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whosscruffylooking · 3 years

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The Purest Things-A New Home

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

a/n: this is a repost considering it didn’t show up in any of the tags yesterday. have i mentioned how much i despise tumblr sometimes :) again, i want to give a special shoutout to @avengersbau for giving me a second set of eyes on this one.

word count: 2k

warnings: canon-typical violence and descriptions of injury.

The Purest Things Masterlist

gif is not mine! credit goes to @hqtchner

au! october 2007

Bookend: “It’s never too late to become who you want to be. I hope you live a life that you’re proud of, and if you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start over.” — F. Scott Fitzgerald

++++

"I am SSA Hotchner. Welcome to the team Agent Y/L/N," his voice reminds you of the transatlantic accents of Hollywood stars of old. The kind you used to hear in the old black and white movies you would watch as a child.

"It's an honor to be here sir," you stare directly into his brown, soulfully deep eyes.

"J.J., get us started, please," SSA Hotchner suggests.

Sitting down, you look to the screen that displays the frightful footage of bombs detonating in various locations.

"Yesterday, an 81-year-old woman was severely injured when a bomb exploded in the toilet of a women's restroom," J.J. informs.

"Interesting spot to hide a bomb," Agent Prentiss sneers.

Jennifer flips through the slides and shows another bombsight located in a subway station, "Last year a similar bomb that had been attached to a phone box detonated. No outstanding injuries were reported. However, the bombs' similar makeup alerted detectives to dig into other bombings throughout the years. They have positively identified attacks over the past twelve years as perpetrated by the same bomber."

Spencer adds, "His M.O. is similar to George Peter Metesky, better known as the Mad Bomber. He terrorized New York City over a period of 16 years. He planted bombs in theaters, subway stations, libraries, and offices. They were left in phone booths, storage lockers and restrooms."

"Do you think we are looking at a copycat?" Derek questions.

"If we are, we need to stop him soon," declared David.

"He's escalating-becoming bolder and more vicious," you say, scanning the report.

"Tell Boston we can be there by 9:30," Hotch notifies J.J...

++++

"It seems like he's a textbook paranoid schizophrenic. People suffering from this disorder may think that other people are regulating them or plotting against them. They tend to be reclusive, antisocial, and obsessed Hwith hatred for their presumed enemies," you twist a loose string from your shirt around your finger, unwind it, then repeat the process.

It's a nervous tick you developed over the years that has worn down numerous tops before achieving their intended lifespan. You glance at Agent Hotchner, seeking a sign of approval. His eyes meet yours, and he poignantly nods.

Did I say too much? No. Don’t overthink this. They can probably smell fear.

"In his letters left at the bombsights, he uses words like 'broad' and 'chick' to signify women," Dr. Reid chimes in.

"Do you think the unsub is motivated by hostility towards women? "

"It's possible," he continues, "These speech patterns age him significantly, however. Phrases such as these were mainly used in the 30's, 40's, and 50's."

Agent Hotchner begins to delegate tasks before the jet lands, "Morgan and Reid, I want you to head to the bombsights and see if you can't work out the motive. J.J. and Prentiss talk to the victim's families, determine our victimology. Y/L/N, Rossi, and I will head to the precinct and familiarize ourselves with the lay of the land and see if we can't formulate a geographical profile."

++++

At the precinct, you observe Agent Hotchner's ability to singlehandedly transition an entire police force's obligation to under his jurisdiction.

"Captain Moreno, this is SSA David Rossi and SSA Y/F/N Y/L/N," the Unit Chief introduces you.

The captain tilts his head at you, "Aren't you a little young to be in the FBI? How old are you anyway?"

You nail him with a you're-full-of-crap look.

Everyone gets to be young once; your turn is over, old man.

Choosing to take the high road, you say, "I'd like to get my hands on the bombers handwritten notes. There has to be something in those letters that can give us a clue into the who, what, when, and where of this case."

Skeptical of your request, he narrows his eyes and looks to David and Agent Hotchner.

"You hear her," Dave exclaims, "Lead the way!"

Your enigmatic smirk no doubt gives away the great pleasure Dave's gibe brings you.

++++

"Agent Hotchner," you hand him your preliminary geographical profile. With his arms crossed, he intimidatingly peers into your research.

Don't burn a hole in my paperwork; I worked hard on that.

He is impressed by your work, taking in your comprehensive outline of proof that details the unsubs point of origin. For someone so young, your attention to detail puts even his most observant profilers to shame. "How did you come to this conclusion?"

"My family is from Chicago. When I was little, I used to read through my grandfather's old newspapers that he collected throughout the 1950's. On the jet, I knew some of the phrasings that Dr. Reid was using sounded familiar, so I cross-referenced it with some of the particular articles I remember from my childhood and found his wording to be exact iterations of the Chicago Crier."

Without taking his eyes off of the paperwork, he commends you, "Impressive use of your prior knowledge. Often, the information drilled into us through education is lackluster compared to that of real-world experience."

You turn to walk back to your makeshift desk when he calls out to you, "And Y/L/N, call me Hotch."

Your shoulders relax from the tension you hadn't even realized you'd been clinging onto, "Alright. Hotch."

++++

You immediately regretted your decision. In pursuit of the unsub, you had wandered off down an abandoned subway tunnel and cornered him.

"Harold Watts, FBI. Gently place the remote detonator on the ground," You shout. Grappling to keep your gun from slipping between your clammy palms, you grip the weapon tighter.

Ordinary people's first days of work are uneventful; they're given a series of mundane tasks at most. Me? Of course, my first day involves being secluded in a subway tunnel facing down a man decked from head to toe in explosives and wires.

"D-don't come any closer. I have my finger on the trigger! I'm not afraid to die, and I will not hesitate to take you up in flames with me," he stammers.

The stampede of footsteps, no doubt from your colleagues and half of the Boston police force, resonate through the echo chamber you're standing in. Watts spooks and loses his balance. You begin shouting for the people behind you to stand down.

"The tracks are live, one wrong step, and we all blow up. I repeat, stand down!"

Turning your attention back to Watts, you attempt to soothe his irrationality. You slowly return your gun to its holster, raising your hands up in surrender. Hotch yells something unintelligible from behind you, but your focus is on the unsub and trying to prevent any more casualties.

"Harold, let's just talk this through for a couple of minutes. My men behind me will leave us alone. It's you and me now. Before this, you never wanted to hurt yourself. You wanted to be heard. All of your life you felt like you were forced into the shadows, and you began to fester there in your pain and rage."

He tenses up; you have his attention now.

"Those girls who teased you and ripped your masculinity from you needed to be taught a lesson. But you didn't just stop there; you decided to do all women a favor and demonstrate to them the kind of pain they could cause, hoping to prevent them from making the same mistakes. In fact, you helped me to see what I can do better. I never want to make someone feel the way you did."

"Y-you learned that...f-from me?" Harold quietly sobs.

You nod, "Yes! Yes, Harold. And you can still be heard, but not if you die today. I could be your greatest advocate. If we walk out of here right now, think of how famous you could be. Harold, you will never be stuck in the shadows again."

It is crucial to your survival and your teams that you are brave just long enough to analyze the situation and keep your self-control. Panic won't do anyone any good right now.

Your mouth dries as you await Harold's next move. Suddenly, he hunches over, extending the hand gripping the detonator. Pausing for a moment to be sure he isn't making any drastic moves, you promptly hurry to his side and gently pull it from his clutch.

As the police officers and your colleagues rush to your aid, Harold looks up at you with hopeful eyes.

"Make me famous," he murmurs with a grin that churns your stomach.

Hotch ushers you away from the unsub, backing you up against the wall of the tunnel, "You actively defied my orders."

Searching every inch of his face for an accurate reading of his emotions, you are unsure of how to respond.

"I'd like to think it won't happen again," his eyes studying you just as intently.

You swallow hard, aware of the lump in your throat and take a deep breath, "You have my word, Agent Hotchner."

"Good," he affirms, eventually freeing his hold on your arm.

You let out a shaky sigh of relief and relax your spinning head against the wall.

Opening your eyes, you observe your new team tieing up all loose ends. They're safe. You are safe. Despite this first day not being as mundane as others, you wouldn't have it any other way. This feeling is what you signed up for, and it's already fulfilling you in ways you couldn't fathom before stepping inside the BAU office this morning.

++++

Aboard the jet, you tuck your legs underneath you and open up a book to read.

A cup of steaming hot coffee appears on the table in front of you.

Hotch sits across from you with a similar cup and offers you a subtle smile, "Impressive work out there today. I'm sorry your first day of work couldn't be more eventful."

A joke? I didn't take him as the joking kind.

Rolling your eyes, you put on a disappointed tone, "God...if you guys drag your feet like this every day, I might have to consider a transfer."

In a more serious nature, he asks, "How are you feeling?"

"Alright, I guess. You were right, you know, no amount of studying or lectures can truly prepare you for what it's like when you're staring into the eyes of a killer. I've learned the negotiation techniques and memorized the textbook 'put the gun down' speech, but all of that flies out the window when you're in the moment."

"You will find that improvisation at times is the key to success in this job. Just know that this team is a family. You will never face this alone or be at a loss for anything. Your career is in its infancy, but I can tell you have a long and triumphant journey ahead of you. We will do whatever we can to ensure that you are at home here and can use this team as an opportunity to refine your abilities. All I ask in return is that you work with us, not against us. You have nothing to prove. They see your resourcefulness. So do I. You are one of us now."

Some gazes are the promise of protection; his is all that and more. The words "at home" resonate in your mind. You've spent your whole life searching for a home, and here it is, its doors being opened to you. After a lifetime of running from place to place, perhaps this is where you can finally settle down.

"Get some rest," Hotch whispers to you. And with that, you lean your head against the chilled window and shut your eyes.

++++

Tag List 🏷

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shoutaaizawas · 3 years

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↳ bakugou katsuki x reader → ❝wait for you❞ part one

summary: bakugou is your best friend, you both dream to become great heroes. when bakugou ends up in a coma most move on but you can’t leave your best friend behind. word count: 2k+ tags/warnings: romance, angst (with a happy ending eventually), a/n: im alive! sort of. finally finished one of my many wips in between watching greys anatomy. shoutout to the show for some inspiration for this. those background patient plot lines hurt sometimes.

Bakugou Katsuki was your best friend. That might be hard for a lot of people to believe considering how hostile he could be sometimes. Most would describe him as feisty and unfriendly but there was always something that drew you to him. From the first day at UA, you knew he was going to be your best friend even if he didn’t want to at first.

It didn’t take long for him to start liking you back even if he refused to admit it. It was impossible for him to deny that it was nice to be cared about and it was harder to deny that he cared about you. It was something he never expected, to care about someone so much that when you missed a meal he would be shoving food in front of you, or if you were staying up too late he would force you to go to bed early. Even the smallest things about you concerned him.

The two of you made the perfect pair, you helped each other train and study. When he went through his worse times you were there for him, through the nightmares, through the panic attacks, you helped him when he didn’t want anyone to see him.

Bakugou wasn’t your only friend but your relationship with him meant everything to you. Your friendship with him ran deep. He was your person. He was the first person you thought about every day, he was the first person you told good news to, the first person you went to when you were upset.

Your friendship was everything to you and you always imagined it meant a lot to him as well.

Throughout the school years, it only got deeper. It was finally your last year of high school and you and Bakugou were both on track to become amazing heroes. Both of you had worked so hard to be at the top of your class and it was almost time to go into the real hero world. You had even both secured spots at the top agency you had been eyeing for a long time.

You wondered if you would be partners at your agency? That would be too perfect. Both of you had bright futures ahead of you but one day took that away.

It was a normal day, you and Bakugou were working your intern patrol shift. It was sunny but not too hot and things were reasonably calm. There were a few crimes to keep things interesting but nothing too dangerous. It was a good day.

The two of you were eating lunch, you had gotten your favorite sushi for lunch despite the fact that Bakugou wanted to get ramen. But fair was fair and you had won your game of rock, paper, scissors.

That’s when the chaos broke out. A villain was attacking and you both sprung into action without a second thought. It was going well as it usually did, you worked together flawlessly. A perfect team. That was until Bakugou took a hit neither of you saw coming.

The sight of him tumbling across the pavement made you sick. You quickly subdued the villain before running to Bakugou’s side. He was laying on the ground face down. You turned him over, his face was covered in blood. Your heart sunk at the sight of him, eyes half open and face bruised.

Sirens alerted them to the arrival of the ambulances.

“Katsuki, you’re gonna be okay. Don’t move, help is here.” You said, hand brushing against his face.

“I-” He said, his voice hushed. “Sunshine I-”

Sunshine. The nickname started out condescending, an insult almost but somewhere along the line it became endearing. A pet name almost.

“Shh, it’s okay. Don’t strain yourself, please.” You said, grabbing his hand squeezing it tight. “You’re going to be okay.”

Bakugou was put on a stretcher and rushed to an ambulance, you rode with them trying to stay calm as they helped him. You held back asking questions not wanting to interrupt.

Bakugou’s red eyes stayed focused on you as you held his hand while trying to stay out of the way.

“It’s going to be okay, you have to be okay. You’re my best friend.” You said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Katsuki I-”

Bakugou’s eyes slipped closed and it was hard not to tear up in fear. You wanted to tell him how you felt but you hesitated and now he couldn't hear you. Your heart raced in your chest. He would be fine, he always was. He was a fighter and he always pulled through.

Waiting was the worst thing anyone could sit through is the conclusion you came to. Sitting in the hospital’s waiting room staring at the patterned tile you were suffering. The thought of Bakugou in an operating room opened up hurt you to your core. The urge to sob was strong but you refused to. Bakugou would be okay and he would tease you endlessly if he found out that you cried over him.

Bakugou would be fine. You knew he would. He had to be.

Mr. and Mrs. Bakugou showed up, looking more scared than you had ever seen them before. You were familiar with his parents, they had invited you over many times for dinner and they always got along with you.

“What did they say?” Bakugou’s mother asked as she approached you, she grabbed your arms frantically.

“He’s in surgery, they aren’t saying much.” You told her. She let out a sigh sitting down next to you.

Time went by slowly as the three of you waited impatiently. Finally, the doctor appeared.

“Bakugou family?” He asked.

“Yes, that’s us.” Ms. Bakugou stood up along with you and her husband.

“The surgery went well, we were able to fix the trauma and bleeding in his brain. He’s patched up but there was swelling during the surgery.” The doctor said solemnly, his hands held together.

“What does that mean?” Mr. Bakugou questioned.

“The likelihood of him waking up is very low.” He said.

It felt like everything around you was falling apart.

“What do you mean he won’t wake up?” Mrs. Bakugou shouted. “If you fixed everything, what’s wrong with him?”

The doctor began to explain it but everything around you went fuzzy. You couldn’t hear anything, you felt sick. Before you could do anything else you ran outside of the hospital making it to a tree before throwing up.

Bakugou wouldn’t wake up. He was alive but he wasn’t going to wake up. The next year of your life was so clear in your mind, graduating, working beside Bakugou, climbing the ranks, becoming amazing heroes. Together. It was all gone, how were you supposed to go on without him? You couldn't picture your life without him.

You stood in front of his hospital room door still. If you stepped through that door you knew that it was over. The image of Bakugou standing strong next to you ready to face the world would be gone. The reality of what happened would set in and you could never go back.

It was easy to picture him, picture those moments with him. The first time you met him, you were both so young. He was so feisty and unwilling to befriend anyone. The memory of him yelling at everyone around you.

You could remember the day you had gotten through to him, had a heart to heart. His red eyes looked so soft for the first time and you knew that you would do anything to keep his trust in you so he would always feel safe enough to open up to you.

The memory of him in his dorm, scared and breathing quick after a nightmare. You had crawled into bed with him and held him. He protested at first but quickly realized you were more stubborn than him this time. Then he realized how nice it felt to be held by someone who cared about you, who wanted you to feel better. How safe he felt in your arms. The softness of his blond locks was unforgettable.

This morning was so clear, Bakugou in his hero costume laughing at a dumb joke you made. You would never see him stand tall again. You took a deep breath.

Softly you opened the door revealing the hospital bed. The sound of beeps filled the room. Walking up to the bed you took in a shaky breath.

Bakugou laid in the bed hooked up to wires. The side of his hair was shaved, where the surgery was. He was still, the steady rise and fall of his chest was the only sign of life. He looked so peaceful.

You sat in the chair beside the bed, head in your hands, a broken sob coming out of you.

“You have to wake up.” You said looking up at him, taking his hand in yours. “I know you can pull through this, I can’t do this alone. What kind of hero would I be without you?”

There was no reply to your cries.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I let this happen." You cried. "I'm sorry we didn't get what you wanted for lunch. If I could go back, if I could do everything different I would. I wish it was me."

Tears streamed down your face as sobs wracked your body.

"You're my best friend, you're my everything." You cried.

Everything felt empty. Time passed, life moved on. Your friends, your fellow students tried to console you while they grappled with the fact that Bakugou wasn’t around anymore. Your teachers looked at you with sad eyes, knowing that these things came with hero work but you were far too young to be dealing with it.

Graduating, something you had looked forward to for so long tasted like ash in your mouth. Standing there with your classmates taking pictures, everything was numb. All you could see was Bakugou laying in that hospital bed unmoving.

Life moved on but you felt like you stood still. You started working at the agency and you worked hard doing your best. The only thing you could do was be the best hero you could be to prevent people from getting hurt like Bakugou did. Even as you progressed and life moved on you felt like time was frozen.

After every shift you visited him, you would bring your dinner with you and eat in his room. You would tell him about your day. On good days you could convince yourself he could hear you.

Time moved on and less people visited. Your fellow students got busy with their hero careers. His parents visited on the weekends, Aizawa would visit once a month. Sometimes you ran into him. The two of you would sit there in silence.

“Do you visit him a lot?” Aizawa asked.

“Everyday.” You answered. “Almost every single day.”

“Why?” He asked, his gaze not moving from his former student.

“He’s my best friend. I can’t stand the thought of him sitting here alone.” You answered, a tear dripping down your cheek. “If he was awake I know we would see each other every day, it feels wrong to not see him. Even if he is asleep, even if he doesn’t know I’m here. I can't go without him, even if he's just laying here.”

“I understand.” He said.

Aizawa didn’t explain but you knew deep down he understood how you felt.

It took time, you had a lot of time to think when you weren't talking out loud to Bakugou's unconscious body. It took time but you finally realized something.

You loved Bakugou Katsuki.

Not just the way someone loves their friend, no something deeper than that. Why else would someone spend every day with their unconscious friend? Even as years passed.

Looking back it all made sense, how validating it felt to tell Bakugou about the highs and lows of your life. How much you focused on the small touches between you and him. How the thought of not spending the rest of your life with him tore you apart.

How had it taken you so long to realize?

Everything about him made you feel alive. His shining qualities, his flaws, his quirks, everything about him made you happy. You loved him so deeply, how had you never known?

You loved Bakugou Katsuki and it was too late to do anything about it.

Years passed. Your career progressed, you climbed the hero charts and you became the hero you and Bakugou always aimed to be. Even if you had made it to the thing you wanted more than anything else in life it felt empty.

All you wanted was your best friend there with you. You wanted to tell him how you felt. Not just his unconscious body. You felt like a ghost, all of your friends lived their lives but you couldn’t enjoy it. You didn’t go out with them, you spent all your time with Bakugou at his bedside.

