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chericarlisle · 3 years

Note

You asked for Carlisle Cullen requests and I am here to deliver❤️ can I ask for a fic where the reader finally confesses to Carlisle they are in love with him? Preferably fluffy with some kisses 😌, I would also prefer the reader not be a doctor or nurse if possible! Thank you so much!

𝐌𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐞 || 𝐜.𝐜

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: carlisle cullen x human reader

(𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k

𝐚/𝐧: i hope you enjoy this! i tried to think of a way to get the two to meet, but have it still correlate! so the reader will be Alice’s friend :) thank you for requesting <3 please know that the reader is NOT a minor!!!

For the years that you had attended Forks High, you had grown close to a certain Cullen daughter, Alice. Her personality was that of a pink rose and its symbolism. She was more than one could want in a best friend, and between her amazing advice or sense of fashion, there was never a dull moment.

Unlike a majority of the students, Alice was genuine and welcoming, causing the two of you to grow close as friends. It made you feel like high school wasn’t so bad after all.

As you talked more and more with Alice, you often wondered why the rest of her family was so reserved. They rarely interacted with any one else who didn’t share the last name ‘Cullen’. Alice, though, was the exception, having branched out to you.

It seemed that being friends with Alice was something that was a package deal because on occasion, she’d bring along her boyfriend Jasper. You didn’t question their family dynamic as Alice had already explained in simplest terms who they were. It was a much better definition than what Jessica had told you and the rest at that table on the first day. Looking back, it was more petty gossip than it was useful information.

For the first summer, you didn’t see much of Alice and rather texted her much more. You’d invite her over, but it appeared that they were on a long family vacation that summer. It was then that you truly realized that you knew nothing about Alice, let alone the Cullens, aside from what you had been told at school.

There was something that constantly affected Alice’s decision making, along with her siblings, but you didn’t yet know that factor, and you wouldn’t for a while. Instead, you let your mind consume the harsh option that Alice wasn’t exactly the person you thought she was. Maybe she really was just like the rest of the Forks High students.

Fortunately, your fears were consoled that next school year.

After much consideration, Alice eventually invited you over to her house where you officially met the rest of the Cullens. Edward, Emmett, Rosalie, and Jasper acted so much differently than they did at school in the way that they even acted at all. Normally, they would just go through the school day rarely interacting with any one or anything else but themselves. It made you curious as to why they weren’t like this at school. They seemed to be such lovely people so why would they be so monotonous for eight grueling hours of the day.

You were able to see where they got those characterful values from. Well, more so who.

Dr. Carlisle Cullen, their adoptive father who looked too young to be a father at all and was so perfect that he must’ve been a hallucination.

Since that moment three years ago, you’d gone over almost every other weekend to do whatever extravagant thing Alice had planned for you. She hadn’t had a real friend in so long that she wanted to make up for all the missed time.

Over the course of time, the man, who you knew only as Dr. Cullen, had caught your eye. His compassionate mannerism and old fashioned style was something that just seemed to make you fall head over heels. At the mere sight of Dr. Cullen, the heat of your cheeks would make itself known and you wanted nothing more than to slap some sense into yourself. Whenever he spoke, you shamefully latched onto every word, his voice ever so comforting. The small smile resting on his lips whenever he spoke to you added even more charm and there was no hope left for you. This man made you swoon and you were so embarrassed over the fact that he was the adoptive father of your best friend.

High school graduation arrived in no time and along with it a huge family secret. A family secret that wasn’t yours, but once again, relating to the Cullens.

The family revealed it at a dinner, which was a rare occasion, considering that you hadn’t ever really seen them eat. You came over to their house like any other visit, except this time, the inviting smell of a freshly cooked dinner greeted you at the door.

The lovely dinner and charming smiles were all just the calm before the storm. Playful conversation ceased and suddenly Carlisle was speaking on behalf of everyone at the table. In a matter of seconds, it went from ‘casual family dinner' to ‘game show questionnaire' that was borderline an interrogation with the lack of feedback you were receiving. None of the Cullens, not even Alice, would confirm or deny any inquiries that left your mouth, leaving you to your own judgment. It was almost like your speculation was crucial to ending the slew of questions.

Eventually, you drew up the conclusion that they were vampires. You said this with such lighthearted intent that you were waiting for the big joke until you scanned the tables and saw their emotionless expressions.

All that you could really remember was falling from your dinner chair with Carlisle, who was sitting right beside you, catching your fall before you became close friends with the hardwood floor.

Needless to say, it took a moment to process this information, but you still continued on with Alice and her family. They were still the same Cullens you had known since the beginning and a small sliver of their real life wasn’t going to change who they were to you.

A couple of months later, you were spending the night with Alice for the weekend. She wanted to go visit Seattle for the day and do some holiday shopping. You readily agreed, remembering that you had to get some gifts for your own family. Shopping with Alice was always an experience, but an entertaining time nonetheless.

You had gotten there Friday night as both you and Alice planned to leave the next morning. There was no point in leaving now as the stores had been closed for at least a couple of hours.

Walking in the living room, you saw Emmett and Rosalie thoroughly invested in a comedy on tv. You had invited Rosalie to go shopping, but long hours with Alice in a store was not an activity for the less patient and she knew this. Edward was apparently missing from the scene, but Jasper, who was standing afar, greeted you and said that he was out with Bella. Jasper had finally loosened up around you, and after the family’s confession, you understood why he looked so uncomfortable all the time. The willpower these people had astonished you.

Alice had disappeared after letting you in and it wasn’t until she returned with Dr. Cullen in tow, that you truly noticed she was gone. You bashfully greeted the doctor to which he returned with his signature smile that could make you melt.

“I know this is bad timing, (y/n),” Alice walked to stand beside you, “But I have to go hunt, as do my siblings. You’ll stay here with Carlisle. He doesn’t need to go with us right now and we can't leave you alone.” By the end, the petite vampire was smirking and you jokingly scowled at her little plan. She knew of your silly crush on Carlisle and would relentlessly tease you about it, as a best friend would.

Before you could even answer, Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper, and Alice were out of the room without so much as a peep. You shook your head at Alice’s sneakiness, forgetting for a second that a certain someone was left with you.

“How about I make you some dinner, (y/n)?”

The way he said your name was something you could never handle. It just rolled off his tongue like any other word would, but with the hint of his accent, it sounded so lovely.

“I don’t mean to be a nuisance. Dr. Cullen.”

Already flustered with the whole situation, the last thing you wanted was to bother Dr. Cullen any more than you thought you’d already done.

As if he could read minds, the blonde stopped in his tracks to face you. “Please, call me Carlisle and you are never an inconvenience, (y/n). Besides, I’ve already hunted so I’m more than happy to be here with you.”

Carlisle, being kind as usual, shouldn’t have said such words because your brain was currently going into a frenzy as his thoughtfulness. If it was possible, your heart must’ve been beating faster than what would be considered healthy for someone actively working out.

You weren’t able to find the words, but instead able to offer what you hoped was an endearing grin.

In the kitchen, Carlisle searched the desolate fridge in hopes of finding some food. The kitchen and its appliances were more of decor than they ever were useful.

After a minute or two, Carlisle closed the freezer door of the fridge, a pack of steak in his hand.

“It seems steak will have to do tonight.”

You shot him a pleased look. “You can’t go wrong with steak.” Famous last words.

While you insisted on cooking your own food, Carlisle returned the same persistence and eventually you gave in.

The two of you carried on a conversation while he cooked. Talking with him seemed so natural that for a moment, you weren’t nervous about talking to this man.

Carlisle plated the steak and brought it before you, an excited look painted on your face. He sat down beside you and eagerly waited to see how the steak turned out. At first, you felt a bit bad that he wasn’t going to eat anything, especially after all the trouble he had gone through.

“Carlisle, are you sure you’re fine? It just feels so wrong eating in front of you like this!”

He chuckled, quickly placing his hand on your own to reassure you. “I’m fine, truly. I just hope it’s edible.”

You grabbed the steak knife, jokingly rolling your eyes at his statement. Upon cutting into the steak, an unpleasant rush of cow blood came out revealing that the steak was far from even being rare.

Immediately your plate was being scooped up and brought to the kitchen counter where you joined Carlisle.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, it’s been some time since I’ve cooked anything and it seems that I haven’t caught up with modern cooking principles.” Carlisle looked a bit sheepish at the moment and you couldn’t help the giggle that slipped from your lips. You weren't sure if it was the unintentional term of endearment or his adorable attempt at cooking. Either way, Carlisle was relieved to see that you weren’t upset, but rather enjoying this moment.

You stepped up beside Carlisle at the stovetop, shoulders touching as you reached across for the seasonings. “Here, we should probably season the steak a bit and clean off the pan.”

As you continued to do your own thing and guide Carlisle in cooking, he carefully took each word of your advice.

“See, you did everything right, Carlisle. It was just the heat and time that threw off the doneness of the steak, a bit.” Your words ended with a small twinkle as you turned to face the man who’d been so intently watching. He seemed to be so entranced at the moment… and by you.

It was like time was frozen and everything moved in slow motion, something you’d only see in a cheesy movie scene, except you were living it. Suddenly, life sped up and Carlisle’s cold hand was cupping your face and bringing you in for a kiss. You were happy that this was how you’d “confess” your love to Carlisle because words weren’t exactly your strong spot given the circumstances.

You two stayed lip locked for the longest moment in time, just pure bliss. It seemed like the kiss would never end until the smell of burnt oil hit your nose. Carlisle could feel you smiling against his lips and you began to peep out a small laugh.

“I think we overcooked this one a little too much.”

a/n: i’m sorry if this is cringe-worthy, i wrote this at 12:30 am. i swear it will get better lol i just need to stop writing at ungodly hours of the night--

#carlisle cullen #carlisle x reader #carlisle cullen x reader #twilight carlisle #carlisle cullen fanfiction #twilight #twilight fanfiction

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bbangsoonie · 3 years

Text

to my ex (best friend)

member: juyeon genre: fluff?? word count: 2,175 synopsis: thanks to kevin’s tiktok obsession, you end up sending out a google form to all of the people you used to call your best friends. one response brings back forgotten memories and feelings.

“I can’t believe I’m stuck with the Canada boys for another 4 years,” you jokingly groaned.

Today was officially move-in day and the beginning of your college life. After roughly unpacking in your dorm room, you went over to Jacob and Kevin’s room to hang out. Jacob had his guitar out and was playing random chords for you to hum along to. Kevin, on the other hand, was glued to his phone. TikTok had been his new obsession and he was constantly watching the endless feed of videos.

“Hey, we are the iconic trio,” Jacob insisted.

“Wow Eric is basically a TikTok star now,” Kevin commented as he showed you two the video that popped up on his For You page. “This kid is stuck on straight TikTok though.”

Jacob laughed, although he was unsure of what that exactly meant. Knowing this, you chuckled at his efforts to appease his roommate.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Kevin tugged at your arm in an urgent matter. “Can we also do that Google form trend?”

“Uhh which one?” you asked.

“The one where you send out a Google form to your ex-crushes or ex-friends,” he turned to Jacob to further explain. “So basically it’s a questionnaire either revealing your past feelings or confronting what happened between old friends.”

“I don’t know, man. Our high school years were pretty vanilla. We didn’t even have that many crushes,” you shrugged.

“Hmm I mean we did have that huge friend group freshman year. It’s a shame it kinda fell apart as time went by,” Jacob reminisced.

You were reminded of the people you once considered to be your best friends. It was you and twelve other boys, which should’ve hinted at the inevitable end. The beginning of the end started with Hyunjoon transferring to a different school. Then, as you all grew older and high school drama kicked in, you were the topic of many rumors. People didn’t understand—or like—that you were the only girl in an all male friend group. Girls called you all sorts of names and spread ridiculous lies about you that spread to neighboring schools.

No one in the group had any bad blood with each other. Life just pulled you in different directions and you simply grew apart. Some joined the dance team, which consumed most of their time. Some joined varsity teams and focused on getting a sports scholarship. Some became trainees and lost contact with everyone. Some, like you and the Canada boys, became busy with college applications. Everyone had their own reasons and there were no hard feelings.

“Wouldn’t it be fun to finally find out what they all think? Get closure before we start our journey as college students?” Kevin asked, eagerly.

“I guess,” you agreed.

“Alright! Then we’ll play rock paper scissors to choose who has to send them out,” Kevin declared.

Your unlucky streak, without fail, won you the embarrassment honor of writing and sending the form to all your former friends. You grumbled, displeased at the fact that you were now the scapegoat fulfilling Kevin’s curiosity. Nevertheless, you searched through your contact list to find everyone’s phone numbers and sent them the link, hoping that no one changed their number.

By the next day, you received responses from all 10 of them. The trio reconvened in Jacob and Kevin’s room to review the answers. The first few were essentially what you all expected. They explained how life became hectic and your paths just crossed less and less as your interests and goals changed.

When you came across Haknyeon’s comment, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You still owe me ice cream for lending you my pen during our final exam,” you read aloud. You recalled the day; you were freaking out about your misplaced pencil case and he had kindly offered his extra pen.

“What else would you expect from the foodie?” Kevin laughed.

By the time you got to Juyeon’s response, however, you froze. Curious as to what caught you so off guard, Jacob took the laptop from your lap and gasped. Kevin peeped over Jacob’s shoulder and his jaw dropped after reading it. He immediately looked at you, wondering how you were taking the information.

You were confused. He had been the object of your love and attention for a good three years in high school. Not wanting anyone to find out, you had swallowed those feelings and the Canada duo were the only ones to ever catch on. You and Juyeon used to be extremely close—even closer than you and Kevin or you and Jacob. He always quietly took care of you and the two of you shared everything with each other until one day he suddenly became distant. Without an explanation, he left your side and never returned. You just assumed he wanted to stop being friends. It hurt but you didn’t want to force a one-sided friendship so you stopped reaching out to him.

“What the heck?” you finally blurted.

Jacob slowly closed the laptop shut, eyeing Kevin who seemed way too giddy. He felt uneasy, not knowing if this was a good thing.

“So your first love was requited,” Kevin said smugly. “I told you so.”

“Okay you had absolutely no facts to back up your assumption back then,” you argued.

“What did I tell you? My gut is never wrong.”

“Yeah but he also just cut me off out of nowhere. How else was I supposed to interpret that?”

“Clearly not the way we did.”

Jacob smacked his hand over Kevin’s mouth to shut him up. He knew how much pain Juyeon’s name brought you. You didn’t show it but you still had a soft spot for him.

“It’s okay, Jacob. Whatever feelings I had for Juyeon—good and bad—are history. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me,” you assured. “Besides, this doesn’t even mean anything. He wrote all of this in past tense. He’s just clarifying the reason why our friendship ended. Like Kevin said, I guess I finally got closure.”

