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marinetteplztakeabreak · 3 years

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I need to share soft sign language buddies ninogami headcanon because they’re taking over my brain always:

(This got so long, so youre welcome if youre also starved for ninogami content)

Nino’s mom is Deaf , so he grew up signing as much as speaking. When he was younger he always signed as he talked.

It turned out he’s also Hard of Hearing, so sign language is way easier for him to understand most of the time.

However, though he’s great at making friends, he’s very awkward when it comes to talking about himself. So never comes up in conversation.

It’s not a self-deprication issue. It’s just a “thinking of things to say is hard and I’d rather have someone else do the talking” thing. He’d rather talk about anyone except himself.

Additionally! He’s great at helping other people, but he’s terrible at asking for help. He does not EVER want to be like “hey i cant understand what you’re saying, my ears dont work great,” its his worst nightmare

And it doesnt help that there have been a few cases of people being rude about it when he doesnt hear them after they repeat themselves. And possibly worse, there have been even more cases of people giving over-the-top apologies instead of just,, telling him what they said. So it’s not worth the trouble in his mind

with his few close friends who still dont know, it feels like its too late and it’d be awkward to bring it up, so he just… doesnt. He’s procrastinating on telling them he cant hear them

He stopped signing as much as he talked in middle school because strangers would always be like “woah thats so cool, how do you know sign language” and he’d just panic because he was an awkward tween, and he didnt know if he was comfortable telling them he was HoH, but ALSO just saying his mom was Deaf and not mentioning himself felt like directly lying by hiding information, so he just took the “lazy” way out and signed less in public.

Sometimes fighting the anxiety was not worth it so he just let it win in that case.

Nino is so nice and energetic and loves people, but he is way more introverted and anxious than his friends think.

But when they start to get closer, Kagami who is ever-observant, notices him signing a little bit, (not ever to her, not ever on purpose, but he’d sometimes sign a word he needed to remember while speaking or sign along to emphasize something)

and she luckily for his anxiety, she doesnt know how to have a normal conversation either.

Her (platonic as well as romantic) love language is studying and research, and Nino seems very cool and she likes him, even if she is awful at holding a conversation with him or doing anything to show it.

She thinks he’s so cool and such an amazing talented kind friend. She has so much love for him that she doesnt know what to do with it. So she channels that energy into learning to sign through the internet and whatever tools she can find

And then after a while of this, she’s like “oh no, he’s gonna think that’s so creepy, I cant tell him I know sign language or he’ll be so uncomfortable”

So, like a whole idiot, she hides that she’s learning sign language from anyone. Because OBVIOUSLY if word got back to Nino, he’d assume it was because of him and that she was a weirdo he shouldn’t be friends with

But also Kagami accidentally falls in love with sign language because she has undiagnosed autism. She always assumed that communicating was just going to be impossible no matter what, but as she gets proficient in sign language she’s like,,, oh,,, OH,, this is very nice

Even just signing while she talks makes it so much easier to keep words and sentances straight, but she only does it when she’s alone with her mother, who is literally blind and would never know.

They become closer friends in late high school, and by that time a lot of Nino’s anxiety has worn off and he’s become completely comfortable letting teachers know when he needs to hear somthing, and middle school feels like a distant dream

At some point, Nino invites Kagami to his house a few times, and he signs with his mom. Nino is like “I can interpret for you,” and Kagami is like “wow thanks, I’m so lucky, because I obviously do not know any sign language, why would I have learned it, and also for the record it is brand new information to me that you can sign,” and Nino is like “cool? Its not a secret but im glad i told you if you somehow didnt already know,” and Kagami is like, “yep :)”

But then eventually as they become really close, they are texting one night, (Kagami can still barely get out of her house, so they need to communicate remotely. And both of then HATE phone calls bc its so hard to understand whats happening, but neither of them have admitted this to anyone)

Nino admits that he likes using sign language better than talking, and he wishes he could use it with his friends, but he’d feel so guilty asking them to learn an entire language just to make him slightly more comfortable. He can talk and hear OKAY so he shouldnt put the pressure on them.

and Kagami is like “you could always ask, worst case scenerio they say no, and i dont think thats an unreasonable demand” and nino is like “it is though,” and kagami’s like “ok so haha funny story, please dont hate me” and nino is like, “…what.” And kagami confesses everything and nino is like “why… why would i hate you for that?” And Kagami is like “oh wait youre right im stupid,”

And then Nino’s also like “hey if YOURE more comfortable signing too, then why dont YOU ask your friends to sign for you. Do you see what i mean? It’s hard to ask-” and kagami is like, “as your friend i will prove it is not.”

So then Kagami ends up confronting Adrien and Marinette the next day and is like “Hi. This is a sign language dictionary. Learn from it.” And they’re both like “what?” And she’s like “oh wait sorry. Backing up. I’m autistic. I decided like three years ago. Forgot to tell you. And I need you to learn to sign a little bit so you can understand if i sign something at you. If you want, of course. Please :D.” And theyre like “ok sure yeah i can do that.”

(Theyve already learned and accepted that shes extremely direct in asking for things)

So then she texts nino and is like “i did it. Youre welcome.”

But anyway both of them are uncomfortable in crowds and parties: Nino cant hear anyone and Kagami tends to get sensory overload, so they start signing mostly in those situations, and then it starts to sink in that they’re allowed to sign whenever and that the other really IS also comfortable with it.

(Both of them are much more willing to make sacrifices for others than to try something new and intimidating for themself, so this is the perfect situation to trick them into getting out of their comfort zone, ironically by trying to be more comfortable in the long run)

so they will just sit together and hang out and have long conversations while just chilling somewhere in a park or at cafes or whatever. Both of them become chattier than they’ve ever been because talking and understanding is so much easier, and its addicting

And their close friends all become proficient enough in sign language to have simple conversations.

But also Nino and Kagami start sitting together automatically even in group hangouts, and they start hanging out more with just the two of them, and soon neither of them feel bad about asking to hang out in quieter places, because they can justify it knowing that it will also help the other one, and together that makes both of them also more comfortable asking for little accomodations from other friends, if only to prove to the other that they can do it too.

And Kagami has the lesser-known autism side effect where she makes WAY TOO MUCH eye contact. She’s aware of it but that doesnt make it go away. Normally she feels so awkward about it, and overthinks her gaze because she doesnt want to scare people away. But when signing, you literally HAVE to be watching the other person constantly, so she has an excuse to just be herself, and its so relieving

(and also its kind of fun to look at Nino anyway because he can get so animated and his smile is really nice and oh no she is in love a little bit)

And Nino always struggles because he emotionally ALWAYS needs to be the nice polite one. His anxiety sometimes gets the better of him and he’s constantly worried about sending the wrong signals to his friends and coming off as rude somehow. But with Kagami, he can literally just ask?? And she will tell him her honest opinion without making it weird. And its so comfy and so good and he really loves hearing her unfiltered opinions on so many things because she sees the world in such a unique way and she gets so passionate about such little things and then oh no, he is fallen for her before he can realize it

And they also learn that they’re both artists, they both love to just observe the world because even if they;re awkward, people are actually pretty great most of the time, and its fun to observe them and try to capture the world, and they just sit together and sketch, or they watch each other sketch, and the thing is, both of them draw ONLY FOR THEMSELVES, its not a ‘skill,’ and they don;t want it to be, its just private art for relaxation. Somehow, though, its okay if they share their art with each other. They can just sit in comfortable silence for hours while one of them sketches something and the other watches patiently

And they start to get more comfortable with one of their heads resting on the other’s shoulder as they watch them doodle, and sitting so close their legs press together, and soon enough their hands start brushing against each other’s as they walk next to each other and then all of a sudden they’re casually holding hands whenever they’re not signing because it’s nice

They try to share headphones so Nino can share some of his favorite songs and his compositions with Kagami. But try as she might, Kagami can not handle the sensory of only having one earbud in. Nino knows her tells by that point, and he’s not about to let her suffer for a stupid reason, but she REALLY does want to hear his music. They somehow end up with Kagami putting a pair of headphones around her neck and turning up the volume a little bit so she can hear, while Nino rests his head on her shoulder so he can hear just enough to know where she is in the song

And then he has to sit up and scootch away just enough to see her hands so they can talk about it, and they both pretend not to notice how nice it was to snuggle as they sign. Its fine, though, because now they get the excuse to just look at each other again and sign overdramatically with exaggerated facial expressions, and no one else around can overhear their conversation, and Nino likes to go a little over the top when signing onomatopoeia and acting out particular parts of the song rhythm that he likes, and Kagami laughs, and they both mentally save the image of each other in this moment the same way that they look at reference images for artwork, memorizing the lines of each movement and the things that make each smile unique,

and Nino also shows up at every single one of her fencing tournaments, and he sits as close as he can and signs encouraging messages to her from the crowd whenever she’s not actively competing, (that her blind mom can never catch, which is somewhat of a bonus to Kagami, because every element of their friendship that her mother cant interact with makes this more personal and special and HERS). Every little sign she sends back at him, even a simple thank you, always feels so good and rebellious and free because shes supposed to be focusing on fencing but shes deciding to care more about friendship. And even if she’s expected to leave immediately afterword, she’ll find every excuse possible to find him and give him a hug, which he’ll always accept even though she jokingly warns him shes sweaty and gross

And eventually they are special best friends and it brings them instant joy to see each other and theyre able to interact for no reason other than that they want to and like each other

(And then they kiss)

#ninogami #ninami #nino lahiffe #kagami tsurugi #miraculous ladybug #ml #fic tag #dont want to tag this with the other ship because the tumblr algorithm is weird #and i dont want it going in the tag because theres no content for that ship and this directly opposes it #but i respect nino and alyas relationship so much they are so good and perfect #but im also terminally a multishipper #and ninogami is so darn precious too i love them #i just try not think about the circumstances with alya in this shup #ship #just imagine she and nino are still close bros and alya is dating marinette or adrien or whoever else you want

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imagineaworlds · 3 years

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Rules & Roses

“tripping over my own feet”

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of sex. Pretty sure that’s it.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Non-binary!Reader x Emily Prentiss (poly triad)

Word Count: 2022

With the slight promotion I earned in January came the perk of making my own schedule. Since people worked for me, I got to “sleep in” until about nine or ten in the morning— and by “sleep in”, I mean that it gave me a chance to roll out of bed and go for a run every morning with enough time to shower and still get breakfast. But I liked it. I liked that I wasn’t having to rush to work at five anymore. It was all at my own pace. My later schedule also meant that I could afford to go to a better park with a nicer trail to run on. At seven in the morning, it was a fairly popular place with everyone running around each other while trying to dodge the dogs and kids running around. The trail itself was longer, but it circled around a gorgeous garden, then led to a great view of the city so that I could see the Capitol building. I loved it, and it seemed that everyone else did, too. It was hard to run around the hikers and the families that were taking up the width of the path, yet it was always worth it.

Fridays were the busiest. Since the weekend was approaching, tourism normally spiked, and there were some people who were already off of work, or their bosses were being lenient with the hours. So, the already busy path was… full. It was ridiculous. Still, that didn’t deter me from finding a parking spot, lacing up my running shoes, filling up my water bottle at the fountain between the public bathrooms, pushing my earbuds into my ears, then heading onto the path.

Immediately, I almost ran into a little kid that was running straight across the path to catch the frisbee his dad threw a little too far. I stopped, rolled my eyes, then, when he was out of the way, I continued on. How were kids awake at 7AM? I hated summer. When I was a kid, I spent all day in bed when I wasn’t in school— which I thought was a timeless tradition. For the most part, I was sure most kids would prefer that to be the case, anyhow, which was probably why I was so shocked when I saw so many kids at that park every morning. His dad apologized with a wave as I ran by. I hardly acknowledged him. America was so different compared to the rest of the world. Americans liked to keep to themselves, however, there were some that were a little too nice, hence my hesitancy to wave back.

Near the end of the path, where there was a huge U-turn to keep the flow of traffic on the path moving, I found myself slowing down slightly to make sure I didn’t run into any of the tourists that were stopping to smell the roses in the garden. My eyes were up, trying to gauge if anyone was going to run into me. It seemed safe. The awkward part about this U-turn, however, was that everyone who had been ahead of me on my run was now turning around to run the opposite way. The backs of heads I recognized were now gaining faces to attach to them. And the eye contact… Don’t get me started. I practically had to keep my eyes up, but that meant that everyone running my way now had an instinctual urge to look at me, which meant that I had to look at them. It was horrible.

As I made my way around the U-turn, barely jumping out of the way before a grandma’s cane could stab my foot. When I looked up from my foot to the path, I saw someone who had just been behind me pass me, so now she was giving me a judging look as she started running in my direction to make her way back to the parking lot. Her hair was black, bangs cut to just barely touch her lashes, the length of it pulled back into a ponytail in the middle of the back of her head. Her brown eyes met my gaze for the briefest moment, but when we made that uncomfortable eye contact, she quickly looked away and sped up from a jog to a sprint. I looked down at the concrete. Making awkward eye contact with strangers was the worst… but staring at someone because they were gorgeous and you couldn’t pull your eyes away was even worse—

Wait.

“Lauren?” I questioned under my breath as I came to a sudden halt, nearly tripping on my own feet.

That woman— the one in the distance— she looked exactly like Lauren. Not like they could be sisters, but like they could be doppelgangers. I was so confused. But as I watched her continue her peaceful jog on the path, my gaze followed her while I tried to figure out if it was really her or if my mind was playing tricks on me. There were plenty of times when I thought I saw Lauren over the past thirteen years, but it never turned out to be her, but this time… I would have put money on it being Lauren.

And then someone crashed right into me.

I gasped and stumbled forward before I felt their hands grab my hips lightly in order to keep me steady. I pulled my headphones out so that I could apologize. As I caught my footing and turned around, I was met by a tall man with brown hair that was all sweaty and stuck to his forehead, a small, apologetic smile took over his face, but his hands didn’t move from my hips until he was sure that I wasn’t going to waver. I made an attempt to say sorry, but he beat me to it.

“I didn’t see that you had stopped. My apologies.”

“No worries,” I insisted while looking over my shoulder to see if I could spot that woman again. She had disappeared. As always, the ghost of Lauren Reynolds had vanished without a trace, and I was left to think that I was completely insane. Not only had I seen someone who was long long, but I had embarrassed myself by crashing into this man, and now I wasn’t even being polite by apologizing back because I was too preoccupied with looking over my shoulder. I sighed. “Sorry,” I said with a nervous chuckle. “I thought I saw someone—” I shook my head. “Never mind. Sorry.” I waved shortly to him before jumping back onto my toes so that I could keep running on the path. “Sorry…” I mumbled again. “Sorry…”

He laughed at me as I reached to put my headphone back in my ear. “It’s not your fault.”

I smiled. This was… weird. He seemed nice enough, but we had been standing there while pointlessly apologizing for too long. Neither of us were required to stick around, and I definitely didn’t want to now. Every time I “saw” Lauren, it took a toll on me. Having that hope build in my chest that I would get to see her again, to hold her in my arms, to kiss her lips, and to tell her “I love you, Lauren”, only to have it crushed entirely was… draining. I couldn’t keep doing it. This was my torture, and I knew that wasn’t how she had intended for it to happen, but that was the depressing truth of loving someone who would never come back. She tried warning me that she might disappear, and at the time, I was naive enough to think that it wouldn’t be a big deal, but now that I was living in a world where I didn’t have Lauren Reynolds around anymore, it was like I was stuck in place. I traveled, right. I moved on, I thought. But every fucking time this happened, I would find myself drawn back to the memories of how happy we were together. I would never be that happy again in my life. Lauren was the real deal, and there was nothing I could do to mend my broken heart. I thought time would do it naturally… but, nope. There I was, thirteen years later, and there was this six foot Nordic God standing in front of me, yet all of my attention was on that woman who reminded me of Lauren.

I didn’t see him or Lauren’s doppelganger again for the rest of my run. Honestly, that was a relief. The less I saw of her, the faster I could forget about her. As I thought about it, my running pace sped up until my feet were pounding on the pavement and my calves started to burn. I didn’t stop, though. It took extreme diligence to make sure I didn’t run into anyone, but it felt nice to go as fast as I could, to run off every thought of Lauren Reynolds. The ghosting soft touch of her lips felt as vivid as the day she first kissed me. We were standing in a garden similar to this one, the sun beating down on us, a cool breeze passing by, the sound of birds the only thing that could possibly disrupt us for miles. We were in Romania. Lauren knew someone that had a house out in the middle of nowhere, and they offered to rent it to us for a few weeks so that we could have some time alone. On our way out there, I begged Lauren to stop the car so that I could jump out and go see all of the roses out there. The field seemed endless. The flowers were already in full bloom. It was gorgeous. It was perfect. It was everything Lauren Reynolds was to me. And then she joined me in the fields, giggling at how fascinated I was with the sea of flowers. That was when she tugged at my hand, pulled me close so that our chests were touching, and for the longest moment, we stayed so close to each other that I could feel her breath on my nose. I wanted her to kiss me. I could feel myself shaking with anticipation.She was so close I could practically taste her lemon chapstick already. But neither of us moved. Finally, as I shuddered when the wind passed by, Lauren pressed her palms to my cheeks, and she made me lean into her kiss. My eyes fell shut as I gave in. My heart was skipping in my chest, butterflies swirling in my stomach until I thought I was going to pass out, and my knees weakened. If it weren’t for her hold on my face, I would have fallen over.

