I knew that I didn’t hate English. Took grammar classes and HOLY SHIT did I hit my stride.

I realized that I didn’t like English lit. I liked linguistics. So I focused heavily on all grammar and linguistics courses, taking the bare minimum of literature courses required for the major. My GPA improved substantially.

Yet I still was consumed with this nagging fear. It was Year 3 and I still had no fucking idea what I wanted to do when I graduated.

Year 4: Clarity At The 11th Hour

Urged on by my “Don’t you dare get one of those stupid arts degrees that won’t get you a paycheck” parents, I decided that the most “practical” degree would not be “English,” but “English Education.” I began taking the English Ed classes with linguistics, grammar, and second language acquisition classes. The goal was to become a qualified English high school teacher who could also do ESL (since I had Spanish and Japanese under my belt more or less).

At the same time, I entered into Independent Study for Japanese with two other students. We were tasked with reading Izu no Odoriko, a classic short story. Independent study was its own beast. It required a lot more concentration and work on my part, obviously. But because Japanese was my first and foremost passion, I centered my efforts on those courses, and then on the others.

The process of getting certified to be an English teacher was lengthy and expensive in my state. This meant my graduation would be further prolonged, and I was worried about money, because I was already about $50,000 in debt at the time, despite working those fucking overnight shifts all the time that were eating me alive.

Then, during the summer vacation when my 4th year ended, I got a scholarship and went to Japan to study abroad. Education majors had the option to study abroad in several countries, and as luck would have it, one of them was Japan, and it was Setsuko’s HOMETOWN! The study abroad program itself was the first month of summer vacation, and Setsuko said, “Okay, just come stay at my house for the rest of summer vacation!”

Never have I said “yes” quicker in my entire life.

On the train headed from Sapporo to the town where I would be actually staying during my studies, I looked at the lush rice paddies and mountains in the distance and my entire heart just hummed with this “This is where you’re meant to be.” I knew then and there that I would move to Japan upon graduation.

What would I do there? Well, teach English, obviously.

My three months in Japan effectively aligned my entire life. My path had materialized before me. It was a roughly hacked, hard-to-see path through thick underbrush, but I could see it nonetheless.

Year 5: Let’s Hurry It Up, I’m Ready To Live

Come Year 5, all of my Japanese classmates that had been with me since freshman year were gone and I was alone. My professor taught me Classical Japanese through independent study, and it was the must grueling course I took my entire five years there. But I found it invaluable and am eternally grateful to him for teaching me, because you see Classical Japanese a lot more than you’d think you would in everyday life. Particularly in formal settings.

I still wanted to get certified to teach English in American high schools, because while I knew I wanted to go to Japan for now, I didn’t know if I wanted to spend my entire life there and I wanted a solid job opportunity when I came back to the states at some point.

However, the more education courses I took, the more I saw that the American education system was just as full of red-tape and The Man’s bullshit as corporate America, something else I rebuke with every fiber of my being. I also realized I’d need to take a 6th year of university, and that just wasn’t financially feasible for me. So I switched to a plain old English major with a heavy focus on linguistics and second language acquisition, and continued classical Japanese.

I took the remaining 3 gen eds online in the summer, graduated, popped up to Chicago to do a month-long intensive course to get the CELTA (Certificate in Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages issued by Cambridge.) It’s the most widely accepted and revered certification for teaching English as a foreign language.

So in the span of five years, I graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree in English with a focus in linguistics and SLA, and what is technically a major in Japanese Studies. 40 credit hours were required for a major, and I completed 42 credit hours tied to my minor, so while it isn’t listed on my diploma as a major, I did the coursework. I also got a CELTA Pass B, which only 20% of applicants achieve and never expires. The grand total for all of this was roughly $100,000 USD in loans.

Post-Graduation

The week I came back to my hometown from Chicago with my CELTA in hand, I packed my suitcases, threw a going-away party, and then flew to Sapporo, where I began my first job after uni, teaching English to children aged 0-18 at a private English conversation school. I did that for three years before changing careers and becoming a Japanese-English translator/interpreter for a global company.

So how useful have my choices during university proven to be?

I’m sure I don’t have to explain that studying Japanese helps me tons with translating Japanese to English or living in Japan lol

Studying English grammar, linguistics, sociolinguistics, and second language acquisition has allowed me to recognize minute nuances that can make the difference between a successful and unsuccessful business negotiation when interpretation is necessary.

My background in education also means that I know how to present information clearly, concisely, and in a way that engages the audience. I am known as “The PowerPoint Pro” at work lol.

I also have a keen eye for performance evaluation, behavior analysis, and improvement action plans.

I offered English conversation lessons to coworkers for over a year, and now that is being done in other branches across the company! (Well, they were before COVID haha.)

I DO NOT RECOMMEND WORKING THE HOURS I WORKED WHILE IN SCHOOL. My grades suffered and I wish I had worked less and focused more on classes. However, by working 15-hour shifts and doing full days of classes, I developed a very good tolerance for overtime, which comes in handy in the Japanese workplace. Just last month I had three 15 hour days in the same week. Sweet, sweet overtime pay.

All of these facets have culminated in me earning a pretty nice promotion to 正社員 seishain back in February, which means I get nice benefits and basically my job is guaranteed until I die or the company goes under.

Should I decide to return to America someday, I will probably not go into the education field. Too much red tape. I will likely continue translation/interpretation for companies, because it isn’t too difficult and pays well. Though ideally I’d love to just make a living sharing cool information about Japanese and stuff, and maybe writing those stories that are bouncing around in my head when I should be working haha.

Do I think the debt is worth it?

Well, I don’t think I had any other option than to take out those loans. I didn’t have the means to learn the things I wanted to learn unless I went to university.

Unless Japanese work visa requirements have changed, you are required to have a bachelor’s degree in order to obtain my sub-type of work-visa, so I needed a degree of some kind no matter what.

Frankly, if I hadn’t gone to that university and met my best friend Setsuko, I don’t think I’d be where I am right now, living the life I am now. So just having met her is worth any price to me.

Paying off all the loans is daunting, especially when yen is weak to the dollar. There were months I had to ask my parents for help, especially early on. But now I’ve got multiple loans paid off, my salary has increased, and the “omg i have money and no supervision so I can buy whatever I want” idiocy has mostly gone away. But I did get a super sweet pair of blindingly silver Converses a couple days ago that I definitely didn’t need

Do I have any regrets regarding my time at university?

I still regret dropping Old English for a stupid English Ed class. Seriously, how cool would that have been? But I still have the textbook, workbook, and I contacted the professor last week and she was kind enough to send me a syllabus. God bless her. So now I’m working on that bit by bit, which is fun.

I wish I hadn’t been such a cocky, naive idiot my first year. Thinking I could just “show up for tests” was the stupidest thing. It messed up my GPA, and my parents forbade me from retaking classes so I couldn’t go back and fix my mistakes. I think I graduated with a 3.4 overall GPA out of 4, but my English major GPA was 3.9 and my Japanese GPA was 4.0. So it’s pretty frustrating to have those gen eds and my dumbfuckery mar my transcript like that.

I really didn’t party at all. Most all of my friends were straight-laced Japanese exchange students, and I was also working ridiculous hours so I just didn’t really have the time. A part of me feels like I missed out on that part of the college experience.

Recently I’ve been putting more effort into improving my creative writing by reading a lot of books on the subject. Not a small part of me wishes that I had gone with a Creative Writing major instead of English major, because I still would have studied all the grammar and linguistics. Then again, I do believe that creative writing can be self-taught.

I wish I hadn’t worked as much as I did. There were a lot of times I couldn’t complete assignments or I missed lectures because I was just so drained. It wasn’t even good money.

Well...I did not intend for this post to become as long as it has. I’ve been cooped up in my apartment with nothing but two goldfish for company for over a month now and I think I’m a bit stir-crazy. Thank you to anyone and everyone who bothered to read all of this and become my therapist for a bit haha. Love you all. Stay safe and well. 💖

#study japanese #learn japanese #university #college #study tips #mental health #love you all #asks are open #stay well #noodle-of-sunshine #noel fielding #studyblr #college study tips #university struggles #college struggles #study english #study english education #study linguistics

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saultnpeppah · 4 years

Text

Day 4: Save the Date

May 2. Prince Residence - Santorini, Greece. 17:47.

Bruce

"Don't even think about it, Bruce."

Diana stares at me from the corner of her eye, her brow furrowed in an attempt to seem serious, but the faint curl of her lip into that devious smile shows me she is still giddy from talking about the wedding. We've been talking about this, what we want to incorporate, who we want there to celebrate alongside us, where we want to have it, and all are things we can agree on easily or are quick to compromise on, but there is still one thing neither of us can settle on: a date. Since proposing two months ago, Diana and I have constantly gone back and forth, both set on our own timeline for our impending nuptials. Diana would like to wait a while, get everything in order, plan properly and have plenty of time to get things settled with work. Me? Hell, I would marry her this afternoon if I could.

I had waited long enough to be in a relationship with her, waited even longer to tell her how I truly felt. I didn't want to waste anymore time unnecessarily, wanting to start my life as her husband as soon as possible.

"What?" I ask innocently, absentmindedly flipping through one of the open magazines atop the bed we lay on, casually discussing the wedding and other events that will fill the year's calendar, waiting on Hippolyta to come back from the office. "You don't think a nice summer wedding would be wonderful," I ask, tilting my head as I flash that smirk I know she can't ignore.

Diana, who has her own wedding magazine grasped firmly in her own hands, turns her head to glare at me, shaking it profusely at the question. "Not if it's this summer," she comments. "You know how much we have going on in the museum right now. That is not enough time to get everything done."

"You forget who you're marrying," I say, but the look in Diana's eyes as she turns to face me once more tells me she is in no mood to discuss the idea any further. I let out a sigh and fall back onto the bed we have been sharing for the last few days, staring up into the ceiling of the villa Hippolyta owns. This trip had been planned months in advance and I had hoped seeing the beautiful weather back in her hometown would persuade Diana that a summer wedding, with the sunshine and ocean breeze providing the perfect backdrop, would be the picture perfect wedding. She had politely shut down that idea, stating both our work schedules would not allow us to take much time off during the summer.

I had offered to hire a wedding planner, wanting to lighten a bit of stress of the load Diana had been carrying, but she simply refused. She wanted to do this herself, and I wasn't going to deny her that.

"What about March?" she asks, her eyebrow raising as she mentally plans a few details, convinced I will agree, and as much as I would love to, I have prior obligations.

"I'll be in Germany for half the month," I say, reminding her of the business trip that has been in the works for over a year. Her eyes close and she lets out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose as she grows increasingly more frustrated. "I'm still loving the summer wedding," I comment once more, the cocky smirk on my face growing as I reach out to touch her back. Her shoulders tense and she closes the magazine in her hands, placing it on top of the mattress as she swings her feet over the edge of the bed and stands.

"I've already said no," she says, trying to keep her voice calm.

"Why are you so stubborn," I find myself asking, however seeing her shoulders tense even more, I realize the comment should have never left my lips. Diana turns to face me, her face tensing as she becomes angry, huffs, and storms out of the room, letting the door slam shut behind her as she stomps down the stairs. "Why, Bruce," I reprimand myself, "why must you push her buttons."

Getting out of bed, I carefully place the magazine I had absentmindedly been browsing through back onto the pile by the foot of the bed, and follow Diana out of the room. Descending the stairs I can hear her talking to someone in Greek. Her tone is angry, and even though I've picked up a few words and phrases since high school, she's speaking too quickly for me to comprehend anything.

Diana finishes and lets out a huff as her companion chuckles before she responds, letting me know it is Donna she has run into and has been complaining to about me; if there was one word I understood throughout that entire rant, it was my name.

I turn the corner, forcing myself from my hiding spot, and step into the family room. Diana and Donna quiet when they see me, the three of us staring at each other, until Diana lets out a huff and walks out the room. When I try to take a step toward my fiance, Donna steps in the way, places a hand on my shoulder, and shakes her head. "Let her cool down," she says calmly, and as much as I want to apologize to Diana, I know Donna is right about her sister.

I give Donna a reluctant nod and throw my head back, letting out a sigh as her hand retreats from my shoulder. She takes a seat on the edge of the couch and waits for me to follow, her blue eyes staring at me until I comply and take a seat on the chair across from her. Her eyes continue to stare at me, watching every breath I take, studying me. Since the moment Diana and I announced we were dating, she has kept a close eye on me, and for good reason. Diana is her sister, and she would never let anything happen to her.

The two have been close, well as close as two people with an age gap as big as theirs can be. Ten years her junior, Donna joined the family when Diana was just heading off to college. After her mother died, and her father had abandoned her, Hippolyta and Diana were the only family Donna had, and after much consideration, and much convincing from Diana, Hippolyta had taken the child in and raised her like her own. At first it had been an adjustment, as Donna had just become an orphan at the age of eight, something I knew much too well, but Diana spent most of the summer before college helping her become acclimated to life with her mother, and again the following summer when Hippolyta had decided they were going to move back to Greece. In fact, our first year of college, I don't think Diana spent an entire weekend on campus, choosing to make the three hour drive each Friday night to spend time with Donna.

Diana knew Donna needed a friend, and after having her own father walk out on her life, Diana knew she could form a connection with her. She gave her advice on how to deal with Hippolyta's constant overbearing nature, even if it was out of love, and the two became inseparable. Donna was part of the reason Diana had returned to Greece for a time, knowing the girl was having a hard time acclimating to the country and her new found family. It was one of the reasons I fell in love with Diana. She was, is, so willing to sacrifice her own personal needs for her family, leaving the country to help the distant relative she didn't know she hadn't known about for years.

But as I continue to watch Donna stare at me, I wonder just how distant the two are. Donna looks just like Diana. The two have the same dark wavy hair, the same piercing blue eyes, the same tall, muscular, yet slender build. It's uncanny.

"So, she's pretty angry?" I ask, even though I know the answer. Diana doesn't storm off much, but when she does, it's usually because she has good reasons. I only hope I can apologize before I ruin the rest of the trip for her. It's not very often she gets to see her family and I want her to have nothing but the best of times.

Donna nods and chuckles, leaning back into the couch as her arms fold over her chest. "Understandably so," she comments. She watches my face, watching as I raise an eyebrow in confusion, before she adds, "Bruce, it's not that Diana doesn't want to get married as soon as possible. She does. But did you ever think that maybe this summer isn't the best time for her?"

I nod. I know she has a million and one things to do and maybe I've been a bit selfish about this whole thing. I can move my schedule around much easier than Diana can, and I never took into consideration how preoccupied with work she has been. I suddenly feel like an idiot and a jerk for the comments I've made to Diana.

"When she came to Greece, she gave up a job offer in New York," Donna explains, "and when she got back to Gotham, she had to fight for the job she has now." I never knew she gave up a job offer. I want to ask Diana about it when I see her again, but the look on Donna's face tells me I should think otherwise. She looks guilty. She looks as though she blames herself for Diana giving up that dream job to come and help her through a rough patch, and the look in her eyes tells me she will never stop feeling that way. I suddenly realize it is not something that needs to be brought up again.

"When the two of you started dating, and Diana got into the papers and tabloids, there was talk about her being dismissed from her job."

Her words spark an emotion in me that I can only describe as both anger and sadness. I never wanted Diana to lose her job, lose anything, because of me. I knew when we started dating the press was going to have a field day with printing any and all details about our relationship, no matter how accurate or fabricated they had been. Her life was going to be scrutinized by people who knew nothing about her, and although I tried to keep her name out of the papers, never wanting that for her, I suppose rumors and lies spread elsewhere. Had I known her job had been in jeopardy, I would have been a bit more cautious on how we approached everything.

"She never told me this," I say. My hand clenches into a fist and I take a deep breath, trying to control the anger that is rising within my chest.

Donna shrugs. "I told her to, but Diana is stubborn. You and I both know that." She lets out a chuckle and adds, "Hell, all of Santorini knows this." While Diana in the spotlight is not a new development, after all, her mother is essentially royalty here in Greece, she hasn't been in the papers since she was eight. But even as a child, she was as stubborn and headstrong as she is now, and if Hippolyta's stories are any forewarning, any children we have are going to be nearly impossible to sway away from something they want.

"She convinced them your relationship would not affect her job, and she's made good on that promise for over a year. Diana has worked hard, has put in extra hours, has proved herself time and time again. If she neglects her duties to get married this summer, when there are two galas and another exhibit planning to open in September, who knows how this is going to affect her."

My heart sinks when I realize everything Donna has said is true. I never knew Diana's job had been threatened because of her association with me, but if I had paid attention, I would've seen the signs. I knew Diana worked hard, harder than most, but I never knew it was because she feared losing her job. After all, she had already given up one dream job, I couldn't be the reason behind her losing another. I am suddenly overwhelmed by guilt. I have been selfish, more so than usual, and I owe her so much more. I should be working with Diana, not against her. I should be getting married when we both feel it is right. It isn't right of me to want to rush her for my own selfish wants.

"I'm an idiot," I mumble, dropping my head into my hands and letting out a sigh.

"No," someone says, and my head snaps up to see both Hippolyta and Antiope, her girlfriend, standing behind Donna. Hippolyta offers me a small smile and takes a seat next to Donna, placing her arm around the girl that has become her second daughter, before she leans in and kisses the teen's head. "You're not an idiot, Bruce," she says as she stares at me and I wonder just how much of this conversation she and Antiope have heard. "You two have been best friends for years, so naturally you've both clicked fairly well for a majority of the time. Sure there have been a few spats here and there and as I recall you two didn't talk for nearly a month your Junior year."

I try not to let my face give away anything, as the only reason Diana and I had gotten into that argument resulting in our avoidance of each other in the first place was because we had slept together. Once we started talking again, deciding to forget about the whole thing, Diana had let it slip that she had lied to her mother saying we had argued about a class project, but Hippolyta was smart.

"And don't think I didn't know why you were arguing," she says, narrowing her eyes at me. Guess Diana wasn't as convincing as she thought. "The point is," she begins, "You two need to be flexible and take each others' needs and priorities into account. There are going to be days when you're not readily available for her and there will be days when she's not readily available for you. You work through it, and compromise."

As Hippolyta finishes her lecture, Antiope walks up to the woman and takes a seat beside her, placing a hand on the older woman's knee. "That and you'll have to learn the Prince women are stubborn but they mean well," she teases, turning to Hippolyta who only scowls, offended by her comment.

"How dare you," Hippolyta says, feigning insult as Donna and Antiope share a laugh. Antiope kisses Hippolyta's cheek and offers me a smile, however I am only convinced that everything is going to be okay when Hippolyta joins in and smiles widely as well. "Don't worry, Bruce," she says, "you two will figure it out."

XXXXXXX

It is dark when the door to Diana and my shared bedroom creaks open and she walks inside, her skin covered in a sheen of sweat and her cheeks are flushed. Her earbuds are still in her ears, blasting the soundtrack to her run, so she doesn't hear that I am still up, but I haven't been able to stop thinking since she left. For the past three hours I have done nothing but think, and now that she's here, I want to run a new idea by her.