“Closure? My brilliant idea has brought forth an opportunity for you to rekindle your love!” Kevin exclaimed excitedly.

“No. No way,” you shook your head. “The past is in the past. We are living very separate lives now.”

“Oh stop quoting Frozen and just try texting him,” he rolled his eyes. “Jacob and I never told you but he’s actually attending the same university as us.”

This prompted a very loud “What?” from you. Jacob buried his head in his hands, groaning. He was definitely going to get an earful.

“You’re bound to run into him eventually. So just take the initiative and face things head on,” Kevin advised. “Won’t that be less awkward than coincidentally meeting him after ignoring his response to the form you sent him?”

“And who’s the one who made me send it?” you glared, puffing your cheeks.

“You’re going to do it anyway so just hurry up and pretend you have no choice but to listen to me,” he snickered.

“Moon Hyungseo!”

At your use of his full Korean name, his eyes widened in fear and he jumped up to run away, barely avoiding your slap. Watching the scene in front of him, Jacob laughed. He had secretly hoped that you would reconnect with Juyeon as well. He knew how much you used to like him.

That night, you found yourself staring at Juyeon’s contact on your phone. Your heart raced at the thought of talking to him again. It had been years since you two last spoke and so many things had changed since then. You were no longer oblivious and clumsy teenagers. You knew each other’s past selves but didn’t know a thing about each other’s current selves. You were afraid that even if you became friends again, it would be too different. It was why you never harbored any hope for things to go back to “normal” with him. You couldn’t be disappointed if you never had any expectations to begin with.

Still, you took a leap of courage and sent a simple “hey” before you could chicken out. His reply was almost instant, which startled you.

You: hey

Juyeon: Hi Y/n

You: would it be weird if i asked to meet? i think we have a few things to talk about.. if that’s ok with you

Juyeon: Sure! How’s tomorrow at noon? We could talk over a meal at the school cafeteria

You: sounds good. see you then :)

You wanted to scream into your pillow. The awkwardness was driving you crazy but you were still looking forward to seeing him. He still had you wrapped around his finger and you hated it. But you still loved him.

The next day, your clothes were flung around all over your bed. You had rummaged through your entire closet to find an outfit you were satisfied with, resulting in you running a bit late.

Juyeon had arrived at the cafeteria early. He was so nervous that he couldn’t just stay still in his dorm. After all these years, he was finally confronting everything that he had concealed. He always felt guilty about the way he treated you and he was glad he could finally explain and apologize.

When he saw you approach him, he couldn’t stop himself from staring. It had only been a summer since he last saw you at graduation but your beauty still amazed him. He gulped, standing up to greet you when you reached the table.

The first few minutes were spent eating in awkward silence. Unable to bear it any longer, he cleared his throat to begin the conversation.

“Um so I guess my response to that form was a lot to unpack, huh?” he said sheepishly.

You almost choked on the food, surprised by his straightforwardness. He passed you your cup of water as you coughed.

“Yeah..” you mumbled.

“I want to start by saying I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I think I always had feelings for you. At first, it was subtle. I just liked spending time with you. I liked making you smile. I was content with just being friends. You know me, I’m the type to just watch my crush from afar. Then, as we got older, those feelings grew to be bigger than I could handle. I began to get greedy. And I felt that I could literally do anything for you. That’s when I realized how hard I fell for you and that scared me. I was afraid of ruining our friendship but I was also scared of my own feelings. So I started distancing myself from you. It’s a poor excuse but back then, I was a coward,” he confessed.

Juyeon had always been a very direct person. He never really beat around the bush and you liked that about him. That hadn’t changed about him but yet it still surprised you.

“If I could go back in time, I wish I could have done things differently. I knew I was hurting you but I thought that after all that’s happened, continuing to be friends with you would make you the center of gossip again. I didn’t want to make your life any harder,” he added.

“Juyeon, I cared about you a lot more than I did about those stupid rumors.”

“I know that now. But high schooler me was terrified of you finding out about my feelings.”

You contemplated on whether or not you should bring up your own past feelings. You wanted to reciprocate his honesty but were worried that it would be unnecessary. You took a deep breath and decided on the first option.

“You know, I was also terrified of having you find out about my feelings,” you admitted. Your words shocked him as he tried to figure out what you were implying.

“Wait, you.. You liked me too?” he gaped, making you blush.

“Let’s uh stop talking about that now,” you said as your cheeks reddened to a darker shade.

“While we’re opening up..” he looked at you with hesitance. “Is there any chance you still feel the same way now?”

His question caught you entirely off guard. You blankly stared at him, wondering if you heard him correctly.

“Juyeon, this is the first proper conversation we’ve had in years,” you deadpanned.

“That’s not an immediate no,” he lit up.

You wanted to laugh at his simplicity. His childlike innocence was still the same. It warmed your heart to see that he hadn’t changed as much as you were afraid he would. Yet, the fear in the back of your mind remained. You weren’t confident that you could even resume your friendship with him. At your silence, he tried to lighten the mood.

“So then would being friends again be okay with you?” he asked.

“I guess we could try,” you slowly nodded, bringing a bright smile to his face. You didn’t notice that your expression reflected his.

“Great,” he grinned happily.

And that was the beginning of a new story between you two.

bonus:

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everlarkbirthdaygifts · 4 years

Text

Happy Birthday, alepaolvi!

Apologies for the delay on your birthday gift, @alepaolvi! We hope you had a wonderful day on October 2, and got exactly the presents you were hoping for! To bring your party back around, the lovely @norbertsmom has written a story just for you!

Author’s Note: Happy belated birthday, @alepaolvi. Sorry for the delay. I hope you enjoy your arranged marriage fic with a jealous Gale. This is set in Panem au. The revolution happened a few years before it did in canon. You may notice several lines are taken directly from the book, and tweaked to fit this new timeline. Special thanks to my bestie, @mega-aulover for her help. Rated T.

A Different Kind of Reaping

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When I wake up, I reach out for Prim but find the other side of the bed is empty. Prim has her own bed now, but sometimes I forget we’re no longer in the Seam. I prop myself up on one elbow. There’s enough light in the room to see that she’s not in her bed. Of course not. She’s been so excited to help me get ready for today. I’m sure she and mother are up prepping my clothes and making breakfast.

The two of them are so alike, with their blond hair and blue eyes and perky attitude. At fourteen, Prim is fresh faced and as lovely as the primrose for which she was named. My mother is still beautiful, if not a little weary in her grief at the loss of my father. Even seven years later, his absence is still felt, especially today.

I get out of bed and pull on trousers, a shirt, and tuck my long dark braid up under a cap. I slide my stocking feet into my leather hunting boots and grab my bow and sheath of arrows along with my foraging bag.

On the table is a feast fit for celebration: eggs, bacon, toast, and orange juice. All luxury items just a few years ago, before the war. Now a gift to me on my reaping day.

Reaping day is so different now. Before the revolution, reaping day was the day all district children between the ages of twelve and eighteen had their names put into a drawing. In punishment for the failed first uprising, each of the twelve districts had to provide one boy and one girl, called tributes to participate in the Hunger Games. The twenty-four tributes would be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena to fight to the death. The last standing tribute won.

“Sit down for breakfast, Katniss,” my mother says. “You’ll need your energy today.”

I set my hunting gear down and sit, loading up my plate and tuck into the meal. I want to go out into the woods one last time before the ceremony. Who knows if I’ll be able to go back out after today?

Prim plops down in the chair beside me. “Are you excited, Katniss?” she asks as she loads up her own plate.

“Um,” I hum around a mouthful of food because I really don’t know how I feel. “A little scared, I guess.”

When the revolution was won by the districts, the Hunger Games were abolished. But soon after it was discovered that the population was critically low, and at risk of extinction after all the loss during the war. The new senate that ruled the country with one representative from each district, came up with a plan to help repopulate the nation: arranged marriages.

They decided to reclaim the reaping day as a day to bring new families together. That first reaping day after the war, men and women eighteen and older were matched to form new families. I wasn’t old enough then, but I am now. I don’t know how I feel about having my future decided for me.

I think back on all of the questionnaires we had to complete in our last month of school. We also had to list the names of those we would be happy to be matched with. We weren’t allowed to leave it blank, so I wrote down the one name I secretly wish for, but I’m sure I won’t get.

I may not even be matched this year. Not everyone is matched in their first year, so they have to go through it again the next year. Special deferment was granted for those who fought in the war to put off their reaping a year or two.

“Leave your sister alone, Primrose. She has a big day ahead of her,” mother says as she joins us at the table. She pours herself a large mug of coffee and cups it with both hands, holding it under her nose to breathe it in. She closes her eyes before taking a sip.

I’m the first to finish and get up to leave. “Thanks for breakfast,” I tell them as I grab my gear and head toward the door. I’m in a hurry. My old hunting partner, Gale Hawthorne is back in the district today. I haven’t seen him since he went away to fight in the rebellion. After the fighting was over, he stayed in the military and moved to district three so he could study under the victor Beetee Latier.

“Don’t forget your cheese,” Prim says as she gets up from the table and hands me a perfect little goat cheese wrapped in basil leaves. It’s been a tradition since she started making goat cheese to give them as gifts on special occasions.

“Thank you,” I tell her with a hug as I pocket the cheese.

“Don’t stay out too long, Katniss,” mother says. “You need to report to the Justice Building by one thirty. We need time to get you ready.”

“I won’t,” I tell her as I slip outside.

Our part of District 12 is the merchant quarter. My mother and Prim run the apothecary, but we didn’t always live here. I grew up in the part of the district nicknamed the Seam, where the miners live. The apothecary had been vacant since my grandparents died when the mayor’s mansion was bombed at the start of the revolution. After the war, my mother applied for and was granted permission to take it over.

As I’m skipping down the back steps, I look over to the bakery next door. Peeta Mellark is walking toward the trash bin with a bag in his hand. He looks up at the sound of our door closing. “Hey Katniss,” he says with that contagious smile of his. “Heading out to the woods, I see.” He nods to my hunting gear after placing the bag in the bin.

“Yep,” I tell him with a smile of my own. “Gotta catch dinner for tonight.”

“Ooh. Wild game, that’s one advantage you have over the other girls in the reaping today,” he says, crossing his arms as he leans against the small fence that divides his yard from mine.

“Whatever you say, Mellark,” I tell him, shaking my head. He’s always teasing me about how different I am from the other girls who live in town. Not because I’m from the Seam, but like I’m some unique creature he’d never encountered before.

As I walk down the path I wonder who Peeta will be matched with. He’s such a kind person. He was the only person to help me and my family after my father died. He gave me bread that helped us survive and gave me hope to go on. I’m sure he’ll have no problems finding a match today. Lots of girls will be hoping to be the next baker’s wife. Peeta lost his mom at the start of the war. She was one of those lost in the bombing of the mayor’s mansion.

Even though there’s an entrance to the wood close to home, I make my way through town toward the Seam to the entrance by my old house. It makes me feel closer to my father. That’s where he would take me into the woods when I was a child.

The streets of the Seam are empty today. Usually, the workers would be out heading to their morning shift at the mines or the medicine factory, but the ceremony isn’t until two. Might as well sleep in if you can.

Our old house was almost at the edge of the Seam. I only have to pass a few gates past it to reach the scruffy field we call the Meadow. The barbed wire loops that used to top the high chain-linked fence that separates the Meadow from the woods are gone. The fence remains to keep the wild animals out of the district, but gates have been installed at several locations around the perimeter to allow citizens access to the woods.

As soon as I’m in the trees, I look around for signs of a threat, like packs of wild dogs, bears, venomous snakes, or rabid animals. Inside the woods they roam freely, but there’s also food if you know how to find it. My father knew and he taught me some before he was blown to bits in a mine explosion. There was nothing even to bury. I was eleven then. Seven years later I sometimes still wake up screaming for him. But since Dr. Sidney, the head doctor, came to the district after the war, I’ve learned how to deal with my grief. My nightmares aren’t as frequent. Dr. Sidney helped my mother as well. She no longer lies in bed staring at the walls.

Before the war, trespassing in the woods was illegal, and poaching carried the severest of penalties, but the woods belong to us now, the citizens of District 12. Still, most people aren’t bold enough to venture out unarmed. My bow is a rarity, crafted by my father along with a few others that I keep well hidden in the woods, carefully wrapped in waterproof covers. If my father was still alive, he could have made good money selling them, but before the rebellion, if the officials found him selling weapons, he would have been publicly executed for sedition. Which is kind of ironic since the mine explosion that killed him was one of the catalysts for the rebellion.

We were never prosecuted for poaching back then because most of the Peacekeepers had turned a blind eye to the few of us who hunted. They were as hungry for fresh meat as anybody. Now we get food shipped in from other districts regularly, and I can sell my game openly to the other merchants at their back doors, and at my booth in the open-air market called the Hob.

In the woods waits my hunting partner Gale. I feel myself relaxing and quicken my pace when I think about seeing him again. I only got a quick chat with him yesterday when he arrived, mobbed by his family. He asked if we could meet up to hunt this morning like old times. I climb the hills to our rock ledge overlooking the valley. A thicket of berry bushes keeps it hidden. The sight of him brings on a smile. We used to be the best of friends before he went away.

He looks different than I remember. Not just older; he stands different, ridged and yet alert as if he is waiting for an attack from a wild lone wolf. He’s wearing gray uniform pants, and a faded black shirt. His eyes are sharper; they scan the area, before settling on mine.

“Hey Catnip,” says Gale. He knows my real name, but I had whispered it when we first met so he thought I said catnip. It stuck as a nickname even after all this time.

“Look what I shot,” Gale says as he holds up a loaf of bread with an arrow stuck in it. I let out an uncomfortable laugh. It’s fine bakery bread, the kind used during a toasting ceremony.

I’m not sure if he’s trying to impress me with what he can buy with his fancy new job, so I take the bread in my hands. I pull the arrow out and hold the puncture in the crust to my nose, inhaling the fragrance that reminds me of the blond haired, blue eyed son of the baker.

“Mm, still warm.” He must have been at the bakery at the crack of dawn to buy it. “Prim gave us cheese,” I tell him quickly as I pull it out of my pocket.

“Thank you, Prim,” Gale says as he pulls out a shiny knife from a sheath on his hip. I watch as he slices the bread. He could be my brother, same straight black hair, although his is cut short in a military style, same olive complexion, we even have the same gray eyes. We’re not related, at least not closely. Most of the families in the Seam resemble one another this way.