Every day you hoped, prayed he would wake up.

Time was an odd thing, getting old felt wrong. You looked older and so did Bakugou even if he laid there unmoving all this time. His hair was longer than it had been but you kept up with it. The nurses let you trim his hair, shave his facial hair when you had the time. It made you feel a little less helpless.

It had been a long day, a bad day. People died, people, you should have saved. You should have been fast enough, you should have been a better hero.

Sitting next to Bakugou you told him about your day.

“I moved, I reached to grab them but I wasn’t fast enough.” You said. “They died because I wasn’t fast enough.”

The tears streamed down your face. You reached forward grabbing his hand.

“You're here in this bed because I wasn’t fast enough, I was a bad partner I should have saved you. I should have taken the hit for you. I wish it was me in this bed, I wish I was dead.” You sobbed, breaths heavy it felt like you were suffocating. You were drowning, you had been since that day.

The sounds of your sobs were loud, your hand limply grasping at his. Your breathing stopped at the movement under your hand.

“Katsuki?” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you looked up at him. His eyes fluttered under his eyelids.

part two

taglist: @sugarmaplewings-fics @lilkiwisfinest @ewwis-but-more-otaku @kandy1410 @moonlightaangel @winnies-headcannons @bkghatesyou @paintedr0ses1 @toobsessedsstuff @spellboundxizi @ourladyofseijoh @x0doodlebug0x @katsushimaa @mooncademia @moon-write @todominica @why-so-red @kvichisaki @curiouslilbeast @izukukozume @susceptible-but-siriusexual @swankiifiied

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha #bakugou katsuki

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sunflowerstache · 4 years

Text

Lifespan

A/N: Hello! This is very different from most of my writing, not only because its an OC, but because the storyline is just something out of my comfort zone. But I really hope you enjoy it(: I got the inspiration from a ad I saw on Facebook a long time ago lmao but yeah, come say hi once you’ve read it and tell me what you think! It’s much appreciated! I love you all so very much! Also hugeeeee shoutout to @devil-in-bw-the-sheets for spending like six months reading and re-reading this every single time I rewrote it and changed things and encouraging me each time! And @emotionally-imbruised for beta reading it for me!💛💛

Word Count: 7.3k

“Doll?”

The fog that seemed to have settled over your mind instantly melted away upon hearing the barista’s voice, her sweet drawl grounding your focus back on her. She was an older woman, probably nearing her sixties based on the collection of grey hairs scattered throughout her small ponytail. But still so incredibly full of life. She had red glasses perched atop her nose - which perfectly completed the red polka dots covering her black dress - a beaded chain dangling from the end to the front of the frame, a pair of silver peace sign studs resided in her ears, and the anatomically correct symbol for caffeine dangled in necklace form on her chest.

“What? I’m sorry.”

“Just asked if you wanted the cream on that.” She smiled, thin lines spreading out and away from the sides of her eyes as her mouth widened. Upon glancing down quickly, you took notice of her clearly hand drawn name tag filled with swirling letters - different then when you stopped by earlier in the week when she had used stickers to spell out “Rita”.

“Oh, um yeah sure. Why not.”

“My husband always says that during weather like this, the calories don’t count. That they disappear with your shivering. Can I just have your name, dear?”

“Georgie. And your husband sounds like a very smart man.”

“Oh, he is.” A dreamy look took over Rita’s features, like just thinking about the man made her heart race. “Been together for forty-two years and he still teaches me new things.”

Your heart ached with each word; the fog slowly started to creep back through your mind while you watched her grin fondly. The hope and excitement for the future that was always so very clear in people’s eyes was what made it so hard not to explain everything you knew, every secret you held. However, as much as you wanted to urge everyone to live the life they’ve always wanted, you knew there was a natural balance to life, and opening your mouth would undoubtedly throw that balance off. So instead, you grinned and nodded your head.

“He sounds wonderful.”

“My best friend. Counting down the minutes until the end of my shift. We’re heading up to see our grandbabies for the week.” It was like she knew exactly what kind of secret you were keeping and made sure to hit you where it hurt each time she opened her mouth. As if her being impossibly sweet didn’t hurt enough.

“That sounds nice.” Digging around in your bag for your wallet made it much easier not to focus on the ticking time bomb in front of you. “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh my! I’m sorry, I know I can’t talk forever if no one stops me.” her laugh was soft, inviting, one you would love to listen to while storytelling. “It’s four pounds.”

“You can keep the change.” You said when handing her some cash, but stopped yourself before you turned to walk away. Even if you weren’t ever going to outright explain anything to anyone, slipping in tiny, reassuring comments made you feel at least a little better before parting ways. “Have an amazing night with your family Rita.”

The coffee shop was relatively empty at the hours you stopped by. Other than the same group of men that were there every morning, chatting over the newspaper and a black coffee and a young nurse who was just getting off of her night shift, only customers on their way to work stopped by. But that was just how you preferred it. It was much easier to avoid running into people when the sun had barely just peeked over the morning horizon. You suppose the city isn’t exactly the best place to reside when you’re on a mission not to get close to anyone, but you’d much preferred the hustle and bustle of the city than the silence of the countryside. At least here you were able to escape your thoughts when they got to be too much, out there you were left to drown in the weights you held.

Rita was right when she said the weather would bring shivering. The moment you stepped through the café doors, all sense of warmth you previously had was sucked out of you, leaving the tips of your fingers tingling against the warm cup. You hadn’t ever really gotten to know the woman behind the counter, a few kind greetings every now and again, but she seemed to be someone who brought a lot of joy to those around her. And she always put extra chocolate curls on your drink. You made a mental note to send some flowers to her family within the coming days.

It was a car horn that initially took your attention off of the pavement, turning to look for who was in such a rush at 5:30am, but the hard torso smacking into her shoulder is what brought your attention back. Followed by the searing heat of your hot chocolate spilling down your front.

“Oh fuck!” you yelled, immediately dropping the paper cup and trying to pull your shirt away from your body to decrease the chance of a burn. There goes your chance to get home and drive right to work without any issue.

“Oh my god! Oh shit!” the man that had ran into you gasped, stopping in his tracks and grabbing onto your elbow to steady your wild movements.

Even though his words were quite loud on the empty street, his voice was still husky, almost like he wasn’t awake yet and still had some left over sleep in his throat. And when you turned to look at who had ruined your shirt, your own voice got stuck in your throat. He was tall, which made sense considering your head had bounced right off of his chest. He was wearing black basketball shorts with tall white socks and a light grey hoodie, which was pulled up to cover the dark grey beanie resting on his head. With one hand he was holding a water bottle with ease, while the other was frantically pulling the airpod from his ear. But apart from his sheer stature, you couldn’t ignore how beautiful this man was. How even the worry lines littering his face were perfectly accenting his features. Or how the green of his eyes seemed to sparkle in the dim light of the Whole Foods you had been stopped in front of.

“I’m so sorry! Shit are you okay?” he quickly asked, shaking his head before you could even respond. “Obviously not, that was probably hot. Oh god I’m so sorry!”

Finally getting your bearings back, you couldn’t help but nod. “Yeah it was pretty hot.”

“Shit, I don’t even know how that happened. I must’ve taken my eyes off the pavement for one second. I’m so sorry.”

“So you’ve said.” You chuckled, bending down to pick up your now empty cup at your feet and tossing it in the bin by your side. “Don’t worry about it. Really it’s fine.”

“It’s not, I’ve ruined your shirt.” If the disappointment in his voice wasn’t evident enough, the small pout on his lips definitely was. He looked absolutely distraught at the sight of what he’d done. “Let me at least get you a new drink. It’s the least I could do.”

“Oh, um, that’s alright.” You’d always known it was rude to speak to someone and not give them eye contact, it was something your father had drilled into you as a child, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Looking someone in the eyes meant seeing above their head, and that was an area you actively tried to avoid looking. But there was something about him that drew you in, and you couldn’t help glancing up at him quickly again. “I actually have to be getting to work. Thanks though.”

“Are you sure? I feel terrible.”

“Positive. Have a good morning.” Your touch was soft on his arm as you made your way past him, leaving the mystery man standing on the pavement staring as you walked towards your flat.

You didn’t mean to be so short with him, but it’s just how you’d grown accustomed to living life. It was the easiest way you found not to get close to many people, which meant less hurt in the end. And you’d been around enough hurt in your short twenty three years. It may be a lonely life, but you were happy with your cat, comically named Lucifer, and living a simple life. Sure, there were times you wished you could live the carefree life everyone around you got to experience, your only issues being stresses of work or relationship drama, but that wasn’t who you were. After living the life you did, there’d be no way you could live a normal life.

“Don’t give me that look, Luci.” you grumbled when walking through your front door, your cat perched on the dining table just watching as you moved through the living room, ripping your destroyed shirt from your body. “This wasn’t my fault.”

You’re sure that you looked like a crazy person if anyone was watching on, talking to your cat while walking around your flat in nothing but a pair of black slacks and a bra. But you didn’t care, because this was your normal. You ranted to her after a long day at work or a particularly draining day, and she always sat and listened. Mostly because she was a cat.

“He just ran right into me, like he literally couldn’t see me. How odd, right?” you stopped briefly while searching your closet for a new shirt. “God Luci, he was cute though. So cute. And tall.”

Just because you secluded yourself in the world didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy taking a peak at what it had to offer. It was the forming relationships that put you off, not because there was a level of uncertainty - nothing was uncertain to you - but because you always knew the timeline of said relationships. It was always the same. So why put yourself through it? But also, why not? What if that was just what you needed to make such a painful existence a little more bearable?

“I didn’t even get his name. Maybe I’ll see him around the cafe sometime.” you hummed, throwing the new peach colored blouse over your head and peeking your face out of the hole. “No. No Georgie, don’t go there. Who are we kidding, it’s not like anything could ever happen anyway.”

Lucifer meows loudly at your comment., making you turn around to glare at her. Obviously she didn’t know what was actually going on, but it was nice to entertain the idea of someone listening to your problems and helping you talk them out. You were a secluded young woman, not crazy.

“What? Like I’m wrong? It’s not something I’d be able to keep from a boyfriend forever. And It’s not like I’d be able to just flat out tell them.”

She meowed again, jumping off the table and prancing her way to your feet, rubbing her side against your ankles.

“What would I even say? Hey, I was born with this thing where I can see a floating clock above everyone’s head that literally counts down to the day you die? Yeah because that won’t get me sent to the looney bin.”

From the start of time, there has always been a beginning and an end to everything. No matter if it was an Oscar award winning film, delicate relationships, or even life itself, it all ended. People come, and they go, but the world continues on; taking care of those who stay to see another day. And on a daily basis, the idea of the end rarely floats through anyone’s mind. Except for you.

For you, it was impossible not to think about when it was quite literally staring you in the face. For as long as you could remember, you walked through life with a different outlook on the end than most other people.It wasn’t because you had some near death experience, but due to a gift. Or at least what some people in the world would consider a gift, because in no way would you call being able to see the exact day someone is going to die, a gift.

It was something that over the years you had grown to ignore, trying not to look too far away from people’s eyes and never thinking too hard about the ticking numbers.They weren’t obnoxious or flashy signs hanging above everyone’s heads - like you had seen some films try and depict - but instead, just a simple, faint, white clock just above the tops of everyone’s head, showing each individual’s lifespan. No matter how many hours you sat down and tried to rationalize why you were able to see this, there was never any answer. No one else in your family carried the burden, and because of that, you never mentioned it to anyone in fear of sounding crazy. But you knew you weren’t crazy, not when you prayed night after night for those numbers to disappear or for someone’s clock to be wrong, only to be let down.

You knew you weren’t crazy when you finally saw your favorite florist Don after he spent some time away, and his clock suddenly read 3 years, 20 days, 6 hours, 42 minutes, and 6 seconds instead of the 27 years you had grown used to seeing on him every day before he left. It didn’t take long for you to find out he was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer and treatments had stopped working.

You knew you weren’t crazy when you got to watch Kim’s clock - the very sweet receptionist at your job - begin to slow down the more she adjusted to a healthy lifestyle of eating right and taking care of her body. What was once a ticking time of a measly 21 years adjusted what would be a long and fulfilled 59 years more.

And you knew you weren’t crazy when at only seventeen years old, you watched as your best friend’s clock suddenly dwindled down to zero’s across the board like a slot machine while laying on the bathroom floor of a house party. The drugs in her system being too much for her young body to handle and completely consuming the 72 years she once had left.

You weren’t crazy, you just carried a burden no one should ever have. And because of it, you made sure not to get close to anyone in fear of watching yet another clock strike zero.

So you moved on with your life, forgetting all about the tall man who had spilled your drink and run into your mind, making you think things you hadn’t in so long, and instead, focused solely on getting through your days at work and getting back home. It was an easy routine, one you hadn’t strayed from much since moving to the city six years ago; wake up, feed Luci, get coffee, go to work, go home, shower, watch tv, go to bed. And as happy as you were that life wasn’t so painful these days, boring would be the only word good enough to describe your life.

Until your neighbors moved in.

You were standing in the kitchen, lifting the collar up to your mouth to try and quickly lick the hot sauce off the old, ratty Elton John Tour shirt you were wearing before it left a stain, wearing nothing else but some shorts, a nice pair of cheetah print slippers to cover your chilly toes, and one of the two hundred paper face masks you’d ordered off of Amazon in an attempt to clear your skin, when the loud bang on your front door startled you. Not only did your family not live in town, but your neighbors knew that you weren’t a people person. Ever since you made that very clear to them upon moving in, they hadn’t tried to contact you, so you just assumed whoever it was had gotten the wrong flat number.

But the knocking persisted.

Lucifer’s head had picked up from her lap upon hearing the first knock, now watching as you made our way closer to the front door. “What do I do?” but the only response you received was her head tilting to the right, like she was saying ‘Really? Answer it you idiot.’

You wanted to be angry, you really did, because you were nearly ready to be completely settled in for the night after a terribly long day and you just wanted to watch some bad tv with Luci, but the moment you twisted the door knob and peered into the hallway, any anger you had felt, completely washed away.

“Hey! Sorry, my mates and I-” he abruptly stopped mid sentence once his eyes landed on you, like his train of thought literally face planted into a brick wall. A look of realization flashed across his face quickly, and in a matter of milliseconds, what was once stress turned into a look of excitement. “Hey! It’s you!” he smiled.

“It’s me.” something about him made it very difficult for you not to mirror his smile, but that desire was overpowered by the confusion coursing through your mind.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again! I still feel terrible about what happened, are you sure you were alright? You didn’t burn yourself, did you?” The man was incredible at changing his emotions at the drop of a dime, for now his eyes were laced with concern where excitement had just lived. “Or I guess I should say I didn’t burn you, did I?”

He was much more put together this time, the workout attire you had last seen him in was traded in for a pair of light red slacks that looked to be a crushed velvet material paired with a plain white t-shirt and a pair of black vans. He looked like any university boy you’d see walking the streets, but at the same time, like nothing you had ever seen before. Something about him standing in your doorway brought you a sense of calm, like just his presence was enough to wash away the stresses of your day.

“I mean I can’t say that it felt particularly good, but I didn’t get burned, no.”

“Oh good. That’s good.” he nodded, and you made the mistake of following his hand with your eyes as he lifted it up to his curls to fix the glasses perched on his head. You didn’t want to know, didn’t want to see what kind of fate the universe had in store for him because the peace he had brought to you in the few moments he’d been standing there felt better than anything had in the past few years. But you were never that lucky.

Your eyes quickly casted back down, looking back at the white of his shirt while you cleared your throat. “Did you need something….” you dragged out the end of the word to indicate that you didn’t know what to call him since he hadn’t bothered to mention his name.

“Oh, right. ‘M Harry.”

“Georgie.

“Hello Georgie.” if possible, the grin on his face doubled in size, causing two dimples to appear at the corners and the air in your chest to feel as though it was tightening.

The two of you stood in your doorway without saying anything for another moment before you spoke up; “So did you need something or…”

“Fuck, yeah.” his voice was breathy when he responded, standing up straighter, “My mates and I just saw you come home and we’re in desperate need of a needle and thread. You’ve got one?”

It only took a second for him to realize his words and that surprised look from when you first opened the door was back. His eyes widened and his hands raised in front of him as a way to stop you before you could respond.

“Not in a creepy way! We weren’t like watching you or summat, swear! My mates Niall and Louis just moved in across the hall.” using his thumb he pointed to the open door across the hall where you could see two other guys watching yours and Harry’s interaction. Upon realizing they were spotted, they raised their hands in a small wave. “We heard you come in. Not that we were actively listening! Just - ‘m sorry. I swear we aren’t creeps.”

“Good. Thought I’d have to sic my monster of a dog on you.” you replied, turning to dig through the small table in what could barely be considered an entryway. The table had started out as a place to keep your keys and mail, but like most did, quickly turned into a junk drawer. An abyss to put any and everything only to never see it again.

Harry’s eyes frantically looked behind you like some crazy monster was about to lunge at him for bothering you at night, even going as far as taking a small step back when the door opened a bit wider while you were looking for the tool. You laughed when glancing up quickly at the movement. It was obvious he was panicking at the new information of potentially getting mauled by a massive dog while simply asking for thread. So you put him out of his misery.

“There’s no dog. I’m just joking…”

As if on cue, Lucifer waltzed up to see what was going on at the front door, her small body weaving between your legs to get a nice scratch while checking out the never before seen man. “Oh! A cat! I love cats!”

“Yeah she’s pretty great.” you nodded, closing the drawer and holding your hand out to Harry. “Here you go. Um, not sure what colour you need so you can just take the whole bag.”

“You’re a lifesaver, thank you! Niall has a date in ten minutes and he’s split his only good pair of trousers.” he turned his head to look over his shoulder at the boys inside the other flat, trying to seem like they weren’t listening to the conversation, but very obviously doing just that. “Have to sew him in like ‘m some sort of tailor.” he chuckled, turning back to face you.

“Sounds like an exciting night.”

“Oh riveting. I would ask if you’d like to join but you look very busy-” the corners of his lips were trying hard not to curl upwards with the light sarcasm, wobbling a bit as he continued speaking, “-so I wouldn’t want to interrupt anymore than I already have. I’m sure I’ll see you again, I practically live with these two idiots.”

“‘M sure I will.” Luci hadn’t left your side since joining you at the door, instead, she began meowing quite loudly, so you bent down to scoop her into your arms.

You liked Harry, not only because he was a very obviously a good looking man, but because he seemed to pick up on your social cues fairly quickly. He didn’t linger and try to get as much out of you as possible or make the fact that you clearly didn’t have much interest in talking uncomfortable. And it was the first time in a long time that you felt content being around someone. Not fearing what the future brought.

Harry halted his movements halfway between flats and spun back around quickly. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched you press kisses to Lucifer’s head while standing in the doorway. Something you gathered from the very brief times you’d shared an encounter was that Harry was not very good at hiding his emotions. It was almost like he had no control of his mouth, because you could see him try to stop the smile from spreading, but it was no use. The dimples popped out in full force.

“I still owe you for that coffee.”

“Oh, um not a coffee.” you tried not to be loud enough for him to hear, noting that the fact that it wasn’t a coffee was not really that important, but he heard you anyway.

“Pardon?”

“Just um, it wasn’t a coffee. More of a hot chocolate drinker actually.”