Lauren Reynolds.

She did that.

Even the memories alone of kissing her made me swoon. I could get lost in her chocolate brown eyes all day and no one would hear a single protest from me because that was how head over heels I was for her. I dealt with missing her for weeks on end and not knowing anything about her life simply because I couldn't imagine my life without her. I preferred having some of her than none of her. But, in the end, it wasn’t my choice. In the end, someone or something took her away from me, and there wasn’t a single thing I could do about it. Seeing women who looked like her, like I did on that trail that morning, was going to be the death of me. It didn’t matter how similar they looked to her, they were never Lauren, and they never would be. I was going to be alone forever because I would never be able to find anyone else like her. Lauren Reynolds was everything and more to me. She was perfection. She was the whole universe bundled into one human that brought so much joy to me. All I would have until my dying breath was the ghost of Lauren following me around and the memories of loving her.

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criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fanfiction #hotchniss

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wdwmarveldisney · 4 years

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Stars and Superman-Racetrack Higgins

(GIFs isn’t mine)

Modern era

Masterlist

Summary: Reader is dealing with the lost of someone close to them when a boy in a Superman costume comforts them.

A/N: Got this random idea when sitting outside watching the stars and I couldn’t help but write it so yeah.

The blanket didn’t make the ground much comfier but it did stop the grass from tickling the side of your face and the mud getting in your hair. It also stopped the ground from ruining your jacket, that was a navy blue shade. The blanket itself was black and was smooth on one side and fluffy on the other. Right now you ran your fingers across the fluffy side, staring at the stars.

You have this habit of going outside and watching the stars every night. Sometimes you sat on a chair, sometimes you would sit on the fire escape, sometimes you lay on the grass or sometimes you’d bring the blanket out but no matter what, without fail, you’d be out their. It was normally for an hour or two before going to bed. Sometimes in the summer you’d go out just before the sunset so you could read a book for a bit. It didn’t matter where you were, home, your grandparents’ house, a friend’s, you’d always watch the stars.

It started when you were five, you’d sit out there for ten minutes before going to bed because you wanted to remember ‘the pretty lights in the sky tomorrow’, as you used to say. Your mum had always sat out with you, occasionally reading a bedtime story. By the time you were nine, you had several books about space, taking up two whole bookshelves in your room, while also having watched almost every space related documentary possible.

Something about the stars seemed to call to you. Your mum was the only one to not call it a crazy obsession, the only one who would sit outside with you a couple of times and let you point out different constellations and explain them whilst also making space related puns. She’d let you point out the planets that were sometimes visible and let you inform her of the conditions of said planets, even if she’d heard it a dozen times before and knew the words you’d say off by heart.

Right up till last year, she’d be there with you, sometimes making her own jokes and adding stories from when she was little and thought that the stars were little fairies who had flown too far away to be seen clearly. Sadly she didn’t make it to the usual Halloween stargazing, where the two of would meet at the park round the corner. At first you thought she ditched you or forgot but then you’d remembered this was your mum, the woman who never saw you as crazy or obsessive but merely enthusiastic and passionate. She was the women who told you that if the person you end up with hated your love for stars, they wasn’t the right one. She was the woman who listened to you lecture her on the newest fact that NASA had posted or listened to you talk about your dream to see space. She was like an other half.

It wasn’t until a hour or two of you sitting alone when you’re dad had called you, asking why your mother wasn’t picking up her phone. At first, you were confused, telling him she wasn’t there, but he insisted that she had left the house and was on her way to see you. The police were called and she was filed as a missing persons case until she was found in a river, a day later. The police assumed she had accidentally fell in and drowned, they’d found a few belongings quite a while down the river.

You had cried for month after month, an empty feeling you knew would never go away. The night it happened you swore you saw one star shine brighter and had always said that it was her, seeing space like how she said she would. But now it had been a year. A long year of silent and lonely stargazing sessions from the fire escape of your apartment. You had spent the last few months debating about going to the park on Halloween, finally deciding that you would.

You had your jacket under your head as a pillow while you traced shapes into the blanket. It just didn’t feel right. You could hear kids laughing and joking and eating their endless amounts of sweets as usual but she wasn’t there complaining about how loud the neighbours were or how Helen down the street wouldn’t stop gossiping about one thing for two weeks in a row.

Your breathing became just a bit uneven as tears began to well up in your eyes. You’d came to honour her in a sense, to remember her, but as you stared at the lit up sky, that one star shining just as bright as last year, you couldn’t help the feeling that it was the wrong decision.

“Are you’se okay?” The voice was calm and collected (quite the opposite to you at this moment in time) but also sounding concerned. You turned your head to see a boy round your age, looking awkward yet confident. He had blonde curls that were extremely messy and the brightest blue eyes you had seen. You assumed he was on his way to a costume party as he wore a casual sort of suit but the buttons of the shirt were mostly undone so a Superman logo could be seen.

“No,” you’re voice was the complete opposite from his. It was the sound of a broken person who just didn’t know what to do anymore, you could both tell. He hesitantly stepped forward, careful about not getting too close in case you weren’t too fond of strangers comforting you. He was pretty sure most people (practically all) weren’t.

“Can I’se, er, sit?” He pointed to the space next to you and with an overwhelming need for comfort, you nodded. He was a stranger in a Superman costume and yet you didn’t care because you needed somebody with you, anybody. They could never replace her but they could at least give you the confirmation that you’re not alone.

“I’m Race,” he looked slightly uncomfortable before holding out his hand. He was sat next to you, knees pulled up to his chest, arms resting on his knees. You allowed yourself to smile and laugh slightly for a second. “Race?”

“Yeah, Race,”

You reached across, slipping your hand into his and shaking it. “Interesting name you got there,” you compliment with a small smile on your face from the sudden bright one in his. “Yeah, you got one?” Debating for a second or two, fiddling with your hands that now rested in your lap, you nodded. “Yeah I do,”

Race smiled still, though he was obviously slightly confused and curious. “What is it?” He asked and watched as you stared at the sky, changing to now lean back on your hands. With your eyes still fixed on the sky above, darting around to look at almost every spot, you mumble, “Y/N,”

“Well, Y/N, don’t wanna upset ya or anythink but you’se said ya weren’t okay,” he pointed out and you nodded at that, fighting back a sudden rush of tears. “I’m not,” you whisper and he gives you second, his eyes scanning over your features that held obvious sadness and heartbreak.

“Why?” The question slipped from his lips without any thought to it. You tensed at that word, your whole body becoming seemingly numb but also overflowing with emotions at the same time. “It’s, um, this day last year, er, I lost someone,” tears were freely falling down your face, your heart shattering again. You felt a hand rest on top of your one and looked down to see him lacing his fingers with your’s.

How was it possible that he, a stranger, had comforted you more in one move than anybody else had in one year?

“We, my mum, who...” you couldn’t bring yourself to say the word ‘died’. Race seemed to understand this as he sent a small reassuring nod in your direction as his eyes scanned your face in worry. “We would, um, come here every, er, every Halloween to stargaze but last,” you cut yourself off with the sob that left your lips.

Two arms wrapped round your shoulders, one rubbing your back in a sign of comfort. He was silent as you cried your heart out onto his old blazer. You couldn’t help that you were begging yourself to stop crying on a stranger’s blazer but it seemed to make you only sob more.

Race didn’t mind that much. You were in a bad place where you had obviously lost someone important to you and you were clearly suffering alone, at least he thought so because you were seeking the comfort of someone you didn’t know. He wasn’t going to leave you sobbing by yourself, he knew what that felt like. No, he was going to sit here next to you and comfort you and show you that someone’s there for you, just like he wanted when he felt like this.

He whispered small, sweet words in your ear as he held you. He listened to the heartbreaking sound of you calm down and say that you were fine only for another wave of tears to hit you and you trying to hold them back. He hated that you kept muttering to yourself saying that you were being pathetic for crying in public and repeating “Shut up,” multiple times.

It took a while of him telling stupid stories and asking random philosophical questions, that were extremely strange, for you to calm down to a point where you could talk properly. Immediately you had started to apologise but he wouldnt have it. Instead Race decisided to ask you a question about yourself after spilling most of his life to you. “You like to stargaze?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, wiping at your eyes with such force that they only got redder. “I just, they’re beautiful. I know it’s weird but they’re just good at distracting me and they’re so amazing,” you add hesitantly. Many people didn’t unders the feeling you got, that far off world feeling, that you would escape to.

“It’s not weird, I’se get it. What’s your favourite, um,” he trailed off, snapping his finger as he pointed to the sky. He had forgotten the word and slightly gestured to the many bright balls of gas that lit up the sky.

“Constellation?” He nodded in answer, his cheeks going a light pink as you laughed lightly. It only took you two seconds before you pointed to the constellation that was luckily clearly visible from your spot. Race’s gaze followed to where you pointed, letting you explain what the constellation was and why it was your favourite.

He felt a smile stretch across his lips as he watched your once tear filled eyes light up with the kind of joy you got when you’re passionate about something. A small grin was visible on your face as spoke and wildly gestured with your hands as you talked. You didn’t seem so broken anymore but the evident pain was still barely noticeable in your eyes.

You finished talking about the constellation, having gone into several different topics as you did so but always getting back to the original explanation. It was then you remembered what he was wearing and you panicked slightly. “I’m so sorry, you must’ve been going to a party or something and you probably just wanted to go as soon as possible and here I am going on about stars when you don’t even care,” you said in one breath, refusing to meet his eyes.

Race looked down at his costume, finally remembering that he was heading to Jack’s Halloween party. He checked his phone to see numerous miss calls and texts from some of the boys and decided to quickly text to Albert that he probably wasn’t going to show up.

After sending the text, he turned back to you. As crazy as it sounded, he would rather spend the night listening to you talk about space and rambling about these random facts you knew and laughing at your terrible jokes then going and getting drunk at a party.

“I’se just not gonna go,” he told you before a worried expression crossed his face, “Are you’se okay now?” You looked to the sky as he continued to stare at you. Race being there gave you same that same strange escape feeling as the stars and you’d known him for less than two hours.

“Stars and Superman? I’m fine,” you joked, looking back to him and he immediately grinned. It made your heart flutter and skip a beat. You’d always wanted to believe in love at first sight but knew that you’d only find it in fairytales or fanfics and yet, sitting there with him at that moment, you thought, no you knew, you were wrong. If only you knew Race felt the same.

You spent the rest of the night talking, laughing and joking like you’d known each other for years. It was three in the morning before you had both realised how tired you were and had decided to go home. He walked with you back to your apartment and you both exchanged numbers. As soon as he had made your contact name, he showed it to you with a proud sort of smile.

Twinkle

You laughed before showing him the name you had given him.

Superman

#newsies #racetrack x reader #racetrack higgins #newsies x reader #stars #musical #reader insert

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greennct · 5 years

Text

a cut above the rest | lee taeyong

for chlo~

hair-stylist!au honestly taeyong was the only member i could write this au for, because he’s so overworked & dyes his hair so damn much lol 🥴🥴🥴 if any rich nctzens are reading this pls bring him some conditioner and a kingsize bed at the next fansign

omg also I have no idea how a hair salon works so i’m so sorry for my inaccurate descriptions of how to dye hair sksksks

fluffy, two idiots in love my favourite kind tee hee, 4.5k words

song rec: lucky strike by trove sivan

Today was going to be a long day.

Usually, when you dyed hair, you were allowed the luxury of dealing with only one client over a series of hours, or days if necessary. However, your salon was well-known, and highly respected, meaning that you received frequent visits from kpop groups. Each and every time the idols came in, your usually tranquil hair salon was thrown into chaos.

The colouring needed to be done as quickly and discreetly as possible, to avoid the public catching wind of any spoilers for their potential comeback. Unfortunately, this meant shutting the salon down for at least 24 hours, and running all over the place attempting to complete about thirty odd jobs at once. As one of the senior members of staff there, you usually had the luxury of picking and choosing your clients, however whenever idol groups came in, you were expected to oversee each and every member, in order to ensure that they all received the exact treatment that their company entrusted you to give them.

To be honest, you didn’t mind tending to idols if their group was small. They were usually starved for conversation outside of their tight inner circle of mangers and staff members, so always provided you with fun stories and easy chatter. However, this relaxed and friendly attitudes only applied for groups with at most, six members. Since not every member would have a full-on bleach and colour, you had time to stop for a cup of coffee now and then, and still get the job done on time.

Today, however, you were not going to be granted that luxury.

Today, NCT 127 had been booked.

Nine members, though notably much more polite and charming than your average kpop idols, were still nine members, and that meant your day would be spent without hope of even sitting down. What’s more, SM had informed you that morning that every member would at least need a toner to alter their shade a slight amount. Essentially, your workload had just been doubled. Great.

You had barely polished off the breakfast your colleague had grabbed from the café next door, when the boys, accompanied by two managers, tumbled through the door. One of your interns then immediately pulled curtains over the shop front window, turning the sign in the door to read CLOSED. The boys immediately displayed signs of relief, cracking smiles as they pulled off the caps, glasses and masks that prevented them from being recognised, and loped over to their respective chairs.

You caught eyes with Lee Taeyong right away, and looked away to hide the faint blush that dusted your cheeks.

Unfortunately for you, hopeless infatuation with a more or less stranger was a much more common occurence than the average person. You had the tendency to fall in love, or at least into some type of temporary, superficial lust with the idol customers who visited the salon. Chan from Seventeen, Wonpil from Day6, and most recently, Taeyong from NCT. However, this crush on him was bothering you a lot more than your previous ones had.

Usually, your passing fancy was exactly that; passing. Usually intense, but still extremely fleeting. You could hold a coherent conversation with them within months, sometimes even weeks. However, with Lee Taeyong, you had found yourself stuttering for almost half a year now. It certainly didn’t help that he was definitely the most frequent client at your salon, changing his hair colour practically every month.

Though you two knew each other by name now, you were honestly too scared to actually spend a significant amount of time with him, since you knew how quickly your social skills fell apart around someone you liked. So, today you were determined to avoid spending time with him at all costs.

Of course, fate had other ideas. You quickly spotted two employees who were attempting to bleach Taeyong’s hair. No matter how awkward you felt around him, you were not about to let your incompetence get in the way of your profession, and so practically sprinted over to the chair he was sitting in.

“Guys, guys!” You tried not to whine. “If you start the bleaching process at the bottom of the head, you’re going to have to go over your original strips when you put the colour in.” Grabbing a brush from one of their hands, you ignored their bewildered expressions, to collect the strands falling over his forehead, just brushing his eyelids. He looked up from his phone when you did so, and gave a lopsided grin of recognition when he saw your face. He graciously ignored the blush blooming on your cheeks from stroking his face so boldly.

“Hey! It’s been a while, huh?”

“Uh... Yeah, I guess.” You attempted to play off your nervousness at replying to him as being entirely focused on his hair.

“How are you?” He continued, switching off his phone, and looking at your reflection in the mirror opposite you.

“Can’t complain.” You tried to smile back at him, but it came out as what looked like a pained grimace. “Er, you?”

“Tired. Always tired.” He chuckled, but you frowned slightly.

“You should get some rest. Sleep in the chair if you want, no one will mind.” Your parental instincts allowed you to forget how to be awkward for a while. concern taking over from the butterflies in your stomach.

“Maybe.” Taeyong didn’t sound convinced. “I’ve got to monitor our dance practice, but I’m, like, genuinely fine, otherwise. Like you said, I can’t complain.” He smiled again, but it didn’t meet his eyes.

It was obvious your worry made him uncomfortable, so you tried to scale it back, smoothing the frown lines off your forehead. “Whatever you say,” your tone was much more lighthearted. “All I’m saying is, I’m sure your fans would prefer it if you were conscious for your next comeback, not falling asleep on stage.”

“I won’t be falling asleep anytime soon.” He assured you, letting out a wry laugh while looking away from you.

“All I’m saying is, no one’s going to judge you if you take a ten, twenty minute power-nap.” You chided gently.

“You’re so sweet.” He turned around to look up at you, eyes soft, slight smile tugging at his lips.

You let out something that resembled a squeak, and thrust the bleach-covered brush at the coworker standing next to you.

“NicespeakingtoyouTaeyongbye!” You managed, before rushing off to the sinks to calm yourself down. It was almost embarrassing how affected you had been by one single look.

You did not manage to talk to Taeyong again that day. You were surprised how disappointed you were by the fact, however all your resentment washed away, when you caught him snoring softly in his chair, dance practice still playing in the phone in his hands.

You didn’t end up seeing Taeyong for a few months after that. Unsurprisingly, that made you even more curious as to his whereabouts. You found yourself refreshing your social media much more frequently, constantly checking NCT update accounts for any kind of news. You told yourself that it was all due to concern for his health, and it was true that you did fret over the eyebags that were prevalent even through his thickly made-up face. However, you also caught yourself smiling at candid photos of him taken by fansites, and giggling at his group’s appearances on variety shows.

You were worried about your crush. It had never gone further than harmless attempts at flirting with any other customers you had before, and something told you that the intensity was not going to fade any time soon. And that sacred you. You tried to occupy yourself as much as you could with things to keep your mind off Taeyong. Extra clients at work, reconnecting with old friends, clubbing every weekend. However, each time you thought that you were finally getting over your feelings for him, you would be reminded of his presence.