That’s why my mother and Prim, with their light hair and blue eyes used to look out of place when we lived in the Seam. They were. My mother’s parents were merchants. They ran the apothecary. That’s why she got it after the war. Now I’m the one out of place. I have the look of the Seam, but I live in town.

My father got to know my mother because he would collect medicinal herbs and sell them to her shop. She really loved him to leave her home for the Seam. Back then, the homes in the Seam were nothing more than shacks really. We had to boil water from the spigot in the yard if we wanted it hot. After the war, all of the squat gray houses in the Seam were replaced with new homes that are well insulated with running hot and cold water and reliable electricity.

Gale spreads the bread slices with the soft goat cheese, carefully placing a basil leaf on each slice while I strip the bushes of their berries. We settle back in the nook in our rock. I don’t eat much, since I already had breakfast, but it’s a nice treat. Everything would be perfect if all this day off meant was roaming the woods with Gale for a casual family dinner tonight, catching up on how our lives have changed since the war ended, but instead it feels awkward, like I’m here with a stranger instead of my old friend Gale.

“What’s it like in District 3?” I ask quietly to break the awkward silence between us. It was never like this before. He would rant about the unfair treatment the citizens endured, and how we should rise up against them. But now that the revolution is over and won, we don’t really have much to say.

“It’s alright, but I’ll be moving to District 2 after the ceremony. You’ll love it there. Mountains bigger than these. Lots of woods to hunt in.”

“Why would I want to go to District 2?” I ask. The idea is preposterous. I can’t leave my sister. Before the war, the fantasy was to run off, and live in the woods, but this conversation feels all wrong now. There’s never been anything romantic between Gale and me. When we met, I was a skinny twelve-year-old, and although he was only two years older, he already looked like a man. It took a long time for us to even become friends, to stop haggling over every trade. Then he went off to war and moved to District 3 as a hero. His hero status gave him the option to postpone his reaping until this year.

Gale’s good looking, strong from his time as a soldier, and he has a good job in another district. He will be a desirable match at the reaping today. I don’t know why he would want me.

“Forget it,” he snaps.

I let out a breath and ask, “What do you want to do, hunt, fish, or gather?”

“Let’s fish at the lake,” he says. “We can leave our poles and gather in the woods. Get something nice for tonight’s betrothal meal.”

Tonight, after the reaping, everyone is supposed to celebrate, but I’ll be betrothed. I’ll be spending time with my intended. He and his family will come to my house so we can get to know one another. Does Gale hope it will be him?

We fall into the comfortable silence I remember from hunting with him before he left. By late morning, we have a dozen fish, a bag of greens, and best of all, a gallon of strawberries.

On the way home, we swing by the Hob and trade half the fish and greens for fresh vegetables. Greasy Sae gives us a nod as we walk by. Even with the beef and chicken coming in from other districts, her wild game soup that she calls beef is always a hit. The customers around her booth are talking away about today’s reaping.

When we finish at the Hob, we go to the back of the mayor’s home to sell half of the strawberries. The mayor lives in a modest house not unlike the others in the district. After the war, the residents of the district realized that the old mayor’s mansion was just another tool the Capitol used to keep us in the district divided. The poor people of the Seam resented the wealth the mayor and the merchants had. So when the mayor’s home was rebuilt, he had it built the same as all the others.

The mayor’s daughter Madge answers the door. She was in my year at school, and my closest friend since Gale left. Her everyday outfit has been replaced by an expensive white dress, and her blonde hair is done up with a pink ribbon. Clothes fitting for the betrothal reaping.

“Pretty dress,” says Gale.

Madge shoots him a look, trying to see if it’s a genuine compliment. He used to antagonize her when we were younger, but now that he’s been gone for a few years it’s hard to tell. She presses her lips together and smiles. “Well I have to look nice for my reaping today, don’t I?”

“I’m sure you’ll have the match you want,” Gale says with a scoff.

Madge’s face has become closed off. She puts the money for the strawberries in my hand. “Good luck, Katniss.”

“You too,” I say, and the door closes.

I turn to Gale, “What did you mean by that?”

“Her father’s the mayor. People in power can influence the outcome of the reaping,” Gale says.

Madge’s father isn’t just the mayor. He was quite influential during the war. He was able to convince the residents of District 12 to join the revolution by bringing in Annie Cresta. Then he became our district’s liaison with the rest of the rebels.

Annie Cresta was the last Victor of the Hunger Games,and the spark that started the rebellion. She won the summer after my father died in the mining explosion. During her interview, after winning her games, she started screaming about her father and brother who were lost at sea with a whole ship full of fishermen just before her games. The Capitol played it off as her going mad. But during her victory tour she was more subdued, she would compare her district’s loss to the loss each district had suffered from a tragedy that same year.

The rumors started that perhaps the mine explosion that killed my father wasn’t an accident, but a sabotage to take out the rebel miners who had been planning an uprising. While in District 11, she talked about the silo collapse, in District 10 the stampede, and so on until she had rallied half the country behind her. Before her tour reached the Capitol, District 13 re-emerged from the ashes to sweep her off to be the face of the rebellion.

District 12 was one of the last districts still neutral to the rebellion even though the mayor tried to get our residents involved. He asked Annie Cresta to come back, to rally us to join the cause. Most of our Peacekeepers were recalled to the Capitol to fight off the uprisings in other districts. Those who stayed behind were sympathetic to the districts’ plight. The residents of District 12 wanted to wait out the war. If we didn’t join in, nothing would happen to us.

After the rally, while most of the residents of the district were at home debating why we should join the rebellion, the mayor hosted a dinner for Annie with the most influential Merchants and Seam residents. After the dinner was over, the mayor, his daughter Madge and a few others were seeing Annie off to her hovercraft back to District 13 when the mayor’s mansion was bombed by the Capitol. All those still inside were killed, including the mayor’s wife, his staff, my grandparents and many others.

The rally that day, along with the bombing that took out the mayor’s mansion, is what finally convinced the residents of District 12 to join the rebellion. We couldn’t stay neutral. The war came to us. Gale, among others old enough, went off to fight in the war. Not everyone came home. The baker’s oldest son died. Gale stayed in the military.

As we walk back toward my house, I glance over at Gale, still wondering why he came home this year. He could have participated in the reaping in his new district. I hope he didn’t come back here for me.

Gale and I arrive at the divide between the Seam and town and split up our spoils.

“See you in the square,” I say.

“Wear something pretty,” he says flatly as he walks towards his mother’s house in the Seam.

When I get home, Peeta is in the yard next door, feeding the pigs. “Hey, Katniss,” he says. “Good day hunting?”

“Yep, got some fish and greens for tonight,” I tell him.

“I’ve got a few recipes you can try out on your new family if you want?”

“Sure, that last one with the nuts was nice.” Curious I get closer. “So are you ready?”

He stops feeding the pigs. “I’m nervous,” he confesses.

“Nervous?” Peeta has nothing to be nervous about. He’s good like my sister Prim. Any of the women today would be lucky to have him.

“Well, what if the girl they pick for me doesn’t erm,” his face turned pink. “Well, like me.”

What he is saying is impossible.

“My parents didn’t have the best marriage, you know.”

I nod. I can see why he would be anxious. His parents did not get along; they hated each other but miraculously, had three boys.

I wish I had the words to be able to tell him that he had nothing to worry about. But nothing comes.

"Listen, I'll see you at the reaping. I've got to get ready. Don't want to scare my bride away by smelling like a pig pen."

I shake my head and laugh. When I go inside my mother sets aside her knitting and jumps up from her chair. “There you are,” she says as she helps me remove my hunting gear. She hands my bag to Prim and ushers me into the bathroom. “Get yourself a shower. You need to start getting ready.”

I scrub off the dirt and sweat from the woods and wash my hair. When I’m done I find my favorite dress from my mother’s collection laid out on my bed. A soft orange, with white lace insets near the collar, and a tie at the waist. “Are you sure?” I ask.

“Of course. I’ll fix your hair,” she says.

After I’m dressed, I sit at the vanity as she towel dries my hair and I watch as she braids it up into a crown on top of my head. I hardly recognize myself in the mirror.

“You look beautiful,” says Prim in a hushed voice.

“And nothing like myself,” I say as I hug her. Things are going to be so different after the reaping today.

Prim and mother get dressed. We have a quick lunch and then it’s time to go to the Justice Building to check in.

As we head toward the square, we are joined by others headed that way. Attendance is not mandatory like it was for the Hunger Games reapings, but most people show up anyway.

Mother and Prim hug me goodbye when I go into the Justice Building. After checking in, I’m ushered into the women’s waiting room. I find Madge and join her at the refreshment table.

At precisely 1:45, our escort, Effie Trinket, comes into the room. Miss Trinket was on track to be an escort for the Hunger Games, but she was actually a rebel working inside the system to help bring it down. After the revolution she became our escort for the betrothal reaping. Her bright pink clothes and makeup, while much more flamboyant than what those of us in the district would wear, is nowhere near as garish as the makeup and outfits worn by our last Hunger Games escort.

“Ladies, it’s time to follow me out onto the stage,” Effie says and we all line up to follow her out.

As we go out onto the stage, a cheer begins to rise from the crowd gathered in front of the Justice Building. Effie escorts us to the several rows of seats arranged on the left side of the stage. Madge and I sit next to each other.

Once we are all seated, Effie goes back into the building, but comes out a few minutes later followed by the group of men for the reaping. She escorts them to the seats on the right side of the stage. They are all wearing their best suits. Peeta gives me a wave before he sits in the second row. Gale sits in the front row in his military uniform.

At precisely 2 o’clock, Mayor Undersee steps up to the podium and begins his speech. He talks about the history of Panem: the dark days, the first failed rebellion, the 70 years of the Hunger Games, and then the revolution that freed Panem. He talks about how we have to rebuild Panem, the population lost from the Games and the war. Which brings us to today, the Betrothal Reaping. He then introduces Effie Trinket.

“Welcome, welcome,” Effie says. “It’s such an honor to be here, to help bring together the families who will be the future of our country.” She goes on to explain how the selections are not random. The answers we gave in the surveys taken during school, as well as our DNA were used to determine the matches. “Now, onto the pairings!” she says, and with a flair of her hand pulled out a stack of envelopes.

She plucks the first envelope from the stack and calls out, “Delly Cartwright!”

Delly jumps up from her seat, and quickly walks up to stand next to Effie. Delly is practically vibrating in anticipation. I wish I could be that excited. I just hope I get someone I can stand.

“And your match is,” Effie pauses dramatically, “Thom Davison!”

Thom, one of Gale’s old classmates who didn’t get matched in his previous two reapings, looks around bewildered. He gets a nudge from the person sitting next to him before he gets up and walks up to the podium to formally meet Delly.

Delly and Thom are ushered to the back of the stage where they stand next to each other whispering, with big smiles on their faces. I guess that means they are happy with that match.

“Very good,” says Effie. “Our next match is the mayor’s daughter, Madge Undersee.”

I squeeze Madge’s hand and she stands and gracefully walks up to stand next to Effie Trinket.

“And your match is… the local hero, Gale Hawthorne!” Effie exclaims. A quiet murmur goes through the crowd. That pairing was unexpected. I think everyone expected me to be paired with Gale, but I know it would have never worked out, we’re too alike.

Gale doesn’t look very happy at his selection, but stands and walks up to meet Madge. They stiffly shake hands, then walk back to stand next to Delly and Thom. It’s quite the contrast between the two pairs.

“Wonderful!” Effie says with a little too much enthusiasm. “Next up we have, Katniss Everdeen.”

I stand up slowly, then stiffly walk to stand next to the podium.

“And your partner is… Peeta Mellark,” Effie calls out.

My eyes go wide as I think, Oh, it’s him, my neighbor, my friend. The boy, no man, I correct myself, who saved my life and gave me hope. The man who reminded me that I was not doomed. The man who’s name I wrote on my questionnaire. I feel a smile come across my face as I watch Peeta get up and walk toward me. The smile on his face matches mine.

When he reaches me we stand and stare at each other for a moment before Effie Trinket clears her throat. “Go ahead, shake hands,” she urges. Peeta's large warm hand engulfs mine, and he gives me a reassuring squeeze. “Go ahead,” she tells us, nudging us toward the back of the stage.

When I drop Peeta’s hand, I feel the loss of warmth immediately, but I feel his hand at the small of my back as he escorts me to join the others. “Told ya I’d see you at the reaping,” Peeta whispers in my ear, and I can’t help but laugh. After that, I’m in a bit of a daze and miss most of the remaining matches.

At the conclusion of the ceremony, Effie dismisses the few remaining people who didn’t get paired up and calls the matched pairs to the front of the stage. Delly and Thom lead the way, arm in arm. Madge and Gale walk stiffly side by side. Peeta takes my hand and leads me toward the front of the stage, and the couples behind us follow suit. When we are all lined up, Effie calls out, “District 12, I give you your new couples. Please join us in the reception hall for family introductions.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That’s the end of part 1. This will continue as a work in progress.

A few notes: Dr. Sidney is named after Dr. Sidney Freedman from the final episode of the TV show M*A*S*H. He helped the main character work through his PTSD. Thom Davison is named for Dave Thomas of Wendy’s fame, who seemed like such a sweet man. The character Thom in canon is only mentioned a few times, but he is such a great guy. Gale’s friend who helps carry him back after the reaping, and then after the war Thom comes back and takes on the task of clearing away the debris so the district can rebuild.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #everlarkbirthdaydrabbles #everlarkbirthdaygifts #fan fic #by norbertsmom

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jlalafics · 4 years

Note

Hey can you do an everlark fake dating please🥺🥺

Anon, I’m sure you were looking for something a little more romantic than what I came up with. There is romance, but there’s some other stuff too.

Thank you for inspiring this four-parter. I hope you enjoy!

_____

Summary: Peeta needed a date for his brother’s wedding. His co-worker Katniss was more than willing to play along. Sometimes, simple favors can turn into so much more. A fake dating story done in four parts. Rated E. Definitely NSFW.

A Simple Favor

The Invite

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Peeta gawked at the frilly invitation in his grasp, then at the attached list of activities.

Three days.

Three fucking days of wedding activities to torture him.

“Can we tone down the cursing?” Katniss, his co-worker, sat down at her desk adjacent to his. “This is a place of business.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you had to go to this.”

Peeta swiveled his chair, tossing the invitation onto Katniss’ desk. It landed smoothly atop her keyboard and she reached to read the perfect calligraphy print announcing the upcoming nuptials of Rye Mellark to Delly Cartwright.

She turned back to Peeta. “Yeah…so?”

“Look who’s the Maid of Honor.”

Katniss looked to the right part of the invitation which listed the wedding party.