He didn’t respond right away, instead just continued watching you with fond eyes and a now very prominent smile. You felt as though he could sense how out of touch with relationships you had begun to get over the years. What other explanation could he have for being so soft with someone he had just met and barely even known

“Right, well keep your schedule open so I can take you out for that replacement cocoa.”

Your door swiftly closed the second he turned back around, not leaving any extra seconds for him to turn around and look at you again. And the second she heard the click of the lock, Luci leaped out of your arms and made her way over to the sofa, meowing her entire journey.

“Yes that was him.” another meow. “I told you he was cute, and I also told you nothing would be happening there.”

Harry wasn’t lying when he said you’d be seeing him again. It seemed as though every day when you got back to your flat, he was there. Sometimes on his way out, other times just standing outside the door waiting for the other boys. And despite how at peace being around Harry had made you feel that day he came knocking at your door, you never put in much more effort than a “hello” here and there. He and the others had tried quite a few times to get you to join them on their night out, but each time you came up with a different excuse. Even if they were comforting, what was the point in forming that friendship when you knew you’d just isolate yourself again eventually. You had made it this long without getting too close to anyone else, and you weren’t going to start just because two attractive lads moved in across the hall who happened to have a very fit, very inviting, friend.

It wasn’t until nearly a month later that you actually had a full conversation with Harry again.

Typically you tried not to go to the coffee shop by your flat any later than lunchtime because it just got too busy. There were too many people for you to fully avoid them all and seeing too many clocks dampened your mood significantly. But you had already had a shitty morning and needed something to give you a boost.

The place had felt very melancholy since Rita’s unfortunate passing last month, she’d passed peacefully in her sleep while spending time with her family. You’d sent the family flowers as remembered, and also made sure to drop a few bills in the jar on the counter each time you’d been in the shop. Other employees were setting up a fund for Rita’s family since she was such a loved member of the community just with the joy she brought from behind the counter.

“Just a large hot chocolate for me, please.”

“For here or take away?”

“Take away please.”

“Actually she’ll have that for here, please.” a familiar voice behind you spoke up as you were digging through your bag for your wallet. You could see him out of the corner of your eye move from his spot behind you, to gradually standing next to you, looking directly at the barista behind the counter.

“Um..” you felt bad for the young kid, he couldn’t be any older than eighteen and all he wanted to do was get to work and get out. But here you were making his day more stressful than it needed to be. “So… for here then?”

“Harry I -”

“Come on Georgie. Please.” never in your life had you seen a grown man bat his eyelashes, but here he was, trying to lure you in with his breathtaking green eyes.

“Fine.” your voice came out soft and you rolled your eyes, but on the inside you felt giddy, like what you remember life to feel like before you started isolating yourself. “Um, sorry. I’ll have it for here I suppose.”

“Do you want the cream?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, I’ll have a -” Harry’s profile was something you could get lost in. How the tip of his nose seemed to bounce with every word he said, how it looked as if his lips were made to form the words falling from between them, or how no matter how many times he tried to get it to stay back, one of his curls would continue to break loose from the rest and fall past his forehead. From what little you’ve seen of it, Harry had a great sense of fashion. Comfortable. A brown teddy bear jumper was covering his upper body, sleeves long enough to gather just past his hands and torso short enough that you could see his white shirt peeking out from underneath, ripped black jeans, a pair of black chelsea boots, and those same tortoise shell glasses perched on his nose completed his look.

“Ready?”

“Huh?”

“You ready? ‘ve got a table back by the door.”

The two of you made your move to walk back towards the front of the shop, but you halted in your tracks when you saw that yes, he in fact did have a table waiting for him, but it was also being inhabited by the two boys you had seen behind him when he came to ask for thread. Neal and Liam? And a girl was sitting between the two as they chatted amongst themselves.

“Harry I don’t -”

“Come on, I promise we don’t bite.” Apparently you still didn’t look convinced because he leaned down to be at your eye level and stuck his lip out in a pout. “One drink. Please? I owe you remember?”

“Yes and you’ve already bought me a new one, thank you by the way, so you don’t owe me anything else.”

“I know.” the apples of his cheeks began getting pinker the longer he stared at you, “But I’d very much like to spend some time with you.”

Just like he did when he knocked on your door, his eyes widened and immediately seemed to want to backtrack what he had said. “Wait no, not in that way. In like a ‘hey I think you’re cute -’ no fuck that’s not -”

“Harry.”

“Yes?”

“One drink.”

The relief was instant on his features, his shoulders sagging and eyebrows un-furrowing at your words. “Good. Afraid my mates were going to start thinking I made you up.”

“I live across the hall, they’ve seen me.”

“Well yeah, but I talk about you so much they thi- I - fuck.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that fell from between your lips. You may not have had many friendships or relationships of any kind, but you did know excessive rattling wasn't generally how people spoke to one another. “You babble a lot.”

“Only when ‘m nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?”

Harry wasted no time in his response, taking a quick glance over to you. “Because I finally get to spend time with the pretty girl across the hall.”

The heat rushing to your cheeks had become something of a common occurrence when speaking with Harry. It wasn’t obvious if he knew what he was doing or not, but you couldn’t imagine someone like Harry not knowing how to flirt. Thankfully, however, someone from the table spoke up before you could dwell on his comment longer than necessary.

“Finally!” the man sitting at the end of the booth spoke. He was dressed very similar to Harry in color - a tan quilted shirt was hidden beneath a cream colored teddy bear jacket, and pleated brown trousers. The light facial hair stubbled along his cheeks made him look slightly older than Harry, but his complete baby face counteracted that.

Harry looked at you briefly, raising his eyebrows with a ‘what did I tell you?’ kind of look as he bent down to slide into the booth next to the other man. His style was much different than the other two, more streetwear. He was wearing black trackies and an old gray band tee under a denim jacket, baseball hat and the very apparent smell of cigarettes finishing off the outfit. Another difference with him was that he had a girl with him. What you assumed to be his girlfriend by the way her head was resting on his shoulder and his hand fell on her knee. She was beautiful, long brown hair fell loose around her shoulders, only kept back by the fragile looking sunnies that rested at the top of her head. She was wearing a simple white top and a pair of white,black, and brown plaid trousers, both of which were overshadowed by the beautiful black Balenciaga jacket hanging off of her shoulders.

“Was starting to think you’d been lying about actually knowing her, Haz.” the one closest to Harry spoke, earning a light slap to his chest from the girl on his shoulder.

Harry disregarded all of their antics and turned to pat the seat next to him, indicating he wanted you to sit down, and he gave you a reassuring nod when you nibbled your lower lip between your teeth.

It was subtle acts like Harry letting you sit on the outside of the booth so you could make a quick getaway if needed that reminded you how easily he seemed to pick up on your social cues - even if you didn’t realize you did them. It made your chest tickle that even just from the two substantial conversations you’d had with him, Harry picked up on things you did.

“Piss off.” Harry chuckled, reminding you a lot of friendships you’d seen on tv where they all take the piss but it was easy to see that they all cared for one another. It was something you’d always been envious of while watching the world from the sidelines. “Georgie, this is Niall, Louis, and Louis’ girlfriend Eleanor. Everyone, this is Georgie.”

You were met with a chorus of hellos and you would’ve loved to just jump right into their conversation about the best places to get guacamole, just so that they knew you weren’t intentionally being rude to them. But not only were you not good at this conversation thing, but you also were still on edge about forming any sort of connection with these people. Apparently you should get used to Harry and his all knowing mind, because before you could excuse yourself from the awkwardness, he spoke up.

“So, how long have you lived in the building?”

Unprepared for the question, you froze for a second. “Oh, um going on six years now.”

“Impossible! What are you, like twenty? No way you’ve lived there that long!” Eleanor asked, her head no longer on Louis’ shoulder, instead she was sitting upright and looking directly at you. Of course, over the span of the years, you had gotten quite good at looking at people without really paying any attention to what was only visible to you above their heads, but it still made you uneasy. The best solution was just not to look at them at all. But these people, people who had no idea who you were a mere ten minutes ago yet were now welcoming you into their lives, made you want to work on avoiding the numbers. Because this was the most alive you’d felt in years.

“‘M twenty three. Be twenty four next Friday.”

“No shit! Alright well I’m coming over so you can teach me your skincare routine because you look flawless.” she gleamed, leaning forward on the table to jot down her phone number on one of the many spare napkins littering the tabletop.

“As much as I love a good skincare routine, let’s not skip over the more important part of that sentence. Your birthday is next week?” Harry asked, gently shoving his shoulder against yours and offering a kind smile when you glanced up at him.

“Oh, it’s not a big deal. I haven’t really celebrated my birthday since I turned like eleven.” your parents used to throw you a party every year while growing up, a lavish over the top kind of party where all of your classmates were invited and family you had never even heard of pinched your cheeks. But as time went on and you didn’t give up your ‘ridiculous fantasy’ as your mother so kindly put it, they began to stop throwing the party. Now, you were lucky if they sent you a card on the day. Plus, celebrating your birthday alone is kind of a downer.

“You haven’t celebrated your birthday in over a decade?” Niall’s mouth hung open like that was the craziest thing he’d ever heard.

“Nope.”

“Well that just won’t do.” you may not know very much about the people seated around you, but the smirk on Louis’ face told you everything you needed to know. “We’re having a party.”

“Um, thank you. Really. But parties aren’t really my thing. Plus I’m working that day so…”

“Oh, where do you work?” Harry asked, thoroughly interested in where you spend most of your days.

“Good Samaritan.”

“The nursing home down on Adams?”

“That’s the one. I’m a caregiver.” when you first applied for the position, you thought you were crazy. For someone who doesn’t want to get close to anyone in fear of their untimely demise, you definitely went for a job exactly the opposite. But that was the appeal to you. Sure, it was terribly sad to see one of your patients pass, but in the time leading up to it, you knew exactly who needed a little extra love. It was nice to be able to remind their loved ones to visit while making routine phone calls, and to do things to make them smile in what only you knew were their last days. It was the only time you thought what you were born with was some kind of gift. The tiniest most unwelcomed gift.

“That’s wonderful.” Harry’s voice was gently next to you, like he was hanging on to every short word that you said.

“Well, we’ll just have a party once you’re done with work.” Louis shrugged, but held his hands up when you opened your mouth to remind him you didn’t want anything. “Not a party, a friendly get together with friendly neighbors and alcohol.”

That day in the cafe was the beginning to a new start for you.

Obviously Lucifer had to hear about everything that happened that afternoon, but she was there to experience it first hand when Eleanor came knocking on your door the following day. She got to watch as you bent over in genuine laughter at your shared banter. She watched from the kitchen counter as Harry came by with food one night, saying he just happened to order extra lo mein and heard you come home. And as the two of you sat in the living room watching Big Brother, talking about everything from your favorite color to why he majored in physical therapy in university. Luci got to watch you break out of the shell you’d worked so hard on forming around you, and even though you knew she couldn’t understand what was happening, you liked to think her frequent meows were those of encouragement.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” The yells came from all corners of the room when you walked into Louis’s flat the following Friday, making your eyes widen and shoulders straighten. As much progress as you’d been making in your life, with branching out and slowly losing your fear of connection, it would take more than a week to crack down those barriers you’d built so high for so long.

“Thank you.” you laughed, putting down the bottle of wine you’d brought just in time for everyone to start surrounding you in hugs.

“Happy Birthday, love.” Harry’s voice was soothing in your ear, like a sense of relief in the overstimulation the other three had given you. You didn’t regret their company like you would have only a month ago, instead you welcomed the foriegn feelings. But it was still nice to have a moment of calm to fully process everything.

“Thank you Harry.”

“I hope it’s not too much. I told them to cool it on the balloons and confetti - especially since we all know I’ll be the one to pick it up in the morning.” he laughed, offering you a glass of wine that everyone else seemed to already be enjoying.

“No, no, it’s great. A nice segway from doing nothing every year.”

“Still can’t believe you haven’t celebrated your birthday in so long! That’s a day that should be celebrated by everyone!”that same look you’d grown to quite enjoy flashed over his features, his momentary distress as he realized he said something he wasn’t planning on sharing. But the look disappeared when he saw your knowing smile. “Don’t start.”

As promised, there was no party, per say. Everyone was just scattered around Louis’ living room telling stories about absolutely nothing that had everyone in stitches. It was the kind of party you’d always been envious of, one where mates could hang out and lose themselves in the company of each other. It was the first time you didn’t have a single thought about impending doom for more than an hour, a feit you would be sure not to forget.

Niall was laid out on the floor under the windows, a half empty bottle of rum in his hand and the other rested on his stomach, occasionally itching an invisible nuisance. Louis was seated in the arm chair directly across from Niall, a very buzzed Eleanor draped across his lap and the more the night went on, the less chances you had of seeing their faces separated. And Harry was seated next to you on the sofa, his arm hung on the back of the cushion in such a way that everyone so often you would feel the very tips of his fingers skim the exposed skin on your shoulder.

You wished you could freeze this moment in time, because a photograph or video would never do it justice. It was almost as if you were watching the night play out in front of you like a movie, not really in your body but watching from afar. Watching as the girl who hid herself from the world began to hatch, slowly cracking the hard exterior surrounding her. And you would do anything to bottle the feeling of pride that swelled in your chest knowing you had achieved that.

“Literally right in the face mate. No joke.” Niall cackled, his laugh a contrast in that moment; escaping his mouth loudly but carrying throughout the room softly. Taking off like a leaf blowing through the fall breeze.

“Georgie.” your name slipped from between Harry’s lips beautifully, like he was created for the sole purpose of saying your name over and over again; forever. “Alright?”

And sitting in the living room of Louis’ flat, listening to your friends’ wine induced giggles, looking at the most captivating pair of green eyes and curly hair that only whatever magical being that was above could’ve created, you were alright. You were so alright that the minuscule ticks of the clocks of your new and only friends, ticks you tried so hard to avoid paying attention to, almost seemed to disappear completely. Almost.

71 years, 2 months, 10 days, 3 hours, 16 minutes, 55 seconds. 68 years, 11 months, 3 days, 19 hours, 43 minutes, 2 seconds. 68 years, 7 months, 21 days, 1 hour, 58 minutes, 33 seconds. 62 years, 8 months, 9 days, 11 hours, 12 minutes, 2 seconds. 2 years, 1 month, 30 days, 23 hours, 34 minutes, 56 seconds.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles x oc #harry styles x you

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vintagedolan · 4 years

Text

mint chocolate

you’ve been in love with ethan since the early days of your childhood friendship, but what happens when it’s too late to tell him?

word count: 5k

warnings/tags: fluffy fluff lets go ladies

also shoutout to @gloriousgrant for this request, ily bby!!

feel free to send in requests! and check out my masterlist if you wanna :)

An elephant’s memory. That’s what your mom had always said - you had an elephant’s memory. Never forgot a detail, a friend, a face. Which is why you could still remember the first halloween party you ever got invited to, all the way back in preschool, as clearly as you could remember what you had for breakfast yesterday.

You didn’t remember the party though, but that was because you didn’t go. It had been a simple decision once you’d found out from eavesdropping on the mom gossip that only 33 of the 35 kids from your class had gotten the cute personalized invitations in the mail.

Your four year old self said it best - “If etee and gray aren’t going, I’s not going.”

You didn’t realize until you were older that you words had made Lisa cry, overwhelmed and grateful that her boys had a friend at school when everyone seemed to be against them. So, she’d decided to make it the best halloween that she possibly could for her kids, and for you.

And thus, over way too much sugary candy, smores, trick or treating and the watchful eyes of your mom and Lisa, the trio was born on Halloween night, 2004.

The three of you held strong through elementary school - sat next to each other until the teacher separated you for talking too much, shared your lunches every day. Lisa would even send an extra piece of candy on Friday’s for you in Ethan’s lunch - little pieces of mint chocolate that they kept at the salon for clients. Recess was always your favorite time, because the boys were wild, always finding something more fun than the playground equipment, like trees to climb or hills to roll down. You were fine with that - there were too many kids on the playground anyways. And when little scrawny David tried to kiss you at the top of the slide Ethan shoved him down, getting himself time out for the next three days.

You sat with him in the mulch every day until he was allowed to play again.

Middle school was where the bumps in the road came along. Grayson went, in his mother’s words, ‘girl crazy’, and in his brother’s words, he ‘became a player’. Turns out, middle school girls don’t trust their boyfriends to have girl best friends, and Grayson fell into the trap, desperate to people please and get a date to the dance. Every time he broke up with them he’d come back, apologize, want to be your friend again, and you let him, because you loved him, even if he was a dick sometimes.

Ethan was another story. Sure, he had a few 6th grade girlfriends who constituted an after school hug as a date, but the first negative thing they said about you had him bounding down the hallway to your locker to reassure you that he was, once again, a ‘single pringle’.

With Grayson off having Lisa drive him and the girl of the month to the fro-yo shop twice a week, it left space for you and Ethan to get even closer than you already were. You took stupid pictures on his families computer, edited them to high heaven with the strongest contrast and put stupidly fonted “<3″ and “bffz foreva” all around your faces, set them as your blackberry backgrounds. You watched movie reruns and renamed the characters and talked about how Ethan wanted to be an actor someday. You played hide and seek in the Dolan’s backyard, always giving away your hiding spot when one of you got too spooked and ran to the other one. You were allowed to spend the night if you stayed in the living room, which meant you took the couch, Ethan took the floor, and usually Grayson ended up curled up in the recliner, wanting to be a part of the fun once he got home and realized he was missing out.

Things got worse in 8th grade. The bullying was incessant with the boys growing popularity on vine, and since the three of you were always seen as a unit of sorts, you got pulled into it. There were so many jeers in the hallways that you couldn’t keep track of them. The trio reunited, Grayson clinging to you as one of the few friends he could trust. It became texts of ‘lets eat lunch by the band room, no one will bother us over there’ and ‘hey, I heard Jillian earlier, u ok?” snuck under science room tables. You got suspended for punching a guy who wouldn’t shut his mouth about Ethan in September - your parents were pissed but you didn’t care - no one was going to fuck with your friends.

Your reprieves were after school when you could hang out like you always had... well, after they got done with football or lacrosse or wrestling practice. They’d come home sweaty, smelling like gym mats, texting you to come over. If your mom couldn’t take you over Lisa would come pick you up - even Cameron got you a few times, acting like it was a chore but secretly glad that her brothers had someone, anyone, to rely on. You went to every single one of their games and matches, wrote 47 and 8 on your cheeks in face paint and yelled as loud as you could, ate celebratory ice cream with them when they won.

Things got, somehow, even worse freshman year of high school. The bullying was even more intense, with threats posed against both of them, and against you. Ethan got secretive for the first time in his entire friendship with you. One minute he was even more clingy than usual, and the next day he was quiet and distant. It took you calling him out on it one night for him to finally fess up.

And it was those four painful words that made you realize that you were in love with Ethan Dolan.

“We’re moving to LA.”

You cried. Ethan cried. Grayson cried. Lisa cried.

But you dried your tears, put on a brave face, told him how proud you were of him, of both of them. They were chasing their dreams, making it happen for themselves in a way that you could only admire. What type of friend would you be if you tried to hold them back?

You made the most of the last month that they were still in New Jersey, hanging out every minute that you could, helping them look at apartments in LA online, watching them film videos for their channel, supporting them every step of the way.