Sometimes it would be a huge billboard on the subway, however it was mostly something small and stupid that reminded you of him. A stuffed bear with huge eyes just like his, laughter heard from across a crowded restaurant that sounded like his, even the red of a balloon tugged along by a little boy that was the exact shade that you had just dyed Taeyong’s. In other words; you were screwed.

However, that morning, you barely had enough time to think of anything, let alone your illicit crush as you shoved a banana in your mouth, scrabbling to lock your front door. You had slept in, and woken up to around fifteen missed calls from your boss. You ran to your car, putting your phone on speaker, and then reversing out of your parking space as you called her back.

“I’m so sorry, I completely overslep-”

“Finally!” Came the shriek on the other end. “Listen, we’ve got NCT coming in today.”

“Oh.” You blinked, immediately regretting not taking a few extra minutes to pick a cuter outfit. “W-which unit?” You tried not to make your nerves noticeable.

“All of them.”

“What?!” You squawked. “All units?!”

“Did I mention the three new members they’ve added? With no notice to us at all? And that they’re expected in fifteen minutes!”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish I was.”

You didn’t even bother to hang up before you let out your groan

Just under twenty minutes later, you almost knocked down the doors to the salon. Immediately eighteen boys, five staff members, and twelve of your colleagues stopped what they were doing to look at you. And of course, you could only see Taeyong. Staring at you with a good-natured twinkle in his eye, perfect as always. Great.

You waved to your boss apologetically, as you ducked into the backroom to put your coat away. And then, you got to work.

The day was one of the hardest that you had ever spent at your job. Not only did you have to organise everyone’s hair colouring, which meant attempting to have a eighteen individual fifteen minute consultations within five minutes, you also had to coordinate who would be doing what when, ensuring that there wasn’t a seven-person queue at the sinks, and that no one’s hair fell out from bleach being left in it for too long.

It was actually coming towards the end of the day when you finally got a chance to even be near Taeyong. You saw him sitting in one of the sink chairs alone, and decided to rinse out his final round of toner, since you figured even the interns needed a break. You admired the dusty pink hue that he had chosen silently, as you made your way over. Though it was true that the two of you usually engaged in conversation, no matter how awkward while you did his hair, by the time you managed to get to the salon chair, his softly rising and falling chest showed you that he had already fallen asleep, head lolling in the sink attached to the head of the chair. You smiled, in spite of yourself, and turned the hose on softly, testing the temperature with your hand before starting to wet his scalp.

You made sure to do your job gently, but meticulously, massaging his scalp slightly to ensure that all of the excess product was washed out his hair. You hummed under your breath, simply out of habit, enjoying the welcome break from the madness your day had been so far.

However, you were barely two minutes into the job when Taeyong let out a soft moan. It was so quiet that only the two of you could have heard it, yet the noise startled you so much that you dropped the hose with a loud clang, spraying water all over both Taeyong and yourself. The salon was immediately thrown into pandemonium, as stylists abandoned their posts to mop the two of you up. You apologised over and over to Taeyong, unable to even look him in the eye.

Later, when your boss asked you what had happened, confused since you had, up until then, been such a reliable and talented employee, you were unable to vocalise what had happened. You had barely had time to even breathe since the incident, but had accidentally caught Taeyong’s eye as he swept a cursory glance around the salon to check that all the members had left before walking out himself. As soon as you locked eyes, he blushed an even deeper shade of crimson than you did.

As if your life could get any worse.

Over the next few months, you came to the harsh realisation that Taeyong was avoiding you. Whenever NCT came in to your salon, he mysteriously always had a schedule, or some kind of last minute commitment that the staff members assured you he absolutely could not back out of. Even though it had technically been him who had let out that sound, it seemed that you were the one being punished for it.

However, you knew that you did not have ownership over Taeyong, after a while, begins to come to terms with not ever seeing him again, as it seemed he was extremely determined to make that happen. He stopped popping into your thoughts as much - some days he didn’t cross your mind at all, and you breathed a silent sigh of relief to yourself that your crush was finally coming to an end, convincing yourself that his hiatus was in no way because your feelings were mutual.

That was, until a fateful stormy Wednesday evening, when you were left to close up the shop by yourself. Until, sopping from the torrential rain outside, an all-too-familiar figure burst through the door, breathing heavily, as if he had ran all the way from his dorm to your doorstep. Until all of your buried feelings resurfaced in full force, with one look at his face.

“Taeyong?” You almost whispered, incredulous. “What are you doing here?”

He stood, motionless, dripping water onto the floor. “I have to dye my hair.” He grunted.

“W-well, um, I’m closing, so if you could come back in the morni-”

“No.” He shook his head fervently. “I have to do it now.”

Something about the way his voice broke slightly on the last word in the sentence, shook something within you, and so, instead of refusing, or even asking him why, you simply sighed and pulled out the nearest salon chair.

He seemed slightly taken aback at how quickly you had complied, his demeanour immediately changing from intimidating, to the much more neurotically polite Taeyong that you knew. “Are you sure? I mean-”

“What colour do you want, Lee?” You called from the other side of the salon, already mixing bleach in a bowl.

“Green, please.”

“Green?” You raised your eyebrows. “How green?”

“Have you ever seen our lightstick?”

Three and a half hours later, you were exhausted. It was God-knows-what-time at night, and you had been on your feet for the entire duration of you bleaching Taeyong’s hair about three times, colouring it twice, and adding in enough toner to last a lifetime. What’s more, you had completed your tasks in complete silence. Not even on his phone, Taeyong instead opted to stare determinedly at his own reflection, avoiding your curious gaze, and remaining stoically voiceless. Instead of your usual friendly conversation, all you could hear was the howling of the wind against the windows of the salon, and the rumbles oft under that seemed to be coming even nearer to you.

Though you weren’t particularly afraid of storms, you had to admit that being in such an uncomfortable situation so late at night made you much more wary than you were usually. However, you were much too nervous around Taeyong to even giggle at the awkwardness that hung thick in the air, let alone confide in him your nervousness about the weather. You were beginning to realise that he had an effect on you that no one else ever had before. You were tongue-tied.

However, your ordeal was now finally over. You rolled your head around, stretching out your neck as you walked Taeyong to the door after he had paid, still with neither of you saying anything. You fumbled with your keycard in order to open it, incredibly conscious of his close proximity in his eagerness to leave, breath fanning the back of your neck. You slotted your electronic card into the door’s lock, and watched the light by the handle turn green with a small beep. You then attempted to push the door open, but were prevented by the definitive sound of the lock rattling.

“What?” You muttered under your breath.

Swiping the keycard once more, you tried to open the door again, but were met with the exact same stubborn lock, and a distinctive sinking feeling in your stomach.

“What’s wrong with the door?” Taeyong asked.

You could tell he was impatient, shifting his weight from side to side, and attempting to surreptitiously check his phone for the time.

“I don’t know, it’s... it’s not opening. The lock is jammed or something, I think it might be because of-”

“The storm.” Taeyong finished your sentence. “But that doesn’t make sense. All the other electricity in the building would be fucked up as well. If it’s only the door then-”

Just as he uttered those words, as if by some sick twist of fate, the lights in the salon flickered a few times, before suddenly shutting off.

“Shit.” You said, more to yourself than anyone else.

“Shit is right.” Taeyong huffed. He was already pulling his phone out, dialling a number. You toggled the light switches by the door, but were met with no response.

You both waited with baited breath for the familiar sound of the regular beeps of Taeyong’s, signalling that it was calling someone, that you had a chance at escaping. However, the phone was silent, refusing to follow it’s owner’s instructions. Taeyong tried another number. Then another, then another, and soon he was going through what looked like his entire contact list whilst pacing up and down in the dark.

“I don’t think we have service, Taeyong, there’s no point-”

“I’m trying to get out of here!” He whipped around, snapping at where he had last seen you standing. “Some of us have places to be, you know!”

You couldn’t help but let out a tiny gasp. This was a new, short-tempered and just plain rude side of Taeyong that you had never encountered before.

He didn’t respond in any way to your small reaction, instead finally stopping his pacing. Your eyes still weren't used to the dark, and so you squinted in an attempt to work out where he was, having realised the sounds of him moving had stopped, until you heard his voice right by your ear.

“Sorry.”

You jumped about five feet in the air. “Jesus!” You exclaimed. “You scared me!”

Even then, with both of you still so awkward with each other, and in such a terrifying situation, Taeyong managed to laugh.

“What?” You huffed. “That was terrifying! I can’t see anythi-”

Taeyong switched on the torch on his phone. You resisted the urge to shove your face into your hands. By this time, you had slid down the wall into a little ball, wrapping your arms around your legs. You could now clearly see Taeyong sitting a short distance away from you.

“Oh.” You almost whispered, unsure of whether or not you should attempted to initiate conversation.

After a short pause, in which you could physically feel the uncomfortableness of the situation seeping through the room, Taeyong continued speaking.

“I am sorry though, seriously. I’ve just been stressed recently, ‘cause it’s awards season. I haven’t changed my hair in so long, because I’ve been so mortified about what I did, but the managers told me I needed to change my look, so I came as late as I could to avoid you, but you ended up being the only one here, which is why I’ve been so disgustingly awkward, and now we’re locked in, but I only have a few hours to practice my solo choreography until sound check, but now I don’t have anywhere to practice, not to mention how I definitely won’t get to sleep now, and the members are gonna kill me, since I’m now basically M.I.A., and I don’t-”

Taeyong cut himself off, when you reached over and grabbed his hand. It was an impulsive decision, that shocked you as much as him, however as soon as you did it, you somehow knew that you had made the right choice.

“Taeyong, I can’t imagine how you must be feeling right now.” You weren't exactly sure where you were going with this, but looking at how desperately his brown eyes bored into your own, you understood that you had to at least try to comfort him. "Everything must be incredibly stressful, so firstly, you do not have to apologise to me at all.”

“But-”

You silenced him with a look. “I think it’s amazing, and incredibly admirable that you have so many concerns for the others around you, and so much dedication towards your career. But, Taeyong, maybe this is a good thing. No one is going to be angry at you for getting trapped somewhere out of your control, especially when you were trying to follow orders. Maybe this is a sign that you need to take a minute to think about yourself.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Taeyong protested stubbornly, now staring down at your intertwined fingers.

“When’s the last time you slept for more than an hour or two, huh?” You reasoned.

“I...”

“Exactly.” You said. “You know what, you’re sleeping now.”

“What?!”

“You heard me. I’ll watch our phones, and keep checking the door, but as long as we’re trapped here, I’m going to force you to finally get some rest, Tae!” The nickname slipped out, but he didn’t comment on it. It had felt so natural slipping off your tongue, and you felt a warmth bloom in your chest in spite of yourself.

“What about my dance practice? I only learnt it yesterday!” He protested.

“Then it’s their fault for not teaching it to you sooner.” You replied.

“I’m serious. I have to make sure it’s okay.”

You knew Taeyong would not let it go, let alone relax until he had the stupid thing nailed.

“Fine. Ten minutes.”

“Twenty.”

“Fifteen, and no more.” You bargained.

“What’s the song? I’ll play it for you.” You offered, searching it up via his instructions, whilst he stretched. Since the room was so quiet, your phone was a sufficient speaker, with the tinny sound of the beat just loud enough to enable Taeyong to hit each move perfectly.

You watched him, enthralled by the way he made his body twist and turn, contorting himself in order to pull off the most seamless performance you had seen from him. Again, you found yourself in awe of the boy’s talent.

“Are you sure you learnt this yesterday?” You tease. “You’re amazing.”

You didn’t miss the way Taeyong’s face heated up at your compliment.

“I, um... Well, it’s only cause, you see, the thing is-”

You interrupted his stammering with a chuckle. “Admit that you’re talented and drop it, Tae. Now come to bed.”

Taeyong almost choked at your provocative statement, and you realised that you enjoyed making him flustered.

“S-sure.”

You laughed again when you watched him lie down on the floor. “I’m not letting you sleep like a homeless person!” You teased. “Put your head on my lap, it’s much softer than wood, I promise.”

You had no idea where all of your newfound confidence was coming from, however you had an inkling that it might have had something to do with the way that Taeyong looked at you. Like you had galaxies collected in your eyes.

Barely able to look at you, he shuffled over, to rest his head on your jeans. Unable to resist, you started to run your fingers through his hair, blowing lightly on his neck, until he groaned.

“Please don’t. You’re too good at this.”

You blushed. “What?”

“This is what got me in trouble last time.” Taeyong was slurring his words slightly, and you realised with surprise, that he was already half asleep. “As if your smile, your smell, your personality wasn't enough, you’re so damn good as playing with my hair. It’s incredibly-” he paused to yawn, “-distracting.”

You smiled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I have a big, fat crush on you!” He mumbled.

There was a few seconds of silence where you simply blinked, attempting to process what you had just heard, before Taeyong shot up.

“Oh my god, I didn’t just say that out loud did I-”

The rest of his sentence was muffled by your lips on his. It barely took a few seconds for Taeyong to melt into the kiss with a smile, cupping his hands around your face, and pulling you closer to him.

You broke apart when the fireworks in your stomach became so agitated you could barely breathe.

“In case you haven’t realised,” you said, panting slightly. “I have a big, fat crush on you, too.”

“Well, then,” Taeyong grinned, already leaning in again, “There’s only one thing to do.”

“Nuh, uh.” You shook your head. “You are going to sleep, Mister.” You pushed his head onto your lap again. “What kind of person would I be if I deprived you of an opportunity to actually sleep?”

“Are you serious?” He asked, gazing up at you with nothing short at adoration in his expression.

“Afraid so.” You replied, smirking down at him.

“Well, this is very upsetting.” He pouted playfully, and you couldn't help but to pinch one of his cheeks gently.

“There’s really only one thing that’s going to make me feel better.” He continued.

“Oh yeah?”

“Goodnight kisses. Lots and lots of goodnight kisses.”

The next morning, you were woken by a very flustered intern who had been sent to prepare the shop for it’s opening. The electricity had come back on at around five in the morning, but neither of you had been awake to notice. You sent the girl off on a mundane task in the back, whilst you typed your number into Taeyong’s phone.

He apologised for having to leave, and then you apologised for having kept him so long. He thanked you for letting him sleep on your lap, and then you thanked him for being “Such a ray of sunshine.”

The intern gasped loudly when she saw Taeyong kiss you goodbye, however you were so infatuated that you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. He was all yours now, and you couldn’t be more grateful that your crush hadn’t worn off in the slightest.

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sleeping-platinum · 3 years

Text

Thanks for the tag @carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich !!

Rules: Answer the questions and tag anyone else you wish to see participate~ Also tag me ( @vampiretsuki) if you do this because I would love to read your answers~!

1.- Who would you rather take to a night club, Carla or Azusa?

- In all honesty, neither would appeal to me! Characters and the setting. Carla would make me nervous even if we don’t stay long because my anxious mind would constantly mistake him for being angry and a night club?? Too many sounds would send me into a panic attack and I will search for the easiest most available way out possible. For these reasons, I believe Azusa might be the easier choice for my anxiety since I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t confuse his voice for anger. I would still think he’d be upset for some reason; however, a much calmer voice probably wouldn’t spook me as easily.

2.- In a Science test would you copy Yuma’s test or Ayato’s test?

- I would be too nervous to copy, especially from these two, but for this one maybe Yuma? Admittedly, I’m not entirely sure just how smart these two are, but I mean, I failed chemistry in high school because of formulas so there’s that~

3.- Would you rather have Kino and Azusa or Shin and Laito, as your Butlers?

- I think Azusa would be more fit to try and fill the role, but since I have not touched Kino’s route at all yet (I’m so sorry), I would have to go with Shin and Laito. Whether they’ll actually do the job is the real question…

4.- Go on a date with Reiji at a Aquarium or go on a date with Subaru at a Cafe instead?

- I would most definitely choose the Aquarium! Not only have I never been to one, but the fish and sights would definitely help distract me from any nerves I would have! A café isn’t bad either, but there would be little to nothing (unless it’s a dog or cat café then it would be interesting especially with Subaru) to distract me if I get too nervous or anxious. But I’ve always wanted to go to an Aquarium so that one wins!

5.- Would you rather go support/see Kou at one of his Concerts or go support/see Shu at one of his Violin Performances?

- Shu’s Violin Performance! I’ve sort of been to a concert before and the noise and close proximity to others makes me uncomfortable. I think I would feel more peaceful at Shu’s performance than Kou’s.

6.- In a Math Project would you team up with Ruki and Shin or with Reiji and Yuma?

- Regardless of which one I ultimately pick; I would literally be the dead weight of the group and that fact alone is enough to have me avoid this scenario at all costs. I’m not ready to be ridiculed for my lack of knowledge, I’d rather help Carla clean the mansion… I’ll go with Reiji and Yuma. Perhaps the need to complete the project would keep them (or just Reiji) from actively commenting on my mistakes ;;w;;

7.- Who would you put your bets on, Kanato eating the most chocolates or Ayato eating the most Takoyakis?

- Kanato. Chocolate comes in all sorts of sizes, but even with equal consistency, it always seems like he’s constantly eating them anyway.

8.- Sleep in Carla’s room, Subaru’s room or in Shu’s room? (You have the room to yourself, they aren’t there) Would you peek on their stuff?