She continues to bob her head as the music continues to flow through the wireless devices, her heart rate still elevated from running the all too familiar streets of her childhood home. A part of me wants to reach out and touch her arm, wipe the sweat from her brow, and let her know I'm awake, but I also enjoy watching her as she sits on the edge of the bed, slowly pulling her shirt over her head. She turns to flip on the light by the bed, letting out a small shriek when she sees me sitting up and staring at her.

Her hand instinctively goes to cover her bra clad chest before she realizes it's only me and lets out a sigh of relief. "I didn't realize you were still up," she whispers. She pulls the earbuds from her ears and places them in their charging container, carefully placing them on the desk beside the window along with her phone.

I quietly flip on the bedside lamp, watching as she pulls the tie from her hair, letting it fall out of the ponytail into a pool down her back, before she pulls off her socks and tosses them into the adjoining bathroom. "Couldn't sleep," I confess. It's partially true. I couldn't sleep without Diana here, safe and sound beside me, but I wanted to make sure she knew I was sorry for everything that happened this evening.

I pat the spot on the bed next to where I lay and I watch as she contemplates the offer, lets out a small sigh, and obliges, laying down beside me. I let her get comfortable before I roll onto my side, watching as her eyes widen in surprise, before I lean down and kiss her softly. "I'm all sweaty," she whispers, letting me know she wants to shower soon, before she kisses me back.

I nod. "I know," I start, "but I want to talk to you before you jump into the shower." She gives me a nod and sits up, watching as I copy her pose, sitting in the center of the mattress. I grab her hand and give it a gentle squeeze, before I lift it to my lips and place a kiss on the back of her hand. "I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't realize how selfish I was being about this whole thing."

She says nothing so I continue, "You have given up so much for me. You've been scrutinized by the media, and I know planning this with work hasn't been easy." She raises an eyebrow and shakes her head, unable to believe Donna told me what she had confided in her sister about her job. I know she doesn't want me to worry, but I can't help it. I love her so much and her problems, by default, become mine.

"Donna told you?" she asks. I only nod and she lets out another sigh. "Bruce, I never wanted you to feel like I couldn't come to you. I just-"

"I know, Diana," I say. I know she can handle herself. I know she doesn't need me to save her. "I'm sorry."

Diana scoots over to where I sit and places her head on my shoulder, gently kissing the skin of my shoulder, and I wrap my arms around her, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. "I do want to ask your opinion on something," I say and she nods against my skin. "We started our relationship on the first," I begin. "Maybe that's when we should get married?"

Diana tenses for a moment, pondering over what I've just said, before she pulls back and looks me in the eye. "A winter wedding?" she asks.

I nod, flash her a smile, and bite my bottom lip as I consider the option I've just given her. "To persuade you a little more," I begin, "Neither of us will be swamped with work during that time. We both are free from other obligations, and we're going to have family around anyway."

She stares at me, contemplating what I've said. I can see her mind is running a million miles a minute, her eyes shifting from my face to the wall behind me as she tries to see if this is a viable option. I watch as she begins to count on her fingers, mentally calculating everything. "Two years ago I started the year as your boyfriend. Next year I'd love to start the year as your husband."

She is still for a moment before she turns to face me and smiles. She leans in and places a kiss on my lips, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me close. "January 1st," she says, "Did we just agree on a date?"

I am unable to help the smile that forms on my lips as she leans in for another kiss. "Yes," I answer and she gets giddy. The wedding planning is back on and now with a date set in place, we can finally get back to planning for the wedding and our future.

She rises from the bed and walks to the bathroom, discarding her leggings when she steps into the bathroom. She turns to face me and raises an eyebrow, flashing a smirk toward where I sit, the hint obvious. "Is my fiance going to join me?" she asks flirtatiously, disappearing behind the bathroom door. Her bra is discarded onto the floor and it is all the motivation I need as I jump off the bed and rush toward the bathroom where Diana has started the shower, letting the room fill with the steam provided by the hot water.

Diana squeals when I discard my own clothes once I'm inside the bathroom and wrap my arms around her, pulling her against my naked body. January first this woman is going to be my wife, and I cannot wait until I see her walk down that aisle, ready to start the rest of our lives together. Only eight more months to go.

@fyeahwonderbat

#StepsToTheAltar #wonderbat #brucexdiana #fanfiction #au #savethedate

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adarlingwrites · 4 years

Text

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who's willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

VIII

September 23, 2277.

It’s been a few days since my recall. Percy told me to rest and we’ll leave for Rivet City in two days. Something about looking for a scientist called Madison Li. Percy said she might know where her father is.

On the wall opposite the couch hangs a photograph of the young mistress and her father. Percy said his name is James. Yesterday, she caught me looking at it and told me she was in a rush to leave the vault but she could never leave the photograph behind. He’s the splitting image of the mistress. Almost.

The mistress and I had supper in silence, a slab of brahmin steak the mistress seared herself, with Instamash on the side. The dog is currently curled up in my lap while I sit on the couch. I can’t remember sitting something on something relatively comfortable and relaxing for once. Hell, I can’t remember the last time I relaxed and let my guard down before this Vault girl walked into my life.

It’s… difficult acclimating to my new employer’s lifestyle. I have no complaints for the free food and board that comes with it, but having this much time to myself still feels strange. I’m afraid spending most of my waking hours standing in the corner in the Ninth Circle has something to do with it.

Percy saunters over and calls my attention, a book in hand. “Hey. I thought you might like this book, Charon,” she tells me, handing it over. The cover is faded and the paper is yellowed, but it’s intact. There’s a dog- a wolf?- on the cover, and its coat pattern looks similar to Dogmeat’s. I found it interesting, but to be truthful…

“Thank you, miss. Unfortunately, I cannot comprehend this book.”

“What do you mean? This book is in English so...”

I hesitated on whether I should tell her or not. Wastelanders never knew how to read or write, but I was born before the bombs fell. Granted, the circumstances robbed me of the opportunity to learn, but shame grows at the pit of my belly. I felt pretty damn stupid.

“I barely remember how to read, miss.”

“Oh. That’s fine, I can read to you and teach-” Percy stops mid sentence and has a look of surprise on her face. “-wait, how do you know the contents of your contract then?”

The itch in my brain returns, but I am too exhausted to entertain it. The nightmare took a toll on me. “It was taught to me. Please, don’t ask.”

My mistress nods, taking the book from my hand. “Okay. Do you want me to read to you?”

“If the miss wishes to,” I tell her, but she shakes her head.

“I’m asking if you want to, big guy,” said my mistress, a smile on her face.

It wasn’t unkind.

It’s warm, like the ones she gave me when she used to come by in the Ninth Circle. When did an employer care for what I want? I’m still learning to trust this girl, but how can I say no to a good thing?

“Yes.”

Percy’s smile turns into a grin, her too white teeth gleaming. I think I’ll never be used to how healthy the mistress looks compared to the other denizens of the wasteland. She scoots closer, the dog nestled between us, and opens the book.

“Chapter one, ‘The Trail of the Meat’,” she starts. “Dark spruce forest frowned on either side the frozen waterway…”

??? ??, ????

I feel the warmth of another person beneath me. A whisper tickles what’s left of my ear, voice familiar.

“Please.”

It’s Percy’s.

There’s desperation in her voice, and I get on my hands and knees to look at her. Face flushed and glasses fogging, she looks me in the eye, with an expression similar to the ones I see on the women in the skin mag she found in the scrapyard. She’s dressed in that stupid blue jumpsuit, and I grab the zipper and undo it, dragging slowly. Underneath, she wears her shirt and boyshorts, the fabric sticking to her sweat-drenched body.

Head thrown back, her pale throat is exposed. I lean in to swipe at a bead of sweat with my tongue, my ruined mouth dragging against the skin on her neck. The mistress’ skin is as soft as I imagined. My hands scrambled for purchase, squeezing her breasts, rough fingers slipping beneath her shirt, pinching her hard nipples. I latch on to one, and she sighs softly, small hands grasping what’s left of my hair.

“Please.”

I stop, on my hands and knees once more, and my hands move lower, grasping her shorts and peeling it from her hips, ruined fingers touching her in places I have no right to. She leans in and kisses my ruined cheek, before slipping her tongue in my mouth.

“Charon, please,” she begs, breaking the kiss and bucking her hips against me.

I kneel between her legs, ready to service my mistress.

“Charon…”

I want her to never stop saying my name.

September 24, 2277.

I jerk awake, an uncomfortable pressure between my legs, and I look down, cursing myself. I’m too fucking old for wet dreams. Suddenly having a nightmare seems more preferable. Of all the dreams I can have, why that, and why her?

I hear a gentle knock and Percy’s voice from outside the door.

Dammit.

“Charon?” she calls again. I scramble to find my pants, do my best to conceal the hard-on I have, and hope she doesn’t notice it.

I open the door, and Percy stands there, I can no longer stop myself from looking at her. Droplets of water are dripping from her hair, down her neck, and to her sleeveless white undershirt. She wears her vault suit with its sleeves tied around her waist. The thin, wet fabric of her undershirt reminded me of the dream I had and I felt myself twitch at the sight of her.

“Miss. What do you need?”

“Lunch is ready,” she tells me, and I nod. She turns around and descends down the stairs, and I follow her, eyes trailing down her spine, to the curve of her ass, to her legs. The guilt settles in and I look away, even if she doesn’t know where I’m looking. It felt dirty, ogling the kid who’s offering me a roof over my head.

We eat our meal in peace like before, and Dogmeat lies on my lap while I sit on the couch. After fifteen fucking years of standing in that corner, I will take every opportunity I can to sit. I pet the dog’s head until he falls asleep, the rise and fall of his breaths slowing down. The mistress sits on the other side of the couch, sipping a Nuka, legs raised to the backrest.

“Looks like the two of you had taken a liking to each other,” said Percy, that smile on her face again. I felt the corner of my mouth tug upward, but I didn’t respond. I didn’t feel the need to.

“What about me, Charon? Do you... like me?”

My head whips to my mistress’ direction, and she must’ve seen the look on my face for her to let out an awkward laugh. “Seeing how you didn’t hesitate to put down Ahzrukhal, I hope I’m earning your trust and not doing anything to earn that treatment,” the mistress explains.

When Percy clarified what she meant by the question, I felt somewhat relieved. I’m not blind nor numb; she is attractive, even when I’m more used to the sight of ghoulettes. My body’s reaction to her says it all. I thought she was on to me, and I was terrified for a moment. Not a lot of things terrify me.

I have no reason to let her know about that, and I hope the mistress never asks. This new employer is treating me so well, I’m afraid her finding out about the physical attraction I felt for her will result in the sale of my contract.

“Yes, I do like you, miss. Your treatment of other people and I is much more preferable than Ahzrukhal’s,” I tell her, and she gives me a sigh of relief.

“Great! Great, ahem- that’s good to hear. Very reassuring,” she mumbles, a nervous crack in her voice.

“Miss, is there something bothering you?” I ask her.

“Oh, me? I- I guess I’m just a little worried,” Percy stutters, averting her eyes from me. “I mean, you are the first person I’ve travelled with since I got out of the vault. I have friends here in Megaton, sure, but never someone who’d watch my back while I look for Dad. Then you came along. I’m still learning to trust you, and I hope you’ll trust in me too.”

“Your worry is not necessary, miss. The contract entitles you my absolute loyalty.”

“Loyalty is different from trust, Charon,” said Percy. “It’s the difference between you unflinchingly following Ahzrukhal’s orders to fuck someone up, and letting yourself be vulnerable to me so I can patch you up, if that makes any sense.”

I raise a brow, curious. “Please explain further.”

Percy gets off the couch and paces around. “Okay. Remember how you stood down when I asked you to, when Barrows and the others pointed their guns at us?” she asks.

I nod at her, and she sits back down. “I’ve been reading your contract. It says that you were to remove all immediate threats to my safety, and yet, you listened to me and let me talk them down.”

“I merely listened to your orders, miss.”

“But it says on your contract that you can refuse to entertain orders or requests that can cause harm to your employer or to yourself, correct?” Percy asks again, to which I nod. “Well, you must have trusted my judgment enough to entertain my request to stand down even when there’s an immediate threat to both of us.”

I am getting impatient trying to find the meaning behind my mistress’ words. “Miss, where are you going with this conversation?”

“Straight to the point, aren’t you? I wish I can talk like that,” Percy mumbles, an embarrassed look on her face while she palms at the back of her neck.

“Charon, I want you to trust my decisions not just because I am your employer, but because you think it’s sound,” Percy tells me. “At the same time, if you think something I do will compromise us, I want you to speak up.”

Pondering on her words, I finally look her in the eye. “So, you want me to question you if you think that your decisions would endanger us?”

“Yes, precisely that. I told you that you’re open to make suggestions and ask questions, right? I meant that I trust your input and opinions. So, if you have tactical advice, observations, or comments, you’re free to make them,” Percy replies.

“I understand now, miss. However, I don’t see how my input is of any value.”

“Hmm, I’m just a nineteen year-old girl who got lucky that the wasteland didn’t kill me the first month I spent outside the vault,” Percy replies. Hearing that she’s older than eighteen made me breathe more freely for some damn reason, but it also reminded me of her youth and how old I am in comparison. My mind pulls me back to my darker thoughts about her, and I felt disgust for myself.

“Sure, I know how to set broken bones, sneak around, and hack computers, but you? You’ve got more combat and survival experience than me. Hell, I would’ve been blown to bits if you didn’t tackle me when that Super Mutant threw the grenade. There was probably an oversight in my tactics for you to get hurt like that,” Percy continues. She looks… guilty.

“You’ve been around for more than 200 years. Surely there’s something in your wisdom that will help us,” she adds, a sheepish smile on her face.

“Charming. Very well, miss. I shall consider it as a standing order, and endeavor to provide my insight when necessary.”

“Thank you. I’m glad we had this conversation, Charon,” my mistress replies.

The afternoon went by slowly. While I spent my afternoon servicing my shotgun, Percy tinkers with a bunch of fission batteries. Soon, it was nightfall, and my mistress took me to the Brass Lantern for dinner, too tired to cook after an afternoon of work.

On my last bite of noodles, Percy turns to me. “Hey Charon, wanna grab something to drink?”

“There is nothing in the contract that prohibits me from accepting food and drink from my employer. So, yes.”

“Well then. Off to Gob’s saloon we go.”

I follow her through the rickety metal scaffolding that leads to the establishment, and the dog follows behind me. As soon as she breezes through the door, a woman with short red hair and a ghoul behind the bar counter stop whatever they’re doing.

“Well hello, Miss Dangerous,” the woman greets, smirking. Percy walks over to give her a hug. “Nice to see you, Nova. Hey Gob,” Percy greets, turning to the ghoul.

“Hey kid. I heard you were back in town, it’s good to see you in here again. We’re having a slow night,” Gob rasps, cleaning the bar top with a rag.

“I made new friends,” Percy tells them, and gestures to me and the dog. “Gob and Nova, meet Charon and Dogmeat.”

There’s a flash of recognition in Gob’s face, and his shoulders droops, cowering. “Holy shit. Charon?”

“Oh right! You’re from Underworld too,” Percy comments, taking a seat near the radio. “You two are familiar with each other, Charon?”

“I cannot remember, miss,” I tell her, brain itching. I was thinking long and hard when the other ghoul speaks up.

“I-I uh, remember when I told you that Moriarty bought me from slavers fifteen years ago? Charon was with them.”

Fuck. I remember now. My mistress turns to me with an expression that I can only describe as horror.

“You were a slaver?”

The venom in my mistress' voice terrifies me, and I am not easily terrified.

“They held my contract, miss. Then, they sold it to Ahzrukhal.”

Percy’s face softens. The tension from her shoulders melt. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.” Then, the soft look on her face gets replaced with a worried one. “My God, they used you to capture slaves?”

“...yes.”

Tense silence.

“Hey, I’m sorry for bringing it up. Didn’t mean to dredge up the past,” Gob finally breaks it, fetching scotch from the liquor shelf behind him. “The regular, kid?”

“Yeah,” Percy replies, exhaling shakily. “Well, at least I’m holding his contract now. He won’t have to do that shit anymore.”

The corner of my mouth tugs upwards again and I hope she didn’t see it.

“Can I get you anything?” Gob asks me.

“Beer.”

I settle beside Percy, who’s already downing her shot of scotch. Gob hands me my beer and I take a swig.

Nova sits beside my mistress. “C’mon, let’s have some fun.”

#lone wanderer #female lone wanderer #charon #charon fallout #fallout charon #oc: percy zhou #fanfic: absolution #series: through river acheron #fallout 3 #fallout #fallout 3 fanfic #fallout fanfic #writers on tumblr #tw: past slavery #cw: sex mention

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artemisegeria · 4 years

Text

The Picture of The Mind Revives Again (Chapter 5/?)

Title: The Picture of the Mind Revives Again (5/?)

Rating: T

Word count: 2112

Warnings: None

Summary: Sequel to “A Formula, A Phrase Remains.” Title is from “Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey” by William Wordsworth.

Vision has gone missing after Shuri, Bruce, and Helen revived him. Now they must tell Wanda what they did without her knowledge.

Chapter Summary: Vision spends some time with Helen Cho and talks with Wanda for the first time since being revived.

A/N: As I’ve been spending more time writing this story again, I’ve decided to make some slight changes to my original plan. Therefore, I added a final section to the end of the previous chapter (starting “The next three months…”) that ties in with what happens here.

I wasn’t expecting to update this today, but I got a sudden burst of inspiration. So, this chapter is in honor of the first anniversary of Endgame’s release. I remain bitter and determined to correct the fate it handed Wanda and Vision.

Vision maintained his usual density as walked through the sand of the vast Sahara Desert. After his last trip to Russia, he had wanted a change of scenery and of climate. If he was truly to see what Earth and humanity had to offer, he needed to continue moving over the whole world. He needed to distract himself from the loneliness that gnawed at him and threatened his mission.

A wave of homesickness that had washed over him several weeks ago had caused him to contact Wanda. He had almost flown to New York right away, a desperate plan to meet the team when they returned from Washington forming in his mind. But something was holding him back. He was more than ready to see Wanda and Sam again and meet the new team. He positively ached to be with them at this moment. Though the old compound was destroyed, he had come to learn that home was about the people that one treasured, as opposed to a place of residence. He wanted to go home.

But he knew with every synthetic fiber of his being that he had to remain apart for a while longer. He had to learn himself not only as a superpowered, one-of-a-kind synthezoid or an Avenger or Wanda Maximoff’s lover, but as himself. Those were all parts of himself that he treasured, but it was not enough any longer.

Vision was not ready for all that going home entailed. He was not ready to take up the mantle of an Avenger again. He would always favor fighting for humanity and saving those who needed him, but doing so at need was different from it being his full-time duty. He would be unable to travel except where he had to go for a mission.