You lost track of how many times you had to reassure Ethan that you’d be fine in high school without him, even if it wasn’t true. He’d told you over and over to just pretend like you weren’t friends with them anymore - anything to get the bullying to stop. You told him no way in hell.

You stayed the night at the Dolan’s house in October, the night before they got on the plane to move out. It was fun, an early halloween celebration of sorts, mixed with a going away party that had you laughing as much as it had you crying.

The real kicker came around midnight, after Grayson had fallen asleep in the chair that he was much too big for now, and you and Ethan were left in the silence.

“I’m gonna miss you. So much. I don’t know what life looks like without you,” you admitted with teary eyes, toying with his fingers.

“I’m gonna miss you more. But I’ll always be here to visit, and it’ll be just like old times.”

You doubted that, but you weren’t going to say it. The thought of not seeing him everyday, having him so far away, surrounded by new people, new girls - it put a lump in your throat that you couldn’t quite get the words “I’m in love with you” around. You’d realized that it was more than just friendship for you as soon as he told you he was leaving - but you couldn’t bring yourself to put that on him when he already felt guilty enough for leaving you behind.

So you just nodded at his promises of flying you out to LA when they got enough money, showing you all around California, tried to believe him when he said you were always going to be his number one, and fell asleep against his chest.

You rode with them to the airport, held their hands the whole way in the backseat and kept your head held high as you hugged them and sent them through security.

You sobbed the whole way home. Even after you managed to pull yourself together a little bit, when you got that made it, miss you already text that signaled they had landed that night, a whole new wave of tears made their appearance.

You knew it would be hard, but you didn’t realize just how lonely you were going to be without both of them, but especially Ethan at your side.

But there was a silver lining.

It was in those next few months that you realized that Ethan always kept his promises. He facetimed you whenever he could, showed you around their apartment, asked you to explain how to make mac and cheese cause he was ‘gonna starve’. He sent you pictures of everywhere cool he visited in LA, even sent you postcards sometimes just for fun. And when he came to visit a month later he stopped at your house first, knocking incessantly until you opened the door and threw your arms around him. Once the tears had stopped - the ones you let flow and the ones he blinked back, he reached into his bag and pulled something out.

“Look what I found in the airport in LA. Your favorite.” He placed the mint chocolate bar in your hands with a grin, proud of himself for putting such a big smile on your face.

And so, the tradition began.

Every time he came back to New Jersey he was on your doorstep, and every time he brought you one of those little chocolate bars. It didn’t matter that he was home to see his family, because any time you brought it up he’d wave you off, reassure you that ‘you are family bub’, making you fall more and more in love with him every time.

When he had the money, he flew you out to California, showed you all his favorite places. He took you to the beach, on hikes, made sure you got the full cali experience with him at your side.

There were times over the years where he visited less, or visited more. But It didn’t matter if it’d been a week or 3 months since you’d seen him - the butterflies were all the same when you saw him again.

You were sure to catch up each time you reunited, going down the list of everything you might of missed, even if you still talked every day. It went like so:

One: how’s the channel going? To which he would ask “how’s school?”

Two: any new friends? He’d ask the same.

And then came question number three, your least favorite:

Got a girlfriend?

You’d wait with bated breath every time, sighing out in secret relief when he’d say “nah, don’t have time” or “no, LA girls are weird”. And then you’d go on with whatever you had planned that day, whether it was just hanging around your old Jersey stomping grounds or sit in your room, and eventually your apartment when you moved out, heart a bit lighter.

Maybe that’s why it hurt so bad on his last visit when he’d hesitated on that question, looked down at his hands.

The most painful four words you’d been told changed that afternoon, when he finally answered.

“Yeah, I do actually.”

You’d always known it was going to happen eventually - you’d been preparing for it in the back of your mind for a while now. You saw the comments on every post he made, the replies to his tweets, thousands and thousands of adoring girls, and it only grew every single day. Maybe it had been dumb to think that he’d ever realize just how in love with him you were, dumb to think that maybe, maybe, he saw you that way too.

So, you put on your brave face, forced that smile to spread over your face and ran through the motions.

“Really?! What, since when?!” had never sounded faker than when they came out of your mouth, laced with false enthusiasm.

And you listened to him tell you all about her, Allison, a girl he’d met at an LA party that he didn’t want to go to. You nodded at the right times, smiled and asked questions you didn’t care to know the answers to.

You secretly wished hearts made a noise when they broke - maybe it would have stopped the conversation, saved you from having to see his face light up when he said her name, the blush that spread across his cheeks when he told you about his first date with her.

Three months passed - and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t run at least part of that conversation through your head every day since you had it. It was nice that Ethan wasn’t the type to put his relationship out to the public - a front row seat would only make it worse, you were sure.

You decided it was time to try, to really try to find someone that wasn’t Ethan. Sure, you’d talked to people in the past, but you’d never gone all in when trying to find someone to be with, because, well, there was really only one on your mind anyways.

Which was why it was weird to answer one of Ethan’s usual what’re you up to this week texts with not much, work, hanging out with my parents, got a date tomorrow night. You all still working on the candle launch stuff?

At his kitchen counter in LA, Ethan frowned as he read it. Date.

“What?” Grayson asked, reading his twin’s face as he washed the pans from dinner.

“Y/N’s going on a date.”

“Huh. Well, good for her,” he shrugged, looking down at the water running over his hands, eyes flickering up to Ethan’s face, trying to figure out if he should say what he’s thinking. Fuck it, if he gets pissed he gets pissed. “How do you feel about that?”

That got Ethan’s attention off his phone screen.

“How do I feel about that? What’s that supposed to mean?” The defensiveness in his tone had Gray tensing up a bit.

“It’s just a question bro.”

“I have a girlfriend Grayson.”

Grayson stopped scrubbing, annoyed at his brother’s tone. He’d tried to be supportive, loving - but he was getting tired of Ethan complaining about his relationship woes and not doing anything about it.

“Yeah, who you said you wanted to break up with twice last week, for the record. And you’re the one that brought up Y/N, not me,” he pointed out, knowing that if he was already gonna piss his brother off, he might as well say everything he wanted to say.

“You never liked Allison,” Ethan snapped.

“Fuckin facts, cause she’s manipulative and fake.”

“No she isn’t.” He threw Grayson a glare, pressing his hands together until his knuckles popped.

“If you actually believed that you would have hit back with an actual argument just now. I mean jesus Ethan, she told you you couldn’t go back to see Y/N for god’s sake. That used to be your fuckin’ dealbreaker back in the day, why would you put up with that shit now?”

“I didn’t put up with it, I told her it wasn’t negotiable and I went to Jersey anyways!” He was yelling now, hands gripping the edge of the counter.

“Yeah, and then she gave you the silent treatment for a week when you got back like a fuckin’ six year old. That’s some middle school shit and you know it E. You don’t have to put up with that, you can find somebody who treats you better.”

“Will you fucking stop Grayson?” He threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “I’ve got enough shit going on right now, I don’t need you in my head too.”

“Fine. But friends don’t get jealous when their friends go on dates, especially not when that friend is across the fucking country. Just so you know.” He watched his brother put his face in his hands and felt that familiar pang in heart that made him add a “I’ll be in my room if you wanna talk about it” before he walked out.

Grayson had mastered the art of keeping tabs on Ethan without him knowing. So even from his room he heard him leave, and based on how long he sat in the driveway with the car running, he knew exactly where he was going.

So, he wasn’t fully surprised when Ethan came into his room three hours later without knocking and laid down on his bed next to him without a word, staring up at the ceiling.

“So...”

“So.” Ethan repeated.

“Did you uh...”

“Break up with her?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Cool. How’d she take it.”

“About exactly how you'd expect.”

“Ugly sobbing?”

“So much ugly sobbing.”

“Sounds on brand.”

The conversation faded into silence, only the hum of the fan spinning in the corner filling the room. Grayson let it go on for a few minutes before he spoke up again.

“So.”

“You goin’ back to Jersey?”

Ethan perked up at that one, sitting up slightly and turning so he could look at his brother. He quirked an eyebrow, waiting for the explanation.

“C’mon bro. You can’t act like Y/N doesn’t have anything to do with this. I mean, you should have dropped Allison a while ago, but it’s not a coincidence that the idea of Y/N going on a date was what made you do it now. You should just tell her how you feel. Put it all on the table.”

He pondered that for a minute, staring up at the white ceiling.

“I hate sharing a brain with you, you fuck,” were the words he eventually chose, rolling over and pulling out his phone. Grayson smirked when he saw what he searched - American Airlines.

“Not my fault we split into two goops.”

Ethan typed in the flight plan he’d done more than any other - LAX -> EWR. 4 hours and 56 minute, like usual. There was one leaving in just over an hour and a half, and the knot that formed in his stomach was all too familiar. It came around every time he waited on the doorstep of her apartment in New Jersey, waited for her to show up at the door with that bright smile that had never changed, never wavered. He’d do anything to have her smiling like that all the time.

“Maybe I shouldn’t do this.”

Grayson’s brows furrowed, knitting together above his eyes. “What?”

“What if she gets mad that I ruined her date. I don’t wanna fuck that up for her. She could be happy with the guy.” The words tasted like metal on his tongue.

“Oh c’mon Ethan. She’s only dating somebody because you’re dating somebody. Well, were, I guess.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know how she feels about me.”

“You’re forgetting that I’ve been her friend for just as long as you have. You just gotta trust me on this bro. It’s not a coincidence that she starts going on dates when you tell her you’ve got a girl.”

“So many coincidences,” Ethan huffed.

“So many not coincidences,” Grayson corrected, raising his eyebrows and waiting for him to give in.

“Am I just supposed to show up at her house? I’m not gonna get to Jersey until-” he did the time change math that was second nature by now “- shit, like 2am? That’s kinda sus.”

“Right, because showing up at her house isn’t the first thing you do every time we go home anyways.” Grayson rolled his eyes. “What time’s the flight?”

“In like an hour and a half.”

“We can make it, just pack a bag real quick, I’ll start the car up.”

“Okay. Okay.” Ethan nodded, standing up and waiting for a minute before he fully decided that holy shit, he was finally gonna do this, and then he was running down the hall towards his room.

“And don’t wear shorts! Put on some fuckin’ pants and look decent at least!” Grayson called after him with a grin.

“I can dress myself bro, fuck off!”

It turns out, Ludacris mode on a tesla comes in handy when you’re trying not to miss a flight. They sped all the way to LAX, barely time for a hug and a “text me when you get there” before Ethan was running through TSA precheck and barely making the last boarding call of Flight 8333. He took the numbers as a sign that he was doing the right thing, that everything was going to work out.

The nerves really hit when he got settled in his seat on the plane, tattooed thigh bouncing on the floor, covered by his Louis pants. His shoes didn’t match the outfit very well, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He hadn’t had much time to do anything but run through the terminals - he hoped he didn’t stink, didn’t forget anything.

Fuck. The chocolate.

He twitched in his seat, ready to run back out and head to that little convenience store where the manager knew his name, knew he was only there to get a diet root beer for the flight and a mint chocolate bar. But it was no use - the place was probably closed, and it wasn’t like he could get off the plane anyways.

So he put his headphones in, turned on his playlist and closed his eyes as they started to taxi down the runway, praying that maybe he could sleep. Behind his eyelids, memories of you played like a mixture between a slideshow and a movie - little snippets and still images of times he had committed to memory, swore he would never forget.

You, with your toes in the California sand for the first time, so excited to see the beach and the ocean waves crashing, face lighting up as you ran towards the water. Your fourth grade halloween costume - the first year the three of you had coordinated, all of you going as little skeletons. Sitting in the middle school hallway with lunch balanced carefully on your legs, swapping sandwiches and laughs. You hugging him goodbye when he left for LA, how he never wanted to let go, wished he could take you with him more than anything else. Every visit, every time he counted down the days before he could make it back to see you.

He couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t in love with you, wasn’t trying to convince himself that it would be wrong to ask you to try long distance, wrong to ‘hold you back’ or ask you to support someone, to love someone, so far away. It almost felt childish now, the thought that the two of you were going to end up with anybody else. His nerves prickled at the daunting task that he knew was awaiting him when the plane wheels touched down again, so he focused on your face instead, trying to breathe.

It was both the longest and quickest flight of his life somehow.

He got a rental car - it was no smooth cat, but it would do - text Grayson that he was safe, and headed out in the familiar direction of your apartment before he could stop himself. He hadn’t made it four minutes down the interstate when the rain started falling, slow at first until it grew into a downpour that was roaring against the car.

His wipers worked double time, keeping his windshield just clear enough for him to find his way to your parking lot.

Heart in his throat, he threw his door open, stepping out into the rain before he could talk himself into turning around, jogging to your door and knocking.

In your bed, your eyes shot open. You waited for another knock, heart beating fast when you heard it, and then the constant rhythm of them afterwards. You rolled over, checked your phone.

2:16am.

“Who in the fuck,” you grumbled, sitting up and rubbing at your eyes as you headed out the door of your room in your pajamas, confused and concerned. If it was your drunk neighbor again, you were going to kill him.

Popping up on your tiptoes, you peeked through the peep hole, breath catching in your throat.

There was no way.

You blinked hard, looked again.

You knew that face, and you threw the door open, relief and panic playing tug of war on your heartbeat.

“Ethan? What- what the hell are you doing here? Are you okay? Is something wrong?” It wasn’t unlike him to show up and surprise you, but it had never been in the middle of the night. Still, he looked perfect as always, even with his drenched hair plastered to his head and soggy clothes.

“I’m okay.”

“Okay... well come inside, come outta the rain,” you reached out to grab his shirt, pull him inside, but he caught your hand, holding on tightly.

“I gotta say something first, and then you can decide if you wanna let me in.” He was too formal, more serious than you were used to and it had your stomach in knots.

“You’re scaring me a little E.”

“Don’t be scared. It’s just me.” His eyes shone, even in the dark, with a familiarity that settled you a bit and you nodded, waiting for him to say whatever it was.

“I don’t know why I never thought it was okay for us to love each other. No, that’s not right, that’s not what I meant to say. I... hang on.”

He took a deep breath, rainwater spraying a bit off his lips when he pushed it out and tried again.

“A long time ago, when we were kids, I convinced myself that we couldn’t love each other, because I couldn’t handle losing you. You’ve been my rock, my only constant outside my family for my entire life, and I don’t think I would have made it without you. So I just decided that we couldn’t love each other like that. And that was selfish. Because I’ve always been in love with you I think. Back then I don’t think I realized what it was. But now, when I look back, I think that’s what it was.”

You’ve always been the person I wanna see every day, especially when I can’t. The first person I think of when I wake up, the one I’m thinking about when I go to sleep. You’re my favorite human on the whole planet, and if soulmates are real I think that’s us. I don’t know why I ever tried to be with anybody else when you were here the whole time.”

And I know it’s not fair for me to put all this on you right now, especially when you tried to be supportive of me with other girls. But that text, you telling me you were going on a date. It slapped me in the face, made me realize just what I was about to give up, what was about to slip through my fingers if I didn’t get my shit together and just tell you everything. So... here I am. I’m here, and I love you... I’m in love with you. And I just needed you to know that. I’m in love with you Y/N. Always have been. And I kinda think that you could be in love with me too. Or at least, I hope maybe you are.”

He had been looking at you the whole time, but you saw the nerves take over as he realized everything he had just said out loud, as he watched you, waited for your reaction.

“I...” Your brain was spinning, unable to understand how everything you’d been waiting your whole life to hear had just come out of his mouth, all at once.

It wasn’t a conscious decision - more of an instinct. Two steps forward out into the rain and then you were throwing your arms around his neck, up on your tip toes to finally, finally, press your lips to his like you’d dreamed about doing so many times.

Your fantasies hadn’t done it justice. He was so warm, so familiar, so Ethan. His hands went to your waist, fingers curling and pulling you against him as he leaned in so hard that you leaned back with him, smiling as your hands came around to hold his face, hold him to you, unwilling for the moment to ever end.

You didn’t even notice the rain.

“Am I dreaming?” You hadn’t meant to say it out loud but it slipped past your lips anyways, making Ethan’s chest swell and his smile get even brighter as he pulled back enough to look at you.

“No baby. This is real. This is us, right here, right now.”

"No fuckin’ way,” you breathed, running your thumbs over his cheeks before he kissed you again, walking you backwards into the house and out of the downpour and over to the couch.

“I love you. So much. Sorry I forgot your chocolate by the way,” he grinned after he sat down and pulled you onto his lap, gazing up at you like you hung the moon and stars.

“You’re so much better than mint chocolate. I love you too.” You kissed him again just because you could, relishing in the feeling of him there with you, not a worry or a care in the world.

#WOOOOOOOOO #i sped wrote the end of this haha i have class SO SOON #love you guys!!!!#lynds writes #ethan imagine #ethan dolan #ethan dolan x reader #ethan dolan fanfiction #dolan twins #dolan twins imagine #dolan twins fic

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dearlazerbunny · 5 years

Text

Lie to Me (Ch. 24 of 28)

Pairings: Loki x Reader

Genre/Ratings: M eventually (aiming for a slow burn here); warnings for kidnapping and subsequent anxiety/PTSD (will be marked before every chapter)

Words: 2100

Summary: If you had to guess what the captured, traitor, trickster god Loki Laufeyson wanted or needed at this moment, a babysitter would be far, far down on the list. (Set after the events of Avengers 1.)

SHOUTOUT TO @molmcb and @jessiejunebug, whose faces I have cared into marble so they shall forever be immortalized as gods

Requested Tags: @deraniel, @iamverity, @yasnooshka24, @wegingerangelica, @themusingsofmany , @dark-night-sky-99, @tarynkauai, @stuffandstuff-stuff, @angelicshinigami, @my-current-fandom-is, @geekysimmerthings, @lokis-butter-knife, @help-i-need-a-social-life, @vodka-and-some-sass

WARNING: descriptions of anxiety, PTSD, and severe depression

When the cab finally drops you off at your apartment, you flash him your badge, tell him to charge it to Tony Stark, and then wander away without another word.

Your hands shake as you try to unlock the door- these damn tremors, they haven’t gone away yet, even though the doctors promise they will- and it takes you much too long to finally get the key into the lock and twist and open the door and close it behind you and lock it back.

Then you secure the chain, tugging it tight. And turn the lock again a few times, just to be sure it’s latched. Paranoia has become something of a friend since the incident.

Your small home speaks volumes about your mental state. The bookshelf, normally pristinely kept, is full of tomes that have been unceremoniously shoved back into their places any which way. The sink is overflowing with dishes. You’re not sure if there’s anything remotely edible in the fridge. The blinds are drawn tight and patched with cloth to block out as much of the outside world as possible, because sometimes even seeing the sky is too much on a bad day.

Today qualifies as a bad day. You reach for the bottle of pills you know will be close at hand and pop one into your mouth, swallowing it dry. After a second thought, you swallow another.

You stand in the doorway for a moment, not sure what to do. Amongst the panic attacks, the healing scars, and the demons lurking in every shadow, Loki was the only thing keeping you functioning as vaguely as you were. Now you feel like there’s nothing to tether you from spiraling out of control- no green eyes, no warm smiles, no stories to smooth over your ragged nerves. He’s gone, facing a fate you can’t even begin to imagine, and you won’t even get to be his knight in shining armor. He’ll forever be your hero, and you can never return the favor.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, a kind voice whispers, “No, my dear. I believe you saved his.”