- Listen okay, this is an odd detail to point out but it’s relevant for this question. I am literally a smaller, simpler version of Shu (minus the libido), my url has “sleeping” for a solid reason and that is because I love to sleep. The only one I’d eliminate from the choices is Subaru, because I’ll question the comfort of the coffin. It look tiny to me~

Immediately, I’ll pick Carla’s. The room doesn’t seem so massive and the bed looks comfortable, a nice quiet place to rest indeed. If the boys would be in the room, it would be Shu since at the very least if I’m kicked out of the bed, I can sleep on the odd-looking couch. As strange as it is, I observe potential spots that look good for a nap (because my anxious mind has to imagine worst case scenarios). I’m not one to look into things when I’m in a new place. If I can have a place to sleep, draw or play a game, I’m fine.

9.- You’re a princess of the Victorian era! Your father has ordered that you have a bodyguard.. who would you choose as your personal bodyguard, Laito or Kou?

- They both look like they lack commitment, so that concerns me. I’ll choose Laito. I think I’m slightly more scared of Kou in all honesty.

10.- Would you prefer to have Kino in his bat form as your pet or Shin in his wolf form as your pet instead?

- Shin. Wolf. Gimme.

11.- Break a fight between Kou and Ayato or between Laito and Kanato?

- Laito and Kanato I guess? Maybe candy will work, cake or something to at least distract Kanato. I’m more likely to run from the fuss and hide in some place quiet though.

12.- Who would you kiss on the cheek, who would you kiss on the forehead and who would you kiss on the eyelids? Options: Ruki, Subaru, Azusa.

- Cheek, Subaru. Forehead, Ruki. Eyelids, Azusa.

13.- Take care of Shu and Reiji in their Chibi form or take care of Subaru and Kino in their Chibi form?

- I Will lose Kino. Shu and Reiji.

14.- Sing/Perform in public Laito’s Q.E.D Song or Reiji’s Mr.ButterflyMask song?

- I had to look these up, I don’t own any of the song CDs~ But oh my goodness, I certainly did not expect that from Reiji! I pick Laito! I like the lyrics from his more (but I’d rather die than sing in public).

15.- Would you rather wear Ruki’s casual outfit or Yuma’s casual outfit?

- Ruki.

16.- Go on a Vacation trip with Shu, Kino and Ayato at a Amusement park or go with Shin, Azusa and Subaru at a Water Amusement Park?

- I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep in the water and drown or possibly get left behind and lost and I have terrible issues with that. But you know what, the combination of Kino and Ayato is enough for me to have an adventure out of the comfort zone, I’d much rather drown than go on any potentially extreme rides. I’ll be in the kiddy pool thank you very much.

17.- Would you rather get lost in a forest with Reiji, Kino and Kou or with Ruki, Carla and Kanato?

- Carla!! And Ruki and Kanato.

18.- Who would you cook breakfast for? Who would you make a scarf for? and Who would you do a drawing for? Options: Kou, Azusa, Shu.

- Cook for Azusa since I feel he’d be less likely to mock me for my lack of cooking skills… Draw something for Kou and Try to knit a scarf for Shu.

19.- Participate in a Circus as Carla’s Knife thrower assistant or go to a Casino with Shin and be offered as a bet/reward by him in the Roulette Wheel game? (So if Shin looses you’ll be taken away by whomever won)

- Welp. See you all in the hospital if I survive, better than being given to a stranger.

20.- Who would you rather catch by accident taking a shower, Yuma or Kanato?

- Yuma. I don’t think he’d scream as loud or at all.

Thanks again for the tag, these are always fun to do! Sorry my answers aren’t all that interesting though! And I don’t think I have any other friends in this fandom?? ;;w;; So I can’t exactly pass this game on...

#Tagged #Diabolik Lovers

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thesickpanda · 5 years

Text

Medical Gaslighting

As I scroll through my Tumblr feed, I come across innumerable stories from fellow spoonies who have experienced mistreatment, neglect, abuse and disbelief from the medical institution. I recoil in both horror and in painful empathy as I read the stories, because they are all too familiar and terrible.

It's hard to understate how exhausting and upsetting it is to be questioned on your chronic illness, to be lectured by doctors who know nothing about what you’re going through or even the latest research on your particular condition. It's horrible to suffer something so disabling and debilitating, only to be told that you're not disabled enough to qualify for concessions, finance or support. It's bad enough that friends and family often don't believe us or make accommodations, but it is a truly desperate feeling when the very people who took an oath to help you and do no harm actively dismiss, deride or bully you.

I'd like to list my own examples of what I term “medical gaslighting”, both as a personal record and as a contribution to those stories.

Example One:

It is my first year living in Australia. I moved to this country already suffering from debilitating pain. I had previously been diagnosed with Myofascial Pain Syndrome in the UK; however, even the rheumatologist said it did not account for all my symptoms. The pain had grown a great deal worse, and it had started spreading to other parts of my body. I went to go and see my partner's family doctor. I explained how badly my back ached, that I had a two year history of this pain and that I really want to get to the bottom of it and find some relief. His response? "Everybody gets back pain. Take painkillers and just deal with it." I came away from the appointment stunned and disappointed. This was not the first time I have felt as if my condition was not being treated seriously; however, it was the bluntest delivery of this sentiment. Little did I know this was an experience I was going to have repeatedly…

Example Two:

I have been on the waiting list for a public pain clinic for many months. In order to have access to the pain psychologist and physiotherapist, I need to have an assessment by the resident pain clinician. This man is a dinosaur. He looks to be in his 80s. His thinking is about that old, too. He tells me I need to go on anti-depressants. I tell him that I have been on SSRIs before and that I have always had severe side-effects and that they have never made any difference to my pain. I also tell him that I am not suffering from depression. Yes, the pain is wearing me down but I know what depression feels like and I don't currently have it. He tells me that if I want to go on the pain course and have any hope and improving, I absolutely must do what he says. When I try to express my concerns, he bullies and emotionally blackmails me to accept. I don't want to miss out on the rest of the program, especially as I feel desperate and don't know what else to do, so I begrudgingly start taking the antidepressants. And so begins a four-year horror fest of dreadful side-effects, appalling and long-lasting withdrawal symptoms, and of course no pain relief. To say that I hate this man is an understatement. Not only did his “advise” me down the wrong path, he made an already uncomfortable experience so much worse (and with NO warning of the side/withdrawal effects, either…).

Example Three:

I ask the pain psychologist whether or not he thinks severe childhood trauma and PTSD could contribute to my chronic pain. He dismisses the notion out of hand. Turns out, there's plenty of research to suggest this and that it is not a ridiculous notion by any stretch. I knew this, because I had been reading some of the latest peer-reviewed journals on the subject. But as I soon learned, the so-called experts were not keeping abreast of the research. They were, on average 15 years behind it. Not like I would know anything about my own illness!

Example Four:

At a different stage in my life, I do wind up depressed, but that is because I have just lost a close family member, my relationship is breaking down, and the pain has reached agonising levels. I wind up in hospital after an attempted suicide with a knife. I am put in a room and made to wait seven hours before anyone see me. The only person who comes in is a nurse who tells me that I'm not a priority because “there are real sick people” who need real attention from doctors. The room is full of sharp objects.

Example Five:

When I do get a name for my condition, Fibromyalgia, I soon learn that not everybody believes Fibromyalgia is a real illness in and of its own right. My GP in particular likes to tell me it is a diagnosis of exclusion. Now, I understand that many things need to be excluded before one can arrive at the conclusion that it is Fibromyalgia; however, when she says it she puts it in that dustbin of "medically unexplained symptoms" because Fibromyalgia is just a word for that in her books. Meaning, she doesn't recognise it as its own disease and therefore doesn't know anything more about it. There is a lot of research coming out at the moment that indicates Fibromyalgia might be immune based, among other things. It is also being recognised in some parts of the world as its own disease. It is beyond frustrating to be told that I am just one of those people that have aches and pains that aren't really based on anything and therefore don't warrant much support or understanding. This is a recurring problem with my GP and other doctors. I have heard it called “the fakers disease” and have been told by perfect strangers that it's all in my head and that if I just had a positive attitude I could get over it. I know that this is a universal experience faced by all people with chronic illnesses, but getting it from your doctor is particularly hurtful and frustrating.

Example Six:

The disability employment agency that I go to tells me that I'm too ill to put into paid work because I will not make for a reliable worker. The government tells me I'm not disabled enough to qualify for any financial support. All of the burden falls to my partner who, lucky for me, is a great guy. However, the tens of thousands of dollars we spend every year on medical bills mean that we will never have enough for a deposit for our own home, nor can we easily afford appliances, holidays, events or even gifts for family at Xmas. Literally all his disposable income goes on medical expenses. We have very few savings to speak and rent in one most expensive parts of the world. When my partner asks my GP for a carer’s card to give him small concessions on life's little luxuries, like going to the movies, he is told that because I am not in a wheelchair and a paraplegic, I do not qualify and neither does he. We are constantly being told that I am not disabled enough to qualify for anything: not government support, not concessions -zilch. The only thing that we have received from the Roads and Traffic Authority has been a disabled sticker for the car. And thank Christ for that!

Example Seven:

When I tell the exercise physiologist that I am seeing that I don't think it's a good idea for me to do the types of exercises he's giving me in 40° heat (back then we live in a rough area and the local gym has no air-conditioning) he tells me it's fine and I should do what I'm told. He shows me some exercises to do and then rushes off to see one of his five other customers he’s treating at same time in the same hour. I go into a full spasm because guess what? Extreme heat and exercise do not go together. Even the Bureau of Meteorology tells people not to do strenuous activities on 40° days. But my exercise physiologist, who again seems to know nothing about Fibromyalgia, thinks this is just peachy. Twice I go into flare with this man. One day, he is on leave and his immediate boss comes in to take me for my sessions. His boss watches all the exercises that I have been doing for six month. He tells me I'm doing them all wrong. I tell him that this is how his colleague taught me to do them. He again tells me they're all wrong. I terminate their “services” (read: scam). Exercise physiology is not covered by medical insurance so I have literally spent thousands of dollars on a program that has put me into spasms and done little to nothing to help me with my pain.

Example Eight:

I see a number of different psychologists over the years; often this is not by choice as we either move away or they do. I have seen good psychologists and very bad ones. On more than one occasion, psychologists asked me if I “identify with my illness”. I know this trick question. When I go to them to ask for help on how to deal with the psychological ramifications of coping with a debilitating, continuously worsening and disabling illness, something I am not permitted to speak about with friends and family lest they dismiss me/tell me I’m being depressing, I am told that I identify too strongly with my illness. It seems like you are literally not allowed to complain or express dismay about being sick and sore every waking second of your life to anyone. It should not, apparently, be taking any psychological toll on you and if it is it's because you have decided that it must. I have been told this by both able-bodied and disabled psychologists. Ableism is not exclusive to the able-bodied. Disability is a spectrum: people with chronic illnesses of different sorts face different struggles. I feel as if no place is safe. I give up on therapy and start reading self-care books and following these Tumblrs because I get more validation and assistance from the Internet that I have ever had from a real-life human being getting f-ing paid to counsel me.

These are just some of countless stories I could tell. Having to fight to be believed every day, from the second you get out of your car in a disabled park and have people challenge you, to trying to explain why, to your friends, you needs to take the lift and not the stairs, to begging your doctor or the government for basic concessions, to sobbing over bills that mount up because of all the mobility aids, medicines and treatments you've been taking… This is exhausting beyond description. And after years and years and years of it, you begin to feel a bit hopeless.

So to all my fellow spoonies posting on these Tumblrs: thank you. I am always sad to read the terrible experiences you go through, but it does give me some sense of connectedness and unity when I know that there are others fighting just like I am fighting. I appreciate the advice that is shared in this space and the posts of validation and comfort that we just don't receive from the people in our lives. Thank goodness for this community. I don't know how I would have coped at all, if not for you.

Feel free to share your own stories of medical gaslighting with me. Sometimes it helps to vent.

#gaslighting #medical gaslighting #chronic illness #spoonie #that spoonie feel #Fibromyalgia #myofascial pain syndrome #chronic pain #ableism

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ketso · 3 years

Text

Episode 29

I hate my job. Truly, I do. I should have never resigned from Thomas' company. People valued me more when I was there. Now, I am an executive, but I get treated like trash. I hate it. I hate everyone here.

I never take lunch because I don't want anyone thinking we are friends or that we should lunch together. None of these people are worth me having lunch with. But today, I need some air. I need to breathe in a different kind of environment because if I stay a minute longer in my office, hell will break loose around here.

I get into my car to go get lunch then plan to go eat with the one person I can tolerate right now, Qaphela. While I drive to get food then to Qaphela, let me tell you a bit about my job.

I am an executive lead in the external affairs team. I have about seven people reporting into me then I report into a director who reports into the CEO. I have a dotted reporting line to the CEO because my line of work impacts the CEO's agenda in interviews and other public appearances. But the place is not nice. My ideas are not Bible. People are lazy to work. This is the corporate space. Who knocks off at 4pm and refuses to work before 7am? Who? They always feel the need to remind me that they take wellness and well-being seriously. I never said they shouldn't. Not once has an objection toward wellness and wellbeing come out of mouth. But we have customers that don't care about wellness and wellbeing, they expect us to deliver. We have key stakeholders in other companies and in the government that expect us to be available for meaningful engagement when needed. This company is known in our industry for dropping the ball. This company is notorious for having slow service delivery. I'm not saying it's because they take wellness and wellbeing seriously. All I'm saying is that even I am frustrated by them and I'm not a customer or a stakeholder.

So, I, Pearl Shange, put in the hours that nobody wants to put in. I am the most knowledgeable executive in the department and my team has the honour of having the toughest boss in the business. But we deliver. I put in the work and I don't complain. The CEO has me on speed dial and has learned to trust me more than he trusts my director which now has caused a rift between my director and I.

"To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?" Qaphela asks me as he opens the door for me.

"I come bringing lunch. I hope you still like braaied meat and that entire unhealthy diet sold at Solly's corner because I just spent quite a bit of my time walking through drunk unemployed people at midday, waiting for this food and risking my car being scratched", he is already in stitches as I say this. I'm glad he finds it funny.

"Nobantu, you are not human, wena. Come in", he says as he leads me into the house.

I come in and close the door using my bum because this man whose supposed to be a perfect gentleman has not taken all this food from my arms. I mean really. Am I supposed to teach him that?

I make my way to the kitchen and put the food on the kitchen counter. He has disappeared into the house, not sure to where. I plug the kettle and start getting plates out. I bought my own coffee because Qaphela is the Ricoffy type and honestly, I need the strong and good stuff. If I were not headed back to the office after this, I would be having whiskey.

I am exhausted.

I start dishing up this meat that has been braaied. I got him pap which I dish onto his plate, but I got myself garlic rolls because I am not prepared to be running off pap in the morning. My morning runs are already tough in all those heels in Umhlanga.

I hear arguing. Hai bo, kanti Qaphela has company? Also, I'm not fazed. I'm not going anywhere. I need company and Qaphela will do for now. I would have sex with him too, but now that I know that his penis was in another woman minutes before I arrived, that opportunity immediately flies out of the window.

I see a girl march down the passage. Really, Qaphela? Seriously? This girl and I used to be friends back in the day. She's even ashamed to look at me and I plan to make this as uncomfortable as possible for her. I left to go to Gauteng and she feasted on my baby-daddy? A friend, ladies and gentlemen - a friend.

"Nobantu", she says, breaking the silence between us.

Should I be petty? Nah, my outfit, my beauty and the car parked outside is reminder enough for her that I'm ten levels ahead of her and all she has left are my leftovers.

"Hello, Sizakele", I say.

"It’s good to see you", she says.

"I can't say the same about you, considering where we are bumping into each other", I say. Yeah, I decided to be petty. But she doesn't back down.

"I thought you had the Venda man and Qaphela was useless. I didn't think that you'd care that some of us found him useful", she says.

"And I didn't think that my friend was patiently waiting for me to leave KZN so she would jump on my boyfriend's penis. Then again, you've always enjoyed my left overs. From my left over food to my old bras that I'd give to you while your mother took your grocery money, underwear money and school fees money to spend on alcohol." I say. I don't know why I took it there, but I did. KZN makes me so angry. There is something here that just makes me a horrible person.

"You still here?" Qaphela comes into the kitchen and sees the staring match between Sizakele and I.

"Lalela la wena Nobantu, Qaphela and I are together. I don't know what you came back for, but it better not have been for him", she says. Oh please. Get the fuck out of here. If I want Qaphela, I'd have him. I wish women realized how they actually dare us to explore their penises when they threaten us, demanding us to stay away from their men. I made that mistake with Thomas and all his other bitches. Qaphela and I have a child together and Sizakele thinks she can control my access in Qaphela's life. I'm actually laughing at her because she is so pathetic.

"You think this is funny?" She asks me.

"I find your audacity extremely hilarious. You are the one that Qaphela is kicking out barefooted and wig uncombed while I'm the one preparing food in his kitchen. Yet, you think you can tell me what to do around him?" I say.

She charges at me ready to hit me and Qaphela throws her over his shoulder and takes her out of the house. They argue on the streets while I finish preparing food and coffee.

Such ghetto behaviour!

Qaphela comes back into the house alone and sits next to me where I have placed his coffee and food. Black Coffee with cream. I'm putting him on.

"Nobantu, you can't do that. I respect you as the mother of my child, but you can't disrespect my girlfriend like that", he says.

He should have said that when she was still here. He disrespected her, not me.

"I don't want to talk about Sizakele." I say.