Vision had no doubt that the team would allow him to stay with them without the expectation of fully rejoining, but something about that felt wrong to him. It was an all or nothing life, being an Avenger. If he could not devote himself totally to it yet, he should not seek to join them.

He could not go home, but a compromise did occur to him. He prepared a message for Helen Cho. Surprised when she responded almost instantly, he responded with equal alacrity. Within a few exchanges, they planned for him to stay at her lab for a time.

After the business was concluded, Vision felt a sense of purpose and rightness emanate from his neurons and fill his entire self. There was only one thing missing. While he was not ready to go home yet or rejoin Wanda in their new home, he could at least communicate with her. The picture he had sent her a few weeks previously and their subsequent conversation had reminded him of feelings that he had long suppressed. So, he emailed her a story of his recent exploration of Tokyo.

He then embarked on a new journey as he waited for Wanda’s reply.

***

His first few days in Helen’s lab were spent getting acclimated to her new research. After her work on reviving him was finished, she had requested a leave to return to South Korea for a time to help U-GIN and the University of Seoul rebuild. Many of the scientists working with her were the same ones who had been kidnapped by Ultron. Vision was grateful that, after an initial period of nervous silence, they did not appear to hold his connection to Ultron against him, far more interested in the assistance he could offer to their research.

Within two weeks, he was sharing meals and evening activities with his colleagues. They were a tight-knit group, but they were letting him in. They recognized their own keen interest in science and other specialized pursuits in him. It was almost like being back with the Avengers in the early days after his birth.

But one thing still gnawed at him during those long sleepless hours in the middle of the night. He could always enter his resting state, but that time was the only opportunity for him to process his feelings amid the endless research. It was a concern that he had been able to push to the side since his revival, but he knew it would not go away if he ignored it.

He thought back to the first afternoon, when he hovered above Wanda in the forest and could hear nothing of her thoughts. That link had always been their special connection. Part of him wondered if they could even maintain a relationship without it. The rest of Vision’s consciousness rebelled against such a judgment. There was far more to his love for Wanda than their connection through the Stone, but it was important.

She deserved to know. They needed to talk about this shift in their lives. But he did not want to acknowledge the pain and the loss through cold electronic communication. He did not know what to do, so he asked the person he trusted the most in this building.

He approached Dr. Cho one day while she was preparing to go home for the night. “Helen, I have a query for you, if I may.”

“Of course, Vision.” She smiled at him and gestured to the seat across from her. He sat stiffly, folding his hands carefully in his lap.

“If you had something important that you needed to tell a loved one, but it was not immediately pertinent to your relationship, would you tell them right away or would you save the information until the subject arose naturally?”

Helen fell into an expression of deep contemplation. “Well, ideally, I would want more context. A hypothesis is only as good as the information behind it. But whenever I’m struggling with an interpersonal dilemma, I always like to ask myself what I would want the other person to do to me in the same situation. Would you want to know this information as soon as possible, or would you prefer your loved one to wait?”

Vision did not know how to answer that question. With the exception of his regrettable mistake of trying to keep her inside the compound before the break up of the Avengers, he had never kept any secrets from Wanda. She was the only one with whom he felt he could be completely honest. But know that they were apart, he was doubting that telling her about the loss of their connection through the Mind Stone was the best idea.

Vision did not realize how long he had been lost in thought until he noticed Helen was still looking at him in gentle inquiry. “Thank you for your perspective, Helen. I will think on your advice.” He said farewell. On his way back to his room, he passed many of his fellow researchers, but he begged off their requests to join them for dinner.

He truly considered all the changes that had befallen him since he was first attacked Thanos’s followers. Opening himself up to the full range of sadness, anger, and loss, he thought of all that must be done before he would be whole again.

It was around two in the morning when he reached the decision to invite Wanda to South Korea. Helen whole-heartedly approved the plan when he admitted the source of his earlier question, omitting the more private details of their connection.

That afternoon Vision began composing his letter.

Good day, Wanda,

I hope this missive finds you well. I appreciated your response to my last messages, and I am always happy to hear from you.

Today, I would like to ask a favor. I am currently staying in South Korea with Doctor Cho. I have been assisting with her rebuilding efforts. I was wondering if you would come here for a visit. There is an effect of the loss of the Mind Stone that I would like to discuss with you. It should take no more than a day or two to test my hypotheses.

Vision considered how to end the note. He wanted to conclude with “All my love,” but those words seemed strangely out of touch with the rest. There was also the problem of the silence between them. He thought that perhaps he had waited too long to have this conversation with her. He did not know where they stood with each other.

So he simply wrote:

Sincerely,

Vision

Waiting for Wanda’s reply was agonizing. He could not help but reread his message and consider how cold and inadequate the words seemed. Fortunately for his thinning nerves, it did not take more than an hour for Wanda to reply affirmatively.

***

Vision stood in the airport waiting for Wanda. It was quite a reversal from all the times he had visited her. When he saw her moving through the crowd, dodging curious looks and picture-takers, he smiled. “Hey, Vizh!”

“Hello, Wanda.” Lingering doubt kept both of them from embracing, but Vision did dare to take her hand. She smiled up at him. “Is this everything you came with?” He gestured to the small backpack she was wearing.

“Yeah, you know me, good at traveling light.” They started walking toward the parking lot. “Um, are we flying to the lab or do we have a car?”

“Actually, I have a motorcycle. They are rather popular here.” He led her to the motorcycle he had ridden to pick her up. When they reached the vehicle, Vision handed Wanda a helmet and secured his own, despite the fact that no ordinary crash could harm him.

“Is this yours?” She seemed impressed, and he was tempted to prevaricate. But that would be a poor way to start this new stage of their acquaintance.

“No, I am borrowing it from Helen.” She smiled at him as she put on her helmet. Vision mounted the bike. Wanda slid in behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso. He reveled in the touch that he had not felt since his restoration. Though he had become friends with the others, it was not the same as his love for Wanda.

That was a contemplation for another time. It was only a brief ride to Dr. Cho’s lab. He had made the trip to the previous day to ascertain exactly how long it would take. His trial had lasted only 5.4 minutes. But as Wanda hugged him closer to her, he found himself taking the long way. It was a full 12.3 minutes before they arrived at the lab.

Vision gave her a tour of the lab. All the areas he frequented were curiously empty. He had expected Helen to be available to meet with Wanda, but she was not in her office or her chief study areas. Vision eventually resorted to showing Wanda her guest room. Prior to her arrival, he had agonized over how to set up her room and whether he should invite her to share his.

But things were not as they were when they had last been together. They did not have a firm foundation on which to share a bed. So, Vision ushered Wanda into her room. She smiled at the vase of wildflowers on the table and the perfectly made bed. He remained standing in the doorway, not knowing what to do with his hands. He simply watched as she laid down her backpack in the corner and bounced onto the bed. “You can come in, Vizh.”

“Oh, thank you.” She shook her head at him, still smiling gently. Vision stepped inside. This did seem the ideal time to begin their necessary conversation. “May I shut the door?”

“Sure.”

Wanda patted the bed beside her. Vision joined her. When she reached out her hands, he took them gladly. “There is much we need to discuss. Since everyone else here appears to be occupied, I would like to begin if you are ready.”

“I’m ready. I’ve been waiting so long to have a real conversation with you.”

Vision hung his head. “I apologize.” She squeezed one of his hands, and he looked up again to see her gazing at him sympathetically.

“You don’t have to apologize. I spent the first year and more after being brought back feeling lost most of the time. It’s a lot to take in. It made all of us act a little strange.”

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I do believe talking will help.”

“I think so, too,” she said with equal softness. They stared at each other for a moment, both lost for words. Then, she squeezed his hands and pulled away. “All right! Let’s talk it out, so we can both feel better.”

#fanfiction #scarlet vision #vision #wanda maximoff #post-endgame

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moonlit-seren · 4 years

Text

Home pt.2 || Moon Kevin X Reader

Summary: [Write this in your own style] Both Y/N and the member have never been in a relationship so everything is new to them. One of them makes a mistake and there’s an argument.

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Warnings: None

Word Count: 7.5k

A/N: This is pt.2 of Home! Remember, everything italicized is a part of a flashback! ^-^

꧁Masterlist꧂

{5 months later}

The hairdryer whirled, hot air blowing from the dark, burgundy device. I flinched as a stream of air shot into my ear, directing the device a little higher as I ran my free hand through my drying hair.

I watched the process through the mirror, mesmerized with the way the newly dyed magenta strands rippled through my fingers as I combed through my messy locks.

A giddy smile made its way across my face, recalling how my hair ended up the way it was.

It’s been half a year now since I crashed at Yenni’s apartment, heart broken and tired beyond imagination. She was the angel who helped me get back on my feet when I thought I’d never stand again.

The first thing that we sorted out upon my arrival was the mess of jobs that I had taken on over the months. She waited for me to get acclimated to living in her home before finally bringing up the topic a month into my stay.

“Y/n with the amount you’re getting paid versus the amount you have to spend, you’re losing more money than you’re gaining working here,” stated Yenni, holding a ball point pen and a pad of paper in her hands.

I sighed, glancing over the number she had written down on the paper. Of course, nothing was miscalculated and there was no denying the truth behind her words. Still, it was hard to accept them.

Working for this company had been my dream since I first discovered it in my freshman college year. It lived up to all of my expectations and more when I first started before it started to go bankrupt.

Since then I had been my manager’s personal barista due to the lack of other work that needed to be done at the office. The long list of demotions pretty much set everyone up with their own personal assistants who ran papers to the printer for them and performed other minor tasks.

What made everything worse was the fact that all the coffee mix I used came out of my own paycheck, and Yenni’s apartment was pretty far from the building so I had to take the subway everyday to get there and back.

Honestly speaking I was starting to hate the job quite a lot with my creepy superior and meager pay. Yenni had been covering the bills for both of us since I moved in since she wanted to give me time to save up some money in my depleted bank account.

After a few seconds of weighing the pros and cons I finally came to a conclusion. “You’re right, it really isn’t worth staying. I’ll turn in my letter of resignation tomorrow.”

Yenni sent me a reassuring smile, well aware that I needed one and I smiled back at her. “It’s about time I get my life together isn’t it?”

“That’s the spirit,” Yenni responded cheerfully, setting down the items in her hands beside her. A mischievous glint flashed in her eyes as she met my gaze once more. “Hey, you know how you’ve always wanted to dye your hair?”

I nodded, not quite sure how my hair had anything to do with my career.

Until it clicked.

Yenni grinned devilishly. “I think it’s about time you show him who’s boss.”

It wasn’t long before the two of us found ourselves standing outside of a chic, small hair salon with an almost vintage style feel to it. The store’s awning was checkered black and white as were the drapes covering the front windows.

“After you,” I muttered, holding the door open for Yenni. The entire drive here I felt perfectly okay, excited even, but for whatever reason all of my confidence converted to ice in my veins once I was right outside the store.

Yenni laughed a little, reading the fear on my face. She gently shoved me out of the way so that she was the one holding the door before bowing exaggeratedly. “Not today. Today’s about you, so relax and own it!”

I gulped, realizing that there was no going back now. “Right. Let’s own it.”

And with that, I stepped inside.

The first thing that really stood out to me was the overall aesthetic of the place. Nearly everything in the room was devoid of color, as if I had just stepped into one of those classic black and white movies that my parents watched.

However, in contrast to the retro color theme, everything in the shop looked anything but old fashioned. It appeared that all of the hairdressers were using state of the art equipment, and the price tags on the catalogs only confirmed that I was standing in a high class joint.

“Holy, heck. I could pay a month’s worth of rent with the money needed for a simple perm, how am I supposed to afford getting my hair done here?” I whispered in a thoroughly panicked voice. Yenni glanced over at me, hearing my moans of despair as she laughed.

“Relax, I know the owner of the shop and it just so happens that he owes me quite a few favors. In fact, there he is right now,” Yenni chirped, a mischievous glint in her eyes when she emphasized the word ‘quite’.

I followed her gaze in the direction of the back of the salon, though I couldn’t tell exactly who she was looking at.

“Why, hello there!” Exclaimed an attractive young man, emerging from the group of stylists bustling around. He briskly strode over to where Yenni and I were standing, long legs effortlessly closing the distance in minimal strides.

“Owner?” I thought to myself, eyes widening in shock. The newcomer didn’t appear very much older than I was, though I could immediately see a distinctive difference between the two of us, and that was…

Money. Lots and lots of it.

He was dressed to the nines in designer clothing and looked like a runaway Paris fashion model. His beret only emphasized my point. “Well that explains the interior of the store, there’s no way a young adult fresh out of college would be able to afford any of this otherwise if they didn’t have any wealth to their name.”

“Long time no see,” greeted Yenni, stepping out from behind me. I nearly jumped at the sound of her voice, not knowing how long I was lost in thought for. Though, I’m sure it wasn’t for as long as it seemed. I watched as the stranger’s eyes lit up in recognition while an easy smile slid up his triangular face.

“Yenni! What a surprise!” He exclaimed, immediately stepping forward to pull her into a bone-crushing hug.

Feeling awkward as the two of them got caught up, I scanned the interior of the room again to make it look like I was doing something rather than just waiting for the conversation to end.

The general absence of color in the room only made the few bursts of color even more vibrant, all of which were in the hung up photos of various hair styles and on the people walking about.

As someone with gorgeous, emerald green locks strode past, I suddenly realized that I never made up my mind over which color I wanted to dye my own hair.

Of course I’ve thought about it for years, but the answer always seemed to change depending on what my new favorite color was or how I was feeling back then.

Given the painful episode of life that I was about to exit, I think that I’d like a vibrant color. Something that would make me feel like a butterfly emerging from a suffocating cocoon. “Perhaps I should go with pink? Or is that too much? I guess I’ll ask the stylist later, speaking of which…”

“I see that you have a friend with you,” commented the owner, looking over at me intrigued.

“Yeah, she’s why we’re here today,” Yenni responded, discreetly nudging me in the side to get me to greet myself. I smiled shyly, introducing myself with a shallow bow. I don’t know why, but I’ve always been a bit nervous around new people.

“Nice to meet you y/n! My name is Johnny Seo and I’ll be your personal stylist today. Why don’t we get you situated in a chair and you can tell me what you’d like to do with your hair?” Suggested Johnny, gesturing at a vacant seat a few feet away. I nodded slightly before heading over.

From what I could tell from his interactions with Yenni and our mini exchange just now, he seemed like a genuinely friendly person, so I let myself relax a bit in his presence.

Johnny came up to stand behind the chair I was seated on, and Yenni sat down on the unoccupied seat next to mine.

“To be completely honest I’m not entirely sure what I’d like to do, though I do know that I want to dye it,” I admitted, smiling apologetically at Johnny through the vanity mirror. “I was hoping that you could recommend a color, and maybe even a new hairstyle?”

I added that last part in rather meekly, upon realizing that I haven’t done anything besides trim my hair in years.

“No worries,” reassured Johnny. “I guarantee that we’ll find something that will suit your taste.”

Out of nowhere johnny started to squint at my face as his hands flew up with an over exaggerated flourish. “It’s time for Johnny's fashion evaluation.”

And the rest is history.

We settled on a deep magenta color which alternated between looking more pink to looking more purple depending on the lighting of the room. Since this was my first time dying my hair, I decided that I just wanted highlights this time around rather than coloring my whole head of hair.

I’m not sure when or how the topic of my last relationship came up while Yenni, Johnny, and I were talking but I ended up getting what Johnny referred to as a breakup haircut.

So not only do I have highlights now but also shoulder length hair. Not going to lie, I was a tad bit worried at first but now I’m actually really loving the change.

When it was time to pay, I was expecting a coupon at most given Yenni and Johnny’s friendship, but Johnny actually insisted that the appointment was free. Something about a first time visit policy, though I’m sure that he made it up on the spot.

Nevertheless I felt guilty about not paying, but given how the price was well in the three digit numbers I didn’t have much of a choice at that moment. Though I did still leave a generous tip before heading back home with Yenni.

Home.

A term that I had to get used to associating with Yenni’s apartment. It took me a while, but eventually it became a habit that I didn’t have to consciously think about.

At that point in time, I didn’t really want to think about the last place I called home nor the person who lived in it; Not while I was still getting back on my feet financially. So I pushed the thought of both out of my mind despite knowing that it would come back to me later.

After all, I had a crappy manager to deal with.

“Good luck!” Exclaimed Yenni from her perch on the couch the following morning after the hair appointment.

I flashed her a grin while slipping on my work heels before heading outside. The day was warm and sunny, with occasional clouds drifting leisurely across the sky. Typical of a beautiful spring day.

Walking down the sunlit sidewalk, I closed my eyes for a brief moment and took in a deep breath. Change was in the air, not just for me it seemed but for nature as well. Anyone who paused for long enough would be able to make out the slight fragrance of pollen and blooming flowers wafting through the air.

Hearing footsteps approaching, I quickly opened my eyes again, narrowly missing a disastrous collision. I smiled apologetically at the older woman behind me, eyes darting to the steaming cup of coffee in her hands. She smiled back, lips drawn in a thin line as she cautiously brought the hot drink closer to herself.

Heaven knows that the dark liquid would have stained both of our work tops.

Since it was quite early in the morning, I took the scenic route to the bus stop, taking whatever twist and turn I could in order to extend my time under the gentle caress of the sun. There was a skip to my step that earned me several friendly smiles from other pedestrians. Happiness was contagious after all.

The trip to work flew by in a breeze and soon enough I was standing before the formidably tall office building that I had worked in for about a year or so. The glass doors of the entrance slid open as I approached, almost as if they were inviting me in to complete my mission for today.

It wasn’t until the fifth odd glance that I received that I realized why everyone was staring at me. Everyone knew that wild hair colors were strictly against the rules in my department because my employer ‘didn’t believe in self expression’.

The stares didn’t phase me at first, however, after a while they started to make me question my decisions regarding my future. Though I wasn’t given time to dwell on that small feeling of self doubt as I arrived at my division. Several of my coworkers shot me knowing, if not encouraging, smiles that helped repair my slipping confidence.

Right. I was done feeling crappy here. Now it’s time to end things.

I grinned back at them, strutting straight to my manager’s office.

Not bothering to knock, I barged right in. If this man didn’t have the audacity to respect me as both a woman and an employee then why the heck did I have to respect him?

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing!” shouted the man of the hour, quickly shoving the shame faced intern off of his lap. At this point I wasn’t even surprised that I had caught him messing around with a random female during work hours. “Don’t you know how to knock!”

“Oops, not sorry,” I responded nonchalantly, a single eyebrow raised as I leaned back against the open door frame. The mystery girl scurried out, face flushed scarlet since everyone by the door caught the scene inside when I slammed it open.

“What’s the meaning of this? And what’s with that disgusting mat of color on your head? You do know that I can fire you for violating my- I mean, the company’s code of conduct, right?” growled my manager, as he darted his eyes out the door to see if anyone was eavesdropping.