Her grey eyes suddenly shot up at him. “Oh, holy fuck! Is that her?”

“Yeah. It’s hard to look at her name and not still see her sucking off my best friend.”

Katniss snorted. “Yeah—that’s not an image even I would likely forget.” She examined the invitation again. “Gawd, even her name is pretty. Madge Undersee.”

“Don’t remind me,” Peeta growled, yanking the invitation from her grasp. “Who plans three days of pre-wedding activities?”

“Your brother and his affianced, apparently.” Katniss gave him a sympathetic smile. “You think she’ll bring him?”

“According to my brother, they’re officially together now.”

Peeta never used to be this bitter.

However, two years ago, that irrevocably changed when he discovered his then-fiancée on her knees and giving his best friend a blowie—on his bed. Madge had wept, of course, telling him that it had just happened.

And Gale…he had begged for Peeta to understand that it wasn’t just sex…that he felt something more for Madge.

How the hell was he supposed to understand that?

Peeta had packed his things and immediately left the apartment that he and his best friend had been living in—let the fucker deal with the astronomical Bay Area rent on his own.

He then accepted a job at Panem Projects, a Brooklyn based start-up created by tech mogul Haymitch Abernathy. The uber-genius had invented an app that allowed you to search for specific non-profits and charities that one may be interested in contributing to.

On Peeta’s first day, he met Katniss Everdeen, who was part of the QA department he was in. She was a supervisor while he was just one of the lowly engineers.

They had been sitting across from one another ever since.

“That sucks.” Katniss sat back, crossing her legs, as she watched him carefully. “Did you want to get wasted after work?”

++++++

It was at their fifth round of shots that the idea came about.

“I can’t go to this.” Peeta held the invitation, now beer-stained and being used as a coaster for their peanut bowl. “It’s basically a three-day Peeta Mellark roast!”

“Yeah, and a wedding,” Katniss replied. She leaned forward, her cheeks warmed from booze. “You know what you need? A date to this God-awful event. Not just any date, a hot date.”

“Here’s the problem, sweetheart,” he replied. “I’m not dating anyone.”

“It doesn’t have to be a real date,” she reasoned. “Find a great-looking chick who’d be willing to spend three days looking like she worships your cock. Isn’t this what those dating apps are for?”

“I don’t want a stranger around my family!” He reached for the beer bottle in front of him—was this even his? “That’s how those Netflix crime specials come about.”

Katniss chuckled. “Okay. Understandable.” She met his glazed stare. “I’ll do it.”

“What?”

“I said I’ll go with you,” Katniss declared. “I’ll be your hot date.”

Peeta took a long swig. “Uh…no offense Katniss…you’re definitely pretty…but hot?”

“I have been known to dress up once in a while.”

He looked at his friend; her dark hair was in its usual braid and she wore a pair of fitted jeans along with a zip-up with the Panem Projects logo on it—some sort of fiery bird. On her feet were a pair of Converses that had seen better days.

“You’re really know how to make a girl feel desired,” Katniss told him. “I can’t think of any possible reason why Madge would dump you.”

“Hey now! That’s hitting below the belt!”

“Well, you don’t think I can be hot!” she retorted. “Give me your phone!”

Peeta, in fear of his life, pulled out his phone from the pocket of his jeans and handed it to the woman.

Katniss picked up the invitation with her free hand and started to type with the other.

“Katniss…Motherfucking…Everdeen…” She handed the phone back to him. “I’ve RSVP’d for you and added myself as your plus one.”

He looked at the browser window and then back at a smirking Katniss.

“You actually wrote ‘Katniss Motherfucking Everdeen’ as my date’s name.” Peeta had to smile. “My mother is going to love that.”

“She’s going to love me,” Katniss assured him. “She and everyone else at this wedding is going to forget who the hell Madge Undersee is after I’m done with them.”

Peeta had to ask. “Why are you doing this?”

“I know how it feels to be taken by surprise.” She was suddenly staring very hard at the dirty bar table they sat at. “Plus, you’re my friend and we take care of each of other.” Her eyes met his, her own looking like she was on the verge of breaking. “Right?”

Peeta reached over and squeezed her hand. “Right.”

++++++

“Okay, so I have prepared a portfolio of myself.” Katniss presented him with a closed folder. “Childhood photos…likes and dislikes…just some general information that a boyfriend should know.”

“34C?” Peeta eyed her doubtfully, briefly flitting to her white button down. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. You bought me a lovely dark green lingerie set for our last anniversary.” Katniss pulled out a piece of paper. “Here is a little questionnaire that I’ve made for you, just for me to know you a little better.”

Peeta skimmed over the questions. Most of them were pretty general; where he was born, his parents’ and his brother’s name as well as their ages, his favorite foods…then—

“Why do you need to know if I’m circumcised?”

“If we have supposedly been together for about six months, shouldn’t we be having sex by now?” she questioned.

“True.” Peeta looked around the room. “Is it okay that we’re using a meeting room for this?”

Katniss shrugged. “The guys in IT use this room to play Pokémon every Friday.”

“Also, when are you going to do something about…” He waved his hand out at today’s outfit: a pair of black slacks, a white button down, and brown loafers. “…that.”

“Don’t you worry your perfect little blond self.” Katniss playfully ruffled his hair. “I didn’t realize that you were so fixated on looks.”

“You were the one who suggested ‘hot’,” he pointed out. “However, my parents, who are generally good people, can sometimes be judgmental. So besides being very smart and extremely accomplished—we’re going to have to show them how great you are on the outside.”

“Peeta, do my looks matter to you?” she suddenly asked. “I mean, do you think that I’m pretty?”

Katniss wasn’t what people would call conventionally beautiful.

Her hair was a single shade of black which could be a bit-frizzy on humid days, and her complexion was sun-kissed with a sprinkle of freckles on her cheeks. However, Peeta saw deep grey eyes that sparkled when she was particularly excited about something (pushing a new feature on their app, for example) and full rose-colored lips that needed no lipstick.

And when she smiled, everything about her just lit up.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he said truthfully. “I do worry that the people at this wedding won’t see you the way I see you.”

“Then that’s their fucking problem, isn’t it?” Katniss smiled gently. “We just have to make this look real. I think we can do this.” She pushed a pen towards him. “Now, fill your questionnaire out, okay?”

“Alright.” He reached for the pen and his eyes went to her. “Katniss?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

++++++

Two Weeks Later…

“Sister—Primrose…24…a nurse in Seattle…Mom…Kate…former teacher…Dad…Marcus…former General in the Army….”

As he waited for Katniss’ Uber to arrive, Peeta went through the flashcards that he and Katniss had created in order to get through the three days leading up to his brother’s wedding.

They had everything from their first date (a Harry Potter trivia night at a bar close to their office) to any distinguishable body marks (him—a scar on his knee from falling off his bike at 12 and her—surprisingly, a scar just above her left butt cheek from a tattoo removal procedure, though she wouldn’t tell him what the tattoo was).

“Peeta?”

He had been so distracted that he didn’t even hear the car pull up.

“Sorry.” He tucked the cards in his back pocket and lifted his eyes to greet her. “Hey…holy shit.”

This was not Katniss Everdeen.

Katniss Everdeen didn’t wear her dark hair down in smooth waves that framed a perfect heart-shaped face. She didn’t wear sleeveless black jumpsuits that revealed rich olive skin and plush breasts (she was definitely a 34C).

“You like?”

She did a little twirl for him, graceful despite the stilettos she wore.

And, Katniss definitely didn’t have an ass that made his mouth water.

The unbidden thought of biting into one of those full globes caused his cock to twitch in his now too tight jeans.

“I like.” Peeta gave her a smile. “Maybe a little too much.”

She looked triumphant. “Give you a boner?”

“Fuck yeah,” he replied, a tad breathless.

“Then I’ve done my job.” Katniss wrapped her arms around his neck. “Hello boyfriend.”

Her mouth covered his own and his arms encircled her waist, pulling her tightly against his body. She teased, nipping at his bottom lip, her tongue skimming his lips before pulling away. Something surged inside him and his tongue invaded her mouth, sweeping in to taste sweetness.

Katniss growled against him, her center pressing into his now definitely hard cock.

Reluctantly—because they had to either breathe or die during the world’s hottest kiss—they pulled apart.

“Why did you do that?” he asked, gasping for breath.

“Because we’re supposed to be in love.” Her chest heaved, her eyes just cooling down from their kiss. “And couples in love kiss like that.”

“I know no couples who kiss like that,” he told her, a smile unexpectedly forming on his lips. “But feel free to kiss me like that whenever you see fit.”

++++++

During their five-hour flight, they went over the wedding itinerary.

“I’ve had a stylist pull looks for us for all the fancier events,” Katniss explained. “Don’t worry, nothing looks like we’re trying too hard. We’ll be more complimentary to one another.”

“What would trying too hard look like?” Peeta asked curiously.

“Well, if your tie matched my dress for example.”

A flight attendant stopped in front of their seats. “What can I get you both?”

Katniss smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. “He will have…” Her fingers brushed against his ear lobe and he couldn’t help but shiver in pleasure. “…a cup of chamomile tea. I will have a coffee—”

“With milk and two sugars,” he breathed out, trying to smile up at the attendant.

“Thanks baby,” Katniss cooed at him, her hand brushing through his hair affectionately.

The woman quickly fixed their drinks, handing their cups to them one by one.

“Can I just say that you too are extremely adorable?” the flight attendant remarked.

Katniss put a hand to her chest.

“Thank you!” She looked to Peeta; her expression full of affection. “He’s just so easy to love.”

Peeta smiled tightly. “This is my dream girl…” He patted Katniss’ hand. “…right here.”

The flight attendant practically squealed before going to the next seats.

“You really could be a little bit more convincing,” Katniss remarked. “Maybe act like my touch doesn’t repulse you.”

“You don’t!” He shifted towards her. “In fact, it’s really the opposite.”

Katniss rested back against her seat. “Really?” She crossed her arms. “Convince me.”

Peeta unbuckled his seatbelt. Pressing the release button of the armrest, he pushed it up so there was no divider between them.

Katniss waited, obviously interested in what he was up to. He realized that their tray tables covered anything below the waist and his mouth widened in a grin.

“Tell me.” His hand went to her thigh. “What exactly are you wearing under this?” The fabric beneath his palm was smooth and he could feel a full firm thigh. He continued upwards towards the cleft between her thighs. “Are you even wearing underwear?”

Katniss’ arms fell to her side and she swallowed thickly. “I am.”

“And, if my hand found its way between your thighs—” His hand stopped just about an inch from her center and she let out a labored breath. “—if my fingers brushed against this practically non-existent cloth, would I find you wet?”

“Maybe,” she whispered.

Peeta leaned forward, his mouth going to her ear.

“Would you let me put my fingers to your clit? Let me rub you until you came all over this seat?” His pressed his mouth to the spot behind her ear and she shivered. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d happily fill this cabin with the smell of sex if I fingered you into completion—”

“Stop—” Katniss gasped out, her hand covering the hand on her thigh. “I’m convinced.”

“Good.”

Peeta moved his hand away—but not before quickly brushing the tips of his fingers at her center. The feeling of heat had him hard immediately.

“You’re far from repulsive, Katniss.” He met her heated stare. “I’ve always thought that.”

Katniss snorted. “Yeah, right.”

Peeta took her hand, placing it to where his erection demanded to be freed.

“Believe me,” he demanded, and her fingers moved against the rough fabric of his jeans. “This is because of you. Yeah, it’s extremely hot to see you in this get-up, but what makes me hard is that look in your eyes.”

Katniss licked her lips. “What look?”

“That fire,” he told her, his thumb caressing the top of her hand. “That fire in those grey eyes will always get me, if you’re in this black jumpsuit—” Her fingers enclosed along his cock, gripping him firmly. “—or if you’re wearing that ugly zip-up sweater that HR gave you for your work anniversary.”

“Excuse me?” They both jumped at the voice and looked to see the flight attendant. “We’ve just been notified that we’ll be landing a little sooner than we announced. So, if you could finish your drinks in the next few minutes—”

“Of course,” Katniss said quickly, her free hand reaching for her cup. “We’ll be done soon.”

The woman gave them a smile and moved on to the next row.

Katniss sat back, the hand on him quickly disappearing.

“You’re going to be more problematic than I thought,” she said, her eyes dark.

“Trust me.” Peeta let out a breath. “The feeling is mutual.”

++++++

“I never asked, but you and Rye are pretty close, right?”

Peeta nodded, pushing the cart with their luggage down the corridor as they left baggage claim.

“We’re probably just as close as you and Prim are,” he told her. “And Delly is great. Horrendous taste in friends, but she’s really a sweet person.”

“Do you suspect that Rye will see through all of this?” Katniss questioned.

Peeta shook his head. “We’ve done our research.” He stopped, reaching for her hand. “I also always thought that you and I had great chemistry…in the workplace. I think it transfers easily into whatever we’re trying to pull off.”

Katniss smiled. “I feel the exact same way.”

“Peeta!”

They turned to see a couple, running toward them excitedly.

Rye rushed over, pulling him into a tight hug and practically lifting him off the ground. His brother was a broad fellow; muscular from years of playing football throughout high school and college. However, Rye was as gentle as they came when it came to his younger brother and the lovely woman that he would soon be marrying.

“I’ve missed you, little brother!” Rye said affectionately. “Welcome home!”

They drew apart, just as Delly pulled away from hugging Katniss.

He reached over to quickly kiss Delly on the cheek. “Hello soon-to-be big sister.”

“Hello, my sweet little brother,” Delly greeted in return.

“Rye, Delly—” Katniss beamed at him and his heart leapt at the affectionate gesture. Taking her hand, he presented her proudly to the couple. “—this lovely woman is my girlfriend, Katniss Everdeen.”

Delly grinned at his expression. “I can already tell that she’s going to be a perfect addition to our family.”

Rye took Katniss’ hand, leaning and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“I welcome anyone who makes my baby brother smile this brightly,” he told her. “Welcome to San Francisco. Have you ever been here?”

Katniss shook her head. “This is my first time. Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thanks!” Delly glowed in excitement. “I can’t wait for all the festivities—” She whipped around to her fiancé. “—and for us to be married, of course!” They all chuckled at her exuberance.

Rye led them out into where the town cars were stationed; a man in a black suit immediately took the cart and headed to the trunk of the black Sedan in front of them.

“A driver?” Peeta asked.

“Mom and Dad insisted,” Rye responded with a grimace. “You know them.”

They all slid into the wide back seats, Rye closing the door behind him.

Delly immediately pounced. “So, how did you two meet?”

“We’ve been working together for the last two years at Panem Projects,” Katniss told her easily. “I’ve always liked Peeta and we became friends right away.”