"Nobantu -

"How are you feeling, Qaphela? You look a lot better", I say.

"I am a lot better, thank you. And thanks for taking me to the doctor the other day. I appreciate it", he says.

I nod my head and eat. He is eating too.

"So what brings you here?" He asks me.

"I don't really like my work environment. I needed some air and a friendly face. I thought of you", I say.

"What’s wrong with where you work?" He asks me. He has always been good at this - at listening to me. Thomas never listened to me. Ever. I miss being listened to.

"I guess I took for granted being the CEO's wife when I was working at Thomas' company. Now, I'm just another employee who gets abused at work and my knowledge as well as the work I put in is not appreciated", I say.

"It’s corporate, Nobantu. The only time your work is appreciated is if someone is benefitting from it. If you are one of those who have thankless jobs, you are replaceable. You were replaceable at your ex-husband's company. What makes you think you are irreplaceable in a stranger's company?" He says. That cuts me and he sees it.

He eats instead of apologizing.

"I'm worried about Gcina", I tell him.

He looks at me, waiting for me to elaborate.

"Gcina is irresponsible. She doesn't know what she wants to do with her life. She couldn't get a matric just to start her off. She lacks vision and ambition. I'm worried that she has decided ukuthi this is the rest of her life."

Qaphela looks at me for a long time, analysing me almost.

Then he says, "Nobantu, you left her with your parents when she was a toddler. She doesn't even remember you being a mother to her. I'm not saying that she shouldn't take responsibility for her decisions, but I'm wondering when you are going to acknowledge the part that you played in messing her up."

"The part that I played?"

"The part that you played, Nobantu. You went to Gauteng and forgot all about your child. She had to get over it, on her own. Her life froze when you decided to go out there and be a wife to a man who wanted nothing to do with your child. You deprived her of having a mother and she just had to figure shit out. You have no right to judge her ten minutes after you come back here and decide to be her mother so many years later. Where was this concern when you were –

"Don’t you dare! I took care of Gcina! There is nothing that Gcina lacked and I made sure of it. I sent her to the best schools and she managed to get herself expelled from those schools. I made sure that she was fed! That she had everything I would have never been able to give her had I not married Thomas because unlike uGcina, my parents did not make sure that I had the best to set me up for the rest of my life. I needed a Thomas to pull me out of the shit that my parents left me in so that my daughter could have more", I have lost my temper now and so has he. This is a screaming match.

"Money is not everything, Nobantu", he says.

"That’s very rich coming from you. You are the same person who left me pregnant at fifteen to go get money so our child and I could be okay, then went to prison. You were absent from our lives too because you chose money over being there for me through my pregnancy and when our daughter was born." I say. This hurts him.

We both take deep breaths, appreciating that perhaps this is not how this conversation should be going.

"I want better for her. She can still change her life and I want her to change her life." I say. I am calm now, walking around in the TV room. Qaphela stands up too and leans against a wall, facing me.

"I want that for her, too" he says.

"I have trusts set up in her name that she is supposed to be accessing by now. I want to buy her a car so she could drive my mom around and do errands for you. But she doesn't even have a license. I have millions set aside for her to study abroad and she can barely finish a bloody matric. Gcinumama frustrates me, Qaphela", I say.

"We can still fix this, but we have to be gentle with her. She's a bit on the fragile side", he says.

"She already hates me so I'm not scared of her. One of us has to treat her like the irresponsible adult that she is. You, on the other hand, she has you wrapped around her little finger", I say.

"Fine. But if you are going to pick that fight with her, you need to be woman enough to acknowledge the part that you played in fucking her up. Don't become your parents, Nobantu. You hurt for years because of them and you took forever to heal because they wouldn't acknowledge how much they fucked you up. Don't become them. Gcina deserves for you to acknowledge the pain that you caused her so that she can heal and move on in a way that you still struggle to because the people who caused your pain have not given you the apology that you need to heal and move on." He says.

We have a moment. I'm getting emotional. He is there for me like he always was when I ran away from home after my parents -

My cellphone rings. I wipe my tears and walk away from him, realizing only now how close he was to me and how close we were to doing so much more than just argue about Gcina. It is my CEO calling.

"Hello", me.

"Hey, Pearl. Where are you? I need you in a strategy meeting taking place at 5pm today. Will you be able to make it?"

"Sure, Richard, I'll be there" I say.

"Thanks. I was in your office to let you know, but I see you are not here", Richard says.

"I had stepped out to get something to eat. But I'll be back soon", I say.

"Alright. See you when you get back", Richard says then hangs up.

Qaphela and I look at each other, silently appreciating what just happened between us.

"You need to get a job", I say.

"No one on this earth is good enough to be the boss of me. I'm almost back in shape and I'm headed back to crime", he says.

"Until when, Qaphela? Why don't you take the money you've made so far and start something legitimate?" I say.

"Why? So you can be the CEO's wife again? That's your life, not mine. And you not my wife so stop telling me what to do. You are not going to change or control me. That's probably why that Venda man left you." He says. That was just unnecessary, honestly. Fuck him.

I wear my heels again then walk out of his parents' house then make my way back to the office.

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jeffdominguez · 4 years

Text

Then fall, Caesar...

The passing of political firebrand Robbie Waters is a massive loss for the Greenhaven/Pocket community he once lovingly led with an iron fist Robbie Waters was not a man who summoned ambivalent emotions among those who knew him. It may not be a conventional observation to note in memoriam that those who counted themselves as a man’s friends were more or less in pretty close proportion to those who… did not, but this is true of Robbie. Generally, a person’s feelings about him were either black or white. Somehow, very few opinions were ever gray.

If he liked you, there was no better friend to have in this world. He would throw the full weight and considerable power of his standing in the community and in citywide government, including law enforcement, behind your cause, whatever it may be. And if you crossed him, he was not one to forget it. You could bet that he would not allow you to forget it, either. He loved his city, especially his district, and he devoted tireless effort throughout his life to the betterment of both. People seemed to understand that about him—it was definitely a virtue—and he won election, and re-election, to the Sacramento City Council, for four terms in total. For 16 years, 1994-2010, he found himself perched atop a mini dynasty that recalled those old Chicago political machines, all run from his nerve center, a small office in the back of the True Value hardware store he co-owned in the Promenade shopping center.

Robbie was a legit hometown boy. He was born here in Sacramento in 1936. He attended Kit Carson Junior High and Sacramento High School. He excelled at sports and grew to be a “big fish in a small pond.” And as the pond grew, so did he, in proportion, putting him in the rare category of “big fish in a big pond.” After graduation from Sac High in 1954, he enlisted in the United States Air Force, and, upon his return home in 1957, he joined the Sacramento Police Department (SPD), where several chapters of his considerable legend would be written.

He climbed the ranks within the SPD like the kid who free soloed El Capitan, ascending great heights at a remarkably brisk pace, employing an occasional death-defying maneuver to get from station to station along the route. He was in charge of the Detective Bureau, served as a Lieutenant in the Homicide Division, ran Internal Affairs. He arrested a Manson-clan member who attempted to assassinate President Gerald Ford in Capitol Park. In 1975, following a dramatic shooting incident at Neptune’s Table in the South Hills shopping center, he was awarded the Sacramento Police Department Silver Medal of Valor.

Somewhere in all of this, he managed to earn his bachelor’s degree in Criminology from Sacramento State University, and he graduated from the FBI National Academy in Advanced Criminology. People tend to think of Robbie as a man who’s been handed things in life, but the almost absolute inverse is the actual truth. He worked nonstop for every accomplishment he realized. His heart pumped ambition. He inhaled opportunity and exhaled achievement. “Doing” was in his DNA. In 1982, he ran for his first elective office, Sacramento County Sheriff. And guess what: he won. He remained Sheriff until 1987.

His personal life, like his professional life, is marked by significant milestone achievements. His first personal home run came in the form of the diminutive Judie Kent, a blond girl he met on a blind date specially arranged after they’d spotted one another at a pool party they’d attended the week before, each with other dates. Like everything else he’d ever achieved, Robbie did whatever it took to make Judie his, and after a year-long courtship, they married. “I was 20 years old, and I weighed 99 pounds,” says Judie. Over the course of their marriage, she would prove to be worth her weight in gold to Robbie.

Robbie and Judie were blessed with three great children, each born with a brightness that threatened their father’s considerable wattage, Dee Dee, Darren, and Danny. The Greenhaven neighborhood was more bare land than homes when Robbie took on the gargantuan task of constructing his own home—“Greenhaven 70” was the name of the development. With the help of many friends and family members, the home was finished in 1969, and the Waters moved in.

After they installed their pool, the Waters residence became a hub among the children in the neighborhood. Behind the scenes, Robbie and Judie did what they could to eke out for their kids a childhood that was as normal and idyllic as could be expected when your dad is an extremely visible public law enforcement figure, Sacramento’s answer to a Clint Eastwood character, right down to the conservative politics.

Anyone who was active in any community endeavor in the Greenhaven/Pocket area was bound to cross paths with Robbie at some point. To enumerate all of his awards and accomplishments and civic memberships would be tantamount to emptying a can of alphabet soup in front of a reader. Separately, these achievements are each impressive monuments that speak volumes for his willingness to support a worthwhile cause with deeds rather than just words, for his selfless and remarkable bravery in the face of great danger, for the stunning level of proven expertise he possessed in his avocation. Collectively, they become the proverbial forest that obscures trees, a phone book of feats that simply cannot be properly appreciated when compiled into list format.

I knew Robbie because he co-owned the hardware store with my great hometown friend, Jay Weathers. Robbie always had a kind word in passing, a friendly greeting. We became forever linked in 1996, when I hatched an idea for a multi-pronged 4th of July celebration for our community—a parade, a carnival, and, eventually, an aerial fireworks display at Garcia Bend Park. It would be fashioned after the homespun Independence Day celebrations I enjoyed growing up in the Delta. It seemed to me like a natural for the Greenhaven/Pocket neighborhood. The first thing I could think to do was to go to Robbie for help in getting my plan off the ground, so I drove over to the hardware store and found him in his “district office.” He liked the idea, but he was a little skeptical about the scale I had in mind for the event. He was, after all, a politician now, and he had his eye steadfastly on the big picture, on public perception, on votes. In the end, though, he ensured that I had everything I needed to pull it off.

When the event was delivered, it was extremely well received and overwhelmingly embraced by the community. He was pleased, and he wanted a larger say in related decisions. That was a source of great conflict between us. We probably disagreed on more than we agreed on, and we argued strenuously while holed up in that back office at the hardware store. But not many people ever knew that kind of tension ever existed. In public, we were all smiles, and when it really counted, he had my back, and I had his. Politically, we were opposites, but we had this common interest that bonded us and fostered a mutual respect that remains of a value to me that I can’t adequately convey with mere words. And that, for me, is saying something.

This is who Robbie… was. It hurts to refer to him in past tense now. He was constantly climbing. He was no stranger to power, and he liked it, and he was good at it. He wanted to hold onto it, and he always wanted a little more. The latter of these is an exceedingly common human quality, a great thing when it’s wielded by a man whose heart is in the right place. And it’s a disaster when it resides in less of a man. Fortunately for all of us, Robbie was more of a man.

Robbie seemed to be the author of the philosophy, it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission. In fact, he personally introduced me to that approach to getting things done in a bureaucracy. We need look no further than the local controversy that developed when he ordered “City of Trees” to be painted on the Freeport water tower for an example. That was classic Robbie. But whenever a problem in our neighborhood came up that needed to be addressed, Robbie proved himself to be indispensable. He was supremely responsive, and he followed up the issue like a dog on a bone.

In my favorite Shakespearean play, Julius Caesar, Caesar is shown to be an incredibly effective leader, and Rome thrives under his reign. He is roundly loved by all of his people, and he loves them deeply in return. His detractors, however, point to his constant desire to expand his own power. They refer to him as ambitious, an unforgivable failing for a leader in those days. The senate members do Caesar in and turn the people against him, until Mark Antony comes along and reminds everyone that Caesar’s actions were always for the good of the people. We see, in brilliant oratory, how there are always two sides to a story. Human beings—even leaders, it turns out—are made in three dimensions, not one, not two. When Rome’s citizens are shown all sides of Caesar’s humanity, he is universally mourned.

Robbie Waters was brutally tough. He was undeniably ambitious. He was a formidable opponent to his political enemies. He could be short, blunt, uncomfortably plainspoken. He carried a grudge. And he was unapologetic regarding all of the above. But he also loved his family with all of his heart. And he loved his city. He enforced the law, and he kept us safe. He was willing to work tirelessly on behalf of a good cause. Above all, he was a relentless advocate for our community.

I encourage everyone to consider Robbie in full 3-D when thinking about his life and his legacy. You may come to bury him, but I promise you’ll end up praising him.

Rest in peace, Robbie.

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emilysn2019-blog · 5 years

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Choosing the right hotel, ryokan, or other place to stay in Kyoto is important—not from the perspective of having a comfortable bed and the most high-tech toilet (although having the right temperature of heated seat is important), but primarily due to location. (Last updated July 16, 2019.)

No matter how long you’re staying in Kyoto, you will not have enough time. This is something we’ve stressed in our posts about Kyoto, and it bears reiterating. There are such a high number of compelling temples, shrines, and other points of interest that it’s impossible to see it all during a single visit.

We’ve visited Kyoto multiple times over the last several years, and have stayed at several hotels, ryokan, and Airbnb rentals. In this post, we’ll make specific recommendations concerning where to stay within Kyoto, offer a few specific and generalized hotel recommendations, and offer the pros and cons of staying at a ryokan or Airbnb rental.

Let’s start with location, as this is going to be important regardless of the style of accommodations you choose. If you’re visiting Kyoto for 2 days or less, I’d recommend extending your visit. But seriously, in that case, you should determine which region of the city appeals to you most, and choose a place that is convenient to those points of interest.

In 2 days or less, you are not going to be able to see it all, so it’s best to not even try. Instead of criss-crossing the city, wasting time in the process, pinpoint an area. See as much as humanly possible in that area, and save everything else for a future trip.

In this case, my recommendation is staying near Inari (more on that below), which provides convenient access to Fushimi Inari, and relatively easy access to Higashiyama. If there are other things in Kyoto that pique your interest more, consider a different location. There aren’t any “wrong” answers here.

If you’re staying 3 days or longer, I think choosing a location near a transportation hub makes more sense, as this enables you easy access to all of the regions of Kyoto. The obvious pick here is Kyoto Station, which is Kyoto’s main artery for transportation. Not only is it easy to get anywhere in the city from here, but it’s easy to get to Osaka and Tokyo from here.

We also are really fond of staying just north of Kiyomizu-Gojo Station in the south part of Gion. We’ve done this twice now, in the exact same Airbnb, which is pictured above. We’ll likely return to this Airbnb, as it works perfectly for our needs.

For one, the Gion area is lovely, and being at its southern edge is cheaper and away from the touristy area where the hordes flock. Second, it’s convenient to the Keihan Line, which is our favorite railway line in Kyoto. Finally, it’s an easy walk to the Higashiyama District. As discussed below, we also like staying near Fushimi Inari for similar reasons.

Okay, now let’s break down the various types of places to stay, starting with hotels…

Hotels

Beyond location, one thing you have to consider with regard to hotels is whether they are Japanese or western style accommodations. While this is true no matter where you go in Japan, the two most popular tourist spots in Japan are Tokyo and Kyoto, and the former has far more western chains that offer familiar accommodations to Americans.

In Kyoto, western chains are far less common. There are a few popular hotels, such as the Hyatt Regency Kyoto (pictured above), which earns bonus points from us due to its location in Higashiyama. Another option in this same general (desirable) area is the Westin Miyaka Kyoto.

There’s also the Ritz-Carlton Kyoto in this same area, which is one of the nicest Ritz Carlton hotels in the world. If you’re a real high-roller, Four Seasons Kyoto (pictured at the top of the post) is superlative. Soon, the Park Hyatt Kyoto will open in the best location of all–the heart of Higashiyama. You can see our Park Hyatt Kyoto Photos & Preview for more info on that big addition.

Kyoto Century Hotel, or as I call it “Lamp Shrine Inn,” is one specific hotel at which we’ve stayed that really sticks out to me as being good, both in terms of location and quality (the top photo of the giant lamp is its lobby…hence the moniker). It’s about a 5-minute walk from Kyoto Station, which is about as close as you can get. Like many hotels in Japan, the exterior is fairly nondescript, but the inside is nice and the rooms are a cross between Japanese and western styles.

There are a lot of other hotels in Kyoto that offer western style rooms, and my only general advice beyond the above is to not be tempted by ones that are downtown. In Kyoto, downtown is not the best place to stay. Fortunately, most of the nice hotels that pitch themselves as downtown are actually near Kyoto Station or Higashiyama. (I think they probably realize there’s allure to “downtown” for foreign visitors.) If you’re looking for a hotel beyond what we’ve listed, just consult a map and make sure the location is good.

Ryokan

A ryokan is a traditional style of Japanese accommodation that originated during the Edo period, when such inns served wayward travelers en route from place to place. They exist today as something between a remnant and an homage to the past.

They typically feature tatami-matted rooms, traditional yukata for guests to wear, and common spaces for guests to interact with other patrons and the owner. They also sometimes (but not always) feature communal baths (the idea of this was extremely awkward to me at first, but I’ve come around). Due to the more spacious nature of the ryokan, it’s typically something you’ll only find outside of Tokyo.