Despite how all of my coworkers looked like they were working, I had already been around them for long enough to tell when they were only throwing up a productive act. Though my manager didn’t know that and he didn’t have to.

I smirked, winking at the poorly concealed phone that someone was holding up while supposedly reading through an upside down file.

Turning my attention back to the man sitting in front of me, I batted my eyelashes innocently at him. “It seems that you have a personal preference of natural hair colors, it’s a real shame that I no longer fit the requirements of your personal harem candidates… Not.”

My manager scowled darkly, face reddening as he attempted to sputter out an intelligible comeback. “You little… Personal harem?!... Why I outta…”

“Outta what? Fire me? No need to go through all of that trouble,” I cooed sarcastically, leaning forward so that our eyes were on the same level which gave him a clear, undisrupted view of the steely confidence in mine.

“I quit.”

And with that, I tossed my letter of resignation onto his desk, whipping around so that I could march out of the room. Hoots and hollers erupted throughout the room as the employees dropped the fake working act that they had thrown up early while listening in on my previous conversation.

It was no secret that everyone in the building hated my ex-manager as much as I had. Heck, even the CEO of the company has been waiting for an excuse to fire him according to the gossip passed on from her personal secretary.

“It’s done. I’m free,” I whispered to myself, feeling lighter than I had in months, like a prisoner who had finally finished serving his or her time. Walking out of the building, it felt like an impossibly heavy weight had been lifted off of my shoulders that I hadn’t even known was there.

And now that I no longer felt weighed down, I was ready to waltz with the stars or maybe even reach for the moon again. Though I wasn’t sure if either of us were ready to come into contact again.

From that day forth, the shattered fragments of my life only continued to slowly creep back together.

Finally I managed to drop all of my other jobs besides the one that I truly enjoyed working at. There had been a newly started clothing company that Younghoon introduced me to when I told him that I was looking to pick up a new part time job.

At that time the company only consisted of two fashion designers fresh out of university and they were so desperate for an extra set of hands that they hired me right off the bat when I mentioned that I was a marketing major.

Now I was working full time at the boutique, which had grown exponentially in popularity and size. Given that I was Felicity and Kai’s first employee, I was also their first pick when they decided to promote someone to manager to help better handle the flourishing business.

Everything seemed to be falling back into place but there had been one area in my life that I did my best to neglect for as long as I possibly could.

I sighed for the nth time, staring down my phone screen as if waiting for it to do the one thing that I’ve been trying to talk myself into doing on its own. My head was starting to throb with the start of a mild migraine and the way I was laying, with a quarter of my body from shoulders up hanging upside down, wasn’t helping in the least.

“Come on, it’s just a text, stop being such a chicken,” I chastised softly, running my freehand down my face, or was it up? Directions got confusing when my head wasn’t rightside up, though not as confusing as my feelings even when I’m standing upright.

I had promised he-who-shall-not-be-named that our breakup was only temporary, but when it came down to it, I didn’t know if he still felt the same way after all these months or even if it was worth it to try to repair my relationship with him.

Of course, I had tried on several accounts to forget about him entirely, but when all was said and done he was still the first and last thought on my mind when falling asleep and waking up every morning.

I would never admit it to myself, but I missed the feeling of his arms wrapped around my waist on cold nights and the feeling of his breath on the back of my neck when the both of us drifted off after a long day.

I missed him terribly, and deep down inside I had a feeling that he felt the same. Maybe I was just being vain, but the idea of him yearning for me as well helped ease the numbing pain that gnawed away on the farthest reaches of my heart.

My thumb hovered once again over the keyboard on my phone, but after a few agonizing seconds of contemplating I gave up and tossed the device somewhere within a safe enough distance that it wouldn’t be damaged, hopefully, upon impact.

I threw one arm over my face, wrist meeting my forehead dramatically as if I were currently toiling over a ground shattering decision like which kdrama to binge watch first rather than how to greet a special someone who I hadn’t talked to in a while.

A loud ‘tsk’ sounded from the doorway of the living room, and I didn’t even have to lift my forearm off of my face to know who it was. After all, who else lived in this apartment?

Yenni walked over, sinking down on the three seater couch next to the one I was sprawled so terribly ungracefully over. She picked up my abandoned phone from where it had landed on one of the soft throw pillows, poking her cheek with her tongue when she saw who exactly I was trying to contact and how far I had progressed.

Which of course wasn’t far at all, I hadn’t even managed to type a simple ‘hi’.

“y/n, you’ve been laying there for an hour now. If it’s so hard to bring yourself to text him, then you should stop trying to force yourself to and go do something productive,” Yenni insisted exasperatedly. At first she had tried to ignore the endless train of sighs and frustrated groans sounding from the depressing figure in the living room, but eventually it just got sad and a bit annoying.

“No, I have to… If ever want to mend whatever’s left between Kevin and I, we need to start talking again,” I moaned in despair, finally sitting up. I winced, holding my head as a terrible headrush left the room reeling in my vision.

Yenni firmly pressed her lips together in a displeased fashion to indicate how done she was with me at the moment. To be entirely honest, she wasn’t too happy with the idea of me and Kevin getting back together considering how he had hurt me in the past. However she never vocalized her objection because she knew how much he meant to me and she only wanted the best for her closest friend.

“Start talking again, you say? I think I can help with that…” Yenni started, trailing off as she started fidgeting with my phone which was still unlocked. My eyes widened in panic as she hit Kevin’s contact, finger hovering over the call button.

“No! Wait!” I exclaimed, eyes widening to the size of saucers. I knew that she wouldn’t actually hit the dial button, but the surge of panic that filled my mind left me hurtling over the armrests in a desperate attempt to snatch my phone from her hands.

“Ack! Get off!” Yenni cried, laughing as I clambered over her in my struggle. She lightly pushed me off, the action sending me rolling onto the ground but I was too distracted by the object she was holding hostage to realize what happened.

I whined, sitting up before flashing her my best puppy dog eyes. “Eonni~”

The cringeworthy aegyo earned me a disgusted frown from Yenni which slowly morphed into a defeated sigh.

“Fine, fine, I won’t call him but on one condition… You have to go visit him in person,” Yenni bargained, raising her eyebrows at me. I groaned, letting myself fall backward onto the plush carpet and starfishing on the ground.

“Fine, though he should be at practice right now. It'll end in around forty-five minutes,” I mused dejectedly , glancing at the analog clock hanging on the opposite wall from the TV.

“I’m surprised you still have his schedule memorized,” Yenni admitted, a bit shocked but at the same time she knew she shouldn’t be too surprised.

“Hush,” I mumbled, slowly dragging myself off the couch and walking to the door. But before I had the chance to slip on my shoes, Yenni grabbed a hold of my arm and she pulled me into my bedroom.

“Oh no you don’t! You’re not leaving in that,” she stated, gesturing at my attire. I glanced down at my baggy sweater and pajama pants, not seeing what was wrong with them. It’s not like Kevin hasn’t seen me in casual attire like this.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

I never got a verbal response, instead receiving a small pile of carefully picked clothing and a light shove in the direction of the bathroom.

Half an hour later I found myself standing in front of the door of Kevin’s practice room. The door was made out of glass, allowing visitors like me to watch the group practice without walking inside.

I took in a deep breath to calm my nerves down, giving myself a mini pep talk to work up the courage to walk inside.

“You can do this!” I chanted softly, repeating the same phrase Yenni had said when she finally let me out the door.

I slapped on a small smile, finally sliding open the door and walking in.

The Boyz were working their way through a new dance routine, one that I had never seen before. It made sense though, considering how long it’s been since I last dropped by during one of their practices.

Of course, some of the members like Younghoon had tried to keep in touch, but the conversations became a tad bit too awkward given the whole breakup situation and everything so they gradually became more sparse and half-hearted.

Nevertheless, I did miss talking to all of them, after a long day of work it was nice being around those bundles of energy when they decided to crash at my old apartment with Kevin. Speaking of which, I wasn’t sure if it was still Kevin’s. I wouldn’t blame him if he had decided to move out given the number of memories made and shared there. Though, deep down inside I hope that he hadn’t for the very same reason.

It wasn’t hard to spot Kevin despite the lack of maroon in his hair. It was pitch black like a starless night sky and was styled in a soft quiff that revealed a sliver of his forehead.

Even despite, or maybe because of, all of the time spent apart, the mere sight of him caused my breath to catch in my throat like it always did when we first started dating.

Kevin was panting softly due to the physical exertion and how long he and his members had practiced for that morning. Crystalline beads of sweat dripped down the flawless expanse of skin from his cheeks to his jaw before gliding down his neck and disappearing under the baggy white tee he had on.

I gulped, flushing as I caught myself staring like some lovesick highschooler.

“What’s wrong with me?” I screamed internally, tempted to slap myself to snap out of whatever daze I was in. I mean I never found anything wrong with checking out a hot guy but it’s one thing if he’s a stranger and a whole other if he’s my kinda-ex-not-really-ex.

I tore my gaze away from Kevin before I was caught staring. Though the action was pretty pointless considering how all of the boys were so absorbed in their choreography that no one had noticed that I had slipped in.

I casually leaned against the wall by the door, the nonchalance of the action quite literally being the polar opposite of how I was feeling deep down inside. The cowardly part of me wanted to dash out and never look back but the other, larger part of me fought against it and was determined to stand my ground.

There was no way I was willing to flee now when a reconciliation was so close that it was nearly tangible.

Correcting my expression back to a timid smile, I silently watched as everyone in the room smoothly transitioned through each move with the grace and precision of an eagle in flight. They moved like one unit, each male a mere extension of a well oiled machine fueled on their blood, sweat, tears, and most importantly their passion and dreams.

The unfamiliar song was quite catchy, and it wasn’t long before I found myself nodding along to the beat. Though it seemed that I had entered near the end of the track as The Boyz struck an ending pose no more than half a minute after I began watching them.

I clapped softly, knowing that the sound would mostly be covered by the last notes of the song. Yet to my surprise, the person closest to me quickly whipped their head around with the widest smile I’d seen… well, ever.

“Noona!” Eric shouted, rushing over to where I was standing. Before I could even process what was happening, I found myself lying on the ground with a very excited maknae attached to me.

Laughing softly, I gently patted Eric’s waist to signal him to let go since that was the only place I could reach with my new restrictions. But before the younger male had the chance to do so, new figures threw themselves onto the two of us, forming an impromptu pig pile consisting mostly of the members of the maknae line.

“No fair, I want a hug too!”

“Y/n noona, I missed you!”

“Ow, did you really have to jump?”

“Yah, how could you leave me with these jerks? Do you know how mean they were-”

Hwall promptly slapped his hand over Sunwoo’s mouth, muffling the rest of his words with a sigh from where he lay on top of Changmin who had managed to push Eric off to the side and was now the one draped on top of me.

I couldn’t really tell who was where in the pile nor who was saying what given that I was located at the bottom of the messy human mound, though I could vaguely make out Haknyeon sheepishly apologizing for having accidentally elbowed Chanhee in the ribs and Hyunjae bickering with Younghoon from somewhere above me.

“Children, get off of y/n, you all are going to crush the poor girl,” reprimanded Sangyeon, his voice coming a few feet off to my right. Moments later I felt myself getting pulled up by an apologetic looking Jacob.

“Are you alright?” Asked Juyeon, who was standing next to the two older members.

I giggled, nodding my head to let him know that I was indeed okay as I brushed off my outfit and fixed my hair back into place. “Yeah, I’m perfectly fine. They just caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

“Y/n,” Hyunjae whined, feeling deprived of the hugs Changmin and Eric managed to steal while I was caught off guard. Sangyeon shot him a firm look, before rounding up the rest of his rowdy children.

“Come on, out you guys go. Let’s give them some privacy,” Sangyeon urged, as he shooed them out. The leader glanced over his shoulder while closing the door, sending me a reassuring smile before leaving.

He didn’t need to say anything more for everyone to know who he was referring to by ‘them’. I watched as Sangyeon walked away through the glass, suddenly hit with the urge to call him back so that I wouldn’t have to handle this alone.

It felt like I was trapped in a cage with a tiger, vulnerable and afraid with no other option but to wait for something to happen.

Someone cleared their throat behind me.

I slowly turned around, heart thundering a million miles per minute. This was it, the moment that I had both been waiting for and dreading simultaneously. Time seemed to slow down with each degree I pivoted before finally meeting eyes with the lone figure standing a safe distance away.

Much to my dismay, watching him from a distance earlier hadn’t seemed to prepare myself at all for the sight of him up close. Despite the moderate amount of space between the two of us, I could still vaguely pick up the gentle rise and fall of his chest along with the minty citrus scent of his favorite body wash.

The nostalgia sent my mind spiraling down memory lane to all of the nights I spent curled up in his arms breathing in the familiar scent and being lulled asleep by the very same movements.

“Hi,” he greeted, a light blush spreading across his cheeks. He shuffled awkwardly in place, gaze dropping almost immediately as he glanced down at his feet before looking back up again shyly.

It was as if time had reversed, which was evident in the way a swarm of honeymoon stage-esque butterflies came fluttering about in my stomach as if they had only left temporarily during the cold season.

“Hi,” I greeted back, feeling my own cheeks flush when I realized why he looked so bashful. It hadn’t taken me long to get comfortable enough with Kevin to stop caring too much about my appearance around him.

Yenni had done an amazing job dressing me up to look my best before allowing me to leave, reaffirming my suspicions that my best friend was well… Magical.

It had been so long since Kevin’s seen me quite this done up, and so I understood, but that still didn’t stop me from feeling flustered by the attention.

The air felt suffocating around the two of us, being thick with slight tension and mild embarrassment. On any other occasion I might’ve cringed right then and there, but not in this particular moment. Not when it was so long awaited and so terribly raw.

There was an awkward pause between the two of us, neither knowing how to proceed. It had been too long since we had last seen each other to find any relevant topics to talk about. As a a result I glanced around the room, looking for something interesting that I could possibly use to start some sort of conversation.

Screw it, let’s just bite the bullet.

“I’m-”

“How-”

My eyes widened slightly, though the shock on my face quickly melted into laughter. Kevin had the same reaction after realizing what had happened. It made me reminisce about the time we first started dating where moments like these occurred far too often.

“You first,” I insisted, gesturing for him to talk. I honestly had no idea what to say, I was just planning to blurt out something to break the ice so I was more than happy to let him speak first.

Kevin hesitated for a moment before continuing his unfinished sentence when I remained silent.

“How are you?” Kevin asked softly, weight sinking onto his left hip as he slipped his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. He eyes locked with mine, for reasons unbeknownst to me.

It took me a second to respond, a bit distracted by the unnerving maintenance of eye contact. It felt like he was searching the depths of my soul for any sort of discomfort before taking a small step closer while waiting for me to say something.

“I-I’m fine,” I stammered, cursing myself for how nervous I was. The familiar burning sensation rekindled behind my cheeks when I caught Kevin suppressing a smile at my small mishap. “How about you?”

My voice grew smaller near the end of the question when I saw Kevin take yet another step closer. I mean I get him wanting to talk at a comfortable distance, but just how close was he planning to get before stopping?

“Fine too, I guess,” he replied, not sounding too confident in his answer as he finally glanced away. But his gaze didn’t stray for long before returning to mine. There was a mysterious emotion brewing in his irises that I couldn't quite place. It raged ferally imprisoned behind his glassy eyes, straining to break free of its constraints like a tidal wave pressing against a thin sheet of glass.

Warning bells went off in my head, caused by what I could only guess at, but I found myself clasping onto my right arm with my left hand behind my back. Was it a defensive gesture? Why do I feel so threatened?

It’s about the shatter.

I couldn’t tear my eyes from his, watching the raging storm clawing at the glass plane, slamming itself tirelessly until large cracks started forming in the glass, spreading like wildfire until the defense crumbled to the ground and the watergates exploded.

It’s free.

The defensive shield hiding the dangerous emotion caved and the sea roared as it rushed forward.

Suddenly I found myself drowning, the water overtaking all of my senses, brimming on my eyelids before falling in a pair of cascading waterfalls.

He was crying and so was I.

I realized then what that emotion was.

Longing.

Neither of us had to say anything to know how the other felt, yet I couldn’t stop myself from vocalizing those feelings. The desire was too powerful to suppress, acting like a second wave to the first signs of seismic activity. The quaking of my foundation tore down the skyscrapers around my heart, throwing a majority of my shields to the ground.

“I missed you,” I whispered, barely managing to slip out the words let alone voicing them loud enough to be heard. But it didn’t matter what volume the words were spoken at because it didn’t take words for Kevin to understand how I was feeling because he felt the same way.

I closed my eyes, allowing the ocean to swallow up my mind. I had told myself to keep my cool before coming, planning out everything I wanted to say and do when I got here. Yet one glance into the endless depths of his eyes and suddenly I wanted nothing more to lose myself under the twilight waves.

Suddenly I felt a pair of arms wrap around me, firm and safe like a ring buoy thrown to the drowning. I sagged into the hesitant touch, shakily bringing up my own arms to reciprocate the action.

Opening my eyes again I found myself floating on a raft, lying in the midst of calm waters enveloped in a familiar embrace.

It’s peaceful.

Kevin drew back, reaching up to brush the stray tears that managed to spill onto my face. He smiled, the expression broken but fighting fiercely to hold a semblance to something whole.

“Why are you crying? It’s making me cry!” Kevin protested in a playful voice, indiscreetly swiping at his own tears as if I hadn't already seen them.

“What?! I only started crying because you did!” I exclaimed with baffled gasp, swatting at his arm. Kevin jumped back as if I had burned him, jaw dropping indignantly. He couldn’t maintain the expression for long though, facade breaking immediately when I tipped my head back laughing at his extra antics.

“I swear, how did I put up with you for so long?” I asked lightheartedly, wrinkling my nose at the proud smile Kevin had on supposedly for making me laugh.

I was glad that the atmosphere in the room flipped a full 180, considering how suffocating it had been only moments prior. Though much to my surprise, Kevin cocked his eyebrow, walking forward until there was no more than a few inches between our faces.

“Does that mean that you won’t put up with me in the future?” He asked seriously, eyes scouring my face as if the answer would be written somewhere on my skin.

“I… I don’t know…” I responded honestly. While it was true that I had never stopped loving Kevin, that didn’t change the fact that I was hurt by him in the past. Cheaters are notorious for repeating their actions, and I didn’t really want to risk letting someone back into my heart only for them to break it once more.

Kevin’s expression fell along with his gaze, feeling like he let his hopes soar too far from any sort of realistic outcome to our encounter.

“But… That doesn’t mean I’m not willing to give our relationship a second chance,” I finished, effectively putting an end to his evident self doubt.

Life was all about taking risks. How was anyone supposed to be given the opportunity to rise up stronger without falling in the first place?

“Really?” He asked excitedly, eyes lighting back up with the same bright energy that they usually burned with.