“However, a little over six months ago, I finally got the balls to ask her out on an actual date,” Peeta finished for her. His hand found hers, their fingers entwining easily, and he met Katniss’ eyes. “And, wonderful woman that she was, she accepted. We’ve been together ever since.”

“I love it,” Delly said sincerely. “And you look so beautiful together. The children are going to be gorgeous.”

Rye smiled affectionately at his fiancée. “Don’t scare Katniss off, love.”

“I don’t know,” Katniss said, eyeing Peeta playfully. Her free hand reached to push his hair away from his face. “I’ve always loved blue-eyed children.”

“And, the children would look particularly lovely if they had Katniss’ hair,” he added, his hand reaching to the tuck a tendril of her hair behind her ear.

How did he never notice what was in front of him?

“Oh man,” Rye said, looking between them. He smirked at his brother. “You are so fucked.”

++++++

“It’s so wonderful to have you here, Katniss,” his mother said. “We’ve never had Peeta bring a girl home. You know, except for Mad—" She waved her hand, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, you are most welcome.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Mellark,” Katniss replied graciously.

“Call me Janice, my dear.”

Behind her, Peeta followed along with his father carrying their bags up the stairs.

“She seems like a lovely girl,” his father told him.

“I care for her a great deal,” Peeta said as he watched his mother and Katniss chat easily. “I don’t know how I even got her.”

“Trust me, son.” He gave Peeta an affectionate smile. “I think she feels the same way. I can tell just by the way she keeps looking over for you—like she can’t believe that you’re together.”

They stopped at the door to his childhood room.

“Well, we put some extra towels in your bedroom,” his mother told them. “And, Mags—” Peeta had introduced Katniss to the head of the household when they first entered his childhood home. “—made sure that fresh sheets have been put on the bed and she’s aired out the room as well.”

“Okay, but where will Katniss be staying?” he asked.

“We’re not so old to not know that you aren’t sleeping together,” his mother said. “So, we just set up your room for the both of you.”

“That’s perfect,” Katniss told his parents. She looked to him boldly. “Show me your room. I’m dying to see those little league trophies of yours.”

“We know that you must be exhausted,” his father told them. “So, we’ll just have dinner sent up and we can rendezvous for brunch tomorrow in the main dining room.”

“Thank you, Marshall,” Katniss said as Peeta opened the door for them. “Thank you as well, Janice.”

“Of course, dear.” His mother gave them a jaunty wink. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Entering the room, Peeta placed their bags at the end of his bed.

“What kind of life did you leave when you came to work at Panem Projects?” Katniss stared up at the high ceiling of the room, her eyes traveling to the four-post bed, and then to the floor-to-ceiling windows. She went to one immediately. “Oh my God! You can see everything from up here!”

“A house on Twin Peaks affords that kind of view. However, it’s not so great on foggy days,” he told her, watching as she examined every bit of his room from the bathroom (“A clawfoot tub!”) to the walk-in closet (This is practically the size of my studio!).

Taking off her shoes, Katniss leapt onto his bed. “Holy shit! This is heavenly!”

Peeta went to her, toeing off his own shoes before joining her.

They laid side by side, hands immediately reaching for one another.

He turned to her. “Did I ever say thank you for being here?”

“It’s all worth it to stay in this sweet room,” Katniss replied, her grey eyes dancing.

“So, you’re just here for the room?”

She smirked. “Well, I did also find out that you have a huge cock—so that’s a bonus.”

“Katniss!” Her laughter filled the room and his stomach tumbled in pleasure hearing it. He suddenly flipped, his chest over hers and the giggles fell from her lips. Peeta stared down at her, her grey eyes suddenly darkening as he examined her. “You’re something special.”

“I’m nothing.” Her chest rose and Katniss let out a shaky breath. “I just want to be here for you.”

“I want to kiss you,” he suddenly said, his hand reaching to trace her jawline. “Would you allow it?”

“Are you doing it because you want to thank me?” she asked tightly. “Or because you want to explore what is obviously between us?”

“Both, I think.” Peeta had never felt this exhilarated or this flustered by someone. Just a touch from Katniss and he was in a whirlwind, happy to be caught in it. “I just think you deserve someone less broken than I am.”

“We’re both broken.” Her hand reached for the nape of his neck, drawing him down until their lips were brushing. “I don’t know if we can fix that, but we can help each other mend.” She smiled against him. “Let’s see where this weekend takes us, and we can go from there. For now, I’m allowing you to kiss me. So, make it a good one.”

Peeta dipped his mouth into hers, sampling just a bit, and it was like he could breathe again. Immediately, his lips sought hers, his tongue sweeping into her mouth and swirling against her own. Katniss moaned and his heart rose in triumph as she pressed herself to him eagerly.

His hand reached to cradle her head, his fingers entwining in soft waves and he plunged into her mouth once more, exploring her in their kiss.

Katniss ripped her mouth off his, a string of saliva still connecting them.

“Fuck!” Her eyes were frenzied. “What the hell are you doing to me?”

He grinned. “I’m just exploring.”

Despite his attempt to remain cool, his own heart raced; the feel of her mouth…and her tongue undoing him.

This wasn’t the plan, but it felt right.

“This whole game we’re playing,” she said, her eyes full of hunger. “I’m going to crash and burn, aren’t I?”

“If you burn—” Peeta kissed her tenderly. “—then I burn with you.”

END OF PART ONE

#anon #request #fakedating!Everlark #Everlark #Everlark Fanfiction #1 of 4

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96thdayofrage · 3 years

Text

Convicting a murderous cop has its consequences. The integrity of a juror in the trial of former Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin is being called into question because the juror attended a march for Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. last August, CBS-affiliated WCCO reported on Tuesday. Floyd’s family spoke at the March on Washington, which was intended to commemorate the 57th anniversary of the civil rights leader's famous "I Have a Dream" speech. It also included a voter registration rally, which Brandon Mitchell, the juror in question, told WCCO was the reason he attended. His attire at the event, however, is now being scrutinized after he was photographed in a T-shirt with King's image and the words, “Get Your Knee Off Our Necks,” and “BLM,” which Mitchell explained were broader references to the circumstances of 2020.

“It was huge to get people geared for voter turnout, so being a part of that, being able to attend, you know, the same location where Martin Luther King gave his speech was a historic moment,” Mitchell told WCCO. “Either way, I was going to D.C. for this event, even if George Floyd was still alive.” Floyd is not alive, and don’t for one second let Chauvin’s apparent desperation to get away with murder obscure the fact that Floyd is not here to see his daughter grow up because of Chauvin. Not Mitchell or any other member of the jury.

Chauvin, who is due for sentencing at 2:30 PM ET on June 16, was convicted of second-degree murder, third-degree murder, and second-degree manslaughter last month. Several clips of witness video presented at trial showed him kneeling on the neck of 46-year-old Floyd for more than nine minutes on May 25, 2020, outside of the Cup Foods corner store in Minneapolis. That video went viral and ushered the case onto an international stage, fueling anti-racism and anti-police brutality protests.

Still, Mitchell, juror No. 52 in the trial, told CBS This Morning co-host Gayle King he didn't feel pressure to reach a guilty verdict "at all … And I don't think any of us felt like that. I for sure did not. I for sure did not feel like that,” Mitchell said. “The pressure more so came from just being in the room and being under stress. But it wasn't pressure to come to A guilty verdict." He told King he was stressed about having to come into the courtroom and watch a Black man die every day. “That alone is stressful,” he said. “Coming in each and every day and having to watch somebody die is stressful enough by itself. So anything outside of that was secondary, just because as a human, it's natural to feel some kind of way as you're watching somebody in agony.”

Chauvin's defense attorney, Eric Nelson, brought up the question of just how much outside opinions of the case might be affecting the trial when he didn’t like how Rep. Maxine Waters answered an interviewer's question about what demonstrators should do if Chauvin isn't convicted. “We’ve got to get more confrontational," she said. "We’ve got to make sure that they know that we mean business.” With that, Nelson brought up the possibility of a mistrial and said the jury should have been sequestered from the start of the trial. “My phone gives me alerts on things that just happened. I mean you can’t avoid it, and it is so pervasive that I just don’t know how this jury can really be said to be that they are free from the taint of this,” Nelson said. “And now that we have U.S. representatives threatening acts of violence in relation to this specific case, it’s mind-boggling to me judge.” Judge Peter Cahill admonished Waters but ultimately ruled that her remarks weren’t grounds for a mistrial.

Civil rights attorney Ben Crump, who represents the Floyd family, told TMZ that Mitchell's interview "completely obliterates" any claim from the Chauvin defense that public opinions outside the courtroom influenced the jury.

Rachel Moran, a law professor from the University of St. Thomas, told WCCO an important consideration in the case is whether lawyers did their job in investigating jurors. Mitchell said in a questionnaire WCCO obtained that he never took part in a protest about police brutality and that the phrase Black lives matter simply means Black people "want to be treated as equals and not killed or treated in an aggressive manner simply because they are Black.”

“If he had been asked about it and he tried to hide it, that could be an issue,” Moran said. “But at this point, I don’t see anything, any evidence that he tried to hide it.”

The attorney added that “it’s really important for the viewers at home to know it’s really hard to overturn a conviction, and courts are especially reluctant to interfere with the jury deliberation process.”

Read the transcript of King’s interview with Mitchell from CBS News:

King: 31-year-old Brandon Mitchell was known only as juror #52, and he joins us now. Brandon, we're really glad to see you because all of us wanted to know what happened. So I'd like you if you could, please take us inside the room. I think we were surprised that you're 12 strangers, you didn't know each other, you go in the room — what's the process, and how were you able to reach a verdict so quickly? And good morning!

Juror Brandon Mitchell: Yeah. Absolutely. Good morning to you. First, I want to send my condolences to the Floyd family.

King: Yes.

Mitchell: But when we walked into the deliberation room, the first thing we did is we voted on whether or not we wanted to have our mask on. We made that kind of an ice breaker to get going. We voted to not have our mask on. We took our masks off. We voted for a foreperson, and from there we went straight into the manslaughter charges and took a preliminary vote before doing a final vote on those charges.

King: What was the preliminary vote?

Mitchell: The preliminary vote was 11 of us were already — we were already on board for guilty for the manslaughter. One person was still unsure. And we just went over it as a team, as a group. Each person kind of went down the line on why they thought it was guilty. We did another vote maybe 40 minutes later after we went through everybody, and everybody was on the same page for the manslaughter. It happened really quickly.

King: Did you do that with each of the charges? Is that what you did, took a vote on each of the charges?

Mitchell: Yeah, absolutely. Each charge we did a preliminary vote to see where we were at, if there was anybody that was not on board yet or was unsure. Then we would go around the room, everybody kind of speak on what they think is necessary to speak on. We went over maybe a little bit of the evidence. And then we'd come back with a final vote whenever we thought it was a suitable time.

King: What was the one person unsure about, Brandon?

Mitchell: I think it was just like, the terminology. So within the instructions, some of the terminology can be a little tricky, because it's legal jargon. And so sometimes some of the words can be interpreted differently among people. It was just they wanted to do their due diligence and make sure that they were coming out with the right verdict that they believed in. So they were hung up on a few words. We went through the definitions that were given to us and kind of broke it down from different perspectives to get everybody on the same page.

King: Was there any particular witness that moved you and moved the jury that you said, okay, we're deeply affected by 'fill in the blank'?

Mitchell: So I think as a whole jury, I think Dr. Tobin was the biggest, the most influential witness out of everybody. For me personally, Donald Williams was another person. So Donald Williams and Dr. Tobin --

King: That's the fighter, yeah. The mixed martial arts fighter.

Mitchell: Yeah, so him early on, I felt he set the tone for the rest of the trial. And then when Dr. Tobin came, with him speaking so scientifically but also making it understandable for everyone along with the exhibits that he came with, I thought he just broke it down in a manner that was easy for all the jurors to understand. And I didn't think there was any way to — for the defense to come back after that. I was like, to me, the case was — it was done at that point almost.

King: Did you feel pressure because you knew the world was watching? That, you know, we have to reach a guilty verdict here?

Mitchell: Not at all. And I don't think any of us felt like that. I for sure did not. I for sure did not feel like that. The pressure more so came from just being in the room and being under stress. But it wasn't pressure to come to A guilty verdict.

King: What were you all stressed about?

Mitchell: We were just stressed about just the simple fact that every day we had to come in and watch a Black man die. That alone is stressful. Coming in each and every day and having to watch somebody die is stressful enough by itself. So anything outside of that was secondary, just because as a human, it's natural to feel some kind of way as you're watching somebody in agony.

King: Yeah. I can't imagine, Brandon, what it was like to be able to watch that tape day after day after day, the way you all did.

Mitchell: Yeah. It definitely had its impact on me. There was a few days where I was like, I don't know how I'm going to make it in this next day, especially me as a Black man. And a larger black man, I'm about 6'4", 250 pounds. And some of the testimony is like saying how size can be considered like, you know, is it a risk or threat. Whereas me, I'm a gentle giant. Stuff like that, that affects me in a way that — it's weird. I don't know if it affects anybody else the same way.

King: I understand. I understand what you're saying. How did you all feel about Derek Chauvin, the fact that he did not take the stand? Would that have made a difference to you? We'll never know, but do you think it would have made a difference?

Mitchell: It possibly — it possibly could have. We did talk about, you know, the fact that he didn't. Somebody had brought it up, like they wished he would have, they would have liked to have heard from him. But since it wasn't part of the case, it just is what it is. But yeah, I mean, anything brought in or not brought in, it could have possibly affected it either way. Either way I can't say it would have changed the outcome, but it's a possibility for sure.

King: Do you worry about your safety now? This was such a controversial case. We now know your name, we now know what you look like, we now know that you said you're a large man. Do you worry about your safety?

Mitchell: No, not at all. Not at all. I'm a person that kind of thrives in the positives. So I'm not too much concerned about that. Nor do I dwell on —

King: —the what if's—

Mitchell: —on negativity like that. Yeah, the what if's.

King: And he's going to be sentenced June 25. What do you think is the proper sentence for him, for Derek Chauvin? He's facing up to 40 years.

Mitchell: Yeah. I couldn't say what the proper sentencing would be. You know, I think we came up with the right verdict. You know, guilty on all charges. And you know, I'll let the judge do what he does.

King: All right, thank you very much. We really wanted to hear from you today. It's been a fascinating case that we've been watching.

Mitchell: Yes, thank you.

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littlegiantslight · 3 years

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Little Giants

After the success from the boys of the volleyball team, it’s time for the girls’ soccer team to take the spotlight and march their way to victory.