Now, it wouldn’t surprise me if some of you took one look at the above photo and instantly ruled out the ryokan. Perhaps the bedding looks uncomfortable or the idea of sleeping on the floor turns you off. Or, maybe you are like me and don’t like the idea of going full frontal in front of a bunch of strangers.

Well, let me “reassure” you: the bedding is about as comfortable as a normal hotel mattress in Japan and…well, at least you won’t get hurt falling out of bed? Also, the public nudity thing is something you get over quickly once you realize no one cares about what you look like naked. (Or perhaps that’s just me…) In any case, many ryokan have private bathroom options for “shy” tourists.

In all seriousness, before you rule out the ryokan, give it serious thought and look at some of the options. We consider the ryokan to be one of the quintessential Japanese experiences, and it’s definitely worth trying to get over some of your hesitations for this. If the idea of a ryokan is a non-starter, you probably should stick to an American chain in Kyoto. Japanese preferences favor firm mattresses, and we’ve had some that make ryokan pads feel like floating in a floor-level cloud by comparison.

Machiya

Machiya are traditional wooden townhouses that are iconic to Kyoto and probably what you picture when thinking of a traditional Japanese townhome. Machiya were popular with Kyotoites in the last century, up until around the post-World War II development boom in Japan that resulted in more ugly concrete towers (to put it charitably).

Many machiya survive today, and there has been a concerted effort in recent years to restore and redevelop machiya, and even build new structures in this classic style. Machiya continue to serve as homes to Kyoto residents, while others have been converted to vacation rentals, shops, and restaurants. There’s even a Starbucks in one converted machiya!

Machiya interior design is quintessentially Japanese. Inside, you’ll find tatami mat floors, minimalist decor, fusuma doors/screens separating rooms (which sometimes serve dual purposes), and exposed wood. The design of machiya is deceptively simple, but like most Japanese design, there are many pleasing details that make the spaces lovely and inviting.

We’ve stayed in a variety of machiya throughout Japan, and highly recommend the experience. In Kyoto, most machiya are found in Gion and Higashiyama, which are great areas of the city. (You’ll also find some in Arashiyama, but we don’t recommend that part of Kyoto quite as enthusiastically.)

Best of all, you can book machiya via Airbnb or your preferred hotel booking site. In both cases, you’ll pay a bit of a premium over non-machiya accommodations, but we’d argue that it’s worth the money for the unique, distinctly Japanese experience. We’d recommend going the Airbnb route over booking a machiya hotel. Speaking of which…

Airbnb Rental

Pretty much whenever we travel internationally, we check out prices on Airbnb–particularly if we are visiting during a busier season. In Japan, we’ve visited during sakura season (cherry blossoms), fall foliage, and Golden Week, and have thus encountered high hotel prices. Instead of paying those rates, we looked to Airbnb. In case you’re unfamiliar with Airbnb, we have a post on our Disney blog that discusses our Tips for Using Airbnb and provides some general background.

We prefer Airbnb to booking hotels because it gives us the option for a much larger room, usually an entire apartment. Japanese hotel rooms (that are not Western chains) tend to be very small, and using Airbnb is the best way to avoid this issue. A lot of Airbnb flats are “ryokan style” in terms of the guest quarters, which also provides a slice of authentic culture. (If this isn’t for you, just made sure to get an Airbnb with proper beds–a variety of styles are available.)

Obviously, the lower price is the biggest selling point of Airbnb. It’s also nice that many rentals can accommodate larger parties without an extra per person charge (as is common in Japan). Plus, Airbnb hosts often include free MiFi so you can use the internet on the go. We’ve had some fun experiences staying at unique Airbnb locations throughout Japan and really cannot recommend it highly enough. You can also use my sign-up link for a free credit your first time using Airbnb!

We’ve had several excellent Airbnb experiences in Kyoto, including two month-long stays (one near Kyoto Station, the other near Fushimi Inari). For a longer trip with side trips elsewhere in the Kansai region, we’d recommend being near Kyoto Station or in Gion. For a short 2-3 day trip, the Fushimi Inari area is absolutely perfect.

I don’t like visiting Kyoto for fewer than 3 days, but if we ever have another short stay in Kyoto, I’d book the Fushimi Inari Airbnb we’ve used in the past once more. (The one we rented is pictured above. If anyone wants more info on this unit, let me know in the comments–I’ll dig up our reservation details.)

Of course, you don’t necessarily need to rent this same unit–the general location is good enough. I like this area because Kiyomizu-Gojo and Inari are both on the Keihan Line (separated by 4 stops), making it convenient to accomplish everything along the spine of the Higashiyama mountains, starting with Philosphers’ Path and ending with Kiyomizu-dera Temple. You can then do Fushimi Inari late at night, or early the next morning.

This works because Fushimi Inari is one of the few spots in Kyoto that is open 24/7. If you have limited time in Kyoto, doing Fushimi Inari early in the morning or late in the night is pretty much a must. Not only does it allow you to extend your day, but the experiences at Fushimi Inari without crowds are second to none. (We have done Fushimi Inari at sunrise and late at night many times.)

I think that about covers the pitfalls and our recommendations for where to stay in Kyoto, and which kind of accommodations might appeal most to you. I’m guessing I made the decision of where to stay in Kyoto slightly more complicated, but hopefully I didn’t overcomplicate the decision for you. I will say that some “complication” is good here, as it’s easy to make a bad choice when it comes to Kyoto (we did on our first visit!) On the plus side, it’s pretty easy to make a good decision once you have a bit more info–and hopefully this post has set you on the right path!

If you’re planning a visit to Kyoto, Japan, please check out my other posts about Kyoto for ideas of things to do (or not do) while there. Kyoto has a lot of things to see and do, so I also highly recommend the Lonely Planet Kyoto Guide to help better develop an efficient plan while there.

Your Thoughts

Have you visited Kyoto? If so, where did you stay? Would you recommend it? Any thoughts or tips of your own to add? Questions about specific hotels, ryokan, or Airbnb rentals? If you have experience staying in Kyoto, please share in the comments–more viewpoints will help other readers! If you don’t have experience, feel free to ask any questions you might have in the comments!

The post Where to Stay in Kyoto, Japan appeared first on Travel Caffeine.

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scriptshrink · 7 years

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If a character experienced a lot of trauma and has panic attacks and disassociation episodes triggered by being in enclosed spaces like cars and elevators, unexpected physical contact (particularly around their face), and unexpected loud noises, what would be some strategies they could try to not just deal with those triggers from day to day but to actually become more comfortable and less anxious about them in general?

nothowiplanned

So exposure is one (horrible) way of doing this. Taking cars as the example, and depending on at what point the panic kicks in, they could stand touching the car, then sitting in the car with the door open and their legs out of the car, then sitting in the car fully with the door still open, then sitting in the stationary car with the door closed, then sitting in the car for a very short journey, then gradually building up the length of time they stay in the car. This would be extremely emotionally demanding, the character should probably have someone they trust absolutely with them, and they will have panic attacks/dissociate while doing this. It might not progress in a straight line either - one day the character might be able to sit in the car with the door closed but the next day they might really struggle getting in to it.

rarmeowz

Exposure therapy is pretty much the only thing I know of to actually get rid of triggers like that, and depending on the level of fear/panic that the trigger causes it can take a pretty short time to get over it or it can take a very, very long time.

[[Post continued after the jump]]

Snail

Apart from exposure therapy, your character might work on grounding techniques to prevent from dissociating, or to help return them to their normal self. They may also do work to prepare for panic attacks and put safety mechanisms into place for when things go wrong (cure rather than prevention). This could help relieve some of their anxiety about having the panic attacks.It won’t be possible for your character to completely avoid panic attacks (although they may well attempt to do this as much as possible by avoiding possible triggers), so a good strategy is to start developing techniques for dealing with the aftermath of panic attacks.

They may prepare an “in case of emergency” kit to help them recover from panic attacks. This could include sensory stimuli like strong mints, fidget rings, etc. that can be used for self-soothing; snacks to help with energy (panic attacks can really take it out of you); a mantra/affirmation (“then is then, this is now”); a playlist on their phone of songs that make them feel better; a recording of or letter from a loved one. This kit might be a real “kit” that the character carries around in a little box or bag, or they might keep the objects squirrelled about on their person (fidget ring on their finger, strong mints in their pocket, mantra at the front of their notebook, playlist on their phone, letter in their wallet). It might take a bit of trial-and-error to work out what contents are best for them. Maybe the playlist is no good because headphones in means they can’t hear their surroundings. Maybe the strong mints get replaced by essential oils.

There will likely be a lot of learning to do for your character as they find out what works for them. After having a panic attack + dissociation episode where I ended up wandering around central London with no money or phone and having lost the ability to recognize streets that I knew very well (I wandered around for hours, at night, trying to find my way back to the restaurant where my belongings were), I had to change my strategies:

After that I made sure that I always had a phone and money on my person - they could not be left in my bag or in my coat pocket, because if I became separated from them I would be stuck.

I also began always carrying a scented rag in my pocket (contained in plastic bag) so that I had a sensory stimulus to help ground me (especially good during flashbacks).

If I could avoid it, I didn’t put my bag down at all. If I did put my bag down, I made sure that it only contained things that I could abandon - valuables went into a second small bag that I kept on all the time, unless I was at home, or at a small number of specific locations.

You also eventually get better at predicting what situations will be triggering, and better at actually taking action to look after yourself - even if you know that going into an elevator will be triggering, it’s embarrassing to not be able to do something so commonplace, and I saw it as weakness on my part - that I should be able to take the elevator, and so I didn’t have a justifiable reason not to (this didn’t have great results for me). Even once I realised that I needed to take the stairs whenever possible, I then had to learn how to tell others I wouldn’t be going in the elevator with them. Usually I went for the “health” excuse (I got a pedometer so I could say that I was trying to make ten-thousand steps per day), but if time was an issue or there was what seemed an unreasonable number of levels to go up I would have to say “sorry, I really don’t like elevators - I’ll meet you up there?”

If we take the example of elevators, I can now almost always take them - I will sometimes choose not to, but it is a real choice - if I do take the elevator I may feel uncomfortable while riding, but it doesn’t have an impact that continues afterwards.How did I get to this point? My problems with elevators were twofold - 1) I was scared of being trapped in the elevator; 2) I was scared of being attacked by whoever I was sharing the elevator with. When I first started trying to use the elevator again it was in a glass elevator that they had at college. This meant that I knew other people could see (so I was less likely to be attacked, and I would be able to get people’s attention if the elevator broke down and the alarm system wasn’t working). I also took the elevator for tiny journeys - *I am going to travel one floor. If I change my mind when it gets here, I’ll take the stairs instead*.Sometimes that meant I didn’t go in the elevator, but other times I did. And for quite a while I only used an elevator for going short distances and only if there weren’t any strangers in the elevator. I probably wouldn’t have gone through this learning process, but one of my coursemates couldn’t use stairs and I went in the elevator with her.

The next push was when I got sick and began to tire very easily - I spent 18 months with very limited energy supplies. Now I had to use elevators that were not glass. It was difficult - I would sometimes still try to use the stairs, but I really suffered for it afterwards. By now I was working on the basement level of my place of work, so it was still a short journey, but the opaque walls and lack of choice made things much more difficult. One thing that really helped was having a colleague who understood trauma and accompanied me during elevator journeys. I trusted her and didn’t worry that she would attack me. When everyone left to go home and I would start walking towards the stairs she would ask “shall we take the elevator?” This was an agreed code for her to say “you are allowed to take the lift even though everyone else is going to the stairs and I will go with you to make sure you’re ok”.

I was still the one in control - sometimes I chose to take the stairs anyway - but she was reminding me that I had a choice and that she could help me follow-through whichever decision that was. The short journeys that I did with her several times a day were essentially training me - the more examples of safe, panic-free elevator journeys I had, the more comfortable I was with elevators in general, and the less likely I was to panic in the future.

(Sorry if that is too much about me, but I thought it might be relevant to your question)

For cars- does your character drive? If they do, they may find it easier to drive than to be driven because they are in control of the vehicle and can stop and get out whenever they want (obviously this doesn’t work so well if they’re driving on the freeway, but they might choose to start trying short drives around a parking lot, and then around town, but make a conscious decision that they are not going to drive on the freeway and they are not going to drive to appointments or anywhere that there’s a time limit for arrival that means that they can’t get out and walk around for half an hour if they need to during their journey. They could use driving their own car (or just sitting in there for a bit) as a way to get accustomed to cars in general. They might try using larger enclosed spaces as a way of working up to using cars - maybe riding the bus for a short distance. OR they might just find ways of avoiding cars - obviously how feasible this is depends on where they live, but they might move to using public transport, or cycling, or getting a motorbike.

They might avoid unexpected physical contact by avoiding crowds or places with lots of people. They may tell people that they know that they don’t want to be hugged - in my experience if people know you don’t like hugs they tend to be more cautious initiating physical contact (although thinking about it, this may have been partly due to my exaggerated startle response which also communicates “I don’t like being touched” very well). Knowing that people will ask before touching me helps reduce the anxiety I have around them. Another thing that the character may do is emotionally distance themself from other people - people are less likely to touch you if the relationship is professional than if you are friends. Of course, the social isolation this causes has its own impact.

Anon 217

Regarding physical contact/physical proximity, this is another situation where my service dog comes into play. One of his tasks is blocking – placing his body between me and anyone who gets too close. Having a giant mobile barrier goes a long way towards getting me out of the house. Before I had a service dog, if I left the house once a month, it was a busy month. Now, I can go out a few times a week, even to crowded or unfamiliar places, and it’s generally okay.

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myhelrav · 5 years

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In memory

Pausing to grieve and give thanks

A lovely blog post by my sister Chris has inspired me to write this one. We were both pottering away on a number of drafts for our different blogs when the Christchurch mosque shootings stopped us all in our tracks on March 15. To quote Chris, the grief has been palpable. There was also a sense of a nation holding its breath. What else was to come? Where to from here? And for each one of us not directly affected, how do you return to the daily concerns that can feel so trivial in comparison? I’d like to follow Chris’s example and pause here to remember and to reflect.

Tauranga’s mosque is in 18th Ave, an easy walk from our home in 11th Ave. I happened to know where it is because, feeling terribly homesick for Wellington’s multicultural vibe, I’d gone looking for it in my first few weeks here. The mosque was not easy to find, inconspicuous as it was on its peaceful suburban street corner. It’s not inconspicuous now.

The first of the flax fronds that now adorn the entire fence had only just appeared when Rod and I first went to pay our respects the morning after the shooting. The flowers were fresh and beautiful. They were beginning to create a beautiful space. And even though there were heavily armed police officers parked across the road, with Armed Defenders Squad cars regularly arriving to check in, it still felt like an incredibly peaceful place.

In the spite of our distress - mirrored on every face as ever more people arrived carrying flowers while Rod and I stood there - something inside me was responding to that peace and to the love that was so tangible in the reactions of everyone who was drawn to the mosque. I’ve returned several times and each time I have a sense, not only of that amazing aroha, but also of sending roots down into the very ground, making me feel more connected to Tauranga than just about anything else that has happened here.

This was a deeply personal reaction that took me by surprise, but I can only feel grateful. It’s such a cliché that even in the face of terrible tragedy, other lives inexorably carry on. However, March 15 and what happened afterwards has woven itself into, not only the story of our time here in Tuaranga, but also the story of how Tauranga is gradually becoming home.

We were drawn in our thousands to our local mosques over the following days. Like hundreds of other Tauranga folk, I headed back to 18th Ave on the Friday afternoon after the shootings, to join in the “chain of love”. Like the majority of other Tauranga women who went, I wore a headscarf. The decision to wear one was not something I had to think about for very long. Tossing a scarf round my head on a Wellington winter’s day is something I’ve been pretty comfortable doing for decades. Of course, walking through the streets of Tauranga wearing one on a summer’s day proved to be a different experience altogether. One of the perks of becoming a woman of a certain age has been the comfort of feeling largely inconspicuous out in public. Suddenly feeling incredibly conspicuous was pretty uncomfortable - until I drew close to the mosque. There I was in the company of an extraordinary mix of people, all of whom felt like friends.

The words “just extraordinary” kept playing in my head. It felt both a privilege and a precious gift that I had time and space in my life to be there. The forecourt was packed with both Muslims and non-Muslims – and a row of Harley Davidsons parked along the perimeter wall. Patched gang members from different gangs mingled with people like me who’d never ordinarily be anywhere near them. The strangers I chatted with included a high school teacher, an early childhood lecturer, a mother of 2 pre-schoolers, 2 heavily tattooed women there with their gangs, a Muslim woman I’d met at a vigil during the week, an armed Sikh policeman. The visibly armed police presence was so very jarring. A friend who’s been working in Christchurch tells me that many police officers are extremely tense, convinced the threat level is still high. Here in Tauranga, where that tension was less visible, people were strolling up and chatting with them, posing for selfies even. And lest this sound all quite jolly, the underlying anger heard so clearly in the Tauranga boy’s college haka, the grief that kept breaking through as people choked up while they were speaking, the profound respect that came through in the 2 minutes’ silence when truly all that could be heard were tuis in the trees - these were all powerfully, palpably, present.

Equally powerful were the symbols of love and compassion. Including a small, very touching, gesture of a 1-year old: intrigued by my tears during the 2 minutes of silence, he solemnly offered me his dummy for comfort. The smile it brought felt like hope.