The sweater Loki magicked gets wrapped tighter around you, even though the warmth has long since worn off. Your bed is cold, despite all the blankets piled onto it, and once you’re finally burrowed in amongst the pillows you let yourself release the sobs that you’ve been holding back, making your chest ache with emptiness.

Sleep is going to be a long time coming.

Weeks pass in a blur. You don’t really keep track. It takes you far too long to realize you haven’t been in to work- would there really be any point in going back? Did they believe you were brainwashed? Would they try and ‘recalibrate’ you?- but SHIELD hasn’t called you either, so you just let it lie. You keep up with those mandated therapy appointments a few times, and then they switch to conference calls, since you start having difficulty going outside. Eventually when your phone rings you just sit there and watch it chime until the screen goes dark once more. You’re not really in the mood to tell someone all about how pathetic you’re being.

Because you know it’s pathetic. The anxiety attacks, the nightmares, the listless spells where you’re content to do nothing but watch shadows creep over the walls as the sun moves from dawn to dusk. You can’t even go to the grocery store without someone accidentally jostling your arm and having to reflexively hold back a shriek. Most days seeing your own reflection in the mirror is enough to make you jump.

So you spend your time sleeping, though that sleep is consumed by nightmares. The taste of blood on your tongue, the sharp crack of your ribs splintering into pieces, the feeling of concrete beneath you as you make peace with your final resting place. Sometimes you see Loki as he appeared in front of you, hazy and surrounded in green magic, ready to slaughter enemies as he sees fit. Your guardian angel. But in your dreams, he never reaches for you like he did that day. He just watches as you feel breath slipping away moment by moment, an indifferent sort of smirk on his lips. You cry, you scream for him, willing your broken fingers to close the gap between you- your bones crumble to dust before you do.

When you’re tired of living your own personal hell on repeat, you make a habit of sitting at the window looking up at the stars, trying to keep him alive in your mind. You hope he isn’t in pain. You hope that Thor has kept his promise, keeping him safe the best he can. You hope… well. You hope a lot of things.

You take to imagining a thousand and one ways you might get to him. Break into Stark’s lab and demand information on the Bifrost. Sneak into SHIELD’s vaults and swipe the Tesseract; use it to do… something. Somewhere in the universe he’s standing judgement before a judge who’s been biased against him from the start- why would he think to be fair now? Thousands of years ago, a little baby frost giant was thrown into a narrative where he’d always be five steps behind, always second best. He never even got a fair shot. You wipe a tear from your cheek. Life isn’t fair, but if it’s going to be this brutal, the least it could do is offer you a happy ending.

You must’ve fallen asleep against the window pane, because for once your dreams are ethereal and covered in stars. You float past space and time, and when you reach out to touch the sparks lazily floating through the air, they collect like small galaxies on the tips of your fingers. Some invisible string tugs you forward, gentle yet relentless, and you allow yourself to follow it, wherever it might lead. Over a glittering rainbow bridge that floats in a dark, vast ocean; towards a golden castle pointed towards the heavens. There’s a strange sense of familiarity here, as though you’ve walked this path before. Perhaps in another dream; perhaps in another life. The thread winds you through the halls of the gilded castle. You pass a throne room that could hold a nation, a single dias fit for a king. There’s a library on your left, full of powerful things, illuminated by a crackling hearth. A room with a locked door that shimmers with runes and wards glowing blue. They say hello as you pass.

Finally, descent- layers upon layers of staircases, past whom you assume to be guards, with their armor and swords, though they don’t even turn an eye toward you as you float by. Your feet don’t make a whisper on the stone floor. There are glass cages all around you, similar the ones at at SHIELD, but they reek of power. Only, it isn’t glass, exactly- it shimmers and refracts in the dim light. A beckon. You fingers pass through the wall of energy easily enough, then your hand- then you start to feel some resistance. You frown and push harder, determined, though you don’t know why or what waits for you on the other side.

There’s something in the corner, and it moves with a heavy clanking noise when the rest of you finally gets through the boundary. It can sense you, unlike everyone else in this strange place. “Who is there?” A man’s voice, tired and wary. Familiar? More rattling, which you can now see comes from thick golden chains sprawled on the floor and looping off into the darkness. “Show yourself!”

Yes. You know that voice. And his hair, though it’s messier than you’ve ever seen it. His eyes, dull as they may be, are still the ones you’ve been dreaming of since the day he left. With a cry, you rush to Loki, kneeling on the ground in front of him where he sits with manacles binding his wrists and ankles. “Loki! Loki I- can you hear me? Oh god, please…” gently, you let your fingers tuck a piece of his black hair away from his eyes. He jerks back, confused, but more alert. “No, it’s okay, don’t be scared. It’s just me. I- I found you, I don’t know how but-”

“Y/N?” You don’t think your name has ever sounded more beautiful than in that moment. “Love, is that you?”

“Yes! Yes, can you see me? I’m right here. I’m right in front of you.”

“No… perhaps? A little, out of the corner of my eye.” Tentatively, he raises a hand and traces a gentle thumb against your cheekbone. It feels as insubstantial as a breeze, but you could cry from that small touch nonetheless. It’s him.

“I found you,” you whisper again. It’s him it’s him it’s him.

“So it would seem.” You giggle as a child would, proud of yourself. “And how, precisely, did you manage that?”

“I- I don’t know. I fell asleep and wandered around this castle for a bit, and then I was here. Where am I? Where are we?”

“Ah.” There’s something he’s not saying- you can hear it hiding underneath his tongue. “I think you must be dreaming, my love.”

“I- are you sure?” You glance down at your ghostly hands, still shimmering with starlight. “It seems so real.”

“You always did have quite the active imagination, Witling.”

You hum nonchalantly, taking in the dark circles under Loki’s eyes, the rings on angry flesh trapped underneath his cuffs. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I am fine, love. Do not worry about me.”

“Bullshit,” you huff. “Don’t think I can’t see these.” You reach for a chain and tug, frowning when they barely move an inch.

He easily moves the restrains behind him, out of your reach. “Stop. I am far more concerned with you than myself.” Worried eyes roam your face. “What is wrong?”

“I’m tired,” you say simply, and your voice breaks halfway through. “Sleeping is… hard. And eating. And I need…” You is the missing word there, and though you don’t say it, he hears it nonetheless.

“I know, love. I know you are.” His voice is full of regret. “I never should have left you.”

“It’s not like you had a choice.”

“All the same. I wish it could have ended differently.”

The world around you wavers for a moment, then two. You look around, confused, instinctively reaching for Loki to pull him closer. “What…?”

“You can’t stay much longer, love.”

“I’m not leaving you! How will I find my way back?”

“You shouldn’t have come in the first place.” Green eyes darken. “I wish I could see you better.”

“I’ll find you again,” you say confidently, even though whatever strength that carried you here is slowly slipping away. “I promise.”

You wish Loki’s smile was more genuine, but as it is, you’ll take what you can get. “Such a brave Witling. Sleep, now. I am with you, even when you wake.”

A feather-light brush to your nose that feels strangely like a kiss makes your eyes open. You’re in your apartment, curled up next to the window, just like when you fell asleep. No rainbow. No castle. No Loki.

Only… you trace your cheek where maybe-Loki had done the same. It was so real. He was so real. Wasn’t he? Either way, you feel more at ease than you have in months. You have no idea what happened, but you don’t care. Seeing him was worth it.

To your surprise, you’re able to repeat your little cosmic jaunt every so often. You can’t control when or why, but the wandering seems to happen on the days you need them most. Sometimes he can’t hear you even when you sit beside him and confess everything you’ve ever wanted him to know, but others he’s so tangible you can lean against his side and press a kiss to his shoulder, if you work up the courage.

It isn’t perfect. You watch each other weaken by counting the shadows that appear under eyes and cheekbones, unable to offer any substantial comfort. You still break down more often than you should, and think of him even more frequently than that. But it’s easier to sleep at night knowing that even though he might as well be on another plane of existence, not even that can keep you apart forever.

Life still isn’t fair, not by a long shot. And you wouldn’t exactly call this limbo a happy ending. But it’s better than nothing, and so you savor every last drop.

A/N: I used the link below to work out the specifics of Loki’s cell; it’s a funny read if you’re interested:

https://missviolethunter.tumblr.com/post/105099519018/mcuasgard-afterthought-lokis-toilet-prison

New chapter in honor of my new phone! :D Now all my fanfics are in SUPER HI DEF!

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pendraegon · 4 years

Note

Can you talk about your song choice for Percival in mcrthuriana?

Percy!!!!!!!!!!!!!! God YES, let’s get some of that good Percival Content up in this bitch, we’re just gonna sauce this burger right up with a smear of good Percival Condiment and go on our way. I’m so glad you sent this, it’s a nice reprieve from writing solely about Gawain and Lancelot (not that I don’t love those messy idiots, but like oaisjfodisj y’know, y’know).

Percival got the song SING, I personally think the song’s a bop although I know it’s a pretty iffy song amongst some MCR cohorts lol. (Then again, if y’all don’t like Danger Days, you’re a fucking coward in my book, get some taste. Same with if you don’t like FOB’s Mania but we’re getting off track oafjdoasfoa).

Danger Days is MCR’s fourth album and is basically about a rag tag group of freedom fighters called the Fabulous Killjoys who are against this corporation called BL/nd that runs the post-apocalyptic society. It’s really fucking cool and each member has a Killjoy persona (shoutout to 2010 when we all had killjoy names like licherally, the time is NOW to dress like ur killjoysona lads). Aiding the Killjoys is The Girl, and there’s actually a comic spin off that Gerard Way made based off of the album. Musically, Danger Days is probably MCR’s most…adventurous? The sound is VERY different from what’s expected of MCR and much more on the side of electro with some cool 80s feels sprinkled in. (tbh I think anything from Danger Days is your best bet to get someone who has never listened to MCR before into MCR and then ease them on backwards through the discography, it always works lol) It’s also their least popular album due to the fact that it sounds neither like Revenge nor Black Parade, but as I said, if you don’t like Danger Days, you’re a coward lol.

Percival gets SING because [1] SING’s one of the lighter songs and [2] he’s baby and he deserves this. Killjoys, make some noise!!

Sing it out

Boy, you’ve got to see what tomorrow brings

Sing it out

Girl, you’ve got to be what tomorrow needs

For every time that they want to count you out

Use your voice every single time you open up your mouth

[…]

Sing it out, boy they’re gonna sell what tomorrow means

Sing it out, girl before they kill what tomorrow brings

You’ve got to make a choice

If the music drowns you out

And raise your voice

Every single time they try and shut your mouth

[…]

Sing it for the boys

Sing it for the girls

Every time that you lose it sing it for the world

Sing it from the heart

Sing it till you’re nuts

Sing it out for the ones that’ll hate your guts

Sing it for the deaf

Sing it for the blind

Sing about everyone that you left behind

Sing it for the world

So, Percival, Percival, Percival, where do I begin? Percival, as has been often established, is the Himbo. Not A Himbo as arthuriana has…….a multitude of himbos, but THE himbo, the baddest bitch, THE Himbo to End All Himbos, One Himbo to Rule Them All. But like, give the kid a little slack, he’s what? A baby. And like…god, it hurts because Percival….Percival GREW on his quest, but it wasn’t…it wasn’t a natural progression of days turned weeks transformed into months to years and decades, stacked neatly upon each other like stone on stone to build a dazzling monument of his accomplishments, deeds, and failures. Instead, it was the kind of growth found in abnormality, forced, and unforgivable – Percival remains a duality: his innocence and curiosity is palpable until his death, and yet he’s on this quest, this truly…awful quest when you think about it – searching for an item in which the majority of the Round Table hasn’t even SEEN, a fool’s errand, a luckless rabbit chase, and the only thing that can be promised at the end of such a fruitless task is death and dishonor. The former is achieved, the latter isn’t – and yet, Percival is probably the person in the Grail Trio whose honor is perpetually on the line.

When you think about quests (stereotypically) or whatever, it’s like…some kind of grand thing right? Like, this is the culmination of what your hero is striving for, what they’ve been trained for, what they’ve been dreaming of, this tale of noble valor to inspire and to carry us through. But, Percival is…Percival is in NO way a likely hero to any tale. Percival is known AS the fool, Percival makes mistakes time after time partly due to the fact that he doesn’t catch on to what’s going on around him nor can he read the mood, he let’s the Grail and the Fisher King slip through his fingers, his mother dies, on the quest, his SISTER dies, and out of their little trio, Galahad mentions his upcoming demise which must have been terrifying to Percival. In this world, Percival only has Bors and Galahad left, the rest of the Round Table doesn’t matter, the rest of the world doesn’t matter, all it is is Bors and Galahad and Percival against the world, against all odds, and if – if the best knight in the land is to die, then what will be of Percival? Oh god, I wrote this to like…distract myself from some Lancelot/Gawain mcrthuriana asks but I’m getting sad over Percival iaosjfdoasidja

Percival may not be the hero of it, not truly – Bors, the mind, and Galahad, the soul, but Percival is the heart. They’re a very unlikely trio and that’s part of why I adore them so much — they’ve “got to see what tomorrow brings / […] be what tomorrow needs” as they ARE the only ones who can truly complete the Grail Quest, a daunting task when ⅔ of the company are…licheral children. (I think Val has art with Bors having those child leashes with Galahad and Percival?? Val am I hallucinating or…) “Sell what tomorrow means / […] before they kill what tomorrow brings” is supposed to be a reference to the utter…sheer ridiculousness of this quest, chasing after a holy object bestowed upon God and subsequently taken away from Camelot’s hands due to the the degrading, sinful nature of Camelot, due to how already the Round Table and Arthur’s kingdom is beginning to show cracks in the ivory. The fact that Percival is part of a dying task, a doomed task, a task in which death is promised, and in which even Percival must have known deep down, a fool’s errand. However, Percival still remains optimistic in light of this – but he makes mistakes which cost him dearly (and which people make fun of him for >://). In regards to the Fisher King and Percival not asking after the Grail in that context like – he was Minding His Own Business! He DID want to ask about it but he was warned against opening his mouth and saying whatever came bubbling up from his mind, he was following instructions of his superiors – in fact, while Percival does not “use your voice every single time you open up your mouth” and that is what “gets” him into trouble (which I still think is bullshit lmao). The chorus is supposed to represent what Percival ultimately gives up (“sing it for the ones that’ll hate your guts” and “sing about everyone that you left behind”). Percival is YOUNG, he joins the Round Table to the amazement of everyone by killing that one knight that was being annoying as hell (does anyone remember his name??), and toss in the fact that HE, this knight that everyone thinks is a dumbass, is just a little kid, has no experience under his belt really, who is not as renowned as Sir Bors or as pure and powerful as Galahad GETS to go on the quest and succeeds where so many have failed? That MUST have caused resentment among the rank of knights – the fact that this unknown kid succeeds where so many names like Lancelot and Gawain have failed. Those that Percival left behind – his mother and sister are collateral damage, as well as the fact that Percival can NEVER return to his old life, can never return to Camelot, his life ends with the Grail, and his only place of belonging is by the side of Bors and Galahad. There is nothing else, there is no one else, there is no place else – and Percival KNOWS this, he swears to find the Grail, he swears to make things right, he swears to “fix” his wrongs, his misdemeanor, his sin. “Sing it for the world” is for Camelot itself – the Grail is gone from Camelot due to the amount of sin and disgrace that bleeds through Camelot’s streets, it’s inhabitants, the bed of the Queen, the growing distrust and unease among Arthur’s knights, and Percival is on a quest FOR this world of knighthood that he was a part of for only a brief period of time. So many people brush Percival aside as standing in Galahad’s shadow, and that MAY be true, but despite that Percival remains constant in his orbit, shaky but unfaltering and striding towards what awaits at the end.

Cleaned-up corporation progress

Dying in the process

Children that can talk about it

Living on the railways

People moving sideways

Sell it till your last days

Buy yourself a motivation

Generation Nothing

Nothing but a dead scene

Product of a white dream

I am not the singer that you wanted

But a dancer

I refuse to answer

Talk about the past, sir

Wrote it for the ones who want to get away

Keep running

God…ok..this was…supposed to be in reference to the mindfuck of the Grail quest – Galahad and Percival (probably not Bors) are starry-eyed children (Percival more so than Galahad), and they are on this holy quest in which, at the start, so many well known and beloved and renowned knights are on. But then, people start dying – knights disappear, women and children die, and it’s no longer lighthearted, no longer TRULY a fantasy come true. The progress that Percival makes is built upon the dead, “living on the railways / people moving sideways / sell it till your last days”, Percival journeys throughout the Continent to far off lands, far away from anything he could have ever DREAMT of, meets a variety of people and learns of customs, of languages, of joy, of pain, of love, but the only motivation that he can hold onto is to rectify his mistake and the love he has with Bors and Galahad. He’s part of the “generation Nothing” (think about how many knights just..fucking died not even getting halfway as far TO the Grail) and the promise at the end is nothing but a “dead scene”. Percival is NOT “the singer that you wanted / but a dancer” – Galahad is the singer, Galahad is the one who truly achieves and ascends, but he never would have made it without Percival’s aid and assistance, Percival is the accompaniment, he dances to Galahad’s song and rhythm, and undoubtedly Galahad would have made it without him, but it would have been a far more painful journey, a far more lonelier journey, and far colder. Percival dies at the end too, a hermit in a far off land, knowing that the Grail can and will never return to Arthur’s court, that the splendor of Camelot which he must have heard so many times about as a child is cracking and crumbling and Percival cannot do anything about it, cannot do anything to help, cannot bare to do it. He honors Galahad, he honors the Grail, he honors it all despite the fact that no one truly honored him, and he keeps running into devotion, into something that is slightly more concrete than Camelot, into the smoke and the mystery, desperate to hold onto something now that everything is gone. He refuses to “talk about the past” and “keeps running”, struggling to find a ledge, anything to hold onto. And in the end, does anyone sing for Percival? Sing about his deeds? Sing about what he has done and what he has failed to do? Percival exists in this limbo – he is Chosen to chase after the Grail, to see the Grail, to bathe in it’s light, but he is also perpetually existing in Galahad’s shadow much like Lancelot, but while Lancelot shines brightly on his own when Galahad is covered and gone, Percival REQUIRES that light to survive. Percival has to “be what tomorrow needs” even if that tomorrow never ultimately comes for him.

More MCRthuriana analysis here

#ok so like. ngl when i chose this song i was like (: this is an upbeat song! and percival is babey so it works #but now im like...fuckign sad over percival siodjfoasidjfaso #PERCY THANKS FOR SENDING THIS IN <33333 I HOPE U ENJOY THIS #mcrthuriana #mcrthuriana analysis

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makeste · 5 years

Text

some asks about BnHA 241 and 240 and then some random other asks

I agree with this completely, anon (especially given his attitude throughout the rest of the chapter), but I didn’t edit my initial response since I think there’s a good likelihood that he still deadpanned the line despite being 100% sincere. one could say he was Accidentally Sarcastic. anyways yeah, Todoroki Shouto is a disaster more at 11.

(but also, he’s totally right and Bakugou is in full-blown denial over their blossoming friendship. because he already decided that they’re Not Friends, and thus he has to actively work to maintain that status now. which Todoroki is making very difficult these days! can you fucking do your part to keep the fucking rivalry going, Icy-Hot?? can you at least try?? why does he have to do all the work. sometimes he forgets for a moment and Todo catches him off guard and he responds normally without thinking and doesn’t realize it until later, and god. why is everything and everyone so stupid.)