Under the command of Aiya Takahashi, this team will go through challenges, adventures, struggles and joy together. After all, the union leads to strength.

Part1 & Part2

The next morning, outside Takahashi’s door, was a motorbike ridden by a girl about her age. Taking of the helmet, a bob of bright blonde hair balanced a bit and shone under the multiple rays of sun. She pulled the rest from her bike and walked to Takahashi’s door, knocking multiple times, calling her name as well.

“Aiya Takahashi, you better come outside before I break in!” The girl threatened as a joke. “Come on! Come on!” She repeated and knocked on the door again.

Takahashi was left without an option. It was obvious that by the voice it was her old classmate and great friend Saeko Tanaka. That girl would make everyone’s spirits lift whether they wanted or not. There was something about her that made that happen, but Takahashi never really found out what it was.

The coach opened the door and allowed her to come in, but Saeko’s arm went around her neck right in that moment, pulling the old friend back in the house. With a kick from the blonde girl, the door was closed shut and the two headed to the small kitchen.

“I heard you had a break today! And I also heard Tenma is in town and Akiteru is free as well. That being said you’re joining us! I don’t wanna hear excuses…” She spoke with her normal assertive tone. Saeko held the coach’s hands, waiting for an answer.

“Can I get ready at least?” Aiya asked, her voice still tired from being barely awake. Saeko nodded after feeling the scent of Aiya’s morning breath, giving her the disgusted look. “Don’t make that face, you’re the one who made me leave the bed this early in my day-off…” Aiya complained to her, making the blonde girl chuckle softly.

Takahashi returned to her room and looked at the old yukata from Ukai’s grandmother. She had to return it, before she would forget it. Putting the old cargo pants and brown turtleneck shirt, Takahashi left the room to the bathroom where she found Saeko checking her looks. “I swear, I don’t understand why you care about the way you look so much. Get out, let me brush my teeth!”

Saeko simply sat on the toilet watching Aiya brush the teeth and finishing her hygiene routine by tying her hair in a ponytail. The blonde girl softly pushed the dark-haired girl out of her house, only allowing her to close the door. Outside was waiting a figure that was about as tall as Aiya and slightly taller than Saeko.

“I hope you missed your old kouhai!” Saeko said motioning towards Tenma that an annoyed expression on his face. “Oi! Lighten up!” Tanaka nudged his side pointing towards the old manager.

“Honestly, I’m still half asleep, I can’t believe you forced me to leave the bed so early…” he sighed completely tired and half asleep. Aiya chuckled how he was still the absolute same, just a little more grownup. “However, it’s nice to see you again Hashi-San!” He spoke in a slightly happier mood, his hands awkwardly going to his pockets.

“Same goes for you! Wait! I know what you’re doing here…” Aiya spoke looking at Saeko with a soft glare, filled with happiness way deep inside. “Now we only need Aki-kun!” She said and got a sigh from Tenma again.

Not far from their location was arriving a car, driven by a tall blonde man, well dressed and looking quite happy. It was like he heard them calling. The older Tsukishima brother was there as well. The old group was back together.

It was visible in Aiya’s face the happiness that reunion brought her. She would often hang out with Saeko, but the other two boys were pretty rare. Only in situations like the one she was in that moment. She missed Tsukishima’s warm hugs and conversations and Udai’s wise jokes and memories from their old days. Somehow everything was coming back to her and it never felt so warm.

After pulling over, Tsukishima left the car and walked to the group and greeted everyone with his warm smile. One could say he was the perfect gentleman. He greeted both girls with a polite bow that was followed by the warmest of hugs and Tenma was greeted with an old signature handshake from their old days. Tenma was still hurt about Akiteru abandoning the team, but it was something they didn’t bother him as much as it used to. Akiteru could always count on his support as long as he was happy.

After talking for a bit, the group decided to go to the old park where they used to study and help each other in times of need. But, before heading there, Aiya asked Saeko to stop at Ukai’s store to return something. It was obvious that Tanaka would make the joke of returning his heart since she stole it from him and Aiya almost was the cause of an accident for shoving her so harshly. The girl was used to teasing her friend since they were young, so that was nothing different. However, they did stop at his store and warned the boys to keep going to the park and get the stuff ready.

Aiya asked for Tanaka to wait for her so she could give back the old yukata to Ukai, but Saeko just forgot her manner and followed her in, mostly to see what she was handing to the blonde man. Takahashi walked to Ukai who almost immediately stood up to greet her, hoping he would have some work to do that early in the morning, but was kind of disappointed when he saw the yukata in her hands. She thanked him and his grandfather for allowing her to keep the yukata for the night and asked to get her some meat buns for the way. But right when she was about to pay the food, he stopped her. Takahashi just looked up confused.

“It’s on the house and take the yukata. My grandma doesn’t use it anyway…” He said with his calm expression, putting the meat buns in the box and inside a bag so she could take them. “Thank you for the care though…”

She simply nodded with a warm smile, but Saeko quickly jumped on her and tried to make her change into the yukata, giving her the excuse that it was warm and sunny, so it would be perfect. Yet, Aiya said that she couldn’t, not only because she had no place to change, but also because it was an old piece of clothing. She didn’t want to ruin it.

“Come on, don’t be a party pooper! You are going to be mistaken with Tenma someday because you always wear those clothes. Just this once, also,” she stopped as she walked to the other side of the store, bringing back a pair of traditional sandals and hair decorations. “look at what Coach has in the store!” She handed to Aiya with a teasing smile, seeing how flustered Ukai was getting. “I bet Ukai wouldn’t mind letting you borrow these for a day…”

“Saeko, please stop. I’ll pay for the buns and the sandals and whatever that is.” Aiya said in annoyance. “Just please stop acting like that…”

“If you want, there’s a changing room in the back for the employees, if you’d like…” Ukai started before being rudely interrupted by Saeko.

“She would love that!”

Aiya wanted to curse her existence as she headed to the old employee room to change. The pearl-colored yukata covered her body perfectly, just like the night before. The reddish piece of fabric that tightened around her waist and completed the look made her look fancier than the usual tom boy clothes. Her soft hair covered in dark blue highlights seemed to shine brighter than before, tied in a perfect ponytail and careful decorated with some hairpins with flowers. The whole looked was completed with a pair of traditional wooden sandals that were just perfect for her feet. She sighed once all was ready.

In the store, Saeko was trying her best to make Ukai crack admitting his old crush over Aiya. Still, Ukai was smarter than that. He was used to those tricks coming from the young blonde girl. She could ask him if he were looking for someone or if he liked someone with every single word in the dictionary, he would know the perfect way to not answer every time. He was a high school coach after all, he knew how to deal with that. Suddenly, Saeko stopped the questionnaire and looked at Aiya’s figure leaving the changing room. Ukai found weird that the blonde stopped questioning him and looked the same way to see what was so fascinating that made her be quiet, but he couldn’t blame her.

Both blondes were starstruck by how radiant the traditional wear made Aiya look. She looked like true nobility or even like an actual princess in their eyes. It wasn’t usual to see her dressed like that. Her old bangs, already overgrown, covered her left eye partially, her hair shinning like she was under the bright daylight. Truly fascinating.

“Tanaka can you please hold my clothes or put them in the bike, please? I’ll be right there.” She asked innocently, handing her clothes to Saeko. The girl simply nodded and headed to the bike, still not believing her eyes. Aiya was actually wearing something girly and she looked beautiful. “Ukai, please, I can’t let you offer so much, so here. This is all I have with me. Please, accept it.” The young coach put on the counter, looking down in gratitude to his previous offer.

“Next meal is on me. You can’t say no…” He suggested, accepting her money to pay the stuff. “And thank you for keeping the yukata. I can’t wait for my grandma to see you like this one day.” He smiled proudly. His grandma worked in a farm and would often bring food to sell in the store really early in the morning, so it was almost impossible to catch her on time. Just like Ukai Sr, his wife was a hard-working woman and a great commander. Ukai was really proud of his old farts.

Aiya smiled and waved, thanking him again before leaving, just to see Saeko waiting by the bike for the young coach to get back. Takahashi clumsily climbed onto the bike adjusting the yukata so she could be comfortable. As soon as Saeko sat as well, Aiya held her closely, feeling her body jump with the sudden embrace, making her laugh softly. The bike was on and ready to roll.

Holding Saeko slightly closer so the wind wouldn’t ruin her looks that she took so long to put together, Aiya started to drift off to dreamland. The soft side from the young coach made Saeko blush slightly and smile like a little kid. As soon as they arrived at the park, the blonde girl smacked Aiya’s leg softly to warn her of their arrival.

The two walked side by side, getting weird looks from older ladies and drool from some boys that skated nearby. Saeko looked like she was about to bark at every person in the area around them, while Aiya just didn’t mind and held her own hands in front of her stomach, like she had her hoodie on. Not far from them, their dear boys waved so they could see where they set everything, which made Takahashi pull Saeko by her wrist to speed themselves to the little camping spot the boys created.

“What happened to your clothes, Takahashi?” Akiteru asked noticing the complete change in the coach’s outfit. “Not complaining or anything, it’s just been a while since I saw you in something girly or well…” he stopped to think a good word to describe that look, “traditional?” He wondered, chuckling softly.

“Saeko forced me to keep it and make a scene with it, now she’ll be our guard dog to keep weirdos away. Isn’t that right, Tanaka?” Aiya asked looking down at Saeko with a fake smile like she didn’t just say something that would be considered insulting. The fact that Tanaka actually said that it was exactly her job to grant Aiya some peace, even if it meant barking at people, didn’t surprise anyone present.

Both boys laughed with the whole situation, which made Aiya’s annoying grew bigger deep inside her. But she was there to have some fun and relaxation.

The day was either spent talking or buying stuff to eat. The talks would go from old memories to stories about their works and things that would happen in their lives at home. While Saeko and Akiteru had the chance of talking about their brothers, Aiya would talk about her girls and how they were getting better every time and Tenma would spend his time talking about the stuff he would write to publish at his work.

Later that day, back in Karasuno High, Yoko and Hana were about to leave and go to home when both Noya and Ennoshita stopped them. They almost felt when the two boys pulled their backpacks. The girls looked at them dead in the eyes, with clear annoyance.

“Come with us!” Nishinoya ordered, looking all high and mighty. Typical, thought the girls, but trusted them and followed them to the gym.

The gym was completely empty besides the figure of three people that sat in the center of the court. You could hear a strong male voice explaining the old note he held. By his side, the girls’ captain completed what he said, and gave examples to the other boy, this one with a pretty recognizable buzz cut. The four students sat by their side and joined the study section.

“You girls remember Tanaka-san? Tanaka, in case you forgot, these are Yoko and Hana.” Kiko introduced them again. “Also, Azumane-san, these are my girls.” The captain said putting a hand on his shoulder to call his attention to them.

Both Tanaka and Asahi greeted the girls and welcomed both Ennoshita and Nishinoya back to the circle. Yoko noticed that Narita and Kinnoshita weren’t there, but Enno simply said they preferred to study alone.

The whole group of second years heard their senpais explanations and examples for their tests and eventually made a questionnaire, specially prepared for each one of them. Kiko made for her girls and Asahi for the boys, but they would both correct it together once they were done. If one of the questions was wrong, that question would be asked to the whole group, so the third years would try to gather common doubts for another study session.

Despite being on different classes, Kiko and Asahi would get together quite often to study or to spend some time relaxing before a game or exam. Asahi, being the anxious boy he is, really appreciated her company. Her talks sometimes reminded him of Daichi’s, but ten times calmer and without so much teasing behind her voice. On the other hand, Asahi wasn’t exactly the best and he was well aware of that. So, his support would be little art dates, where Kiko could learn how to paint or sketch and Asahi would keep trying to make some new designs for his ideas. Kiko really liked that time they spent together.

Back in the Satoshi household, everything was really calm. Jin and Kenta would help each other during homework and studied quietly next to each other. Kenta would often show a picture of a weird looking animal from his science textbook to Jin and joke around to make her smile, always with success. Jin would do the same, but instead of making jokes about the animal, she would say it looked like her brother, leading to a very joyful pillow fight.

After the fight, the two of them were clearly tired and their jet-black hairs were a complete mess. But that didn’t stop them from having a good laugh. Like every night before, Kenta hugged his sister and thanked her for the help she has been giving her. Jin would thank back, knowing that the reason he was thanking her was completely different. Keeping a secret like that was hard, but she wouldn’t let a single bit of it slip out of her mouth.

Aiya returned home with Akiteru and thanked the older Tsukishima for the ride home. She carried a bag with her clothes and some food that was left and walked calmly to her door. Once she was actually indoors, she set down the bag and walked to the bathroom to see how tired she looked. Her hair was still untouched, and the outfit was practically immaculate. It was almost like magic.

The coach freed her hair and got out of the yukata, putting it aside to wash it as soon as she could. She didn’t even dare to have a shower so late at night, so she simply went under the warm sheets in underwear. A choice she would truly regret in the next morning. Just before falling asleep, she checked her texts and saw this picture of Ukai Sr.’s wife when she was younger, wearing the yukata.

“You two are identical. Thought you should know…”

Aiya simply smiled and settled the phone down, before falling peacefully asleep after that day.

#oc #soccer #au #haikyuu #coach ukai #tanaka saeko #tenma udai #tsukishima akiteru #ukai sr #hinata shouyou #kageyama #asahi azumane #daichi sawamura #sugawara koushi

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fuwafuwamedb · 4 years

Text

The Questionnaire (Gudako, Hakuno, Rin, Romani, Cu, Gil)

Physical day: a day where all the faculty of Chaldea would gather and meet with the respective doctors to check on overall health and fitness.

What aspects of a man would you say are most important?

Loyalty

Confidence

Humility

Other (Please List)

Gudako circled humility and continued on, glancing to the two others in the room and watching with a laugh as Rin pulled her clipboard away from her and hovered over it. Those blue eyes warned of vengeance if she came too close.

Hakuno meanwhile, frowned, her pen tapping over parts of the page as she muttered incoherently to herself. The more she looked, the more she seemed to be frowning. Her pen stopped at the bottom before returning to the top of the page and working her way back to the bottom. There must have been something wrong.

You’re sick. What do you want your significant other to be doing?

Let me heal in peace.

I need pampering.

Time to hit the drug store.

Gudako marked the next answer, snorting a little.

If she was sick, then her so called ‘significant other’ needed to be hitting up that drug store and stuffing her full of enough medicine to dull the pain away. That was especially true if it was like with here, where she would be expected to continue fighting or defending Chaldea and the fate of humanity. That kind of task required twenty-four hour, three hundred and sixty-five days a year focus. There wouldn’t be any trying to pass off the task to someone else.