“But on one condition,” I added, still needing some sort of shield to hide behind before I let down my few remaining defenses.

“Yes?” Kevin asked, biting his lip as he waited for me to finish my sentence.

“Let’s start over, from the very beginning,” I suggested hesitantly, not sure if he would agree. But much to my relief, Kevin nodded almost immediately.

“Okay, let’s do it,” he rushed out, seeming a bit concerned that I would change my mind and leave again.

Though out of the blue, a cheeky smile spread across his face as he backed up to provide a little space for whatever the heck he was planning to do.

“Oh no, what have I done?” I whispered to myself, as Kevin bowed a full ninety degrees.

“H-hello, my name is M-Moon Kevin,” he stammered over exaggeratedly, faking a shy demeanor. “What’s yours?”

I laughed, wrinkling my eyebrows in disbelief. “I didn’t mean that far back!”

“O-oh, s-sorry… M-my bad…” he apologized, shrinking down as if afraid that I’d smack him over the head. He looked like a nervous freshman on his first day in college, and even went so far as to pretend to push up an imaginary pair of glasses.

“Kevin!!” I shrieked, chasing after him when he started to run away before I had the chance to strangle him. He broke into a mad fit of giggles, picking up the pace when he saw me in pursuit.

At some point he started laughing so hard that he couldn’t continue running anymore, stopping near the middle of the room to catch his breath. I stopped in front of him, gripping onto the front of his shirt to prevent him from going anywhere.

“Caught you.”

Kevin smiled, wrapping his hand around my forearm before tugging me forward. The action caused me to lose my balance and fall into his chest, yelping as Kevin suddenly dropped to ground bringing me down with him.

After a weak attempt to pull myself up, I allowed myself to relax in Kevin’s arms instinctively matching my breathing to his. Despite the fact that we were lying on the wooden floor of a practice room, half an hour away from both Yenni and Kevin’s apartment, I felt at home.

And for the second time in my life I realized that I didn’t truly consider any location on Earth home without Kevin by my side, because for me the word didn’t refer to a physical building but a person. Kevin was what made all of those apartments home, because he was home.

My home.

/Extended Ending/

Months later I found myself tucking away the last of my belongings back where they belonged in my old apartment. Unpacking had been a rather slow, tedious process, given how much clothing I had accumulated working at a boutique.

(Felicity, my boss, gave her employees massive discounts on clothing and well, those prices were too seductive to ignore even for the most frugal of people.)

The platonic phase of my new relationship with Kevin hadn’t lasted very long, continuously being broken by sporadic kisses and romantic caresses.

Thankfully there was no initial awkwardness like I predicted there would be when we first started dating again. If anything the shaky break only served to strengthen our feelings for one another.

In fact, a few days after I moved back in, Kevin and I decided to foster our first “child”. Her name was Kimi, a compromise Kevin and I settled on between our picks of kiwi and kimchi.

She was a small brown tabby cat with gorgeous green eyes who we had found abandoned on the street one day on our way back home from a grocery trip.

After a quick check up at the nearest vet, Kevin and I decided to take her home, and she’s been living with us ever since.

Speaking of Kimi, I could hear the jingle of a cat toy and the soft scampering of paws downstairs indicating that Kevin was playing with her right now.

Putting away the last of things, my hand bumped into a mysterious cardboard box tucked in the far corner of the closet.

“That’s weird, this wasn’t here before,” I thought to myself, pulling it out. It was navy blue in color with a rectangular shape, and was about the size of my hand. I took off the lid, pulling out the contents in a slightly mystified manner.

“Hey, Love? What’s this?’ I asked, raising my voice loud enough for it to carry downstairs.

Kevin appeared moments later holding Kimi in his arms, the curiosity on his face quickly turning into sheepishness when he saw the foldable meter stick and half empty bottle of makeup removing spray in my hands.

“Don’t tell me you took the meter thing literally?”

“Uh…”

“Kevin…”

“I love you~”

#The Boyz #Kevin #fanfiction #imagine #oneshot #romance #fluff #angst #The Boyz Kevin imagine #The Boyz Kevin oneshot #The Boyz Kevin fanfic

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fatathlon · 4 years

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IRONMAN 70.3 Indian Wells – La Quinta – Race Recap

* A video version of this race recap can be found on my YouTube channel here.

A triathlon is a game of contradiction.

You spend hours, weeks, months training for something that lasts moments of your life. Improve at one sport by mastering three. Train slower to race faster. Race slower to race faster. Do it alone, surrounded by people. Never see a finish line as the end.

One of the most challenging contradictions is the trap of identity. To do well, you have to immerse yourself in training for long periods of time. It can become you; consume you. And then what is objectively a meaningless act of physical exertion assumes a station in your life that it never deserved. And you are left with nothing but finish times and medals, to gather dust because nobody cares.

I thought about these contradictions a lot during my training for my first Ironman 70.3 race in Indian Wells – La Quinta California. It seemed fitting in this vein of contradiction that I would train in the cold and snow in order to race in the warm desert. I hoped that by recognizing the contradictions inherent in what I was doing, I could avoid that most challenging trap, and come away with an experience, rather than just another race.

After Musselman in July, I took a break for a few weeks, and then started training again. I had a few minor injuries, which were challenging, but for the most part my training was consistent. I did some bike fitting and got a set of aerobars on my bike. Winter arrived early in Vermont; we had snow on the ground before Thanksgiving. So most of my riding was indoors. I ran outside as much as I could. And weather doesn’t matter in the pool, of course.

Swimming was a major area of focus for me this fall. I got a second swim analysis and really worked on my technique. I was able to take another ten seconds off my 100-yard time, and by December I was swimming faster on average than I ever had.

I had also been trying to eat smarter, both to be healthier and to drop extra weight. With the help of a friend, I definitely had some success here, though it added some stress to our family routine. Kids like what they like.

I was a little concerned about flying my bike to California, because I had only done it once before and I didn’t have to assemble it myself when I arrived that time. So I broke it down and packed it up at the bike shop so I could get guidance with questions that I had and hands-on help from Darren, my friend who owns Vermont Bicycle Shop. I felt a lot more confident once it was all ready to go.

The flights were pretty uneventful, and we made it to San Diego in one piece — including my bike. One of the first things I did was put it back together; I wanted to make sure I would have enough time to solve any problems that came up. Luckily, there didn’t seem to be any and the assembly went pretty smoothly.

The Catamount, my custom Orbea Terra, ready to ride

We spent a few days with my brother’s family in San Diego, hiking at Torrey Pines and playing on the beach. It was a nice way to get acclimated to the environment. It wasn’t as warm as I thought it would be, but it definitely was a lot warmer than Vermont. Locals on the beach were dressed in winter coats and hats, but our girls thought it was the perfect weather for swimming in the Pacific.

Before long it was time to drive to Indian Wells. The amazing scenery on that drive took us all by surprise. We stopped for a moment but the day before the race was very busy so there wasn’t a lot of time for sight-seeing.

After getting the family settled at the hotel, I had my first Ironman athlete check-in experience and got to see the pro panel, which included the eventual race winners Lionel Sanders and Paula Findlay. I checked my run gear in to T2, a little overwhelmed by the enormity of the transition area. Then it was time for a half-hour drive to the swim start and T1, to see the swim course, check in my bike and decontaminate my wetsuit before hanging it on the racks where it would stay until race morning. I made sure to mark it well so I wouldn’t have any trouble finding it.

My day would have gone quite differently if it hadn’t been for my teammate Lacy. She and her husband gave me a lift to the shuttle buses, which was already a great help by itself, but when she mentioned her water bottles I realized I had forgotten something at the hotel. Specifically, all of my hydration. It was still sitting in my refrigerator. They drove me back so I could retrieve them and I was so grateful. Luckily we were up early enough that it didn’t affect our day — we got on a bus with no waiting and were off to the start area.

I knew the water would be cold. The reported temperature that morning was just under 59 degrees. There was no warm-up swim. We stood in line at the rolling start for a long time before finally getting into the water. And then, finally, after everything, I was racing.

The first one or two hundred meters were tough. I was hyperventilating from the shock of the water temperature and struggling to relax and find my rhythm. I expected that, but it didn’t make it any easier. Finally I settled in, though, and found my zone. It was clear pretty quickly that I should have seeded myself further forward; nobody around me was actually swimming at the pace they lined up for. I was crawling over people all the way. My goggles half-filled with water but I ignored it since I could still see. When I finally crawled out of the lake, I had a personal best time of 34 minutes. By my watch, I had swum ten seconds per 100 yards faster than my first 70.3 in July.

As I mounted my bike, I readied myself mentally to face the biggest contradiction of the day. I had programmed the wattage target my coach and I agreed on into my bike computer, and I was going to stick to that number like superglue. The paradox of my plan was that the number was low. It was lower than I had expected. It was lower than it was at my first 70.3, and it was low relative to my power profile. It was so low that it meant I’d be doing what amounted to a zone 2 ride for the entirety of the bike leg.

The plan was predicated on the knowledge that the course was pancake flat, and that triathlons succeed or fail on the run. We would conserve energy on the bike, allowing my inertia to do most of the work, and hopefully get off the bike with enough in the tank to really drop the hammer.

So what the bike ended up being was a test of patience, rather than fitness. My heart rate stayed low, peaking only at the very start during the excitement of transition and climbing a tiny hill out of transition. I spent a lot of the time focused on avoiding drafting as much as I could, but it was pretty difficult considering that the roads were absolutely packed with riders. That forced me to surge occasionally, but it was okay because the course was so flat.

The first 20 miles flew by so fast that I was actually surprised when I saw the mile marker sign. At 30 miles I felt no worse; very comfortable and just cruising along. It was a strong contrast to my last race, where the 30 mile marker saw me doing pretty solid work. I began to get excited about the paradoxical plan as evidence in its favor continued to build. That naturally inclined me to want to push harder, but I redoubled my efforts to stay focused and in my target zone.

The highlight of the bike course by far was the Thermal Raceway, which is a private racetrack for cars that we got to ride around on. My watts went up on that section for sure, but it was a match that was worth burning. It’s a unique experience to ride your bike around a banked track with perfect pavement, designed for million dollar super cars. I had a lot of fun there.

The rest of the course was technically uphill but the gradient was so gradual, I barely noticed. I rode into T2 just 2 watts over my target. My family was cheering at the dismount line, which was a nice boost going into the start of my run.

After racking my bike and strapping on my running shoes, I started out on the final leg, to see if the contradictions would be resolved. Here I was, running in the heat and sun after training for months in the cold and snow. Here I was, having biked slowly on purpose to see if I could do a faster race. And here I was, after weeks of training at a jog, pushing my legs to go fast, and stay fast.

I have always run fast out of transition, because it takes a mile or two before my legs really feel normal and I can tell how my body is actually doing. At my first 70.3, I slowed that pace after the first aid station, feeling that I would have to conserve energy to make it through the run without shutting down. This day, though, I felt strong. I felt no such impending decline. I felt like I could hold the pace. So I didn’t slow down.

The run followed asphalt roads for a couple of miles before turning off onto a golf course, where it tracked around the greens on a winding, undulating path that was a mix of concrete, dirt and grass. There were no long straightaways, no places to hide from the course. It was highly dynamic and constantly changing.

A conclusion I had drawn from my first 70.3 was that I had been underfueled. This time, I ate and drank everything I could get my hands on during the run. I think I probably ate two or three whole bananas, a half at a time, plus several gels and all the coke, gatorade and red bull I could grab. I didn’t slow down during the aid stations; I didn’t want to lose my inertia. At one point I took a cup of ice, dumped it in my hat and packed it onto my head. The contrasts had never been more stark — at home I had been wearing winter hats to keep the snow off my head; today, I was deliberately packing ice onto my scalp.

It was a two-lap course which meant that I had to run agonizingly close to the finish line at around mile seven, only to have to turn around and do the entire thing one more time. Now I knew what to expect, though, and I knew where to push and where I could relax. Now all I had to do was hold my pace.

When the second lap of the course started to beat me, I focused on my family, waiting for me at the finish, and steeled myself in the resolve to make this all worth it. What was the point of asking so much of them, to support my training, to spend an entire day of our vacation standing around, if I didn’t make it worth it? I wasn’t going to slow down for anything.

The last couple of miles were hard and my pace started to slip a little bit, but I was still moving faster than I had ever really expected. I found my family just before the finish line, gave everybody high-fives, and then took it over the line. It was a personal best by a long margin, with personal records in every part of the race. I almost couldn’t believe it, but there it was.

If there’s one thing I learned from this race experience, it’s that you can’t always see contradictions as obstacles. Sometimes, they are puzzle pieces in a larger pattern that you can’t fully recognize until you’ve put it all together. You can’t always resist the things that don’t make sense; sometimes, you have to lean into them, make them part of your plan and see them through to the end. And that’s when you can find clarity.

We closed out our trip with a drive through Joshua Tree National Park, marveling at the natural beauty of the desert before boarding our plane to fly back into winter. With California behind us, it was time to look forward to a new year, and new contradictions.

Watch the video version of this race recap:

youtube

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rydenstories · 6 years

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my sister’s disappearance and the church in the woods

Many people in my life don't know it, but I spent two years of my childhood living with my grandmother.

When I was approaching my teen years, it had come to light that my mother had developed a pill addiction after a surgery left her on pain management. She had kept it hidden pretty well for a while, but eventually rehab was the only option. Unfortunately, this left my dad with no one to care for my sister, Diane, and I while he worked countless overtime hours. Nana had to be the one to take us, even though she lived hours away. I didn't mind the move. Any patch of the middle of nowhere is about the same as any other, but Diane felt betrayed. She was a little younger and didn't understand the nature of the situation, she just thought they got tired of us.

Diane often asked me why I wasn't mad that they'd abandoned us. There was nothing I could say convinced her that they hadn't.

During our time living with Nana, she homeschooled us. Our parents didn't necessarily know how long recovery would take and they didn't want us to acclimate to an overwhelming social environment we could immediately be ripped from at any time. They never expected recovery to take so long and they never expected Diane to see it how she did; lockdown. She felt they shipped us away to punish us. Somewhere along the line, she had come up with this evil fairy tale version of our parents when, in reality, they were just kinda having a hard time.

We spent the first fall and winter inside, expecting to go home any day, and when Dad showed up late one night in March, we thought we might really be going home. However, his face was painted with anger and tears. He told us Mommy needed more time, but that trailer was small. I easily overheard the words "relapse" uttered under hushed tones in another room. I don't think Diane understood that much, but when she saw me cry at the realization, she made some sort of connection and it only heightened her disdain for mom and dad.

Spring came around and warm weather opened up the entire world outside. Nana left us to our own devices after lessons and the trailer sat in the middle of a gigantic campground. She told us that there would be many kids to play with when the summer campers came around, so it would be a perfect time to spend spring exploring the grounds. Diane practically bolted out of the door, despite the chill and the rain. We spent a while getting to know the place better together. There were the normal things kids like; two rather large playgrounds and a swimming pool we just couldn't wait for them to open that summer. However, we were more interested in the wooded trails. The entire place was surrounded by dense forest and if you went just a little far off the trail into the trees, you'd find tons of abandoned structures to climb on, waterfalls, and even a few caves.

Diane was very excited about the prospect of meeting and playing with other children. She had a rather large group of friends in our neighborhood back home, and she felt so robbed of that being sent to live with Nana. I was a little shyer, but wanted desperately to convey that I wasn't. I was two years older, but Diane was much cooler and more charismatic than me. I didn't want to seem uncool, so I played it up that I was just as excited as she was. Together, we planned out an amazing hide and seek game in the woods for when the summer kids arrived. We tried to recruit the few other children living on the campground year-round, but there really weren't many. Most of the people living there were old, and if they did have kids around, they were usually only visiting. We gave up and returned to exploring and planning on our own.

There was a day that was particularly rainy at the end of April in which Diane wanted to go explore, but Nana said there would be a big thunderstorm coming that night and she'd prefer we didn't go out further than the two playgrounds. Diane stomped her foot and protested until she finally realized she wasn't getting her way. Then she turned to me, expecting that I would go with her. I told her that I really didn't want to, and she gave me a look accompanied by the hardest of eyerolls before storming off. She slammed the screen door way harder than necessary and was gone. I shrugged it off and fell asleep on the couch, watching gameshows with Nana.

Diane returned later with a different attitude and pulled me aside later on that night, under the cover of the sound of thunder, to express her excitement about having made a new friend at the park named Eden. I laughed, and she became immediately confused and defensive. I genuinely thought she'd made up the name as I'd actually never come across it before then. Being the older sibling, I picked up on her defensiveness and decided to pick on her a little bit, claiming not to believe in her new imaginary friend. I didn't necessarily believe she'd made it up, but messing with her proved to be an opportunity my sisterly instincts didn't wanna miss out on. This made her determined to prove Eden to me.

It took a week but Diane proved me somewhat wrong after spotting a little girl I'd never seen down the path. Her hair was dark with a natural curl and she wore a green gingham print sundress despite the late spring chill. Diane called out to her, using the name Eden, but the little girl didn't turn to respond and instead ran away, down the path and around the corner. I expected to see my sister hurt but instead, she immediately chased after her, laughing as she turned the corner out of site. I tried to chase them down, but they were nowhere around. I turned around and instead found them waiting for me at the head of the trail. I wanted to ask how they'd gotten there, but I didn't get the chance before Diane started boasting about her new friend.

Eden was Diane's age but my size and although she seemed well spoken enough, she didn't get many words out between my sister jabbering on about how Eden knows where to find great hiding places just barely off the path. I scoffed, knowing myself that we'd explored pretty much all of the immediate areas off trail. There weren't any awesome places I didn't know about. Still, this strange girl seemed like she'd been there much longer than us, so I wasn't about to question her. She led us across the campgrounds to another edge of the woods that was mostly bike trails and I immediately felt a smug little smile cross my face, realizing that there weren't any structures on that side. Diane and her little friend were about to make themselves look stupid and I couldn't wait to laugh it up.

Before I could say anything, however, Eden disappeared into the trees with her hand gripped firmly around Diane's wrist, who immediately snatched mine. Suddenly, we were sprinting across bike trails and through trees, not even really bothering with the trails at all. I desperately wanted to ask either of them where we might be going, but I could barely breathe. Both girls had so much momentum that they were practically dragging me behind them. We finally halted at some high bushes, which Eden pushed aside with one fluid motion to expose a large field. At the back edge of the trees was an enormous church.

I stood in shock directly in front of the small opening we'd gone through. Many of the buildings in the woods were intact, some of them weren't even that old, but nothing this huge stood so solidly, the steeple being the only thing missing. Even most of the stained glass windows were intact. It was the kind of discovery you read about in teen fantasy novels, something you expect to be magical. However, I felt wrong for being there.