I have not forgotten (though I did mix up Pixie-Bob with Mandalay though woop)! and that annoyed me too. we only have like six female pros out there as it is. why do half of them (looking at you too, Midnight) have to be mildly sex-crazed. I know it’s not serious and they’re not actually being serious, but still, is it really asking so much to get some female pros whose eccentricities are less specifically tailored to common male fantasies. you’re a fucking hero Pixie-Bob! you’re a fucking earthbender and you’re hot as heck. why are you so worried about not being able to Get A Man. with Mt. Lady it at least fits more with her general personality from what we’ve seen, I guess. anyways, y’all know I love like 98% of this series, but this is part of the 2%, so. it is what it is.

Tomura is Endgame Thanos, a.k.a. the most sinister and most genuinely frightening of the Thanoses. this really isn’t on track to end well sob.

ah, my bad. (regardless, it was still dramatic af.)

I think she’s a six-year-old (?? she seems six-ish, idk) girl who was terrified of her father and trying to stay under his radar (which was frankly the smart thing to do based on what we’ve seen), and was trying to teach her younger brother how to do the same, and I don’t blame her at all for throwing Tenko under the bus (if that’s indeed what happened); I’m sure she just panicked and didn’t mean it. she’s just a kid. -- was just a kid. anyways she was super cute and would have made a fucking awesome hero, and her death is easily the one I’m still the most raw about out of that whole fucking nightmare. I’m not getting over that. I want her to still be alive; at one point I was convinced of a conspiracy theory that AFO had secretly spared her too (because two Shimura heirs to manipulate are better than one), and Tomura only believed that she was dead due to his fragmented memories. but that seems less likely post-chapter 236.

so yeah, I’m still very upset about this. she was good and kind and loved her brother and had a lot of spirit and she did not even remotely deserve what happened to her.

thank you so much!! one of the best parts of fandom is interacting with other people and reading everyone’s different takes and theories. lord knows I miss a lot of stuff when I read, even when I’m trying very hard to pay attention. so I love when other people point stuff out and bring up ideas I hadn’t thought about.

also! without exception, every single person I’ve ever interacted with in this fandom on tumblr has been polite and courteous and civil as fuck, even on the occasions when we disagree, and I absolutely can’t take credit for that. people are just cool. so thank you everyone. (and particular shoutout to @thequietmanno1, who for some reason I can’t tag, but whom this ask is almost certainly referring to specifically.)

lmao anon this made my fucking day. thank you!!

all right, here goes!

a) this is possible for sure in that as a rule, I never put anything past AFO, and I don’t doubt for a second he’d be capable of this. but, it would kind of suck though. specifically it would suck for Tomura, who’s only just starting to come into his own at long last, and who has gone through quite a lot to get to this point. like, that would be devastating to see him reduced to a literal puppet after all of that. and if it did happen, I don’t know what the odds would be of him actually being “saved” after that (All Might at least would try, but I can’t see anyone else being concerned enough to bother. well except for the rest of the League, come to think of it. that could be interesting), and I’d be really sad if that ended up being how he went out. these things usually don’t end up working out too well for the body snatchee.

plus, this also hinges on whether or not AFO is capable of transferring his quirk to Tomura’s body. if not, there’s no way he’d take the tradeoff, regardless of how powerful Tomura’s own quirk has become at this point. that would just be a really bad deal. like trading the cow for beans, except these ones aren’t even magic beans, just like. normal beans. but if he does have a way of transferring the AFO quirk, then yeah. although he could take anyone’s body then if that was the case, and I can think of a few targets who just might be even more tempting than his protege. All Might’s protege, for one. ...you know what, this line of thinking is starting to get a little too horrifying so let’s move on to the other theory lol.

(b) a few people have mentioned the Shimura Momo theory to me, but to be totally honest, I can’t see much of a logical basis for it other than them bearing a slight resemblance and having similar hairstyles. Inko has also been brought up as potentially being related to Nana for the same reasons. it’d be cool, no doubt, but for me, I need more evidence than just that. I just don’t see how this would advance the plot or the characters’ storylines in any meaningful way. I guess it could potentially tie Momo in more to the central plot, but it’d be kind of a weird way to do it, idk.

then again I’m one to talk, because until fairly recently I was on board with Hagakure of all people turning out to be a Shimura (Hana, to be specific). she’s the traitor, she’s invisible, we never did find out what Hana’s quirk was, and this would mean that Hana was still alive this whole time which would be GREAT, because seriously fuck you Horikoshi!! but yeah that doesn’t seem likely now either. dammit.

anyway, so I’ll just say that both of these theories are possible, but for me personally, in order to be sold on a specific theory I need to be able to see how it logically fits within the storyline and how it moves the story forward. like, Dabi being Todoroki Touya is something I’m 100% on board with, because that’s an established mystery in the series (who is Touya, what happened to him, who is Dabi, etc.), and Dabi fits into place with the evidence we have, and it gives us a lot of Todoroki drama and gives Endeavor and Shouto a personal connection to the Leagu... Pliff. but for something like the Momo theory, I would need there to be some indication that there’s a third sibling we don’t know about, and some hinting about there being more to Momo’s past than we know, and right now I don’t see either of those things, so it’s hard to get on board. hopefully that makes sense.

anon I really like that you phrased this as an inevitability lol. (and I am 100% on board.)

assuming this happens at the very end of the series, I like to think Tomura and the rest of his gang will manage to “escape” the heroes (“oh no... Tomura... he’s getting away... this is awful... somebody stop him” meanwhile no one is making even the slightest effort to move lol), at which point they will live the rest of their lives happily ever after as Lovable Outlaws and All-Around Scamps. like, maybe they’ll still commit some crimes, but they won’t be like serious crimes or anything. they’ll have more of a Guardians of the Galaxy vibe, maybe. I want them to be happy and I don’t want them to go to jail even though they’re teeeeeeeechnically murderers, I GUESS (look, nobody’s perfect!!). but maybe they steal the occasional priceless artifact and inadvertently wind up saving the world. seems like the best compromise.

lol I don’t know what this means either. like in the way a Youtuber has their own brand?? or like Frito-Lays. idk all I really do is talk a lot about an extremely popular manga, so I don’t think that’d really count?? I’m fine with this just being a little tumblr discussion blog haha.

so I’ve gotten like a half dozen asks and messages about this lol. (someone actually told me a very specific detail about said past! so just to remind everyone, I’m spoiler-free on Vigilantes right now guys, I’m sorry. I know it’s no fun.) I regret to admit that I still have not yet gotten around to it. I don’t know what it is, but I’m having a lot of trouble reading new stuff right now. I tried to start the other new BnHA spin-off which @temperatezone told me about (and btw no I did not know about it, so thank you!!) (and also! BnHA has THREE SEPARATE FUCKING SPIN-OFFS right now, how fucking crazy is that. like, I don’t want to accuse a manga series of literally trying to take over the world, but!! seriously that’s just insane), which has an amazing premise, but I haven’t had time/been in the right mindset to start that yet either. it sucks. I’m sorry. I’m working on it. ;;

press f to pay respects to what could have been, guys. they literally had it all. class, an ironic acronym, you name it. and now it’s just PLF. the Iron Patriot of villain organization names.

#bnha #bnha 241 #bnha 240 #shigaraki tomura #all for one #yaoyorozu momo #shimura hana #todoroki shouto #bakugou katsuki #bnha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #asks #anon asks

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wombtangclanaz · 4 years

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“Not everyone can be Russ”

So I’m not really sure where to start a whole ass blog but since my rants are constantly triggered by random content I see, I'm gonna stick to what I know and not try to psych myself out and delay this blog further. So we’ll jump right in. I have to shoutout Kato on the Track for always validating the things I think I'm learning on my own, and for packaging those lessons into words that make sense and that I can share with others. If you’re not familiar with Kato, Dame Mec, DJ Pain, Sound Advice, Music Entrepreneur Club and so many other local platforms/people of the sort, you really playin yourself, PERIODT. These guys really care about layin it out for you in a meaningful way which takes a lot of work. so WATCH AND LISTEN. So, between yesterday and today, Kato posted a few short videos talking about the subjects we are about to explore. Until I can figure out how to attach said videos, go watch them on IG @katoproducer. The one posted today is titled “Not everyone can be Russ” and I feel that on SUCH a spiritual level. If you’re familiar with Russ at all, you can probably kinda guess what this is about. For those not familiar, Russ is a rapper/song writer/producer/author etc etc etc. who has gained some big recognition for his blueprint as an “independent” artist. I personally don't really listen to Russ or closely follow his career, however his relevance in the industry is undeniable. if you watch any interview with Russ, its clear he's garnered fame by figuring out how to be an independent powerhouse, more or less. (Admittedly, the technical “BUSINESS” side of the industry is still something I lack a lot of knowledge in cause it involves politics that can be annoying, however I'm always tryna find people to teach me more things. If this is you, tap inwardly) But basically, the point Kato is trying to make is that its not necessarily better to be doing EVERYTHING yourself with zero out-sourcing/collaboration. We see this A LOT on applications for Tucson Hip Hop Festival (shoutout THHF fam I love you guys) It seems like young artists are quick to tell us about how they rap AND PRODUCER/WRITE/RECORD/ENGINEER all their own music in their closet. it seems to be a point made to try to impress, when really it can be a red flag. This might be just my opinion, however I have a lot of conversations about this with the mentors I keep close to me and they seem to share my sentiments. The problem with doing EVERYTHING yourself is that it can quickly create a “master of none” situation. The beautiful part of todays music industry is that the technology to do the basic things yourself and is mostly free and at your fingertips. Every kid with an iphone5 can make a rap song. This is one of the reasons that hip hip is one of the most popular genres in the world right now. With popularity comes intense levels of over-saturation. You have to focus your talents and efforts and TIME. If you’re a rapper SLASH producer, ask yourself which one you're more passionate about, which one would be devastating to leave behind? Now, this doesn't mean you’re forever disqualified from making beats in the future or trying your hand at rapping. I think a big factor in a hip hop career these days is TIMING. Take note that Russ released 11 albums and 87 singles CONSECUATIVELY AND FREE OF CHARGE before he really got meaningful recognition with Soundcloud. Not to mention the fact that producers and DJ’s are more recognized and showcased as separate entities, locally and nationally. A big reason is the fact that social media made branding so easy and mostly free. Now, if you’re someone who just likes to experiment and create music and try your hand at rapping, DO NOT LET ME DISCOURAGE YOU. Everyones gotta figure things out, its important that you’re exploring and creating DESPITE everything. Consistency is key. Do not let me dictate your dreams. HOWEVER, if you're looking to take the next step and actually pursue a career, this is advice you may want to take to heart. It sounds counter-intuitive but the best way to gain success as an INDEPENDENT artist is COLLABORATION WITH YOUR PEERS. Another point Kato makes is how up-and-coming rappers are immediately trying to work with artists or entities 3-4 steps ahead of them. Theres many rappers who try to afford themselves the PRIVILEGE of skipping necessary steps in their career. Most notably the LOCAL step. I see so many rappers following this romanticized narrative of being an INDEPENDANT artist, fuck a label got it out the dirt do it all on my own yadda yadda, but are so quick to bash or dismiss their local scene that they have yet to even explore, all the while on social media spamming every single major record label and tagging every legendary rapper they can think of in every single irrelevant thing they post. I can't make any sense of that honestly. I CONSTANTLYYYYYYY have kids reaching out to me sayin they wanna legitimize their local scene, PUT ON for their city, put their state ON THE MAP, help build their community, PUSH THE CULTURE, be socially active and change lives etc etc etc. and have never been to a SINGLE local event (even as a supporter), can't name a SINGLE leader or influential person in their hip hop community or a SINGLE local rapper they admire(who aren't just one of their homies). I LOVE that energy and passion. but without the KNOWLEDGE of what's going on around you, and the people laying down the roadwork for you, you look low-key disrespectful and very under informed. I mean, this is quite literally the bane of my existence. If you're involved in organizing shows or events or platforms on any level, you know how many people will hit you up to be on every single show/festival but HAVE not and WILL not ever attend or support otherwise. I'm sorry but there's no other way around it. I can speak for the whole state when I say that there are locally conscience artists that quite literally “put on” for their community every weekend and have for years and years. if you message me on IG for coverage on my platform and we have 2 mutual friends, THATS A HUGE RED FLAG. There are many experienced and talented people around you who want nothing more than to provide opportunities and support to pass the torch to the next generation. Its okay to reach out for support and ask for help as long as you’re worthy of it. Dame Mec always says that if you’re reaching out to someone ASKING for something (no matter how small) you gotta make sure you’re working JUST as hard or ALMOST as hard as the people you’re reaching out to. “CLOUT” does not exist if you’re actually worthy of the support, it just comes and it lasts longer. Building in your local scene can really boost the longevity of your career and helps you find “success” in unexpected places. And maybe i’m the one romanticizing now, but asking for something should not be your first contact with said person. Your local networking, knowledge and SUPPORT OF OTHERS should not come solely from YOUR OWN desire for success, wealth or influence. It should come from your utter love and uncompromising passion for HIP HOP and every avenue of culture that goes along with it. You should already be attending hip hop events and having hip hop experiences, not because you decide you're a rapper one day, but because its the thing you enjoy the most and absolutely cannot see your life without it. Sometimes I let myself get annoyed by the lack of knowledge and lack of willingness to learn that I see plaguing hip hop today and I always remember what one of my homies/mentors always says when I wanna talk shit; “their heart just isn't in it” (Pike obvi) and that's just so damn true. If your heart isn't in it, everyone around you is gonna figure that out way before you do. Don't let your ego ruin your career before you even have one

#hiphop lilgueratherapplug womeninhiphop azhiphop tucsonhiphop localrappers hiphopheads

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homespork-review · 5 years

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Spork Introduction

CHEL: Hi! I go by Chel, they or she pronouns, and I’m the one spearheading this project. I still like at least a fair percentage of Homestuck, but after the ending disappointed me a great deal, I got bitter, and when Hussie pissed me off further by Godwinning himself, I decided to do something about it. I’m no longer angry about it, but I felt I’d benefit from picking out what I hate from what I love so I can focus on the latter without annoyance getting in the way, and also to benefit my own writing efforts.

BRIGHT: Howdy! I’m Bright, and I got into Homestuck fairly recently. After ploughing through the archive and digesting for a while, I realised that I was thoroughly annoyed by how something enjoyable had fallen apart so comprehensively. I am looking forward to the time-honoured practice of ripping the story apart to identify its weak points and shout at them.

FAILURE ARTIST: Hello, I’m Failure Artist (call me FA for short), she/her/herself pronouns, and I’m so old-school they burned the school down. I was introduced to Homestuck via Something Awful’s Webcomic thread. I checked the old mspadventures.com site and the latest update was [S] John: Bite Apple. After watching that bizarre piece of animation, I had to know what the hell happened before then. I found I enjoyed the wit of the comic though I didn’t really care much about the plot. It was only when Act 5 came around that I became a serious fan. I currently have 122 Homestuck works on Archive of Our Own. I have a lot of free time, you see. I am very disappointed in how Homestuck ended. Possibly there was no completely satisfactory way it could end but it still could have been better. I feel like Hussie was a juggler who threw a lot of balls into the air and ignored them as they fell to the ground and some fans think not catching them was a master move since you’d expect he’d try to catch at least one. Sadly, lots of the problems with the ending are embedded deep within the canon.

TIER: Hi hi. I am Tier, a very late newcomer to the wonderful world of Homestuck (2018 reader!) and average fan overall. I love this webcomic to bits, but the low points are deep and I enjoy seeking out what the heck went wrong. Not particularly analytical myself, hope that's cool!

CHEL: Cool by us! We’ve already done plenty of analysing before we started, as you may realise from my Tumblr’s “homestuck ending hate” tag (at @chelonianmobile).

FAILURE ARTIST: But let’s put that aside for a moment and talk about the good stuff.

Homestuck is incredibly innovative. It is the first true webcomic. It’s not just a print comic posted online. It uses not just still images and words but also animation, music, and interactive games.

Homestuck is the latest adventure in the series MS Paint Adventures. MS Paint Adventures started as a forum adventure. In forum adventures, the OP acts as a sort of Dungeon Master and other forum members give them prompts. Andrew Hussie’s previous works under MS Paint Adventures were Jailbreak (which is little more than Hussie dicking with the prompters in scatological ways), Bard’s Quest (Choose-your-own-adventure), and the actually-completed Problem Sleuth. Problem Sleuth lacks the music and animation and despite the weird physics shenanigans is a simpler story than Homestuck. The characters aren’t even two dimensional.

Homestuck (and the previous MS Paint Adventures minus Bard’s Quest) are set up like adventure games. Adventure games are where the player is a protagonist in a story and are usually focused on puzzle-solving though sometimes there’s combat. In the beginning, these games were purely text. The player would type what they wanted to do and the game would spout back text describing it - assuming the computer parser understood you.

CHEL: Oh god, I HATED that. I wasn’t around for the heyday but I’ve played a couple and

Pale Luna

was barely an exaggeration (horror warning).

FAILURE ARTIST: As graphics improved, adventure games started using them, but the commands were still in text. Only later was the point-and-click interface created and players didn’t have to guess what exact sentence the computer wanted them to type. Homestuck and the other MS Paint Adventures play with that frustration while paying tribute to the genre. The game within the comic uses RPG elements but the comic itself is set up like those good ol’ adventure games. In the beginning, Homestuck was guided by commands from forum members. Even after he closed the suggestion box, he used memes and fanon created by readers.

CHEL: How good an idea this was varies, as we’ll be showing.

We probably don’t need to describe Homestuck much more. Everyone here who hasn’t read it will doubtless have heard of it. Almost everyone with a Tumblr will have seen fanart, almost anyone at a convention will have seen cosplay. Shoutouts have been made to it in professional works such as the cartoon Steven Universe, and the Avengers fandom latched onto “caw caw motherfuckers” as a catchphrase for Hawkeye to the point that it’s now often forgotten it didn’t originate from there.

FAILURE ARTIST: The Homestuck fandom term “sadstuck” for depressing stories/headcanons somehow leaked into other fandoms. Using second-person is actually cool now and not just for awkward reader fics. Astrology will never be the same again.

CHEL: Now, in the interests of fairness, we will say that when Homestuck is good, it’s amazing, and it’s good often. The characters at least start out appealing and are all immediately distinguishable; even with the typing quirks stripped, it’s easy to tell who said what. The magic system is one of the coolest I’ve ever seen, who doesn’t love classpecting themselves and their faves? Hussie also shows a lot of talent for the complex meta and time travel weirdness, and it is fascinating to watch a timeline thread unfurl. And whatever else one says, it’s a fascinating story that’s captivated millions. I think it is deserving of its title as a modern classic.

However, as the years have passed, we have ended up noticing problems, big and small, and they nagged at us until we decided it had to be dissected. Our intention here isn’t to tear apart something we loathe entirely. It’s to take a complex work and pick out what works from what doesn’t. As I said, when Homestuck is good, it’s very very good. But when it’s bad, we get problems of every scale from various offensive comments to dragging pace to characters ignoring problems and solutions right under their noses to an absolute collapse of every theme and statement the comic stood for before.