Earlier that incredibly sad week, I had the chance to take part in a vigil organised by my yoga teacher. Stephanie, and a florist who spontaneously arrived with floral arrangements and 50 wreathes, turned Hart Street platform over at the Mount into a beautiful gathering space. The vigil had been advertised as “from dusk to moonrise”, which proved to be just perfect. The gentle weather, the gorgeous fade of sea and sky from blue through gentle pink to black, the absolutely spectacular appearance of a glowing red full moon over the ocean, the Southern Cross brilliantly clear overhead - they were all perfect. In another unexpected gift, it felt like a sacred space, a time and place where even those of us who don’t belong to a faith could feel that our tears and our hopes, both spoken and silent, could be could be heard and felt.

It was my privilege to help Stephanie out on the day, and I had the chance to speak if I wanted. I chose not to, something I find myself regretting a bit. Hindsight, huh? If I had spoken, I might have expressed some of the hope that filled my heart that beautiful night:

We know that we will never forget the fact of the massacre. We will most likely always be able to recall the afternoon the news unfolded and the enormity of what had happened became apparent. We will remember THEM, the 50 people who lost their lives as they gathered in their sacred spaces. May we also always remember US. The shock, grief and rage we felt. The aroha that drew us to the mosques with our flowers, candles and prayers, that inspired us to organise and attend vigils, that manifested itself in those “chains of love”, that was demonstrated in the food donated and the millions of dollars collected online. May we remember who we were, both as individuals and as united communities that stood together. We saw the best of ourselves as a nation - may it not all fade away with the changing news cycles. May lasting good come out of the evil.

Back at the mosque, the crowds have disappeared but people still come to visit, passers-by still pause, a patrol car with armed police keeps watch at every prayer time. The flowers are fading, the wind has ripped some of the messages, the rain has washed away many of the words. New messages still appear. They include those from the Muslim community, replying with words of peace and gratitude.

With love, respect, grief and gratitude. May we remember. Arohanui.

(crowd photos sourced online)

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thememoryhole · 7 years

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The Dude of Jack

August of 2004, probably almost exactly thirteen years ago. This story is the second in a series involving NSO (New Student Orientation) and is actually closely related to the first one.

As I mentioned in that previous story, part of NSO involved placement exams. However, that's not entirely accurate. NSO itself did not include placement exams, but to make life easier for incoming freshman, the university scheduled the exams for the days preceding NSO. The idea being that you could come one day earlier, knock out some placement exams, and then attend NSO.

One issue for us neighbor island kids was that, while NSO provided accommodations on-campus, if you went one day earlier, no such accommodations were available. I'm sure many people had friends or family on Oahu that they could lodge with for the extra day, but a couple of haole boys like John and I had no such luck.

The school did have an agreement with some hotel to help students in our situation. As I recall, it still wasn't cheap, definitely over a hundred dollars, which to a couple of teenagers fresh out of high school seemed like an insane amount of money to spend on a place to stay for one night. Between the two of us, the cost wasn't quite as bad, at least.

John and I flew to Honolulu that morning and the first order of business was checking in to the hotel. I don't even remember how we got there—I can't believe we'd be stupid enough to waste the money on taking a taxi, but on the other hand, we didn't know anything about Honolulu, so getting around was not yet our forte.

That's a theme I must stress from the beginning—we didn't know where we were or what we were doing. The epitome of small town kids lost in the big city for the first time, I can't be too specific on many of the details in this story because for the most part they were a blur. Though we would later grow to be quite adept at navigating the rough and tough streets of Honolulu, these were our first brave steps on our own.

I actually think that the hotel might have had an airport shuttle, which makes sense given that, when we arrived, it was like, a legit nice hotel. Not something super fancy, but this wasn't a Motel 8, either. Despite having reserved the room through the school, I remember needing a credit card, which was a big "holy shit" moment because we were still kids who didn't have anything. One of us used our newly-minted FHB debit cards. I think it was me, because for the rest of my time on Oahu I constantly worried about how the authorization hold on the card had basically reduced the amount of money I could spend during the entire trip to $30 or something ridiculous like that.

The hotel was in, or at least around, Waikiki, I am certain of that. I probably ended up walking past it a thousand times later on in life, but I never could remember which one it was. As we used the little keycard to open the door, I think we were both amazed that it was such a nice place. Why was this necessary for college kids here just to take entrance exams? The cost made sense, now, at least. It was fun, though. I enjoyed having a nice room to chill in. It would definitely beat the dorms they'd stick us in for NSO, as we'd soon find out.

I actually remember how we got to UH on that first day. Because the school at least had provided some public transportation guides for students staying at that hotel. We took the bus. I want to say it was the 4, but I have no idea if that's accurate or if TheBus still even uses the same line numbers as they did a decade and a half ago, so it's probably moot.

Regardless, I also remember that taking the bus was a big deal. Dude, we're just like, getting on this bus, who knows if we'll even get where we need to go? There were no smartphones back then, it wasn't like we could check our progress with an app or GPS. Just hop in, slide the two dollars in the little machine, take a seat, and hope eventually the little LED screen says the next stop is UH.

Clearly, we did get to UH, and I've already detailed some of the experiences there. I don't actually remember much more from that first day, obviously at some point we made our way back to the hotel and there isn't a whole lot that sticks out in my mind about that evening. What I remember more is the next morning. We had to get up early, to check out and then head back to UH for the official start of NSO.

But before that, we needed to grab breakfast. Being brave, we decided to wander the streets for a while and see if the big city could offer us anything novel. This is what makes me believe the hotel was at least in very close proximity to Waikiki, because we were easily able to stumble upon what felt like a very main drag of Waikiki. It was a weekday and still early yet, so it wasn't very busy, but it was very wandering tourist/pedestrian-friendly.

Then we saw it. Jack in the Box. At the time, Kauai had been Jack in the Box-less for a long, long time. I have no idea what John knew of Jack in the Box back then (I can't remember when Kauai's locations shut down), but I had fond memories. And when I had visited family in California, I always had a chance to rekindle my love affair with the fine purveyor of artery-clogging goodness.

It was clear. We were gonna have breakfast at Jack in the Box. Duh.

We wandered in, poring over the breakfast menu that was unfamiliar to us. There were a few other people in there, but we were in our own little brave new world. We placed our order, and waited.

I was probably talking too loudly, as usual. I wanted to appear cultured and worldly to John, and I was regaling him with stories of other rare fast food eateries. Jack in the Box was only one of the gluttonous delights we were denied back home on Kauai. I was telling him how in California, not only was I able to regularly enjoy Jack in the Box, but also this fabled little chain called Del Taco.

At that moment, the gentleman standing next to us at the counter butted into the conversation. He was a dude probably in his mid-30s, local, and possibly homeless. He was certainly slightly unhinged, as we were about to find out. He said, with no uncertain enthusiasm, "Oh yeah, man! I love Del Taco, too!"

Thinking back now, I suppose he was just joining in on the conversation because he was weird, but I remember at the time feeling like he was mocking me, like I was gushing too excitedly and noisily about something and he just had to step in and start ragging on me. And while it's not unheard of for a random stranger to join a conversation on Kauai or basically anywhere else, I still felt kind of uncomfortable because I was vaguely aware that things could be more dangerous in a big city.

Yep, small town kid for sure.

This dude certainly proved noisier than I ever could have been. He kept going on, "It's so much better than Taco Bell, or as I like to call it, TACO HELL!!!" The grin on his face indicated that he meant this as a joke, and an extremely funny and original joke at that. We nervously and politely chuckled.

I remember looking to the staff to see their reaction, which was one of indifference. Perhaps he was a regular that came in and behaved this way all the time, or perhaps they just weren't getting paid enough to deal with this shit. Couldn't blame them.

He asked us some questions, I can't remember what exactly, but somehow the topic of music came up and he suddenly asked, "Hey, do you guys like Linkin Park?!"

Maybe we looked like LP fans, or maybe he just really wanted to talk about Linkin Park. I think we muttered some sort of vague agreement, not wanting to push any buttons with this clearly unstable dude who was on a tear at seven o'clock in the morning at Jack in the Box.

"Oh, yeah? I like them too, but I don't know how that guy sings like that," he said. Then, without warning, he turned away from the counter, towards the dining area and screamed into an air mic, "CRAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWLLLLLLING IN MY SKIIIIIIN!!!"

When I say "scream," I'm not speaking hyperbolically. He put more energy into it than even Chester Bennington himself does in the real song. (His recent death is what inspired this story, because even thirteen years later whenever I think of Linkin Park all I can do is think back immediately to this morning spent in Jack in the Box.)

I think John and I both were pretty aware that we were fully on board the crazy train by now. Fortunately, the dude's attention had now shifted out towards the dining area. There was a Japanese family eating their breakfast, clearly tourists. As I recall, they were dressed in swimsuits, ready to hit the beach. Dad, mom, and a couple of small kids.

Who knew what was going through their mind as this guy started screaming loudly, but they could hardly expect that he would approach them and start talking to them in an over-the-top racist faux-Japanese accent. "OH, HERRO! GOOD MORNING!" he said, and they nodded nervously, hoping they weren't about to be murdered.

For some reason, he pulled out a $5 bill and proudly brandished it in their faces, pulling the bill taut a few times between his two hands for dramatic effect. "America quiz time! Do you know who this man is?!" he asked, waving the bill around the table. The family looked very confused. I have no idea if they understood in the slightest what was going on.

But after a moment of stunned silence, he made a buzzing sound. "Bzzt! WRONG! I guess you didn't know it's Mister Abraham Lincoln. Or probably as you would say it"—again he put on the heavy accent—"Abe-ra-ham RIN-con!" He laughed heartily at his own joke.

I wondered if this situation was going to get worse, like maybe he was not going to leave these poor tourists alone. Or maybe he would turn his attention back towards us. I had very little experience dealing with random crazies, I realized. Sheltered life.

But just as quickly as it started, it resolved. His order was ready, he grabbed the bag, and headed out the door, never to be seen again. John and I sat at a table and chowed down our breakfast, too bewildered by what had just happened to truly enjoy its goodness. We headed back to the hotel, checked out, and got back on a bus for UH.

The main reason for us coming to Oahu had not yet begun, but I had already learned something. Buying breakfast could be an adventure. So, this was what life was going to be like for the next four years.

#Freshman Year #2004 #Fall 2004 #August #August 2004 #Fall #Jack in the Box #NSO #Hotel #Waikiki #Crazy Guy #Eating Food #Adventure #Japanese tourists #Linkin Park #Crawling #Abraham Lincoln

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admhawthorne · 7 years

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I’m going to post something here that may possibly get me in some level of trouble...

...if my former roommate reads this, but, at this point, I suspect it’s a moot point.

In 2014, I agreed to be my cousin’s roommate so she would be able to afford payments for a new car. She really needed a new vehicle to get from point A to point B, and I figured it’d be fine to be her roommate. Our schedules are extremely different, and the likelihood of us actually seeing each other was really fairly small. It’d be two ships passing in the night, which exactly what I said at the time I agreed to be her roommate.

[VERY long post about why I’ve been less than cordial for two years.]

In fact, I was very clear that we probably wouldn’t see each other much, we wouldn’t eat together, and it would be rare that we would spend down time together, such as playing board games, because of how different our habits are. I made no secret of how I would behave here. This was a roommate arrangement, not a family reunion that went on all year.

We set ground rules. She would let me know if she left for the weekend so I could lock to top lock. She would pay me so I could pay the bills because I had to move in a month before her, so the bills would be in my name, and she wouldn’t bring strangers into the house (aka one night stands.) She would get the master bedroom with the attached bathroom. I would get the covered parking. Her friends could stay the night, and her best friend could wash his clothes at our place. My wife could come when her scheduled allowed. We would clean up after ourselves, take out the trash and put the dishes when needed, and I would hire a housekeeper to come clean once a month or so. My cousin was under no obligation to pay for that service, but it would be nice if she chipped in since the housekeeper would be cleaning the common areas.

It was, from there, a series of bad omens.

We looked around at few different apartments as time came close for me to move. My lease was up a whole month before hers, and, to add to it, I had to give a 60 day notice to my current complex while she only needed to give 30 (as I recall).

Our schedules never worked out to find a place. I kept pushing as it got closer and closer to time for me to put in my intent to my current complex. Finally, it was the weekend in which I had to find a place, and I called her only to find she was in a different state on vacation with a friend of hers. I asked her if she really wanted to roommate with me. If she didn’t, that was fine, but I needed an answer that weekend because, as I’d stated earlier, I needed to have a place lined up by that weekend. She hemmed and hawed and finally said she still wanted to do it and she guessed she’d trust me to pick from the places we’d already looked at.

Why was it so hard to find a place? Well, it couldn’t be further than 20 minutes from her work, it had to fall under X amount of money each month so she could afford it, it had to have two bathrooms, and it had to have a bedroom big enough to hold her king sized platform bed plus her stuff. Her stuff, mind you, is enough to fill up a moving truck twice over and then some.

So, I put down for an apartment that worked under her guidelines. It worked for me, too, because it was also close to my job at that time. A week later, I was offered a FAR better job. That job was an hour to an hour and a half away from this new apartment, depending on traffic. I took the job, of course, which meant I had to eat that commute.

From that point on, it’s just been a series of mini-cluster fucks.

First, there was the issue that not all of her stuff would fit in the new apartment, which she knew, but she thought more could fit in there than could actually fit, so she had to get a bigger storage unit. That eventually became a weird strike against me even though I got rid of all my sitting furniture and had only one box and a table top in the storage closet outside. I donated or otherwise disposed of almost all of my “stored” things to specifically give her as much storage room as possible in this new apartment, which she knew. I never made that a secret.

Then there was the issue that, because I was in the second bedroom with no extra space, my TV and gaming consoles were in the living room, which meant that, when I came home, I would settle in the living room for an hour or two before going to bed. In our agreements before moving in together, she had said this would be fine. She had a TV in her room, so it was no big deal for me to be in the living room when I came home after work or during the weekends. However, after a few months, this arrangement made her uncomfortable; she eventually told me that the apartment didn’t feel like it was hers at all because she didn’t feel comfortable being out in the public spaces. That was apparently my fault somehow, though I never could get her to explain how it was my fault or what I could do to fix it.

Whenever she had someone over and they were in the living room, she would have them scatter as soon as I walked in the door, and I would stop them and point out that I could go somewhere else or do something else instead of being on the TV, but my cousin always blew that off and acted like I was running them out on a rail. I never could get her to explain why she acted that way. Yes, I asked.

She had someone over almost all the time. If it wasn’t her former boyfriend/now BFF, then it was her current boyfriend, or one of her friend girls. There was almost always someone there if she wasn’t out and spending the night with them. If she was out and spending the weekend with them, she almost never would tell me, which broke a part of our agreements prior to moving in together. When asked about it, she’d just shrug say, “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot to tell you, but I meant to.”

She never cleaned up after her BFF, who would cook and leave a trail of crumbs and god only knows what on and in the oven. She never really cleaned up after herself, either. She’d cook sweets like cakes for her work people, and I’d come into the kitchen to find my hand sticking to the counter tops or confectionery sugar in all the nooks and crevices of the counter tops. Shit would get spilled out in the fridge that I know wouldn’t be mine because I rarely had food in the fridge, and she’d never clean it out. It’d just sit there until I couldn’t take it anymore. I think, in the two years we were living together, she cleaned the fridge out, maybe, twice, and she NEVER offered to help pay for the housekeeper.

I cleaned it out once while she watched, and I literally pulled a tin of cookies from the crisper drawer that were over 5 years old. She had moved them from her old place to the new, and they were that old.

She eventually got a new boyfriend, after going through a dating phase in which she, once again, found ‘the one’ only to have him ghost her. They’d only been talking/dating for three months when that happened, but the world came to an end there for a while.

The new boyfriend is a nice guy. He’s a former Christian cult member, but he’s better now. He is married and divorced with a teenage daughter who has a host of issues (as do we all), but the daughter doesn’t live with him even though he has custody. (It’s a long story, but I actually don’t judge him for this. I understand he’s trying to do what’s right for his daughter.) The man can’t keep a job. He had five in the half a year I’ve known him, and I know that because, two months after they started dating, he was kicked out of his place, thus making him homeless.

In the heat of a Texas July, my cousin decided she would help him find places he could sleep during the day IN HIS CAR so he could make it to his overnight job he had at the time. Let me repeat that in bullet points:

- Middle of a Texas Summer

- Homeless boyfriend

- Help him find places to sleep in his black car

That’s care, isn’t it? I found out about it because I asked her what was wrong with him, and I just couldn’t let it go that she would rather help him sleep in his car and risk arrest for trespassing and/or heatstroke than talk to me (or anyone else for that matter) about finding a solution that would actually help him. It was wrong on so many levels that I had a break in good judgement and told her that, if he paid 200.00 for the month for rent (he wasn’t getting 40 hours for work, so I understood that 200.00 would be a lot but doable and allow him time to save up for move-in costs), he could stay with us until he found a place, but I expected him to find a place in two months’ time.

He never found a place.

He paid the 200.00 for two months, and then offered to pay 250.00 because he realized “it wasn’t right for [him] to be there and only pay 200.00.” To his credit, he did look for a place, but he could never find one he could afford on his own, especially with the upfront costs to move in, so there’s that. Luckily, he/they still had money for multiple concerts at AT&T (Cowboy) Stadium and a few road trips. Isn’t that lucky?