Although the grass in the field had grown high, there were multiple tiny paths through towards the church that Eden led us down. As we neared the almost too-goliath building, I started noticing things that bothered me; abandoned toys, a few lost bikes, some other toys that looked like something you'd see in a museum. I finally found my voice and spoke up, pointing out the fact that other kids clearly know about this place. My sister shot a look back at me with a condescending "So?" I reminded her that we were looking for hiding places, and Eden wasn't leading us to a good hiding place if every other kid knew about it. Eden spoke up, calmly stating that it wasn't a hiding place. I stopped, feeling a little more than uncomfortable. This stopped the movement of the entire group, bringing both girls to look back at me with an almost impatient demeanor.

They didn't need to ask before I stated that I felt we might get in trouble for being there, someone had to be keeping the place so nice, and it clearly wasn't the other kids, with them just throwing their garbage toys around like that. Eden answered with a little scoff and giggle that said she clearly knew more than me, but I wasn't going to get into trouble for some girl I barely knew, so I grabbed my sister's arm and turned back. She fought against me, but I threatened to tell Nana, and that ended the argument pretty quickly. Eden didn't try to stop us or follow. She instead disappeared up the church steps and through the heavy sun bleached wooden doors.

The following week, neither of us went out. I was to unsettled by the church, and Diane was a mix of angry at me and afraid I'd tattle. Nana seemed a bit concerned and took me aside, wondering if anything was wrong. I didn't tell her anything, though. To tell the truth, I was mildly afraid I might get into trouble too. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Diane listening in. It was clear that she'd heard and realized that I wasn't going to tell Nana anything. She seemed pretty satisfied with that.

I woke up the following morning and noticed that Diane wasn't asleep in the cot next to mine. I wasn't surprised, I knew she'd wanna go out and play now that she knew she wasn't going to get into trouble, so I got out of bed and went to go find her. She could play with her weird little friend without me but I had to at least make sure she wasn't at that church again. I knew in my gut that we weren't supposed to be there, no one was. However, I didn't find her at any of the regular spots. At that point, I found myself getting more and more miffed at her choices and at the fact that I now had to go search the bike trails for her.

I had this smug attitude about me and even had come up with a pretty good idea of exactly how I was going to tell Diane off. I felt pretty self-assured up until an hour into searching all over that side of the forest and finding absolutely no sign of my sister, Eden, or the church. I doubled back to the trail-head and sat for a moment before ultimately deciding to go back to the trailer and tell Nana. We'd be in trouble, sure, but I reasoned with myself that Diane would be in more trouble than me, and at least Nana would probably know where the church was located, or one of the grounds managers definitely would.

I'd made it about halfway back to the trailer when an unsettlingly warm hand grabbed my wrist from behind and spun me faster than I could react. Eden, this time wearing a yellow rose print button up sundress. She had a genuine look of worry on her face. She told me that she and Diane had been playing hide and seek, and she couldn't find Diane for some time. My own worry kicked up, but I was also a little intrigued; this was the first time I'd heard Eden speak at any length. She had an accent I'd never heard as a child and still can't exactly place as an adult, and she told me that Diane might be hiding somewhere really dangerous.

I listened to her talk more as we walked across the campground together, her taking the lead. Eden spoke the whole time, telling me about all the different structures in the forest, and what they used to be. She told me about these dangerous little rock ledges she'd told Diane about, and how we'd go there to make sure she hadn't hurt herself. Her voice was smooth and even kinda comforting, it put my worries at ease. I started to feel guilty. Maybe my previous discomfort with this girl stemmed from jealousy. I could still feel something off about her, but it was now muffled under the comfortable surface that her voice provided.

When we reached the edge of the trees, she grabbed my wrist again and asked me to trust her. Before I could say anything, we were gliding through the forest again. This time, she pulled me behind her with her own force alone, fast enough that the trees around us all started to smear together in shades of green and brown. We burst through some brush and again, there stood the intimidating church and the toy-littered grounds around it. Eden had let go of my wrist and I was kinda feeling that uneasiness again. I knew this wasn't where she said we were going, but without really thinking about it, I allowed her to grab my hand and lead me ahead.

The doors seemed even larger up close and looked heavy, but Eden grabbed the handle and pulled it open with ease. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust from the brightness outside but I was shocked to find that the inside of the church was almost completely pristine. The red walkway carpet that led to the pulpit looked brand new and the beige floor underneath could've been freshly mopped. Twelve rows of wooden pews lined each side of the center walkway. They were all littered with children's toys, little trinkets, jewelry, jackets, and even a few loose shoes. The rest of the room had stood through the test of time, but those things didn't for some reason.

The fixture that immediately drew my attention was a dark, bathtub sized basin on the far side of the pulpit. Eden led me to it. As we grew closer, I noticed that there was murky water inside. It smelled rank, like swamp. She told me there was a really cool animal living in it. She wanted me to see it. I wasn't able to think much more about it before I felt my legs moving me toward the tub, my head leaning closer to the water in hopes of seeing such a strange creature. Something underneath the surface started to swirl. Light glowed from somewhere far deeper than the basin itself was capable of being. I saw something floating deep and I leaned closer to look.

Diane's face floated in the deep distance, just close enough to see, but somehow much too far away to reach. Her eyes were vacant, her face bloated. The word drowned popped into my head a few moments before my mind registered what that meant. I started to feel my body freaking out and I felt myself start to back away when a hand from behind me, now hot and much too large to be a little girl's, landed on my neck and shoved my face hard into the water. I screamed before I thought to take a breath or close my eyes, so I went in blowing air out. My eyes burned horribly for a second as I closed my mouth and I tried to conserve what little air I had left, while also trying to fight to get my head out of the water. As I struggled, I got a blurry look around. The water around was much too vast to fit the tub's capacity, it was kinda like putting my head down into a hole in a frozen lake. Multiple lights started appearing in the far, murky distance.

They began to approach, dread knotted up with my empty lungs, and I fought harder.

I got my head up long enough to pull air and turn to glimpse Eden. She was much taller now, the floral dress she wore was torn and stretched over her bony, hunched over body. Her skin was all dried up and warped like sun-bleached wood. Then, my head was back in the water. The lights were much closer. I started to wiggle and contort my body in any way I could to get up.

At some point I brought my left arm up a little too far back and I felt something tear in my shoulder. Before I could register what I'd done, that arm struck something hard and Eden lost her grip. I ripped my head out of the water and turned my entire body to her, hoping not to let her get the upper hand on me again. Before I could even focus on Eden, I noticed the room had dramatically changed. The pristineness of it all had disappeared and replaced the whole room with the smell of wet, disgusting swamp stink. A few pews were now missing, the others rotten, termite-eaten, and moldy. The center carpeting was ripped up in a bunch of places and stained. The floor underneath was warped and muddy, with small puddles of dark water pooling all around. The decay of the room finally matched the decay of the objects it housed.

My eyes returned to Eden, still showing her true nature. Her large hand clutched her chest, where I must have hit her to knock her grip loose. I was lucky.

The natural curl of her hair had degraded into long, lifeless tendrils that hid her face as she was preoccupied, looking down at her chest, less in pain and more likely in shock that I was able to knock her back at all. I took the opportunity to move as quietly (but quickly) as I possibly could around the basin, away from the pulpit, and towards the door. I stopped dead in my tracks for a moment when I noticed a single item that hadn't been there before, sitting in the middle of the carpeted walkway; a tiny, silver bangle. It was a gift from my mom to Diane when she turned 8. I know during that time at Nana's, she hated our mom to some extent, but not enough to ever take that bangle off. My knees threatened to cave when three small voices began speaking in perfect unison from behind me. I didn't turn around, I didn't want to see any more of whatever Eden really was, but I never forgot what those voices said.

"It doesn't matter if you get away. You lost. She's mine. They all are."

I bolted without another thought. I didn't bother to look anywhere except ahead as I ran out of the doors, away from the church, and into the woods. I ran until I realized that I was no longer in the forest at all, and I'd actually exited from a completely different area than I been led into. I returned to Nana's trailer as fast as I could and blabbered out everything without putting much thought to whether or not she would believe me. Whether or not she did didn't make itself immediately apparent. Instead, she covered her very clear concern for my sister in as much comfort for me as she could while she grabbed the phone and called the police.

They arrived and I told them everything as well, but my spirits were dampened by the sheer disbelief and almost disgust some of the officers wore on their faces long before I finished my story. Despite that, I probably recounted it exactly the same, eight or nine times by the time my dad showed up. He shoo'ed everyone away from me and wrapped me in a big hug. It was the first time I felt safe all day. However, it was also the point where the adrenaline finally wore off and extreme pain exploded from my arm and back. The crying began. My dad took me to the hospital, where I learned that I'd completely tore a muscle in my shoulder.

Searches began. The campground owner said that there used to be a church on the land, long before they'd bought it, but they were assured that it had burnt down. In fact, it was one of the only previous structures on the land that didn't have any recorded ruins. They didn't have anything to go of off, so they just searched everywhere. Over and over.

They never found the church. They never found my sister, either.

The authorities wanted to piece parts of my story together that made sense so they could write their reports and let it go. Diane had been lured into the woods by a kidnapper using another child as bait. They tried to do the same to me, but I was able to get away. That was the reality they chose to believe and to present to the rest of the world. It didn't need to be more detailed than that for them.

I spent another entire year living in that trailer, on those same grounds. I lived in fear because I knew what reality actually was. I knew it every time I remembered the taste of that foul water in my mouth, or the heat of Eden's hand on the back of my neck as she held me under. Diane's bloated face stared at me whenever I closed my eyes. It wasn't until my mom finally recovered and I was able to move back home did I start to heal and feel safe again.

The fear faded, but the memory never did. Still, I chose to keep it to myself. It was easier to live with it than experience the disbelief of others over and over again.

In the middle of the night last Saturday, I was jerked out of my bed by my throat. The fingers wrapped around my neck were so hot, I thought they might be metal. It only kept a grasp on me long enough to get me up. I collapsed to the floor in total darkness and loudly gasped for air. The struggle woke my fiance and he quickly flicked on his bedside lamp to reveal an empty bedroom. He got up and helped me up, asking me about a dozen questions, none of which my brain registered. Instead, I ran off to the bathroom, where I cried until I knew I had to tell him everything.

I'm very lucky that he believes me, or at least it seems like he does. I hope he does. Our house has absolutely reeked of swamp stank since it happened, so I know he is at least aware of that. Thankfully, I have yet to be yanked out of bed again, but I'm afraid.

I don't know what to do from here, but I'm tired of being the only person that knows, even if there are no answers out there for me. Even if this just serves as a helpful warning for others to be careful.

#my story #mine

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forsetti · 6 years

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On Writing: The Wrong Frame Of Mind To Write

For the past year, writing has been a struggle. At first, I thought this was because it was impossible to stay on top of the amount of bullshit being pumped out by President Narcissist and his band of deplorables. By the time I got through writing the first paragraph on something that happened, three more things would occur that were equally or more upsetting. Trying to figure out what to write about and how felt overwhelming. It's been over a year and we've all become acclimated on some level to the non-stop nonsense coming from this administration. Yet, I'm struggling as much today with writing as I was after the Inauguration. This reason might be part of the cause but it isn't the main reason I'm finding it hard to write.

Another reason I've been telling myself why I'm finding writing difficult is because I'm emotionally drained and pre-occupied after the end of the best relationship I've ever been in. With my emotions so focused on and so damaged by the breakup, I didn't have the mental energy and focus to also write. This can't be the reason for the struggle writing either. Writing has always been an emotional release, for me. It doesn't matter what the emotion-anger, frustration, grief... If anything, the end of my relationship should have spurred a desire to write. It didn't. Again, this might be part of the cause as to why I've been finding it hard to write but it isn't the main reason.

I certainly believe that Trump's election and the end of my relationship have had an impact, separately and taken together, on my writing, but neither one is the main, underlying cause of my writer's block.

It wasn't until this past week after reading an article suggested to me by a good friend and a Twitter thread by someone I've been following for the past couple of years that I really understood why I've been struggling-I have fucks to give. The two articles I read were written by people who are passionate about what they write, willing to say what others sometimes don't want to but need to be said, completely honest about themselves and brutally honest about the world around them. They write with zero fucks to give.

The first thing I read-”Awkward and Beautiful Things You Think and Do When You Might Be Dying,” was written by Emily Dievendorf who was diagnosed with a brain tumor eleven years ago and is in a limbo state when it comes to really knowing her prognosis. The sometimes brutal, sometimes funny, sometimes uncomfortable, sometimes inspiring honesty in her article came from a place of no fucks to give. As I read it, I was both impressed and envious of her ability to lay it on the table, no-holds-barred.

The second thing I read was written by Propane Jane, a black woman who is not only a psychiatrist with her Masters in Public Health but a legend of the brutally honest Twitter thread. The thread I read the other day was about Bernie Sanders' recent comments about President Obama and the Democratic Party while he was speaking in Mississippi during the 50th anniversary of Dr. Martin Luther King's assassination. While some people were pointing out some of the problems with Bernie's comments, Propane Jane brought the fucking receipts, threw them down on the table in a perfectly laid out, organized fashion, and dropped the mic all in very succinct tweets. There are a few people on Twitter who are really good at a Tweet Storm. Propane Jane is the best of the best at it. It wasn't so much what she had to say about Bernie's comments that struck me, it was how I reminded just how powerful and wonderful something written with zero fucks to give can be.

These two women, coming from very different perspectives on very different topics showed me what has been missing from my writing the past year. I've been struggling with writing because for some reason I have had fucks to give and it goes against who I am and why I started writing in the first place.

When I started my blog seven years ago, it wasn't for anyone but myself. It was a place where I could write down whatever was swirling around in my brain. It was a place where my stream of consciousness could take on a tangible form. The handful of people who followed it were a few close friends who know me really well and have heard the live versions of what I write many times over drinks. This all changed right after the 2016 election.

For reasons I've never fully understood, my blog post right after the presidential election in 2016 about rural voters got picked up by Alternet and later Raw Story (who has run it at least three different times.) Instead of the few dozen shares and reads most of the things I'd write would get, this essay went viral and was exposed to millions of people. Within a short period of time, the number of people following my blog went from a handful to over a thousand. The same was true with my corresponding Forsetti's Justice Facebook page. As much as I appreciate everyone who follows and enjoys what I write and post, they are the reason I'm having a hard time writing. Well, not them specifically but as a catalyst which brought out a trait in me, I thought I'd successfully dealt with years ago.

When it was just me writing for myself into a fairly unpopulated space, I never thought about how it would be perceived, if it was important, if it was interesting, if it was anything. For some reason, on some level, now I do. Being the oldest of ten kids instilled an over-developed sense of responsibility that always bothered the fuck out of me. When I'm on my own or with a small group of carefully selected friends, this sense of responsibility dissipates. When I'm in large groups or around people I don't really know very well, this sense is heightened. The difference between these two situations is the lower the sense of responsibility, the fewer fucks I give. Having a lot of people follow and read my stuff has caused this sense of responsibility to kick into high gear. Don't get me wrong, the people who follow and read my stuff are not to blame in any way for by writer's block. The problem completely rests with me. I need to figure out how to go back to writing for myself.

I need to once again not care if anyone reads what I write and just write. I need to have no filters in any step of what or why I write/post. I have to get back to having zero fucks to give because deep down, I know exactly what I want to accomplish, why, and how to get there better than anyone else. There are much, much, much better writers than me. In fact, I don't even consider myself a writer because I spend no time working on the art and craft of writing. My “editing process” consists of a rudimentary spellcheck and not much else. The main reason I write is to get thoughts, connections, emotions out of my head and these are almost always loosely structured and certainly not grammatically correct. It is mostly a stream of consciousness but a stream that has been hewn into bedrock by years of reading and studying philosophy, health care, economics, politics, world civilizations, religion... I know my wheelhouse and need to feel completely comfortable in it again. The people who read what I write are probably not even aware of any of this. I am and it needs to stop.

Now that I've figured out the problem, it is up to me to figure out how to fix it. Hopefully, I can. I just have to figure out how to not care about who reads what I write and what their response might be. I need to be comfortable in my own skin and with my own abilities. I need to get back to writing like the two women whose works brought to light the flaw in what I've been doing, exposed the cause of the problem. However, unlike either of them, I will always come from a place where not having any fucks will never be as risk-taking as what they do because as an older, white, straight male, any risk I take will always be done from a position of cultural acceptance and power. This is something I'm not in control of much more than being keenly aware of the situation. What is completely in my control is the amount of fucks give when writing. I've been giving too many lately and it has got to stop because deep down, this isn't why I write and isn't who I want to be.

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smokeybrand · 3 years

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The Fallacy of Education

I think elementary school is necessary to an extent but everything I've ever learned after probably the third grade, was during summer break at the library and then all of the time when my family got a computer. I never really learned anything “new” in a classroom setting, from probably the fourth grade and forward. Sure, it's dope to have someone bounce ideas off but you can do that with anyone. You can do that online. Hell, I DO that online now. SO what the f*ck is the merit of going through the tribulations of “school?” Capitalism. Capitalism is the “merit.” School is designed to break your spirit as a youth and train you to be a drone in the workforce. The structure of how education here in the US has been built, is designed to acclimate you to a forty hour work week early on. It's built to make you yearn for holidays and the weekends. It grooms you to raise your hands to ask questions and punishes those who deviate from the assigned tasks. Free thinkers are shunned and the arts are almost always removed in one form or another. Creativity is killed in service to conformity because capitalism needs that in order to function. The second it's removed, the second people questions the status quo, is the second they understand the terrible conditions in which they've been forced to exist. But, if you're not smart enough to ask the right questions, then there is no threat to the current class system.

When i got to fifth grade, i went to a substantially sh*ttier school than before. We move into a worse ghetto than the one I grew up in for he majority of my life and that was reflected in this school's curriculum. These kids were morons. That wasn't there fault, the system had failed them because it was assumed they weren't worth the investment. We'd all end up being thugs and criminals because that was what our zip code dictated. When I got there, I kind of f*cked all of that up. These kids were reading well under their grade, the “smart” one rad at a high school level if I remember but i could read at a college level. Indeed, I was well into checking out Shakespeare and Dante by this point. That was too much for my teacher. He graded on a curve because the kids were so stupid and, after that fist test where everyone failed but me because I got such a high mark, told me flat out that there was nothing he could teach me. I became kind of a TA in that class and never turned in another assignment for the entire year. He just gave me As on everything and apologized profusely for not being able to adequately challenge me. It was difficult to see because I would tell this dude loved teaching and he had an opportunity to rally flex his passion with me but the system in which he had to work wouldn't allow him to do any of that. Because the system, itself, isn't built to educate. Imagine being an educator trapped in that cage? Now imagine being a student trapped in there, too, oblivious to the handicap you've just been saddled with.