Bring on the pain killers and the vaccines; she had work to do.

A litany of curses left Rin’s lips, bringing her and Hakuno away from their clipboards.

“This thing is wrong,” Rin told them both. “It’s entirely wrong. I thought this was supposed to be an entertaining exercise before we get started on our physicals with Nightingale.”

“What does yours say?” Hakuno asked, inching over to the woman’s side before her clipboard was swiped.

Rin huffed.

“What?”

“Yours is decent.”

“What are you talking about? Mine’s a mess.” Hakuno motioned at the questionnaire. “According to this survey, I need someone arrogant in my life to allow me to strike my independence and find my own voice. I don’t think I need anything like that.”

“According to mine, I need a ‘stage five clinger who is loyal to the grave and willing to go the distance to see me happy.’ I’d rather have the independence allowing proud guy.”

“You’re both putting too much into this.” Gudako waved her results. “I’m destined for a peace maker.”

“A pacemaker?” Hakuno snorted, “I mean, I know you’re eating a lot with Artoria Alter, but-“

“PEACE maker.” Gudako rubbed at her forehead. She could kind of see how they had ended up with their results, but she doubted there was anything to these damn tests. The Magi*Mari special survey for love and destiny was just something to fill time.

She could already see the trouble forming. A peace maker probably wouldn’t sound that bad to Rin either. The woman was nothing if not uncertain about what she would want in a partner. That was why right now, out of the three of them, Gudako was the only one with servants.

Hakuno refused to choose.

Rin couldn’t choose.

It made things highly interesting.

“Tohsaka.”

Nightingale glanced over at them, breaking up the fight before it could form. Rin pushed passed them, vanishing before Hakuno was reviewing Rin’s answers and entertaining herself with the surveys. Each of them came and went to that back room, listening to Nightingale give direction.

Romani came in during her own though, leaving Gudako to laugh as he held a handful of Magi*Mari magazine’s under his arm.

“I found them in the main waiting area,” he argued.

She just bet he had.

The rest of the day was uneventful.

Spartacus had been released from his area of Chaldea. Boudica was planning an overthrow of Chaldea to stop the Romans from gaining any further power. The Celts started an underground brewery a few weeks back, apparently. Gudako found herself staring at the vats in the private bath of a very tired Gilgamesh Caster and sighed.

Just another day.

That was why, the next day, she didn’t understand.

“Master?” Kiyohime smiled, holding down Alexander and Kid Gil. “Aren’t I a great peacekeeper? I made sure that the morning dining hall was quiet for you. Everyone is getting along so well!”

“Let them go, Kiyo.”

“Hmm?”

Gudako stared at the two boys.

“Oh! These two? They told me they wanted to be like this.” The two struggled harder. “They think of it like a game. It’s the greatest entertainment. Maybe you and I could meet later, master? I could show you how to tie knots and-“

Gudako waved a hand.

This was already a quiet morning and she couldn’t place what else was amiss.

No… No, she could place what was wrong.

Rin wasn’t storming at the kitchens demanding any food. Normally, she would be demanding a cup of tea and giving a smirk at Emiya before she’d sit down and raise a ruckus with one of the servants. She seemed to always be having trouble with Enkidu for some reason. The hatred seemed to flow freely.

She’d never understand why.

The two literally didn’t know one another’s names.

And then Gilgamesh would be laughing loudly with Ozymandias. The golden king and the pharaoh were known for their early wake up, more so the Uruk king than the other. Gilgamesh would drag the pharaoh in and complain about his eye lining talents before fixing it himself.

The laughter would rise. The people would cry. It was a regular routine that she had become accustomed to.

There was no pharaoh.

There was no Uruk king.

Hell, Cu wasn’t here pissing off Emiya through taunts flung through the window.

Then again, the celts had been drinking that beer so they wouldn’t have to lose it.

“Good m-morning, Gudako.”

Gudako glanced over her shoulder, smiling and moving over a bit. “Romani! Hey, have you seen Rin and Hakuno?”

“They’re spending time with servants.”

“Oh… Oh good. I hope it’s not about trouble again.”

The good doctor nodded. “Gilgamesh is no doubt talking to Hakuno if that helps.”

She didn’t find that helpful, but that was alright. She had a plate being set in front of her by Emiya and the doctor was at least helping her relax.

“Hakuno?”

Romani held the test before him, leaving the contents for him to peruse.

Clear as day, the little brunette fool that he feigned indifference to had selected him with this childish and overly colorful survey. Even the description, listed at the bottom, seemed to only add to that mental image.

To think he had affected the woman to this length!

“I thought you should know. A Magi*Mari test is not something to take lightly,” the good doctor warned him. “Hakuno and the others did this test in the trust and hope that they would find their heart’s chosen person. I thought it was only right to share-“

“Right, right.” He wasn’t listening.

“I thought that, since the test went into such detail, that I thought it might be talking about-“

“Me, of course.”

Romani nodded.

The test was no doubt discussing his Caster self. Caster Gilgamesh was very good at empowering those around him and showing a great amount of ambition and pride. It would only make sense for Hakuno to be a good match for him.

After all, the test was from Magi*Mari. That meant that the good woman had found the secret to finding soulmates. She was truly a magician on par with grand casters. She was grace. She was beauty. She was absolutely everything that a person could have possibly wanted in a woman… and so much more.

“I need to go.”

Romani nodded, “I’ll leave you to let the results be found.”

“They’ll be best with me,” the man told him, letting the survey sink into the depths of his gates.

“Hmm?”

“I found this test that seems to say that you’re someone that Rin is looking for a relationship with,” Romani explained, holding up the second of three magazines that he’d found in the waiting room over by the infirmary.

“How do you know it’s about-“

Cu moved over to his side, pausing his own question to run his eyes over the page. He nodded here and there, raising a brow and frowning a moment before he gave a small huff here and there. His nodded once more. Twice.

“Alright, yeah. You got me. Damn, what is this thing?”

Cu lifted the bottom of the magazine.

“Uh…”

“It’s from a talented idol and suspected mage. You have to love the fact that she cares so deeply about the love and admiration of her fans. Anyway, I wanted to let you know that there was a survey that said you would be good for Rin and Rin would be good for you. When Magi*Mari says it, you know it’s tru-“

Cu snorted, holding up a hand.

“What?”

“I’m supposed to believe a magazine?”

“It’s from Magi*Mari.”

The man gave him a small look before shrugging. “I’ll give it a shot. Why not? Rin’s always good for fighting with. Maybe it’ll remind her to let me be her partner more often.”

“You won’t regret it!” Romani promised.

The man gave a small wave, turning the corner.

Thinking back to those two, Romani couldn’t help but to feel a bit bad for Gudako.

Rin had been the easiest to find the match for. The description had practically sung praises for Cu Chulainn. After all, who else in all of Chaldea had a loyal to death mentality and was so relaxed and giving that he’d ‘no doubt go fishing and come back to cook all the fish for you’?

There was no one. The survey had clearly meant him.

Hakuno had been harder, but rereading a few times and really thinking about it had let him know that it must have meant Caster Gilgamesh. The king would take good care of her, even if he wasn’t the perfect match. The man was giving, arrogant but willing to listen, and he did take note of Hakuno at times.

The few times that the two had worked together, it had been like watching two gears in perfect sync.

Romani set the magazine in front of Gudako.

“I wanted to talk to you about this.”

“Hmm? Oh! That survey thing!” Gudako laughed, setting her spoon for breakfast aside and wiping at her mouth with a napkin. “What about it?”

“I couldn’t find your peace keeper.”

She frowned.

“I talked to everyone in Chaldea that was up this morning,” he explained. “I wanted to find the person and surprise you so that you could be happy, but… it didn’t necessarily work out. You’ll have to forgive me.”

“Romani…” Gudako looked at the magazine a moment before shaking her head. “I don’t want a partner like that right now. I have you.”

“Hmm?”

“Well…” Gudako laughed a little, scratching at the back of her head. “It’s just… why bother to have a partner who’d always worry about you and lose faith that you could keep returning alive and well? I’d rather have a doctor who believes that I’ll be okay and keeps the Mage Association from panicking, you know?”

“Right.”

Gudako nodded. “So there you go. You’re the only partner I need. You’re my peace keeper.”

He’d keep trying, but Romani nodded.

“Now then, wanna go drag some servants through experience ember farming?”

“Finish the veggies that you were given first,” he told her.

“Spoil sport.”

“Your peace keeper would appreciate it,” Romani told her, smiling a bit as he flipped through his Magi*Mari magazine.

The idol was truly never wrong.

She must have been clairvoyant.

#drabble #drabbles

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

Text

Title: Arranged {3}

Yahya Abdul Mateen II x OFC Nyorie Kane

Warning: Plot, Cursing

Words: 1.4k

Summary: Yahya is thirty-three, and his friends and family all seem to believe that it is long overdue for him to have a wife. He’s been set up more times than he can count and with his busy schedule and rising Hollywood star, it is becoming even more difficult to meet people, well people who aren’t looking for a come up. In the beginning, he said he didn’t want anything serious; his motto was “I’m was here for a good time not a long time.” Then it became he didn’t want anything that would distract him from where he wanted to go and what he wanted to accomplish. Now that his fame is rising and he’s approaching a sweet spot in his career he decides what the hell the time might be right.

In comes “A Match”, an exclusive matchmaking company run by his best friend Ramel’s wife Tamika. He gives Tamika and Ramel free rein and all his trust to find him, someone, he’d mesh well with. Instead of going through her clientele Tamika has just the right woman in mind, her best friend, Nyorie. Things are done a little unorthodox at “A Match” though. This unconventional route is credited for a near-perfect success rate.

Note: I’ve only tagged those who have expressed to be on a forever tag list.

****Also, please keep an open mind.

**Loosely Proofread/Edited**

✧*.。:。✧*.:。✧*✧*.。:。✧*.:。✧*✧*.。:。✧*.:。✧*

-Chapter Three-

When he got to Tameka’s company it was close to nine. This was the only time he could squeeze the meeting in. His days were getting busier and busier with each movie he completed. Tipping his hat down low and securing his hoodie so it hid his face he walked around to the back entrance of “A Match.” The floral scents of the interior office took over. the scent matched the décor, it was lite, feminine and modern. Just as he was about to sit down Tameka walked out.

As always her outfit was on point. She dressed like the boss and sure as hell acted like one. She smiled warmly and held out her arms for him.

“I wasn’t sure you’d show.” He pulled her into a hug with a laugh.

“Time is money and I said I’d be here.”

“Hm, just by you being here makes me think you might be ready. We’ll see though. Come on.”

Tameka nudged her head for him to follow her. They walked down the long hall of the white oak floor then made a right. Tameka stretched her arms out signaling for him to go first. When he walked into her office he took one of the seats in front of her glass desk. She didn’t sit down automatically, instead, she walked to a wide four drawer file cabinet, used a key around her neck and opened it to take out a binder and a folder. When she sat down she plopped the materials down before her.

“The hell is all that?” A smirk slipped and she pinched her lips to wipe it away.

“This is A Match boo, I take my job serious which is why I get the results I do. So.” Tameka pulled out a pink legal pad from her top drawer and grabbed one of her pens and looked to him.

“Why are you here, Ya?”

Giving her a blank look, he scrunched up his nose. “I thought we’ve been through this,” he began.

“Let’s go over it again. Before we can begin I need to know why. I ask everyone this question, so it’s not just you.”

He took a long sip from his blended green juice mix and thought about the question for a few seconds.

“I figured finding people for other people is what you do, and I know you’re good at it. So here I am.”

“Why now? You’ve known me for years; you’ve known this is what I did for years. Why are you here now as opposed to last month?”

Another long sip from his juice gave him reprieve to think. He knew what she wanted him to say. He slumped slightly in the chair and took a deep breath then spoke.

“I think I’m finally ready to let someone in, given it’s the right one.”

Tameka smiled, nodded and wrote something on the legal pad.

“What are your expectations? Some people come in here and expect me and mine to find them someone in a week so they can ride off in the sunset. Some don’t really want something serious, so they use it as a hookup service. What are your expectations?”

“If I wanted to just hook up I could do that easily. I’m not into the hookup culture and I’m not looking to get caught up. I’m thirty-three, it’s time for something meaningful,” he explained.

“Meaningful. I like that. Most would say serious, you chose meaningful. Okay.” She wrote again and he was more curious. He felt like he was sitting with a shrink instead of a matchmaker.

“All right. Let me explain what A Match is and how we work. We find like-minded individuals to put together. There are a variety of ways we accomplish this, questionnaires, quizzes, scenario testing, personality testing, emotional IQ testing, values, morals; the whole shebang. I like to take a traditional route which means not relying so heavily on electronics or social media. Remember back in the day how our mamas and daddies got to know each other? Phone calls not texts, handwritten letters, not emails, thoughtful outings, things of that such. Do you understand so far?”

He nodded.

“As a disclaimer; there is no quick route to getting matched. Marriage is my goal here because it is I don’t have my clients linger too long on the dating stage. After lengthy compatibility testing to ensure I am not wasting anyone’s time the first step is sheltered communication. Sheltered communication comes in one form—letters. Good old-fashioned handwritten letters. At this stage which is two weeks, you write to each other saying whatever you want. I have suggestions of what those letters should consist of and some guidelines but for the most part, you are free here. After those two weeks of sheltered communication, a decision is made if you want to continue. If both of you choose to continue the next stage is controlled communication, this consists of phone calls. Again this lasts for two weeks, then another decision is made. At stage three we move on to a date, but this is not a normal date. It is blind, you don’t see her, she doesn’t see you.”

“What?! How does that work?”

“Easy, you have a meal together where both of you are in the dark. You’ve heard of dining in the dark, this is the same concept, except you will be wearing glasses that give you the ability to see your food, and drink, utensils and what not just not each other. This is done to have you rely on your other senses, vibes, auras. You’d be surprised what you can feel for someone when your eyes are taken out of the equation.”

He was intrigued. It sounded interesting, to say the least.

“If date one is successful according to you both then we do it again, the goal is six dates over the course of five weeks, and they are all just like that. After all of this, you’ve spent nine weeks together, a little over two months. From here we repeat stages one to three for the next three weeks. This is where it gets simple. You shit or get off the pot.”

“What does that mean?”

“You tackle things backward, engagement, wedding, then you date your wife.”

His jaw dropped. “What!? You expect me to marry someone I’ve never seen?”

“Yes. I believe everyone knows what they feel or don’t feel for someone after four weeks. After six you know if you’re compatible, by ten weeks you know if there is something between you that can be sustained and by twelve you begin to feel like this is a routine with this person. My guarantee is I can find you the right one in twelve weeks.”