By then, it was September. I decided to let it go. Our lease was up in December, and then I’d be done. It was clear he wasn’t going anywhere. It was also clear that they weren’t doing the dishes. We had a dishwasher. It’s not hard to fill it, run it, and put your dishes up.

There were two of them and one of me, and I had been as vocal as I could be about them cleaning up their messes without lighting smoke signals, so I started hand washing the one or two dishes I made during the course of the day, which didn’t sit well with my cousin, either, especially when I stopped buying soap for the dishwasher.

In August, I found out from a mutual friend that my cousin and I were in a fight over the temperature in the apartment. I literally had no flippin’ clue. A couple of weeks before, my cousin, her boyfriend, and I had dinner together, and I mentioned that I noticed they’d been putting the air on auto, which turns off the fan. They told me that it kept the apartment cooler that way. I told them fine, and I asked them that, if they were going to do that, to please turn the fan on in my room because my cat’s litter box was in my room and, with no air circulation at all and regardless of how clean I keep the box, it would be stifling in my room without some air current. They said they could do that. They did it once, and then, a few weeks later I find out we’re apparently in a “fight” about it. Really?

A week later, I decided to bring it up because, F it all, being in an argument I didn’t even know about was actually pissing me off. I offered solutions to the temperature situation. They were all shot down, and I was told, “[He and I] will figure something out. It’s okay.” So, that issued was solved not at all, but it was yet something else that she didn’t like that I was doing.

By the end of September, my cousin decided to tell me that she “misread” the lease. She thought it was up on December 1, so they’d already found a new place and were moving in the last week of November, but, since she was in the wrong about it and that was on her, she would pay her share of the rent for December “if [I] still wanted [her] to.”

*slow blink*

Naturally, my answer was a strong affirmative on that one. She was going to pay her part of the rent.

I don’t think that sat well with her either.

In fact, there a lot of things that didn’t sit well with her, like the fact I didn’t always talk when she walked into a room, which I didn’t find out until over year into this crap, and not from her but from one of her gentlemen suitors who was on his way out to smoke on our patio and mentioned it as a throwaway line as he stepped outside. She didn’t like me camping out at home during the weekend and “never leaving the apartment,” but she never seemed to take into account that my nearly 3 hour round trip commute during the week meant I had no time for things like watching TV or playing videogames during the week. I guess, when you can drive home from work for lunch and a little siesta and get back on time, you forget other people have a harder time chilling at home during the work week.

Here’s the thing, I don’t think I’m actually allowed to be angry, irritated, or otherwise negative about any of this. She was in a car accident that hurt her back even more than it already was, so she had problems bending over and couldn’t carry much weight, which is why she didn’t do dishes or take the trash out. When her boyfriend moved in, he did take the trash out, but I was feeling no guilt over that because he was paying less than 1/3 of rent/bills. She has mental health issues circling around depression and anxiety, so I’m supposed to be patient with her when she’s having problems talking to me about things that bother her or when she didn’t bother to give me a heads up that a strange man/man in general was in the house and could come out of her bedroom at any point, like when I’m going/coming from the shower because my bathroom was not attached to my bedroom. (Yes, I have a robe. That’s not the point.) She is a self-identified introvert and empath, so I’m supposed to understand that she’d extremely sensitive and be cognizant of that fact so as not to hurt her feelings accidentally.

Right? I’m supposed to just roll with it, and, whenever I think something might be wrong, I should’ve asked her instead of her bringing it up even though it’s a thing bothering her. Right?

I F’ING DID. About once every three months I would ask her if I’d done something or said something that pissed her off, and she never once – NOT ONCE – took the chance to tell me any of the shit that was bothering her.

Not.

One.

Single.

Flippin’.

Time.

The final time I asked her what was going on with her was November about a week before she and her boyfriend moved out, and she said, “Well, nothing except I think you don’t like me anymore.”

I said, “Have I done anything to you to indicate that?”

Her: No

Me: Have I said anything to make you think that?

Her: No

Me: Do have an example that shows why you might feel that way?

Her: No, not really

Me: Have you spoken to me about it at all?

Her: No

Me: Well, if you don’t have anything, then I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t have anything to give you anymore.

Because that was a freakin’ setup. It was too little too late, and I was so tired and so frustrated by then that anything would have been a verbal beat down and extremely accusatory. It would NOT have been productive. If she had given me something, I would have happily addressed it and explained my thought process, but she didn’t. She brought it up and hoped I’d just get after it.

Nope. I only had a few weeks to go by then.

I sent her the final rent/bill cost and forgot that her boyfriend wasn’t paying the 250.00 he’d generously been giving for rent. When I asked her the morning of the day of her move about it, she had apparently built up this whole argument in her head about how her boyfriend had “agreed to be a tenant only until the end of November, and, since this rent was for December and he was no longer a tenant, he did not owe the money,” which made me want to roll my eyes so far back in my head I could see my brain.

I cut her off, told her that was fine so long as she paid me, and I left for work.

Since then, I haven’t said a word to her. I saw her and her boyfriend on Christmas Eve at our grandfather’s house. We said exactly nothing to each other. I gave her a book she mentioned she wanted and a hand blender like one I have that I thought she might like that’s great for sauces and soups. She gave no one anything, or maybe it was just me. Hard to know these days.

You know, in general, I try to do what’s right. I do. It may not be in a gentle way. I’m not a feelings person. I don’t do the empathy thing well. It’s just not my thing. I’ve spent my whole life with chronic pain and clinical depression with the added bonus of generalized anxiety. It’s great. It’s like slamming on the breaks and the gas at the same time while in the middle of a three car pileup. I learned a long time ago that you just have to keep going. You find solutions that work to allow you to keep doing what needs to be done despite whatever ails you. In spite of your physical or mental pain, there’s a point at which you have to go to work, you have to clean up after yourself, and you have do for yourself without expecting anyone to be grateful or excited that you are doing it.

That’s just adult life. It sucks sometimes, but life is hard. My physical and mental issues are not my crutch, and I think that, a lot of the time, they’re my cousin’s, and that frustrates me not because I’m trying to one up her on the ‘oh yeah, mine’s worse’ meter, but because it keeps her from progressing in life, and it keeps the rest of us around her in a constant state of ‘will this be the thing that sets her off?’

She just won’t talk about anything that bothers her and refuses to address problems, and I just can’t do it anymore.

On the tenth anniversary of the death of the woman who raised me, I wanted to go visit her grave, but my cousin’s fuck buddy posted about his new girlfriend on Facebook, and she had a mutual friend call me and ask me to come over to help manager my cousin because she was so distraught, so I did. Looking back, I don’t think I should have. She used to throw actual tantrums when we were children when things weren’t going her way because we were ‘mean to her,’ and I never understood that. She complains about no one understanding her or bothering to remember what is important to her even though she does that for other people because she’s a giver, but people do stuff for her all the time, and they don’t have to.

I don’t think I can be a good person to her anymore. If these past two years have taught me anything, it’s that I was a chump. I hate myself for that. I don’t ever want to feel as stressed out and frustrated about going home as I did these past two years. I am the most unhealthy I have ever been, and it’s because I allowed myself to be that way in order to stay out of the line of sight of my cousin lest I upset her.

It’s stupid. I was stupid. I was so very stupid, and I don’t think we will ever get back to where we were before this mess started. It’s a loss on both sides, and I could make it right by reaching out to her and apologizing for not being sympathetic, understanding, and helpful in her times of need, but the truth is it’s a two way street, and I was the only one reaching out.

It’s her turn.

As childish and selfish and self-centered as that sounds, and I know it’s egotistical, which is wrong, but it’s her turn to be the bigger person and reach out to me. If she really wants the relationship (as she said about a boy who she once wanted to date but didn’t want to ask him out because he should ask her out), she can talk to me.

It’s wrong… I hate myself for that, too, but I feel so much better having that behind me and being alone again.

….maybe I just shouldn’t be around people…

#I should really keep a journal

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kenjiro-s · 6 years

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What goes well with tea ? A TeruYama story

Ch. 6

Of gangs and good advice

Tadashi kept staring at his phone like the words would change if only he wished hard enough. He had forgotten. Completely. Wow, he was both rude and inconsiderate. Why was the extremely attractive man even bothering with him ? He had come to the café, several times, and tried to chat and flirt and it didn’t make any sense whatsoever…

A voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like his best friend made him stop. An old memory, variations of which had risen on multiple occasions through the years, clicked and played like a film behind his eyelids.

The setting was always the same. A park, late at night, swirling darkness and a single lamp. A bench. The dreamlike quality of the memory make it seem more unreal with every repetition but it had actually happened so many times, he’d lost count even after he’d tried keeping one. Him, sitting on the bench and staring straight ahead, his friend on his side, probably not bothering to look at him.

- Why are you listening to them, Tadashi ? Why do the opinions of people who have no reason to be anywhere close to you matter ? They wouldn’t think about anything you say or do the moment you leave their eyes, why do you allow creatures you mean so little to have such a great impact ? Save that for the people who matter. Seriously, we go through this every single time. Stop crying, it’s pathetic. And come on, it’s getting late and my mom made dinner.

The words varied but the speech was the same. And Kei had been right, of course, he was usually right, which made him smug, which made people want to punch him in the face. But he was right, and Tadashi knew he was, but still. The man from the café, Tadashi glanced at his phone, Yuuji, had been in a different league. He had tattoos and piercings, and at least tried to flirt…True, not very successfully, but when was the last time Tadashi had tried to flirt ?

The memory mage him cringe. Kei coldly stating he knew what was going on, had known since the beginning, and then telling him to go with him to eat, had been both the summit and the rock bottom of his flirting. Later, he’d realised it had been hero worship and his first real friendship mixed together but it had taken him years to grow up. And now he was reduced to a shaking teenager again because a stranger had asked for his number. If Kei was there right now, he would be wrong. Tadashi didn’t feel pathetic anymore, but his reaction was still sad. So Tadashi did the only smart thing. The mature, adult thing.

He called a friend at one in the morning to ask for pre-relationship advice.

- Hey. – Short and to the point. Tadashi tried not to scream in the phone. He didn’t really know, because he’d never asked, what their relationship was, but he could guess.

- Um, hi. Is..is Kuroo there ? Can he speak ? Oh, is it a bad moment ? I know it’s in the middle of the night, sorry… - Hanging up before he could make even greater of a fool of himself, Tadashi went to duck his head under the tap and maybe drown himself in the sink, when his phone rung. Almost knocking down a flower pot, he swallowed thickly and looked at it with the corner of his eye. Oh, it was fine.

- Hey, if this isn’t my favourite baker. How are you, chef Yamaguchi ? Haven’t heard from you for a while.

- You know it’s not like that, Kuroo. Um, can I ask you something ?

- Can it wait until tomorrow morning ? – Could it ? Well, probably, but Tadashi knew he would stay awake all night, fall asleep around five and them be so out of his head he would forget again. He doubted the tattooed stranger would try again, all things considered.

- Well, not really. I mean…

- Are you okay ? – It was impressive how fast the man could switch faces. He sounded genuinely worried and Tadashi hurried to placate him. – Do you need me to pick you from somewhere ? Do you have money for a taxi ? Is it shady neighbourhood ? Hey, Kenma ! – And he could be loud. Tadashi tried to speak over him and explain, but nothing seemed to get through him. – Tadashi’s in a yakuza den and needs us to go and bail him out ! – Instead of programmer, Kuro should’ve become a writer with how colourful his imagination was.

- Kuroo, I am fine, please, you’ll wake your neighbours and I’m sure Kenma isn’t having the time of his life right now.

- I will suffer his wrath later. Will we need to sell our bodies to science to pay your debt ? Or just sell our bodies ? Because, in that case, I will call Bo. He can show off well enough.

- It’s nothing of that kind, Kuroo, please. I just…- He took a deep breath. – I need advice.

- Ohoho ? And it cannot wait until tomorrow ? Tadashi, do you happen to have a crush on someone ? Is this why you’re awake so late ? Hmmm ? – He could hear the other man’s smirk in his voice, Kuroo apparently having decided everyone was safe and there was no need to thread carefully.

- It’s complicated.

- So I am right ? Good, good. Now, do tell, who is it ? Oh, God, is it the hot boss you mentioned ? Is it ? Tadashi, getting involved with someone at work is not a good idea, let me tell you. Not enough places to hide if you want to…Ow, Kenma, those pillows are heavy ! Why’d you throw that ? As I was saying…

- Of course not ! – He shuddered. Kawanishi was more than hot, that was true. The man could be a model with his height and looks, but…No. Just, no. Also, he’d seen him with his blond partner and they were so sweet together it was heartwarming. – No, someone came at the café. And…Look, I forgot to answer his messages because of work, you know, but after a few days of silence he texted me again and I don’t…I don’t know what to do, Kuroo.

- Okay, Tadashi. Now, I will ask you something. And I want you to be honest. Do you want to go out with him ?

- Well, you see…

- Na-ah. – While a good reason to call Kuroo for advice was that he always tried to help, a really bad reason to do it was because…he always tried to help. – Come on. You can tell me.

- It’s..I guess ? Maybe ? He seems nice ? A bit awkward ?

- Are you telling me or asking me ? Look, is he a creep ?

- I don’t think so ? – And since that still sounded like a question, he tried again. – He doesn’t look like one.

- Oho ? Tell me a bit about him, then. So I know you’re in good hands.

- There isn’t much to tell. He’s a bit awkward, likes tea, isn’t familiar with foreign desserts, I think he’s scared of Kawanishi…

- Your boss ? – Tadashi had mentioned said boss a couple of times so it made sense Kuroo remembered the name. – Wait, is Kawanishi Taichi your boss ?

Wait, Kuroo knew the café’s owner’s given name ? How ?

- Um, yes ? You know him ?

- Yeah ! Man, he’s awesome. We have an actual audit department in the station. Or something. Anyway, he’s the head guy there’s boyfriend. Semi’s almost as tall as him, blond, dyed tips, you might’ve met him ?

- That sounds like the guy who comes to visit occasionally. Though… - It most definitely wasn’t Tadashi’s business who else Kawanishi saw behind his long-term boyfriend’s back. Though he didn’t quite understand it.

- Is this about Shirabu ? Yeah, we all know. We don’t ask, though, they are too entertaining to watch. So your admirer is scared of Kawanishi ? I can see where he’d be coming from. Obviously, he’s smart and has a sense of self-preservation.

- Hey, he’s not that bad ! – Tadashi felt like he owed his boss at least a defense.

- I’m not saying he is. He’s just scary. Anything else on your man ?

- Not my man. And… - Was he going to say that ? While he knew Kuroo might tease, he’d never really be mean on purpose. – He has tattoos.

- So I was right about the yakuza.

- That’s not…

- Hey, Kenma ! – He pulled the phone away from his ear. – I was right ! Kind of. Tadashi is marrying in the yakuza ! Isn’t that awesome ? – Whatever response Kuroo got, it had him cackling with laughter. – Kenma says to go for it. And I will tell you the same. Maybe mention it casually that you have lots of friends in the police, just in case he’s a deranged murderer. Though you being close to Kawanishi should scare him well enough.

He guessed he’d gone quiet for too long, because Kuroo sighed lightly.

- Look, Tadashi. If you feel even a bit uncomfortable, don’t go. If you think he’ll harass you at work or something, you just need to say the word, okay ? But if it’s just nerves, let go. Or, knowing you, don’t. But still go with it. Seeing him for a cup of coffee won’t hurt. Just try to breathe. If he gets too embarrassing in public, you can always get up and leave him with the bill. And unless he’s a total douche, he should be fine with you being nervous. It will be okay. Trust me. Have I ever given you bad advice ?

- Um, yes ?

- Exactly, I haven’t. So, go out, rise like a butterfly, like a phoenix, like, like a mummy…You get what I mean.

- Yeah. Thank you, Kuroo. No, really, - Because the other man had started explaining how it had been no trouble. – I know it’s in the middle of the night and all, and it was about such a small thing, so I’m sorry I woke you up…

- Tadashi. I’ve said it before and I will say it again. You’re no trouble and you’re not bothering me. Also, I wasn’t asleep. Kenma found this new shibari pose he wanted to try.

- Kenma found a what…?

- Good night, innocent one ! Go get your beauty sleep ! Bye ! – And then he hung up. Tadashi was extremely tempted to go and do some research on what his friend was doing tonight but on the other hand…Kenma was a bit strange, so whatever he was, it was probably kinky. And then he felt terrible.. Just because the other man was didn’t speak loadly and did what he loved, and didn’t seem to like people much, that didn’t mean he was bad or strange. He seemed to adore Kuroo and show it in his own quiet way, and that was so much more than what Tadashi had ever had, he could only feel envy. Also, he was always the voice of reason in the middle of Kuroo giving advice so, honestly, Tadashi was more than grateful for his presence.

He gathered his resolve and opened his messages.

Sure. How about Thursday ? I have a day off.

Wait, was that too much ? Was he overstepping ? Dating was way too complicated and they weren’t even there yet. Oh, were they going to get there ? Was this a date ? Was he moving too fast ? He probably was. That had been a mistake. He blamed Kuroo for most of those in his life, even if the other man had always been a calm and reassuring presence, in his own way. Still. This was a failure and it hadn’t even happened yet. He flopped on his bed and groaned in the pillow. Now at least he was certain he wouldn’t get any sleep.

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