When i got to the seventh grade, i was put into remedial courses against my ill. We moved back to my old neighborhood ahead of my sixth grade year so I was able to return to my previous school where it was understood that myself and a handful of others were WAY too smart for our own good. They got us more advanced materials from the surrounding high schools and basically told us to teach ourselves. My then principal drove us over to a separate middle school because it was supposed to have better materials and more advanced courses than the neighborhood one. Our principal and the one in the middle school spoke, we all demonstrated our intelligence, and it was agreed we'd be placed in advanced courses in the coming year. When the new year started, I was not placed in those agreed upon courses. My zip code reflected the ghetto and not the bourgeois neighborhood this new school was in. They assumed i was an idiot, even though i was enrolled specifically for the more challenging curriculum, and dismissed my previous academic accomplishments without a word. My elementary school principal literally drove me over there and introduced me to that school's principal because she wanted to make sure the staff understood that i was wildly intelligent "for my age." Didn't matter. They saw a Meadowview zip and i was put into classes with a bunch of idiots. When i protested, they refused to change my schedule. It didn't take long for most of my teachers to realize I wouldn't be in such pedestrian classes but the administration refused to budge. I was ghetto trash and they didn't want to hear anything else, even if it was coming directly from the teachers in charge of me education. My science teacher literally had us coloring f*cking pictures as work assignments. I refused to do such ridiculous busy work, demanded that he teach me some sh*t and, instead, he suspended me from his class and threatened to fail me.

When i got to high school, i was wildly disillusioned by education and basically coasted my way through. I understood that i could learn more on my own and pushed to be home schooled. The way the that system works is you show up for in-class check-in on Monday and pick up a packet of schoolwork. You complete the school work through the week and turn it the following Monday. No classroom. No teachers. No fuss. All of my credits, and then some, and none of the the everyday baggage. I could excel at my own pace, which we have established far outstripped whatever the f*ck the curriculum is at any given time. Plus, I could return to proper coursework at any time. My plan was to knock out about three years worth of credits that first year and try to get into the off-campus internship with the State. It was called the Regional Occupation Program. I'd be paid to work for the State part time while accumulating proper work experience, and still have time to take some college courses at the local Community College. I'd still be able to come back and participate in all of the social sh*t like dances and games plus, I'd be able to walk the stage with my proper class. I'd be able to challenge myself, build toward my future, and still have that high school experience. But my mom refused. Everything i said here, I said to her, and she still refused. She's a slave to tradition and tradition dictated that i HAD to go to class everyday. The system HAD to be maintained. So i did and, as the years progressed, i went less and less. By senior year, i went just enough to keep the cops of her back and still graduated with a 3.8. I never one applied myself in high school and literally just showed up because cops, gym, and girls. Most days, i left early because f*cking why not? I wasn't learning anything. I wasn't being enriched in anyway. By my senior year, I had two Teacher's Assistant classes, two gym classes, Government and a creative writing course. I never went to that one because it was the last class of the day and Transformers came on halfway through it so I skipped it everyday. In order to pass, I just printed out a novel I wrote when I was in the eighth grade. He gave me an A, even though I was only there in person around thirty percent of the school year. I was writing high school level sh*t when I was thirteen. That's the story of my whole life and it didn't get any better when I got to college.

I thought it was going to get better when i got to college. It did not. I had toured a few campuses around my neighborhood and even sat in on a course or two. I went to a few College Fairs and even got accepted into a couple of HBCs. After a I graduated high school I opted to go to a community college that was near by. I' m poor so I couldn't afford a proper school and the scholarships available to me were all partial. I didn't want to have to split time between working and college so I figured if I got the core courses out of the way early, I could lighten the load and have an Associates to take into a part time gig or something later. I had actually gotten into Stanford and wanted to go but the cost of living was WAY too staunchy so this Community college plan was the best option. I lasted a semester. That sh*t was like going back to high school but i had to pay for it out of pocket. I had dreams of debate and lecture, of challenging a professor who could challenge me in return What I got was more of the uniform apathy that has dogged me my entire education career, only now it was driving me into f*cking debt. I love learning. I love reading. I love thinking. None of that I was even conducive to school here in the states. Often times, it was objectively frowned upon. From kindergarten to literally college, I was always under the gun in that sense. To this day, my curiosity is insatiable and I research everything. I want to know all of the things and the big sh*t like theoretical physics or the math necessary to infer the universe before the big bang, is absolutely tantalizing to me. I was frustrated with the stifling rigidity of school f*cking twenty years ago. I can't even imagine what it's like for kids nowadays.

The education system in the US is f*cking ridiculous. It's not meant to build intelligence or free thinking, it's an assembly line method designed to acclimate you to a forty hour work week. It's supposed to get you used to sacrificing the majority of your life in service to capitalism, busting ass just to get to the weekend or next holiday off, because that's how you'll live the rest of your adult life. They're not in the business of education or teaching life skills, they're in the business of manufacturing more cogs for the great machine that is the “economy.” Why the f*ck do I need to know Algebra 2 when I can't do my own taxes? Why the f*ck do we have to spend three weeks studying the Crucible when I don't know how compound interests works? Parents should play a part in this, for sure, but how difficult is that for them to do? They are victims of the same system and have to sacrifice their liberty in order to pay bills, after being bludgeoned with that same aggressive system necessary for them to abandon their hopes. A smart person is a difficult person to manipulate. When people understand, or even have the ability to comprehend, the scales fall from their eyes. We're seeing that now with the “Employment crisis” and how no one wants to go back to being underpaid and overworked after a the Pandemic showed the world for what it was. It's in capitalism's best interests to make sure the masses are smart enough to produce but dumb enough to never understand that they control the means of production. Why do you think everyone wants the kids to "get back into the classroom" when it's obviously easier to "teach" kids over zoom? When it's obvious that they learn more and understand better at home? When entire grade averages have increased considerably, over the entire country, since kids have been studying at home? Because that structure is more important than the learning. Every kid has a phone, computer, or tablet at this point. Internet is everywhere. There's no reason to have in-class learning, especially considering how many f*cking classrooms get shot up around these parts. Especially considering that there are more kids like me thanks to the ready-to-consume inf oration at our fingertips. This one got away from me but i really, really, hate the "education system" here. It's so boorish and archaic, f*cking obsolete, especially in the age of the information, so why go back to that broken system? Because capitalism needs drones not dreamers. It needs conformists, not thinkers. It needs ignorance not education.

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seashellley-blog · 6 years

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In the air: cloud thoughts at 32,000 ft

Somewhere between Moose Jaw and Saskatoon, the rest of the current populace of a 747 and I are two hours into our flight. It’s 4:19am in Toronto, the city we’ve just departed from and whose time zone I’m adjusted to. There’s at least thirteen hours left before I get to get off this zoom-y sky tube. One of the longest continuous flights in the world that you could possibly take, I’m on my way to Taipei, the capital of Taiwan, and the tip of my nose is freezing cold. Just the tip of my nose. I’m wearing all black and Dolce & Gabbana The One. Although we’re going 598/mph, it’s a pretty sleepy atmosphere around me and where most of the people I’ve been interacting with lately are. They’ve served the main meal, turned off the lights. So it’s a bit of a quiet moment, especially being definitively off the grid without any way to connect with people I know for, well, longer than pretty much anywhere else I ever am. I’ll be posting this on arrival; stay tuned for more tropical updates and snapshots. Most of the time if I wanted to I could contact just about everyone, and while I always get nervous about the boredom immediately prior to and following take-off, it’s actually one of the things I enjoy a bit about long flights. I try to make an effort to enjoy things I can’t avoid, at any rate. You get to hide from the world for a little bit, on your way to seeing the rest of the world. I mean, I could pay for in-flight WiFi.. Remember when that first became a Thing and it was like, so novelty? But I’ve got better things to spend money on, like vodka. For now, I’ve got in-flight magazines, my disconnected MacBook, a real book (one of my favourites- This Side of Paradise, F. Scott Fitzgerald) , or the option of trying to finally get around to sorting through the literal 11,000 photos on my phone. I think that last one might end up getting postponed until a caffeine-fuelled fit of determination some other day. Personally, I never can sleep the first few hours of a flight. I’m not great (read: super bad) at getting to sleep in the most boring of circumstances, let alone during unusual and exciting moments. At some point I will sleep and I regret (about as far as I ever regret anything) that since I am a forgetful girl, I neglected to bring a neck pillow and my sleep mask. Baby pink on one side and light grey on the other, it’s some silky fabric that says in embroidery ‘Beauty Sleep’, cause, you know. That life. I did remember to bring a serum sheet mask to keep my skin hydrated in the sub-par plane air. Beauty Sleep indeed. The one I’m using is infused with red wine: though I hear its good for you, honestly I’d recommend a less boozy scent. for a flight at least. You want to wear it longer than the usual 15 minutes or so- just fall asleep with it on and remove when it dries. Trust, your skin wants the extra moisture, and the way they air-condition it’ll dry faster than normally. So, one out of three travel ‘essentials’ achieved. Priorities, I guess? They did provide a pillow, sleep mask, and blanket. It’s dark enough that no one notices you looking vaguely like a ghost in your sheet mask while they’re all asleep anyways, or you can hide under the provided blanket. There’s sheet masks that are transparent rather than white, I just grabbed the first one out of my pile while packing. Alternatively, use a travel-size amount of a non-sheet mask that you either leave in or wash off depending on the mask, but a key point is how the sheet holds the moisture to your face and creates a barrier against the air, so the mask dries out slower than one you’d just rub in. But this is a true travel tip though, real-talk. Fifteen straight hours or pretty much any flight of significant length does a number on your face. If you’re prone to brittle hair you may want to tie it up as well, both to prevent dehydration and breakage from rubbing while you sleep. Remember to drink water and apply chapstick liberally. I don’t know about you but I like to look kind of nice at airports. You see so many people! It’s one of the types of places where there’s a possibility of running into like, every type of person. What if I somehow run into say, Brad Pitt and I need to tell him we have the same birthday and then I gotta ask for a picture with him to prove to anyone including myself that it actually happened? Well, I hope it doesn’t chance to occur while I’m wearing a sheet mask. In any case, having all the moisture sucked out of your skin is no fun even if you don’t care about looking nice at airports. I prefer to be glowy when I land, sort of a “Yay I survived!” radiance. I fell asleep drifting over Prince George and came to over the sea off the coast of Russia where it approaches Japan. More and more passengers are flickering awake like city lights winking when you look down at them from the sky. Its funny how on long flights, train rides, trips to camp, vacations, so on, we start adjusting to our new environment and by the end of the trip it feels odd to leave it. Your little community and space you’ve acclimated to. I accidentally started watching a movie on the screen of someone a couple rows in front of me about a grandpa getting dementia and I started crying. Naturally I had to try finding it on my own tv screen but got distracted by the plethora of interesting stories available to watch, which reminded me I brought a book and would feel silly having carried it around the airport if I didn’t make good use of it now. Hopefully after reading a bit about Amory Blaine and New York, words of the big city will tire me and I’ll float back to sleep. See you on the flip side.

Stay chic and unbothered, x seashellley

#blog #travel #diaries #beauty #tips #writing #taiwan

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ayeletinthemountains · 3 years

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2020 in Mountains

I’m not saying anything new when I say 2020 sucked in many ways. Now that I’ve gotten the required acknowledgement of 2020 as a total disaster out of the way, I can get to documenting and appreciating what I was able to experience this year. This post is long because I was able to take three months off in between jobs, which featured many adventures, and it also goes over the many life changes I made as a result of COVID which have very much affected my mountain activities.

Winter

I started off the year leaving my job on January 2nd and jumping into enjoying three months off before starting my new job. How I got so incredibly lucky with the timing (getting to freely travel the last 3 months before the pandemic took over the world??), I’ll never know. I am so thankful for it, so glad I took advantage, and really just take it as an affirmation that you need to enjoy life instead of working 24/7. You never know when a global pandemic will happen and throw all your plans in the trash.

I spent the first part of winter driving around California, Utah, and a little bit of Colorado, skiing and ice climbing while training for a bigger trip to Ecuador. I love these open-ended mountain days where you just do whatever sport is best for the conditions. I went to Ouray for the first time, and I really enjoyed the ice park. I look forward to going back someday and hopefully hopping on a route or two in the backcountry as well.

My natural belay habitat.

Ecuador

The biggest part of my 3 months off was a trip to Ecuador. I had been itching to get some high altitude experience to prepare for objectives like Denali. I ended up going to Ecuador simply because it was the right season to go there, but it did not disappoint at all. For once I did a guided trip because, a) I had no partner readily available (having only signed up for the trip maybe 8 weeks before?), and b) I wanted to treat myself to not having to figure out logistics in a foreign country for once. I went with the company Alpine Ascents, and they definitely have the trip well-dialed. Every accommodation we stayed at was plush (we stayed at a high altitude hot spring resort as part of acclimatization, best acclimatization ever), the food was delicious, and the guides were kind, knowledgeable, and all around great. In particular, Jose Luis Peralvo, the head guide, was such a pleasure to be around. He is an incredibly experienced guide (300+ Cotopaxi ascents, 3 Everest ascents), super encouraging (I promised him I’d lead some pitches on El Cap when someday Leo and I climb Lurking Fear), very patient, and so good-natured. I would love to climb with him again (Antisana someday??).

On this trip, we attempted to climb three high altitude peaks: Cayambe (18,996′), Cotopaxi (19,347′), and Chimborazo (20,564′), in that order. With my previous altitude record being Mont Blanc (15,777′), these would each be new records for me. The conditions on the first climb, Cayambe, were challenging. We found ourselves in a damp cloud layer that covered us all in a thin layer of ice. I was shocked how slow I was moving, which was hugely demotivating. I made the mistake of letting my mittens get frozen from the moisture of the cloud. When one of the guides suggested we turn around at about 17,500’, I reluctantly agreed and felt very down on myself the whole way down. But with no vis (and thus no views), miserable conditions, and challenges with the altitude, I think it was the right choice. At the time I felt very down on high altitude mountaineering and wasn’t sure it was for me. It really is hard knowing you’re moving so slowly compared to your normal experience in the mountains. Thankfully, the next summit attempt, two days later, went much better. On Cotopaxi we had perfect weather, and my acclimatization was starting to kick in. I was still moving very slowly, but found myself able to keep going (though I also did collapse on the summit). This summit hugely lifted my spirits and made me feel like I just needed to give my body more time to acclimate. This felt especially true when on the last summit, Chimborazo (over 1000’ taller than Cotopaxi), I was the fastest client in the group. Cotopaxi track. Chimborazo track.

Now I feel prepared mentally for my next high altitude trip, whenever it may be. I know that my body can acclimate, it just needs the time to do so and I need to be patient.

I would go back to Ecuador in a heartbeat. The mountains are beautiful, the food is delicious, the people are kind. While I would not typically travel somewhere to climb a peak a second time by the same route, I’d climb Cotopaxi again without a doubt. It’s one of the most beautiful mountains I’ve ever been on. I keep telling Leo someday we’ll do an Ecuador trip to climb Cotopaxi (and stay at Tambopaxi again, of course), and an ice route on Antisana (hopefully with Jose Luis!).

At the end of my Alpine Ascents trip, I took advantage of the fact that I was unemployed and in Ecuador and spent a week in the Galapagos on a cruise that visits many different islands. This was far from the normal type of trip I take (I didn’t climb a single mountain!), but I loved it. The hype is real: the Galapagos is a very special place.

After returning from Ecuador, I stepped back into winter in the Western US. Since February had been incredibly dry in the Sierra, I took the change to climb some peaks on my list in the Eastern Sierra: Thor Peak in the Whitney Zone (track), and Cartago Peak (track), my first peak from 395. Winter decided to return immediately after, which made for some fun skiing.

Fairy Meadows

The last thing I did before starting my new job was a hut ski trip in Canada. I had managed to convince Leo, Becca, Lita, and Nikhil to all sign up for a trip to the Bill Putnam Hut in Fairy Meadows in BC. Being a good enough skier to make the money spent on a hut trip worth it had been a dream of mine since I learned to ski, watching my sister Dafna go on these types of trips every year. I’m probably right on the edge of being a good enough skier… But I made it work. We had 7 days of blue skies and sun, letting us ski all over the area. It was my first time really skiing glaciated terrain, which was a great experience, and I summited a few peaks as well! Most notably Adamant Mountain, which is very challenging to do in the winter due to avy conditions. Sadly, for this one, I retraced my steps down the bootpack with my skis on my back since I was too nervous about skiing this no-fall terrain above open crevasses, but it was still a great experience. All in all it was a great trip with good friends in an extraordinary place.

This trip was March 14th to 21st, so it happened very much while the whole world was shutting down. I had hemmed and hawed constantly in the lead up to it, feeling very anxious about whether we should just cancel and whether we’d be able to get back into the US. In the end, I decided to drive instead of fly, to reduce contact with others and still be able to get back to the US should all the flights be canceled. In retrospect, I think it was a pretty risky choice, but I’m also glad I went since “nothing bad happened”. We ended up being the last trip to the hut before they canceled the rest of the season, so there were of course many jokes about how they should just fly us in some food on the helicopter and we’d just stay there to wait out the pandemic, what a dream! (How foolish we were to think this might be over relatively quickly). It was definitely surreal coming back to the hut everyday and sending out InReach messages to learn what had changed in the world while we had been out skiing. I drove from Rodgers Pass to Seattle on March 21st, spending the night at Lita’s (since we had been on the trip together anyways), before making the rest of the drive back to San Francisco the next day and sitting on my couch for a week waiting for my new job to start. That week I stayed home, Tahoe got incredible powder and it was so hard to sit it out, but it was the right thing to do given the circumstances.

The next few months, like most people, I basically stayed home, trying to run for fitness while we cooked a lot, took on new hobbies (gardening for me, sourdough for Leo), and grew our home gym equipment.

Summer into Fall

As summer approached and we learned that the danger of contracting COVID was much less severe outdoors, I finally started to venture outside. My first forays were tagging some OGUL peaks in Tahoe, and I definitely learned I had lost some hiking fitness. But it was great to finally be back in the mountains, tagging random summits with no people around. This also helped get my legs back into hiking shape for what became a great summer.

Our close friends Marco and Daiyi had been in Mammoth since the pandemic began, seeking out more open spaces to be outside during the pandemic. They decided they wanted to make it permanent and asked us early on in the pandemic if we’d want to move in with them in Mammoth. Leo and I initially said no, because so many small towns were begging people to stay away and not bring the virus. But as things changed over the next 3 months, we came around to the idea. It took some persuasion, but I finally convinced Leo we should just go for it. Housing is incredibly difficult to come by in Mammoth, but Daiyi was diligent and able to find a house for us all to rent together, starting July 1st.

Leo and I did not move in until mid-July because of the big thing in Leo’s life: meniscus surgery. It had taken his doctors months to diagnose he had torn his meniscus the previous November, preventing him from running at all or skiing confidently. He had surgery in early June and wanted to stay local in the bay area for his follow up appointments six weeks post-op. Leo was understandably less excited about moving to Mammoth since he would be recovering from surgery and wouldn’t get to recreate as much. I was much more pessimistic (or, what ended up being correct) about the pandemic, and thought we’d still be in Mammoth by the time he was more mobile, and so we moved! We gave up our apartment in San Francisco and went all in on our Mammoth lease.