The comic is ludicrously long; eight thousand pages, or thereabouts, to be specific. Officially one of the longest works of fiction in the English language, in fact. Naturally, we can’t riff that word by word in any timeframe short of decades, and we can’t include every picture, even if that was permitted under copyright law. Instead, as comics have been done here before, we’ll recap most of the time, and include sections of dialogue and pictures when particularly relevant to a point.

Here are the counts we’ll be using, possibly to be added to later if we find we forgot anything. Most of these counts will only start to climb post-Act 5, but we’ll be keeping track of them from the beginning. Most of them could have been fixed with a decent editor, which is sadly a hazard of webcomics, but still frustrating to read.

TIER: Note: we started this endeavor months before the thought of a "technically not but still we'll count it" set of canon epilogues were a twinkle in the eyes of the fandom. That is, by the way, a whole 'nother can of worms that will be dealt with at a later date if that ever comes around. We're judging Homestuck the Webcomic as a whole, so no after the credits stuff is to be noted for whatever reason.

ALL THE LUCK - Vriska Serket constantly gets a pass or gets favored over every other character. This count is added to every time she pulls some shenanigans with which others wouldn’t get away. ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY? - Sometimes it’s not entirely clear whether a thing is supposed to be taken seriously or not. We don’t require hand-holding through every joke, but when, for example, we’re supposed to take one instance of violence seriously while a similar case is supposed to be funny, this count goes up. CALL CPA PLEASE - Instances of creepy sexual behaviour (and perhaps particularly gratuitous acts of violence) from the thirteen-year-old cast. Now, mileage may vary on this one. We won’t pretend that thirteen-year-olds are perfect pure angels, especially thirteen-year-olds growing up in what is openly supposed to be a nightmarish dystopia. However, when full pages focus on said behaviour, there comes a point of it being very uncomfortable to read. Clarification: does not refer to cases where the adults do something heinous, this is strictly when the kids do. CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS - When an offensive joke or comment is made, particularly when not justified by the personality of the character involved, or presented in the narration as being okay. GET ON WITH IT! - When the pace drags. ‘Nuff said. Hazard of the format, but it makes archive bingeing very annoying. GORE GALORE - For unnecessary and/or excessive torture porn which is treated less seriously because it features troll characters, and therefore less “realistic” blood colours. HOW NOT TO WRITE A WEBCOMIC - When the comic does something mentioned in How Not To Write A Novel, and it isn’t justified by the webcomic format. HURRY UP AND DO NOTHING - Characters repeatedly neglect to do something about or even react to terrible happenings, either because they don’t care even if they should or they forget they have the capacity. Not necessarily anything to do with their magical powers, either - characters ignore personal problems that are right under their noses, too. IN HATE WITH MY CREATION - For reasons that are unclear, Hussie chose to create characters he apparently hated writing, or at least ignored in favour of others. Every time he’s clearly disrespecting one of his own characters, this goes up, whether it’s by nerfing their powers or changing their personalities. RELATIONSHIP GOALS? - Romantic relationships in particular get fumbled quite often. Ship Teasing is used with skill, but that skill tends to be lost when the characters actually hook up. Fumbled friendships and family relations can also come under this heading. SEND THEM TO THE SLAMMER - When characters other than Vriska get away with something morally questionable. Covers everything from sexual harassment to not trying to save people from the apocalypse. SOME OF MY BEST FRIENDS - Later on in Homestuck’s run, Hussie tried to make up for the offensive humour and casual -isms counted by Clockwork Problematykks above. How successful he was at this varied. This count goes up whenever an attempt at progressivism is waved in front of the reader but doesn’t stand up under scrutiny. WHAT IS HAPPENING?? - When the already confusing plot kicks it up a notch. Admittedly this is as much a selling point of the comic as it is an issue, but either way, we’re going to keep track. Points will be added to when it gets confusing, and taken away when a previous confusing thing is explained adequately. WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM - What is shown about Alternia repeatedly contradicts what we’re told about how different it is from Earth. For example, trolls still use heteronormative terms even after it’s established they reproduce bisexually, and the demonstration of the class structure doesn’t always add up. This count goes up every time that happens. It also goes up every time something happens which strongly implies Hussie was envisioning the human kids as white, despite his later claims that they were always supposed to be “aracial”, and every time their economic statuses don’t add up either.

#homespork #homestuck #review #literary critique #sporking #let's read #reread #homestuck meta

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twaaaaaa · 5 years

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Race report: Ironman 70.3 Augusta

This is the first race report I've written for a U.S.-based race since college. And like a true American, I'm going to do it using bullet points. (Get it? Because we have an uncontrollable gun violence problem here?)

Also, I apologize for the lack of pictures here. Tumblr doesn’t play nice with photos in the middle of text, and figuring out the HTML for it is too close to my real job to be enjoyable.

PART 1: THE LEAD-UP

This was the first race I've done in more than two-and-a-half years. I took a hiatus because of burnout and an international move, spent 2018 building up a base and really started training again this year.

Going into it, I felt I was adequately trained on the bike. I hadn't done enough long runs, but that was balanced out by the amazing speedwork I've put in. Shoutout to Gerald and the Tuesday morning track crew.

My swim is also at the best it's ever been, though that's not saying much.

The race was in Augusta, Georgia. I have a bit of a shameful history with it – I registered for it in college in 2011. And then midterms happened, so I couldn't make it. To date it's my only DNS. Consider this time grade forgiveness.

I flew out with a bunch of teammates from Triple Threat. It's such a delight to race with a supportive team like this. Many of them were doing their first half-Ironman. They're so cute when they're new.

I got into the rental car with my teammate, Ann, and it took five minutes before I hit the first complication for the weekend. As soon as the speedometer hit 65 mph, WHAPWHAPWHAPWHAPWHAP. Something on the front of the car was rattling. So we turned around and swapped it for a free upgrade to an SUV. Later, my coach would complain the same rental company was out of cars, and I'm partially to blame. Sorry, coach.

Most people paid $350 a night or so to stay at the host hotel. Screw that – do you know how much ice cream $350 can buy? The value inn a half-mile away had a soft bed, a warm shower and a stale continental breakfast. That's more how I roll.

Turns out the cheap hotel was ideally situated – two blocks away from the starting line, damn close to the transition check-in and right at the edge of the downtown area. No regrets.

Augusta is … not the most august location. It has a stench to it. From the river, I learned – the same river we were to start the day swimming in. Greeeeeat.

But at least it wasn't Waco.

We crowded into the Mellow Mushroom for dinner to give the newbies last-minute advice and reassurance. My advice in summary: it was going to be freaking hot, relax on the down-river swim and do a cannonball when you jump off the dock to start.

I found a Publix the day before the race! You have to understand what this means to a Floridian trapped in Texas. Texan friends, it's like finding a Whataburger and a Buc-ees next to each other in the middle of nowhere. Canadian friends, same but for Tim Horton's. UAE friends, imagine if a small town was entirely made out of malls. It just felt right.

I got my chicken tender PubSub and my guava pastries for maximum homeopathy to Florida Man. You could hear Jimmy Buffet playing in the background. Pitbull yodeled. The alligators lurking in the Savannah lifted their heads in praise. God shrugged and turned a blind eye. It was glorious.

At some point I bought a badass helmet with a visor that made me look like Judge Dredd. It was good for 15 minutes of confidence before Devon, who tests these things in a wind tunnel shamed me for it.

The morning of, we trudged down to transition for final prep and then made out way 1.2 miles upstream for the start. Three school buses were working as shuttles, but the line for them stretched almost as long as we'd have to walk.

Here's the nice thing about having a hotel next to the race start: instead of standing in line for the portable toilets before the start, you get to bask in the air conditioning and proper ventilation of your hotel room. Makes quite the difference.

This was my first time racing long-distance in a two-piece kit. I didn't realize you need to apply sunscreen to the small of your back, where the top rides up on the bike. This would later result in a sunburn tramp stamp.

PART 2: THE SWIM

The pros started off at 7:30 a.m., and us age groupers had to wait until 7:50 to start. Except it was a rolling start, with two people going off every three seconds. It took 90 minutes to get everyone in, as the sun rose ever higher.

I made friends with a guy in my age group while waiting in line (thanks to a fast seed time, we only ended up standing around for 35 minutes). His name was Houston, he told me, and he had roots around Delaware, Ohio. Sounded to me like he couldn't decide on a state. I declared I lived in Dallas and that made us rivals.

Oh buddy, you better believe I did a cannonball.

Augusta is a down-river swim. It ranges from easy to easiest, depending on the current. There are videos of them floating a coke bottle or bag of chips down the river and making the cutoff time. This year the current wasn't too swift, but a personal record was still a foregone conclusion.

I became best friends with some river weeds. Best friends hug each other and stick together, right?

I did not have to punch or shove anyone out of the way, thankfully. Guess all the breast strokers started behind me.

I popped out of the water in 33:49. That's a PR for me, but only enough to hit 67/135 in my age group. I aim for top 50% in the swim, so that was just baaaaarely acceptable.

3:55 T1, because I took some time to towel the grass off my feet before donning socks. This was not the most luxurious transition location.

PART 3: THE BIKE

My choice of a disc wheel and 50mm front was a good decision for the day. It wasn't too windy and the road conditions, while not amazing, were not enough to give me trouble. The 56-mile course starts off flat for 17 miles or so, then has a few hills, then goes back to mostly flat for the last 15.

Ten miles in or so I see a yellow jersey up ahead. Is that … yup, it's Houston. I ding my bell and whoop as I pass him.

Five miles later, I get passed by a dude in a yellow jersey. He waves back at me and compliments my helmet (yessss). We would continue to pass each other every few miles for the remainder of the ride. “Tag, you're it.”

Aid stations on the bike are chaotic. I've found the best way to let the volunteers know what you need is to roar it. It may scare the bejesus out of a middle schooler when some dude rides by on a spaceship-looking bike, points at her and screams “BANANA! BANANA!”, but that's part of the fun. Whatever gets me my potassium.

Nutrition-wise, I nailed it. The usual strategy of super-concentrating my electrolytes in one bottle and picking up water at each aid station worked perfectly. I head enough caffeinated gels to keep my energy going, and while I came close to cramping near the end of the run I never did.

I keep a bell on my aerobars, mostly because I don't want to waste the breath to yell “on your left” each time I pass someone. Because I'm a slow swimmer but a fast cyclist, and I pass a LOT of people.

You know what the bell is also useful for? Cheering a teammate on the other side of the road while your mouth is full of banana. You go, Jeff.

Years ago, star USF time trialist and all-around hammerhead borrowed my disc wheel and put an 11-23 cassette on it. I've never taken it off. You know what that cassette is good for? Flat land. You know what awaited me in the middle of the course? Not flat land.

In races, they say you only have so many “matches” to burn before your legs tire out on you. Most people burn their matches pushing up a steep hill or going fast near the end of the run. Me? I burn them to see if I can hit 40 mph going downhill. While screaming at the top of my lungs. I may not have the best time, but I'll be damned if I'm not having the most fun.

(Garmin reports my max speed was 40.1 mph. Yeeeeaaaahhhhhh.)

I RODE PAST A DUDE WITH A GOAT ON A LEASH.

Despite the hills, I managed to keep a steady heart rate for most of the bike course. Don't know about my power output because my P1 pedals have refused to play nicely for a while. I can finally send them in now that it's the offseason.

I'm happy to say I passed Houston a mile before the end of the bike. But I stopped for the bathroom in transition, so he still beat me to the run.

If there's no volunteer to jump out of the way of your flawless flying dismount, did it even happen? Conversely, if there's nobody around when you jump onto gravel in your socks, did you even scream?

Total bike time was 2:56:25, with a more than 19 mph average page. 57/135 for my age group – that's behind the upper-third that I aim for. I still have a ways to go to regain my bike strength.

PART 4: THE RUN. ALLEGEDLY.

By the time we got to the run, the sun was high in the sky and the ambient temperature was 95. With the humidity, it felt close to 99. A course record by a generous margin. Crap.

I caught Houston within the first mile, and for a while there were four of us 25-29 men within 15 seconds of each other. Every peer I passed got a fist-bump.

We had a nice chat for the next few miles as we admired the beautiful downtown course. It's a zig-zag through the street, with spectators lining the sidewalks. Many of them had water guns, hoses or sprinklers, and I love everyone who cooled us for a few precious seconds.

The very best, though, was the homeowner with a giant inflatable unicorn spouting water from its horn.

I was holding a steady heart rate and pace for the first four miles, but the heat got to me as it got to everyone. Houston dropped me at an aid station and went on to beat me by 20 minutes.

From then it was all about heat management. How much could I push myself before overheating and being forced to slow down? How much cold water could I take in? Was I balancing the right amount of liquid and electrolytes?

I began walking in the shade of every building and running to get to the next patch of shade faster. It served me decently for the rest of the race.

I came up on a cute girl around my age (they write it on your calf) and had fantasies of using a pickup line on her as I passed her. “Excuse me, can you remember this number for me? 727-555-1234.” Thank God I didn't, because a mile later she caught a second wind and dusted me. How humiliating would that have been?

After an hour or so I began to get some underarm chafing. I asked for a bit of sunscreen at an aid station and slapped it on. That hurt. Then the volunteer saw what I was doing: “You know we have Vaseline too, right?” Oh well, too late.

Speaking of which, the second-best sign on the course was “chafing the dream.”

The very best one, though, was a drawing of Marvel's Iron Man next to the words “MAKE STAN LEE PROUD.” At that point I was so worn down that I teared up a bit. And then I picked up my legs and ran for as long as my body would let me.

What stage of heat stroke is it when your body has no idea whether it's cold or hot anymore so it just tells you it's both? Because I had that starting around mile 8. Maintaining homeostasis is not one of my strong suits.

Three times I called out to the onlookers, “Hey man, can I pet your dog?” Three times I was denied. Augusta can burn in hell.

At some point around mile 10 (of 13) I did the math and realized I could still hit a sub-6-hour time if I pushed it. So began a frantic but calculated series of runs and walks.

Thank goodness I was in one of the run stages as I passed my coach and relay teammates on the sidelines. They got a decent picture of me – I'm only panting a little bit.

I made across the line with two minutes to spare. Then I grabbed a water and laid down under the pizza table with two other dudes. For 45 minutes. Good race.

Total run time was 2:20:39, and frankly I'm surprised it was that short. 53/135, which surprisingly was again better than my bike performance, comparatively. I blame my running coaches.

Total race time was 5:58:05. 53/135, which again isn't where I usually shoot for. But I knew I wouldn't hit the top third going into the race.

Total calorie burn for the day, according to Garmin: 5,200.

The overall goal of this race wasn't a time, but nor was it just a finish. It was to have my body do what I told it to – or at least what I could negotiate with it – without cramping, collapsing or bonking. And I did. I have my mojo back. The heat collapsed everyone's plan A, but I was able to pull off plan B without much of a struggle. I could not have done that a year ago.

Unfortunately, the deal with myself was that if I pulled this race off I'd sign up for another Ironman in fall 2020. So it's either Cozumel or Argentina for me next year. I'm going to try to enjoy my social life while I still can.

PART 5: THE AFTERMATH

I ran into Houston a bit past the pizza table and collapsed into the chair next to him. His mom and sister were there to cheer him in his first half-Iron race. He snuck the pizza and beer. Hooray for supportive families.

After collecting some teammates and nursing a pizza slice for an hour, I made my way to the rest of the team to yell at passers-by. And someone finally let me pet her dog. She was from Dallas – go figure.

The walk from my hotel to downtown takes ten minutes. The post-race walk from downtown to my hotel takes 30. The difference is staggering.

I came back to my second batch of car trouble: someone had backed my rental in the parking lot. No note or anything – just a bunch of scrapes and misaligned panels.

I talked to the hotel manager, who earned a great Booking.com review into pulling the security footage. We watched as a family three doors down from me backed their car straight into mine, got out, saw no witnesses and sped off. Thank God for my credit card's insurance coverage.

The geniuses were staying through the end of the week – the hotel had their driver's license and video evidence of them leaving the scene of an accident. Easiest police report the cop had ever filed.

As I was packing up the next morning, and after the policeman had talked to her, the woman approached me apologizing. I shrugged and wished her best of luck against the insurance and rental car companies. If I have to deal with this load of paperwork, so does she.

In the day after the race, I polished off three meals' worth of leftovers – including two different pizzas. Between those, the finish-line pizza and the week of carb-loading, I never wanted to eat another slice in my life.

That resolve didn't even last three days.

I bonded with a fellow athlete seated behind me on the plane ride back. Turns out his carry-on was not a suitcase, but a reusable bag of fresh vegetables and a half-eaten box of Life cereal. The absolute legend.

I learned later that day that over the weekend my Abu Dhabi friend Leanne had taken fourth place in Ironman Cozumel that same weekend in her debut as a pro. But I didn’t pee myself on the bike, so who really came out ahead there?

So now I'm in the off season. It's nice to get eight hours of sleep most nights. I'll be tweaking my workout schedule to build a base over the fall and winter, and then it's back to training. I'm looking at one or two half-Irons and a full next year, plus whatever local sprints and olympics bubble up.

When I came back to the US two years ago, I left important parts of my identity behind. Bunches of friends, a journalism career, my expat status. And triathlons were placed on hold. This past season has made me feel more like myself again, and it's a comforting feeling after so much doubt and uncertainty. It's good to be in love with the sport again after a few years of burnout.

The hardest part of the next year will be persuading my mom not to disown me if I get an Ironman tattoo after next fall. Wish me luck.

#Race report #Ironman 70.3 #Augusta #Georgia #Triathlon

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detoxdolan · 6 years

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Another Late Tag

🎀Rules: Answer these 85 statements about yourself, then tag 20 people some of your faves.

I am aware that this is hella long and hella late, but I appreciate being tagged in these things and I love learning about all you lovely people in the fandom.

ALRIGHT LETS GET ITTTTT.