I had wanted to try living in the mountains ever since we finished our six month van trip in 2017, and we finally found the time to make it happen without any repercussions to our careers. Now that we’ve been here for seven months, we both love it and have no interest in returning to the city anytime soon.

So, living in Mammoth, I removed 13+ hours of driving from every weekend of my life and found myself so much closer to many of the peaks I’d been wanting to climb. Our first weekend in Mammoth, we tackled Dragon Peak out of Onion Valley which ended up being a very fun scramble. This was the first of many “Mammoth to Mammoth” adventures!

When Ariel is dressed in all of your clothes so you think she is you in every picture. :D

Some of the other highlights from my summer season included:

Red Slate Mountain: I’d been saving this to climb via the couloir, but decided to finally just go for it in summer in light of the fatal accident that happened the previous year. This was my first outing with Mica, Daiyi and Marco’s dog, and she killed it! I have to say, getting to watch whatever funny things a dog does on a hike makes it so much more entertaining and joyful. This was another Mammoth to Mammoth one, which is just such a treat to sleep in your own bed and still have a full day in the mountains. It was also the second of many peaks I climbed with Daiyi, and it became such a joy to do these slogs with my roommate that brings her own stoke! Rafee was there too. :) Hi Rafee! And Brice and Sadie joined for the first third, with two dogs as well! The red colors of this area are so pretty – an excellent way to start our new life in Mammoth. Track

Sleepy dingo on the summit.

Tunnabora Peak and Mount Carillon: These are two fun peaks in the Whitney Zone and just, wow, I was able to do a casual weekend trip to the Whitney Zone! In my previous life, driving all the way to Lone Pine was a big ordeal – something I could only do maybe once or twice a season. And here I was solo on a random Saturday to just climb some peaks. It ended up being a gorgeous day on two fun summits with a swim in the highest named lake in California! Track

Mount Goethe: This was a fun scramble (albeit with a long approach). The scramble from Alpine Col was really enjoyable with some fun exposure. And I got to do this on a Sunday and not get home at an absurd hour! A good day out with Rafee. Track

Mount Thompson: Another fun scramble with Rafee. The ridge from Ski Mountaineers Peak to the summit looked pretty nuts and like it would not go, but sure enough there was a way. Also, this was less than 15 mi and 4000 ft. Always a treat to find an SPS I have left that is relatively short! Track

When Rafee doesn’t know what to do with his hands on the summit.

Mount Warren: Honestly, this peak is not very enticing and is really just a talus slog in the summer. But what made it special was it was my first peak just Mica and me! It took a peak that would typically be one you’re just trying to cross off to being pretty entertaining watching the dingo run up and down the talus endlessly. And we found a few snow patches which she loved, which are hilarious to watch her roll around in. It was so exciting to see that she stuck with me and came when I called her. Thanks for the company, Mica! Track

The only thing Mica loves more than playing in a snowpatch is eating a squirrel.

Bloody Mountain: Another peak that isn’t notable in the summer, but it was Leo’s first off trail hike post-knee surgery, and he did it in honor of my 100th SPS! It was nice to finally get back into the mountains with him :) especially for this exciting occasion. Track

The only time I’ve carried more gear than Leo! Thankfully, he did not get used to it.

Disappointment Peak: Perhaps my biggest individual day of the summer in terms of hours? A year prior, I had finally promised myself 2020 would be the year I join some days of the Sierra Challenge. But then the pandemic happened and I felt less stoked on trying to spend time with new folks. This was the one day I decided to join (largely because I was most excited about the opportunity for this peak). However, due to chance of thunderstorms and my not being Bob Burd speed, we started before the rest of the group and didn’t connect much with them, sadly. Regardless, this was a challenging yet excellent peak. Heading up the snowfield to the ridge was a bit thought provoking since I hadn’t spent time in crampons in months, and the scramble below the ridge had challenging route-finding. It felt really good to be able to cross this one off, one of the harder peaks on the SPS list. Track

Mount Davis: My biggest self-sandbag of the summer. When you expect a peak to be about 20 mi round trip but it’s actually 27... woops! Daiyi joined me for this peak along with her friend Phil that was visiting. They had planned on a backpacking trip, but canceled due to smoke. I convinced them to join me on this peak in Ansel Adams Wilderness, and they were great sports when it ended up being more than 30% longer than expected with endless talus… Always fun to get to visit Thousand Island Lake though! We had planned to meet Leo (who was building up his on-trail hiking mileage) at Thousand Island and hike back out together, but we were about 5 hours behind him due to my poor planning… Always learning! Track

Such good sports even though I totally sandbagged them!

Labor Day Peaks Extravaganza! Center Peak, Caltech Peak, Mount Ericsson, Mount Stanford: After doing a smattering of peaks over Labor Day weekend the year before, I was excited to do something similar this year – taking the opportunity to get pretty far into the backcountry. Luckily, Daiyi was also interested in a trip like this! The only requirement was that we include Caltech Peak on the list, since Daiyi had attempted it as her first ever backpacking trip with Caltech classmates (though they didn’t end up summiting). We entered over University Pass (my first time up it), taking the wrong chute down the other side and losing a lot of time due to our mistake. From there, we did a carry over of Center Peak, camping at the last lake before Forester Pass. We had also hoped to climb Junction Peak that day and camp on the other side of Forester Pass, but knew that was aggressive. We woke early the next morning, headed over the pass, and did a carryover of Caltech Peak. This was actually a lovely scramble, with interesting route finding down the other side. From there, we headed over to Harrison Pass where we got to drop our packs for the first time. We did the scramble up Mount Ericsson, which was also quite fun and interesting. We headed back to Harrison Pass, where Daiyi opted to sit out the last peak of the day, Mount Stanford. I found this scramble to be spookier and looser than I was expecting and almost bailed, but managed to add this last summit. This brought me to three remote SPS in one day! All the while, smoke had been creeping in from the Castle Fire down in southern SEKI. I got back to the packs maybe an hour before dark, and Daiyi and I descended Harrison Pass to the basin to the north, finding a nice campsite near a lake. Pro tip: there is no longer a trail at Harrison Pass, despite what maps may show, which we learned the hard way. :( We were worried about the smoke, thinking there was a good chance we’d hike out in the morning and cut our trip short. When we woke, the smoke did indeed seem worse, so we called the trip and headed cross country to the north past Deerhorn for many miles until we finally hit the JMT. We learned via InReach on the hike out a new fire (what was actually the enormous Creek Fire) had started the previous day and the smoke at home in Mammoth was insane. When we crested Kearsarge Pass on our hike out, we were hit with an even thicker wall of smoke. It was absurd to see folks having campfires back at the Onion Valley Campground. While the horrible fires cut our trip short, what we did accomplish was beyond fun, and I was so glad we got out on a challenging trip before the forests closed for the next two months. Track 1, Track 2, Track 3

Mount Hitchcock: Once the Creek Fire finally got some snow on it and the forests opened up, there were several good weekends for getting into the high country (albeit very cold!). I again went to the Whitney Zone, this time with Rafee, Sarah, and Peter (who I hadn’t seen all summer!). It felt so good to be back in the Sierra. This peak itself wasn’t a particularly interesting climb, but this area is just so gorgeous that it was still worthwhile. There were a good amount of people taking the trail up Whitney, of course, so it’s always funny when they ask you about your plans to summit when you’re talking about totally different mountains. Track

Summit social distancing, lolz.

Mount McAdie: My last real peak of the year, before more substantial snows came (though it was hike-in-your-puffy cold). I was happy to take advantage of Kavya’s tendonitis from climbing, so she was looking to hike! Despite having been in the Whitney Zone not too long before, it was still nice to be back. I though the scramble up McAdie was nice, in a lovely position. I can’t wait to go back for Irvine! Track

Climbing

I didn’t do as much alpine climbing this year because Leo is my main alpine climbing partner and he was healing up from surgery. With the gyms closed, I was still determined though to not let my arms totally atrophy, which meant I climbed outside a lot (well, a lot for me). I led a lot more than I have in past years (again, not saying much, but I’ll take it!), and I’m excited to keep working on it, even though it’s not my primary sport. Going to the local spots in Mammoth in the summer was really nice on weekdays, and then as we moved into fall and winter, Owen’s River Gorge has been a great place to get some mileage in. I don’t hate cragging as much when I just think of it as an alternative to the gym. :D And it’s important to keep climbing so I’m prepared for the climbing goals I’d like to accomplish this year now that Leo is back in action!

Training

With finding myself having far less expenses moving to Mammoth and no longer having a gym membership, I decided to take the plunge and hire a mountain coach via Uphill Athlete in July. It’s hard for me to measure the gains since I haven’t had a full summer season with a lot of training under my belt, but it has been a huge help in keeping me motivated and actually exercising nearly every day. Not to mention that before I could hardly get myself to do strength workouts or stretching, but now, since they’re on the schedule that I’m paying for, I do them. I’m feeling good and motivated, and I’m excited to see the dividends the training will hopefully have this coming summer.

Everything else

Moving to Mammoth has been such a joy, and I am so thankful to be here. I am so thankful that I am employed at all, and that I can work easily from an amazing place like this. I had been wanting to try moving to the mountains for a number of years, and I’m so grateful for this opportunity (even though it did come in such an awful way). 2020 definitely affirmed that life is short and I need to seek out the things I love; it had been so silly to delay all this time. People always ask if we’re here permanently, and I have no clue. I just know that we’re here for now, and it’s the place I want to be most right now. So we’re signing another year-long lease, and we’ll go from there.

What did I check off my list from last year?

Here I’m pulling my list of goals from last year seeing how I fared:

Making more mountain friends – well, there was a pandemic. I get a pass on this one 🙅‍♀️

Ecuador peaks – I climbed 2/3! I’ll take it ✅

Training for Ecuador, and continue training for the future – hell yeah I did this! ✅

Getting better at skiing – I did this a bit, but the end of the season was cut short due to the pandemic 🤷‍♀️

Spending some days at the Sierra Challenge – I did one day! Again, pass due to the pandemic. Will need to do at least two days this coming year :) 🤷‍♀️

Clyde Minaret via the 5.8 50 Classic – Did not do, saving this to do with Leo who was broken 🤷‍♀️

Lone Pine Peak via the North Ridge – Same as the previous 🤷‍♀️

Split Mountain (my last CA 14er) – The trailhead was closed due to a fire the previous year, so I let it go 🤷‍♀️

Boundary Peak – I didn’t do this and have no excuse. Now I live one hour from the trailhead! 🙅‍♀️

Reaching 100 peaks on the SPS list – I did this and then some. Ended the year at 113 ✅

A potential Orizaba trip over the winter holidays! – Haha, another COVID loss 🤷‍♀️

….maybe a big wall with Leo – Had been thinking about this in the fall, and then we had the Creek Fire, sigh 🤷‍♀️

Not a great showing on my goals for the year, but 2020 was about rolling with the punches. Pretty happy with what I got to do instead, all things considered.

Things I’m excited about in 2021

Keep training. Gotta stick with it

Keep getting better at skiing. I live in Mammoth. There are no excuses

An Alaska trip in the summer for some big peaks :)

Clyde Minaret & Lone Pine Peak with Leo. Now his knee is fixed so no excuses

Red Dihedral on the Hulk. This the easiest classic route on the Hulk, and I’d like to give it a go as my big rock climbing goal for the summer. Leo loves this place so much, so I’d like to experience it

Lurking Fear, or a different big wall with Leo. Probably in the fall. Another carry over from 2020

Tower Peak with Leo and his Dad, running a good amount of it! This would be a 35 mi day

30 SPS this year! I turn 30 this year, so 30 SPS is the goal :)

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warofshadowstheorder · 3 years

Text

Chapter 24

Bledsoe woke up around the same time as Natasha the next morning. Natasha took Bledsoe to a gym inside the Monastery and the two of them enjoyed a morning workout together, Bledsoe wearing a tank top and shorts leant to her by Natasha, and afterward went to the baths.

As they approached one of the baths, Bledsoe saw Sara already inside and was about to move to a different one when Natasha struck up a conversation with the bath’s occupant.

“Good morning Sara,” Natasha said happily, “how is water?”

“I prepared it myself,” Sara replied, “come on in and try for yourself, I’m curious to hear your critique.”

Without giving it a second thought, Natasha disrobed right in front of an increasingly taken back Bledsoe and entered the water. She relaxed into the bath for a few moments before turning to look at Bledsoe.

“You can come in Alexis,” Natasha said kindly, “do not be shy.”

After a few moments of hesitation, mainly due to the fact that Natasha and Sara would see her scars and other souvenirs from times she’d been forced to subdue very dangerous people, Bledsoe followed suit and shed what she was wearing.

She entered the water and found it just as welcoming as the bath Chloe had prepared for her the previous day. She settled into the water and took a few minutes to become acclimated to the wonderful sensations spreading through her body. After seeing that she’d recovered sufficiently, Sara decided to break the ice.

“We haven’t been properly introduced,” Sara said in a friendly tone as she moved close enough to exchange a handshake with Bledsoe, “Sara Van Praag.”

“Alexis Bledsoe,” Bledsoe answered accepting the handshake, “I imagine you’re also a Gifted One.”

“You imagine right,” Sara said with a smile as she moved back to where she’d been sitting, “and I remember you from the Room of Recovery. It’s great to see you up and about.”

“Thanks,” Bledsoe answered with sincerity, “for everything.”

“Hey,” Sara answered with a smile, “that’s what we do here.”

“I know,” Bledsoe answered, “between Natasha and Mrs., I mean Gifted, Murphy I think I know everything I need to about the Gifted Ones.”

“Well,” Natasha interjected, “judging from the way you have been around me when I drop my clothes, another thing you should know about us is that we are not as self-conscious as some of you on outside.”

“I’ve been picking up on that,” Bledsoe said, “why is that exactly?”

“I mentioned that our abilities usually manifest themselves around puberty,” Natasha answered, “a lot of us grew up here together since then. We spend a lot of time together and grow up seeing each other naked when we bathe or change. By the time we reach adulthood, it is commonplace.”

“If I may…” Sara interjected, “you shouldn’t feel ashamed of your body Alexis. Natasha and I have seen far worse scars than what you have. And personally, I would kill for those abs.”

The three of them shared a laugh, and Bledsoe couldn’t help but feel very relaxed and comfortable. She hadn’t had any girlfriends since college, and her current situation made her realize how much she’d missed friendly relationships. The conversation shifted between various topics, among them Bledsoe sharing her secret for gaining and maintaining her physique.

“Natasha told me how she came to be here,” Bledsoe said after recommending hitting a punching bag for strength and cardio training, “but how did you find out you were a Gifted One?”

“Well,” Sara replied, “my story isn’t nearly as dramatic as Natasha’s. Dad’s a leatherworker here. He met my mother when he took a holiday to Amsterdam. About three hours after I got my first period they had me examined by an experienced Gifted One. Next thing I knew I had the gown on and was in training.”

“You were right about your story not being as dramatic,” Bledsoe answered, “just out of curiosity, is you or Natasha’s kind of experience more common?”

“It’s hard to say,” Sara answered after mulling it over for a moment, “most Gifted Ones on the outside are only discovered after some kind of major event where their abilities manifest themselves, like what happened with Natasha. But a lot of Gifted Ones will be children raised in the Monastery. Every female child here gets examined when they reach puberty, and several are found to be Gifted.

“That makes sense,” Bledsoe said. “If God’s in charge here and Gifted Ones are meant to do this, then I can see why most of you would be born into it.”

“That’s a very good observation,” Sara remarked, “it’s not hard for me to believe you’re smart enough for Yale. How much longer will you be here?”

“My boss told me to stay here until I’m told I can go back,” Bledsoe answered, “but I know I’ll at least be here for the rest of the day. I’m really interested to see this tournament tonight.”

“You and the entire Monastery,” Sara replied matter-of-factly, “it’s like your Super Bowl out here.”

“That goes for women as well as for men,” Natasha interjected, “there is nothing quite like watching two well-trained men giving their all to prove who is better.”

“I just hope it’s not as bad as last year,” Sara said, “that aap Dieter broke and bloodied up those poor wretches to the point where I wasn’t sure we could heal them.”

“Who’s Dieter?” Bledsoe asked.

“Sara’s boyfriend,” Natasha teased earning an eye-roll and significant splash from Sara.

“He’s the biggest lunkhead and egomaniac on this island,” Sara said in a resentful tone, “he is an overgrown, egotistical, flirtatious ezel.”

Bledsoe looked to Natasha, hoping for a better and unbiased explanation. Natasha, hoping to avoid some kind of contentious situation, assured Bledsoe that she’d know everything she needed to about Dieter and all the other fighters in the tournament that evening.

“Do you know how to get to the venue for the tournament?” Sara asked Bledsoe after a few minutes of fairly awkward silence.

“Not personally,” Bledsoe answered, “but a Knight named Tadeas offered to escort me there tonight, so I should be fine.”

“Oh,” Sara answered wryly, “be sure to be careful around him. If you don’t keep your mind straight, he’ll charm the socks off you.”

“What do you mean by that?” Bledsoe asked genuinely interested.

“I don’t know if he realizes it or if it’s just his nature,” Sara answered getting a slightly far off look in her eyes, “but he has a natural kind of charisma and charm about him that makes him practically irresistible to any woman. He could probably convert Lesbians on the outside if he was to meet any.”

“He probably has,” Natasha interjected.

Sara and Natasha shared a laugh immediately after this, but Bledsoe was slightly concerned that her initial impression of Tadeas was erroneous in some regards…she worried she had been mistaken about him completely.

“If he’s as great as you say,” Bledsoe asked, “then why aren’t you with him? Is he with somebody else?”

“Not that I know of,” Sara answered, “like I said, I don’t know if he realizes how alluring he really is. I don’t know why he’s still single, but I can say that whoever wins him over will have gotten a great catch.”

After a little while longer, Sara said she was getting wrinkled and needed to be leaving. After she dried off and dressed in a robe, she made her way back to her dormitory.

“Out of curiosity,” Bledsoe said after Sara had left, “is there anything going on between Sara and Dieter? Or is that none of my business?”

“Sara is my best friend here,” Natasha replied, “and we respect each other’s privacy. All I can really say is that Dieter seems to be fond of her. All he’s really done so far though is flirt occasionally.”

“Fair enough,” Bledsoe said, “but the way Sara talks about him I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s harboring some kind of feelings for him. Otherwise she’d either ignore him completely, or just brush him off. But the way she seems to loathe him with a passion; something’s gotta give.”

“Only time will tell,” Natasha shrugged, “you mentioned that you spent most of your free time in library at Yale University, correct?”

“Yes,” Bledsoe answered, “why do you ask?”

“We should go now,” Natasha answered, “there is something I would like to show you that I think you will very much appreciate and enjoy.”

#novel #action-adventure #fantasy #historical fiction

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