Last: 1. Drink - H2O bro 2. Phone call - I got a phone call from an unknown number while I was at work, so I called back and a random lady with a British accent answered and said she never called me??? 🤔 3. Text message - I’m currently absent from a game, so one of my teammates is filling me in on all the tea I’m missing. Apparently there’s beef between teams. 👀 4. Song you listened to - Praise You by Fatboy Slim (it was in a playlist, let me live.) 😂 5. Time you cried - uhhh Monday (today is Wednesday). So basically two days ago. 😅

Ever: 6. Dated someone twice? - Yes haha 7. Kissed someone and regretted it - Definitely. 8. Been cheated on - stealing this quote from @spiffydolan 👉 “technically yes, but really no” 9. Lost someone special - Yes 😳 10. Been depressed - ..Yes. 11. Gotten drunk and thrown up - haha never 😁😁

3 Favorite colours: 12. Neutrals - Black, white, and beige 13. Blue!!! 14. Trendy Colours - so your basic olive green, millennial pink, maroon etc etc

In the last year (2017) have you: 15. Made new friends - I made this account in December and made so many friends on here that I’m so grateful for every day 😭AND THAT’S JUST ON TUMBLR. I feel like I branched out a lot this year and met so many cool ppl. 2017 was a good year. 16. Fallen out of love - Yes..and tbh it’s one of the worst feelings ever. 17. Laughed until you cried - not something I do often, but I think so. 18. Found out someone was talking about you - haha all the time #TalkShitGetHit 19. Met someone who changed you - Yes. 20. Found out who your friends are - “When people show you their true colours, believe them.” 👉 I feel like we all know the truth about who people are and its just a matter of whether we want to admit it to ourselves or not. There are a lot of people in my life that I know shouldn’t be here but I don’t have the heart to let go of just yet..it’s a work in progress. 21. Kissed someone on your Facebook friends list - uhhhhh probably LOL

General: 22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know irl - tbh, I tried to do a facebook cleanse and remove anyone I didn’t associate with in real life but that lasted for like 2 seconds LMAO 23. Do you have any pets - I have a weenie dog 😊 24. Do you want to change your name - I don’t quite like my name, but I don’t think anything else would match me??? 25. What did you do for your last birthday - I went to a club with my 2 best friends and we ran into some friends and celebrated all together. Then I had a intimate little dinner with all my closest friends and family. OH I also cut all my hair off - so I guess there’s that 😂😂 Best birthday I’ve had so far. 26. What time did you wake up today - 7:45 am, even though my alarm was set for 8:45 🙄 27. What were you doing at midnight last night - Sleeping, most likely. Or finishing up a FaceTime sesh with @silly-silly-fangirl 28. What is something you can’t wait for - Everything and anything involving @silly-silly-fangirl #Toronto2k18 30. What are you listening to right now - Teen Rocket by Tigers Jaw (against my better judgement, this is for a music challenge) 31. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom - I..don’t think so? 32. Something that’s getting on your nerves - Haha a lot of things. Uhh lets see: My boss, my friends, negative ppl EVERYWHERE 33. Most visited website - Probably Tumblr or YouTube 34. Hair color - Chestnut Brown. I know this because when I used to colour pictures as a kid with pencil crayon, I would use the Chestnut Brown pencil crayon for my hair. 😂😂 35. Long or short hair - In the aforementioned birthday question, I cut all my hair off, but its growing back. 36. Do you have a crush on someone - Lol I have like..a crush for every occasion. I have a work crush, a school crush, a basketball crush..literally a crush for every place I go. 37. What do you like about yourself - Turning Pain into Power, Positivity, and Patience. 4 P’s 🙏

38. Want any piercings? - I was thinking about getting my seconds because literally everyone has so many badass piercings and I dont (my parents would kill me). 39. Blood type - B positive! I got tested at a lil set up at my school for blood donation. DONATE BLOOD YALL!!!! Seriously, you could save like 3 lives from that ish. 40. Nicknames - Ni, Nina, Nitts/Mama Nitts (why), Nids, NiNi, T, Nitty, Littya etc etc 41. Relationship status - Single and satisfied ✌️ 42. Zodiac - Leo ♌ 43. Pronouns - she/her 44. Favorite TV shows - Jane the Virgin, How To Get Away With Murder, Riverdale (these are just recents) 45. Tattoos - Honey....would u put a bumper sticker on a bentley 46. Right or left handed - righty is tighty ✌️ ✌️ 47. Ever had surgery - I’ve had my wisdom teeth removed, but I wasn’t put to sleep. I had local anesthetic and I was awake for the whole thing, IT WAS FUCKING BRUTAL I cried the whole time the dental assistant had to wipe my tears throughout the procedure lmao 48. Piercings - I have a tongue ring 😜🤘 49. Sport - Cheerleading 🎀 50. Vacation - Tryna reach NOLA for Mardi Gras next year you already knowwww @spiffydolan 🎉🎉 51. Trainers - wut

More general: 52. Eating - either way too much or not enough and no in between 53. Drinking - Water. Always water. I got some free coconut water at work though, so I mean that was pretty cool. 54. I’m about to watch - Riverdale? idk I got a lot of shows to catch up on. 55. Waiting for - My new apartment to be ready! 🤗 56. Want - mostly just a bunch of household things for my new place. But also, want @silly-silly-fangirl to come visit me in Toronto :( 57. Get married - Yeah, maybe. I gotta find someone to like me first 😅 58. Career - I’ve lowkey always wanted to be a teacher and my entire life has basically been me avoiding becoming a teacher soooo yeah lmao. Right now I’m on the track to Midwifery but I’m? chaning my mind?? idk.

Which is better: 59. Hugs or kisses - I wanna say hugs cause I feel like you can’t kiss everyone. But the people you can kiss...damn. 60. Lips or eyes - eyes 61. Shorter or taller - I’m not one of those cute, dainty, short girls. I’m 5′6, so taller would be appreciated 😅 62. Older or younger - older 63. Nice arms or stomach - I have neither so 💁 64. Hookup or relationship - Relationship? idk I’m kinda living the single life rn and I’m just chilling so I wouldn’t mind a casual thing here or there BUT WHO HAS THE TIME 65. Troublemaker or hesitant - I’m the best mix of both 😏

Have you ever: 66. Kissed a stranger - Yes 🙈 67. Drank hard liquor - Yes 68. Lost glasses - Probably 69. Turned someone down - Yes 😪 70. Sex on first date - Not...yet? 71. Broken someones heart - Yes 72. Had your heart broken - Yes 😞 73. Been arrested - Nope 😇 74. Cried when someone died - Yes 💔 75. Fallen for a friend - Not a close friend, but yeah.

Do you believe in: 76. Yourself - I do 😌 77. Miracles - Absolutely 78. Love at first sight - Maybe not? Probably more like a significant encounter typa vibe

79. Santa Claus - haha no 80. Kiss on a first date - To be proper, no. Butttt there are def exceptions. 81. Angels - YES

Other: 82. Best friend’s name - In the great words of Mindy Kaling “Best friend is a tier, not a person.” Butttt @silly-silly-fangirl (If u couldn’t already tell) is one of my favorite people on this planet atm. 83. ‎Eye color - Brown? I wanna say hazel, but the twins literally INVENTED hazel w their eye colour and I cannot compete. 84. Favorite movie - Hardest question ever...I always say Zorro 85. ‎Favorite actor - Leonardo DiCaprio? Viola Davis? Robert DeNiro??

Thank you so so much to @spiffydolan for the tag. U da best. 💜💜

Gonna tag some of my favorite blogs at the moment. If you’ve already been tagged/want to sit out of this tag, consider this a shoutout! Thanks for being awesome 😊 @ethandolanakae-tee-wee-tee @laneswervingdolan @pandasaremyspritanimal @broncodolan @silly-silly-fangirl @coconutethan @dolanwaffles

#Im sorry im always late #i love yall #i wonder who actually read my answers #if u made it this far u a real one #drop some purple hearts in my ask box if u made it to the bottom

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sofiasmusings · 3 years

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Did I do it?

Welcome to this year’s edition of “did I do it?” where I look back at my goals from the beginning of 2020 and reflect on whether I accomplished them. It’s definitely been a year. To say it was a rollercoaster is a gross understatement. Sometimes I felt like the world was catapulted into a different dimension all together. So, it’ll be interesting to see what bright-eyed, optimistic, January 2020 version of Sofia had to say:

1. Invest in self care

What I said last year:

This past year, I started investing in things for myself. I got a yoga mat and a foam roller to stay active, Banish Acne and other Sephora products for my skin, and other things. I’m even looking into function of beauty shampoo right now. I used to try to buy the cheapest version of everything (hello, 98 cent shampoo in college), but now I’ve learned that you have to pay more for quality. The tricky part here is that we do live in a world that constantly wants us to spend, which means we should we wise about where we’re investing our money, rather than falling into these traps. I’m also thankful that I even have the means to spend a little more on these types of things.

The verdict:

I definitely did accomplish this goal and invested in myself and my health. I have now been subscribed to Function of Beauty for a year and i have seen a noticeable difference in my hair health. The ~$50 quarterly price tag was a bit uncomfortable at first, because like I said, I was used to spending 98 cents on shampoo. But, it made a different. I no longer have terrible split ends and my hair no longer looks dull. Hair stylists no longer roast me for my super dry hair. I love keeping my hair long, so this was a worthy investment for me. Since the pandemic hit, I also started investing in a home gym--now I have two yoga mats, a kettlebell, ab roller and weights. I was one of those people that thought that if I couldn’t lift heavy weights at the gym, then it wasn’t worth doing anything. This year, I’ve opened my mind to different ways of staying active, and I’ve never felt more strong or flexible. I’ll get more into it in my fitness goal. Of course, with the pandemic and the wreck of the economy, I acknowledge my privilege of being able to spend money on things to enrich my life, and I’m thankful for that.

2. Continue budgeting

What I said last year:

Yesterday, I downloaded the Clarity Money and Acorns applications on my phone. Clarity Money seriously opened my eyes because it linked all my accounts and showed me how much I was spending per month (and if it was over budget) and I can even see how much I spend at specific places. There’s even a way to track all your reoccurring expenses and I didn’t realize that so much of my monthly take home pay were going to those things. I think my biggest weakness is grocery shopping, simply because I like to eat really complicated meals that require a lot of ingredients. I also like to try everything so I end up with a full grocery cart that looks like it could feed a family of four. I’ve been trying to simplify my recipes recently so that I can save some money (but still get all my nutrients). I hate to mention this, but I also have a weakness with clothes shopping...that definitely does not contribute to self-care, most of the time anyway. I don’t need more clothes. This year, I want to increase the amount of money that gets deposited in my savings account, and start investing a bit with Acorns.

So, I definitely became more aware of my spending this year, thanks to Clarity Money and watching some more finance-related YouTubers. I also did open an Acorns account (still debating if I like it or not...or if it’s even useful for me) and have a decent amount of money in there. It’s not a fortune, but I absolutely love the idea of saving without even realizing. However, my budgeting style is a bit more...laissez faire with moments of sudden awareness. Clarity Money has allowed me to always have an overview of my spending habits so I always kind of have a sense on how much I spend each month on groceries vs. car-related expenses vs. online shopping. But I never really put my foot down to actually stick by a budget by limiting how much I spend in any of these categories. I think somehow it works for me because I do prioritize saving. I did increase the amount of money that gets deposited into my original savings account and did a lot of research on high yield savings accounts. In a moment of clarity, I spend a weekend looking at how I spend my money and finding ways to save without realizing that I’m saving. I opened 3 high yield savings accounts (one for a future home deposit, one for my masters degree, and one for fun/travelling) and allocated different direct deposit amounts per account. I researched how much I should have in my regular rainy day savings account. So, while my spending fluctuates from month to month, I am always putting the same amount of money into each of those accounts. The only thing I don’t do is investing, but I’m not sure if I want to get into that although it seems like a pretty smart choice given that I’m young. Sigh. I do need to spend less on clothes shopping because 1) sustainability 2) where am I going to wear these if I’ve been on lockdown for almost a year??

3. Embrace flexibility

What I said:

I mentioned in my “Did I do it?” post that while one of my greatest strengths is organization and being disciplined with a schedule, I also panic when things don’t go the way I originally planned. Or when I’m not productive. I’m definitely someone that feels terrible if I lay around doing nothing or if I had things planned but they didn’t happen. For example, if I don’t leave on time to go to the gym in the morning, I panic a bit. If I don’t do groceries on the day I planned to, I panic. If I have to make plans last minute, I panic. There is literally no reason I should panic, but I do. So, my goal is to be more mindful of this and try to keep myself level headed when these things happen.

Ok so this is an interesting one because I’m not sure if I would’ve accomplished if not for the circumstances of this year. This year threw a wrench in everyone’s plans and routines and ways of working and living. My biggest thing this year was to be flexible that nothing was going the way I envisioned it. My workout routine got thrown for a loop. All travelling got cancelled. The way I worked changed dramatically. And...it was fine. While working from home definitely blurred the boundaries between work and personal life, I found that it made me more open to flexibility (mostly because I was given that flexibility as well). I experimented with different routines, whether it was a morning workout one day and an evening workout the other day. Working early with a break in the middle of the day and then working later into the night. Having to jump on later in the evening because of a mini fire drill. Accepting that the circumstances of this year weighed heavily on my mind and that I needed to do nothing. That, for most of this year, our only choice was to do nothing. I learned to accept that it’s not always the end of the world if something doesn’t get done. It’s ok if I want to start my workout at 9 pm instead of 6 am. It’s ok to have those nights where I stay up a bit later playing a game. Overall, I came to understand the value of flexibility--being flexible allowed me to understand myself more and learn what actually works best for me versus deciding what I think will work best for me.

4. Keep my fitness routine fresh

What I said last year:

While I will still stick to my regular routine (strength training, cardio and yoga), I definitely want to continue trying new things. I want to be able to hold a handstand for at least 10 seconds by the end of the year. I want to be more flexible and have my elbows touch the floor when I do hamstring stretches. I want to be able to run 2 miles straight again. I want to be able to do 10 unassisted pull ups. I want to try barre workouts and more pilates workouts. I can’t wait for it to get warm again so I can start hitting my 10k steps consistently!

This one’s 99% a yes and 1% no. Have I tried new things? Yes. Heck yes. This year, I was able to hold a shaky headstand (not headstand!) for 10 seconds, have my elbows touch the floor when I do hamstring stretches and run 2 miles straight. I’ve tried barre and pilates workouts, I’ve enjoyed the weather on long walks. I am especially proud of this accomplishment: doing yoga for three months straight. Thank you, thank you Yoga with Adrienne. I used to look down on yoga because I thought picking up and dropping heavy weights was enough. But as a very anxious and stressed person that gets too into her head, yoga seemed like the logical thing to start this year. That first session had my legs burning and I was sweating. All from holding warrior 1! Like...this was the girl who boasted about doing 115lb deadlifts (which isn’t even that much lol). While yoga started out as a fitness thing, it’s become a meditative sort of thing now. I suck at meditation but I feel way more in tune with my breath now. I realize that I used to stop breathing when I got stressed, and now I simply let out a long breath and immediately feel better. My mobility and flexibility got MUCH better and I realized that I had been battering my body without giving it time to recover. And, I did a lot, A LOT, of of HIIT workouts. They started out as a way to get a good cardiovascular workout in, but became a way to challenge myself. Shoutout to Caroline Girvan. Actually, shoutout to all the fitness professionals on YouTube that have been posting awesome workout routines throughout this whole pandemic (and for all the previous years before the world turned to YouTube for workouts). I love hearing that the workout’s going to be extreme or intense and being able to finish it. I love hitting new milestones. The reason I say 1% no is because sometimes I think I get too into it and don’t have enough balance so I burn myself out. While walking 10k steps, doing yoga and then a strength training/HIIT routine in one day is my dream, it’s often not realistic for the type of life I lead (9+ hour a day desk job in the Midwest where we have polar vortexes). I’m not trying to make excuses, but I’m still seeking that balance where I dont burn myself out while still challenging myself.

5. Tame my sweet tooth...but in a healthy way

What I said last year:

Last weekend I experimented with baking and finally tried out healthy substitutions in baking. I love myself a good fatty, buttery, chocolate-y piece of cake or cookie, but I also like not crashing from sugar (or getting a stomachache). Instead of butter, I used greek yogurt and instead of sugar, I used unsweetened apple sauce. I baked this double chocolate banana bread and I added dried jujubes and it was AMAZING. There was no added sugar and it was so moist and tasty. The best part is that it fit right into my diet and tamed my sweet tooth. My goal is to continue experimenting with this and incorporate these healthy treats into my diet.

Yes, I definitely did continue to experiment this year! In fact, I made like 100 batches of banana bread during that phase of quarantine. And, each batch aimed to have minimal butter/oil and refined sugar. I went on to make a variety of loaf concoctions (some better than others) and realized that I can indeed satisfy my sweet tooth in a more healthy way. But at the end of the day, I do still love myself a hearty piece of cake or ooey gooey chocolate chip cookie. I don’t think I can ever live a life without dessert or a life with only healthy desserts. And I think that’s ok. I know this because after my healthy baking stint, all I wanted was some real fatty, real chocolate-y dessert items....and I ate them. And perhaps too much of it. So I know that I need balance.

6. Be productive, not busy

What I said last year:

I like to be productive, but most of the time I just end up being busy. As I wrote earlier, I hate days where I don’t do much. Sure, in the moment it feels nice to relax in bed, but there’s always that looming cloud of anxiety like why aren’t you doing anything with all this precious free time? I have to realize that sometimes resting is being productive because you’re letting yourself relax and you’re setting yourself up for success the next week. Also, while I love laying on my bed after work scrolling through social media, it usually doesn’t leave me feeling that great. I want to dedicate more time to reading or doing yoga at night for a wind down routine.

I still have that fear of not being productive, and I think that’s normal for many people. In fact, I spent most of this morning doing NOTHING and while I feel better rested, that feeling of guilt is still there. However, I have taken steps to doing the things I love instead of mindlessly scrolling (though still very guilty of that since Instagram released Reels). I read more, I did more yoga, I experimented in the kitchen more. But I still struggle with this goal a bit, and it’ll definitely be on my list for next year.

7. Create content without the pressure

What I said last year:

I’ve been lamenting basically all year about how I never update my art instagram account and then...I don’t do anything about it. I think it’s because I feel so pressured that I have to create something amazing. I freeze up and end up doing nothing at all. I used to draw all the time--I have stacks of old drawings and paintings. I realize I used to just sit down and start creating with no expectations, worries or self-inflicted pressure. I want to get back into that mindset, not only with art but also with writing. I think reviving this blog has helped. Although I know someone might stumble upon this one day, I’m not worried about creating something perfect. I actually look forward to writing on this blog because it’s just me and my thoughts.

So....I think I overcame this with writing as I started updating this blog more this year. I remember how much I love writing and storytelling. I’ve written in my journal a bit more this year as well. But man...art. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve lost passion for it. I definitely have some talent and some skill, but I think I still get stuck because I compare myself to others. And I know that a lot of it is practicing and making mistakes and creating not so great works of art and that most of the time, we’re our own biggest critic. But I still feel like I’m held back. I have created some art that I’m proud of this year and recently updated my Redbubble, but I feel stuck. No idea feels good enough, original enough, executed well enough. If this is my goal, then I need to dedicate time to cultivating my skill. And most importantly, I just need to let go of my worries. There’s no way around it.

8. Read at least 25 books

What I said last year:

I love books. What more can I say?

I read 16.5 books this year, and I’m not mad. I actually slacked for the first part of the year (I blame the library closing and the acquisition of a Nintendo Switch) but I dusted off my tablet and found the beauty of Overdrive and since then haven’t stopped reading. But alas, I didn’t read fast enough to reach my goal. My favorite books of this year were: The Nix by Nathan Hill and Solutions and Other Problems by Allie Brosh. I definitely plan on reaching that 25 book goal in 2021.

9. Brush up on my mother tongues

What I said last year:

Duolingo here I come!! I’ve been subscribing to more Chinese speaking Youtube channels since I watch so many videos nowadays. I’m surprised as to how much I can understand. Now I just need to do this for Spanish. I’m also considering learning a bit of Korean? Heheh.

Sigh. Oh, bright-eyed, hopeful Sofia. I do have to say that I did do this...for the first four months of the year. I dutifully logged onto Duolingo every day and stayed at the top of the charts almost every week. I started being able to read simple Chinese and understand more conversationally. And then...I don’t know. I fell off the routine. I’m not sure if it was the world blowing up or if I was putting too much pressure on myself to accomplish something, but I didn’t complete this goal to the degree I wanted to. And every time the Duolingo owl stares into my soul from my home screen, a little part of my dies. The intention and desire is still there. And so, we try again. That’s the beauty of life. There’s always a chance to try again (most of the time)!

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