He sat there and tried to let the information sink in.

“So this is blind dating for twelve weeks then marry a stranger.”

“She’s not a stranger if you’ve spent twelve weeks being your authentic self.”

“What happens if you go through all this and four weeks into marriage you see it’s not working out. what then?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been doing this for years and I’ve never had it happen. My success rate is perfect once two individuals go through the stages.” Tameka slid the binder to him. “Look.”

He began flipping through the pages of pictures of couples from their wedding with the date they were matched and the date they were married and how long they’d been married. He went through page after page of many different couples, husbands and wives, wives and wives, husbands and husbands and even more ambiguous orientations. It was impressive, they all looked happy. All of them were still together. He didn’t know what to think. This was huge and quite possibly more than he’d expected or was ready for.

“Like I said, are you sure?”

He snorted and laughed. She was serious.

“Damn Tameka, you couldn’t just do things like normal matchmakers?”

“No, normal matchmaking is mundane, and the rate of failure is quite high. This way—my way, I haven’t failed yet. I have a waiting list that is months long of people who are dying to sign up. What’s your hesitation?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Maybe marrying someone after twelve weeks, someone I’ve never seen or touched. Someone my family has never met. That sounds extreme.

“I never said your family wouldn’t get to meet her. there are many steps at each stage Yahya. If both parties choose to continue a marriage offer is extended. Once accepted there is a day each of your families meet each other and your families meet the chosen partner,” Tameka explained.

“When do we meet, like see each other meet?”

“At the altar,” Tameka broke. Again, he laughed, this time it was louder than the first. This was wild.

“I feel like you’re more hung up on seeing the person. You shouldn’t be. The extensiveness of the compatibility screening is so intricate that your preferences and tastes are always upheld. A woman will not be picked unless every parameter has been met to ninety-eight percent or higher in each and every parameter.”

Hearing that was only a slight reassurance. He couldn’t believe he was here listening to all this. He couldn’t believe people actually wanted to do this. His eyes dropped to the binder again and scanned the faces of the couples.

“Here’s what we’ll do, take some time, think it over, go through the reading for the process and how each stage works. Take whatever time you need, then let me know whatever you decide.”

He took the brochure, and packets she offered and skimmed them before he nodded. This was not something to just jump into. There were so many variables to consider and he needed to consider them all.

“What kind of women agree to this?”

“Women like you, busy, jaded, tired of the current dating culture. I take all of the uncertainty out and support it with science, psychology, and sociology. Everything is on the up and up and everyone is vetted so deeply the CIA wishes they could be this invasive.”

Again, he laughed and nodded. “All right, I hear you.”

“So, think about it, let me know.”

He stood and nodded. “Thanks, Meeka.”

“Thank me when I find you the right one.”

With that, he walked out of her office and out the back entrance he’d come in almost an hour ago.

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

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

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maritimeericandersen · 3 years

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BDRP Questionnaire

Your Name: Sidney

Characters: Eric Andersen, Clara Baudry (Euterpe), Ferb Fletcher, Pedram Ratigan, Laszlo Robinson

Pick one of your characters and talk about their growth (we recommend choosing an older character, but it’s up to you!) What about their story has surprised you? What are you proud of? How have they changed from their original inception to now?

If we’re going by oldest characters, then Eric it shall be!!

As far as growth, I think the major thing that I’ve really enjoyed is getting him to be self sufficient and taking care of things he wasn’t used to before being out on his own. Eric had always been one of those kids who got to take a back seat to planning anything! Like doctors or dentists appointments. He never had to deal with the bank or paying for things like his phone or the internet. And for Eric, a simple boy, if it isn’t right in front of him he doesn’t think about it. Out of sight, out of mind, baby! So him being out here on his own has put all of those things in his direct line of sight. Getting new clothes, shoes, food, water, balancing all of this on a limited budget. You know, taking care of himself. I know the bare minimum is certainly a ridiculous thing to be proud of someone for, but here I am lmao.

Obviously a big part of him having not perished and just going back home was Mr. Moon!! Huge thank you to Lauryl and Jun for taking pity on me and Eric when we first got here lmfao. Eric getting a job, food, boarding, and pity taken on him got him started! And getting a pep talk to actually apply and go to university! Where he’s carving out a future for himself that he chose to do and that wasn’t influenced thinking about the Order or his family or anything but him!

I also really enjoy all the friendships he has made!!! Ollie! And Alice, and Ian, and HARU, and Henry, (but Henry he already sort of had but I’m super jazzed to see where those two can go,) and although I’ve never done a thread with any one on the volleyball team (besides Jake and Olaf, but not in the context of them being on a team!!) I’m sure Eric assumes they’re all the Very Best of Friends. So I really love that he has friends and a little community of people that he can show for himself!!

And Eric really hasn’t changed from my original thinking of him. I don’t know if this is a good thing or a bad thing but he was always supposed to be that kid in class who showed up a little late and asked if he could borrow a pencil. I think, if anything, the things around him in his story have changed a bit in my own brain in order to fit in to the universe of BDRP now that I’ve been here a little longer (almost a year!!!) to have a better understanding of how the world works!! But yeah, all and all, he is still on the original path I had for him going into this.

Pick another character (or the same character if you only have one) and talk a little about where you WANT them to go. What are your plans for them going into the new year?

Moving on to Clara:

What I want for her, personally, is to soften up and lean into her more excitable side. The one that isn’t so concerned with money or the way she looks or what other people are perceiving her to be. I want her to open up more!! Being a Muse will be super helpful to her because I think for a character to help someone else, they’re going to need to have a bit more vulnerability to them? Like, all mentor or helper type characters have to gain some semblance of trust from the person they're helping to get them to see that they aren’t in an environment to be judged or taken advantage of. Right? Like uh, Obi Wan isn’t necessarily up front with Luke about everything but he gives him many truths, like how he and his father were very good friends, so Luke trusts him! Or when Professor Keating is vulnerable with his students, telling them about how love and poetry and those deep dark feelings inside of you are what life is all about, and they trusted him wholeheartedly!

In order to do that, she’s going to need to let go of her own fears!! And grow! I want to see her learn that part of being people’s friends, or when being someone’s guide as a Muse. I think her coming to understand that sharing her story and history will be very helpful in her journey to becoming this generation’s Euterpe. I want to see her come into her more active magic by developing emotionally! Working through her anger and letting go of that to make more room for the part of her that wants to connect and be around people.

I am also really excited to see where her connections take her in the coming future! The Groove Room as her first helping gig to Ber! Being in a band!! Working at Tiana’s place and performing original music there!!! Getting to talk more with Franny, her idol!!!, will be fantastic for her. I’m so super duper excited to see where she goes.

Pick a thread or a plot that you’re proud of and talk about why you loved it.

This is an insane question because I genuinely love them all so much you guys 😭

For Eric: Any thread he’s had with Jun since that has helped move Eric along in getting to be his Own Person and getting his act together. Again, thank you Jun! I really really enjoyed his first interaction with Lou? I thought that thread was hilarious and yet cringed the entire time writing it because Eric is such a ridiculous person. I also liked his thread with Olaf when they went on the tour of the university!! Their conversation about the gryphons was really a challenge on Eric and having to think about hunting from the perspective of the other side, which he had never really done before. Also just him having a genuine and intelligent conversation with a fairy who is now also playing a sport with him has probably been very helpful to him!!! I love his threads with Haru because getting to write his reactions to her learning about the human world always brings me such delight. All this threads with Ollie are great because I get to write that part of Eric that is just a dumb boy hanging out with his bestie!! I love that so much since he’s so much more relaxed and I find their banter to be an easy back and forth. Getting to meet Isa for the first time was a blast, I really enjoyed their interaction. Most recently I was super de duper in love with him and Henry’s re-meeting. I hadn’t had a chance for him to really face the Order without him having to go all the way back to everyone, so getting that connection with Henry was a good inbetween and getting to write him talking to someone who knows the life and his plight was so cathartic for him!

For Clara: Any thread between her and Franny is so fun!! Her first meeting with Franny was great because I got to try and capture one of those moments that’s like, you know and adore this person and they’ve done so much for you but they have noooo idea who the hell you are. So that was a lot of fun for me, not so much for Clara lmfao, but hey it was the first step in getting her to this stage in her relationship with Franny, which she never thought she would even have!!! I really liked the two threads she got to have with Callie before she departed, it was very kind of Pet to give me those moments of giving Clara the knowledge of what/who she was!! Otherwise she would be walking around, still in the dark about her magic! OH, I loved the thread with her and Mei Q. !! I think it was important for her to get the advice of being open to people from an outside, neutral source who had no stake in Clara at all other than to just tell her what was up. Even if she didn’t really trust it lmao, it planted the seeds in her brain. I also really liked her thread with Imelda where she was trying to finagle the truth about her and O’Malley out of her lmfao. It was a challenge for me to think of dialogue that wouldn’t give her away, so that was very fun!!! And thank you Imelda for not firing her! And then of course, her thread with Ber and getting him to let her help her with the Groove Room! It gave me a chance to use her magic and start to explore the beginnings of how she is going to approach being a Muse while also giving her the first taste of adventure. Getting to write a Clara whose mind isn’t wrapped up in her account balance and is instead thinking about the love of life is always a very fun time for me, so that thread has been nice to write.

For Ferb: Literally any thread with his siblings. I want to take this moment to personally thank Emma and MK for giving me the Flynn’s in the span of ?? like four months?? Which was insane to me, because when I was writing his app I was like, “I will probably never get my siblings, and I will just have to accept that.” but then bam, next thing I know, there they were. So anything with them has been like my dreams come true. I loved his thread with Mei K. asking him to prom via sign!!! Too pure. The thread with Su when she was helping him work through what being a sibling is like and then cementing their friendship was really good because it got him to open up and doing that with Ferb seemed ?? impossible to me, so getting to write that was wonderful! Also his thread with JJ! Getting to gush about sign language was so much fun for for me, so thank you so much, Bee for giving me that opportunity!!! His and Vanessa’s thread at the carnival was really fun, too, especially since I made it my personal goal in that one to cut any dialogue from him and work on how he communicates without using words in that sort of fast paced situation where he couldn’t use his phone to know what she was saying, so, I thoroughly enjoyed that one, too.

For Ratigan: I honestly find any interaction with Ratigan to be a blessing to me because I genuinely feel terrible for asking for threads with him since he is so mean. His thread with Tiana and getting her to take up his offer on a loan was awesome, especially since it was one of the first things I got to write with him!! Very much appreciate Emma for willing to put Tiana in that position! It also gave me the thread with him and Simba, which was really funny since they are such opposites and getting to write Ratigan playing nice but secretly envying everything that Simba is/has was really interesting. Both his threads with Errol of course because it just gives me the opportunity to write him being the mean spirited person that he is. I adored his thread with Franny when she told him the news that she was pregnant!!! It gave me the chance to reflect on him and his relationship with her and the fact that he actually does like her and would snipe anyone who came for her. Not that he would admit that at all. LOVE his threads with Bianca, them staring one another down like a pair of cowboys waiting to see who will draw first has been so much fun to write!! I love writing that part of him as his paranoia knows no bounds. And his thread with Zira?? Has been immaculate because writing him in a place where he doesn’t think he is the superior one in the room would never happen in any other context, so I absolutely love getting to write him getting put in his place lmao. Also, having just finished the AU thread with LP was really fun!!! I liked getting to play into the tropes and the campiness of the spy genre and getting to see what he would act like in the face of genuine emotion.

For Laszlo: Literally all this threads lol. Writing Laszlo brings me such joy, as he is such a ray of sunshine. Him and Lachlann were a hoot and a half. I looooooooooved him and Eilonwy!! Both because she is such a treat but also because getting to write about him witnessing magic being put into his art while speaking to the person behind the magic was fantastic for what he wants to do in the future! Both his threads with Simba have been great, I love their vibe so much. The three-way thread between him, Lou, and Tiana for the mural was super fun!! I got my first taste into what discussing art would be like while also getting to think about how Laszlo would approach art while getting help from two other voices, so that whole thing was just chef kisses. His thread with Cornelius right now has been really lovely, I like getting to write them having a fun time together and being bros!! His threads with Franny have been so good, I adore them so much, their relationship is so fun to write. And of course, Marlin, too!! Their first thread was really fun and gave me the opportunity to write comedy as well as trying to figure out how he would react to embarrassment and all that. His thread with his mum is still coming along but I am in loVE with it so far. Petunia is the best, so getting to write with her and trying to figure out how that relationship has developed with them both being adults now has really been such a delight for me. I’m so happy because, bruh, like Ferb, when I was applying for him I told myself I would probably never get his intimidate family and that was going to be okay. Now look at us, who would have thought-

In terms of your own writing, identify 1-3 strengths and talk about why you think it’s one of your strengths.

Warning: Cop Out Ahead

Hmmm, I think the only strength I can think of would just be that I’m open to changes? I have no problems in people damaging my ego because I simply do not have one lmao. There’s really nothing I will be offended at needing to move around or change to fit. I like being able to hear what other people have to say about my writing, even if it’s to do something completely different with where I was going because I wouldn’t have ever thought to do it like that!! Which I’ve learned in rp is super great since there are so many people here with so many different ideas and perspectives and characters and it brings me such joy to hear you all talk and collab and read what you’ve written!!!!

In terms of your own writing, identify 1-3 areas of improvement.

Oh gosh, where to even begin.

1. I’m terrible with metaphors and comparisons lmaooo. I will attempt to write something lyrical or flowery and then I’ll come back to it and be like:

so that I definitely need to get better at!! Stop comparing things that don’t make sense!! Also not just using them to make my point as clear as glass. I think a big portion of why I write terrible, embarrassing metaphors is because I’m scared of being misunderstood so I feel like I have to give everyone a giant neon sign saying what I mean like seven times over. When in reality, everyone here is an intelligent individual who also writes very well so they will have no problem figuring out what I mean because, in all honestly, whatever I am writing isn’t going to be that convoluted!!

2. My sentence structures are always all over the fucking place. I do run ons, fragments, repetitive, I do all the sins baby. I need to clean it up and get my act together. Which brings me to my next point,

3. Editing. I’m very terrible at editing my own work because a lot of the time I don’t want to read my own writing so it makes me reluctant to go back over and check what I did. But then when I DO go back and read it to remember what I did for a reply, I read all the easy mistakes I could have fixed which means the person I’m writing with read it, too, which makes me cringe more and makes me not want to read what I wrote all over again, and then it is just one massive positive feedback loop that ends with unedited work and a bunch of nonsense left for someone to interpret. I gotta stop it!! I either need to get some self confidence somehow or just suck it up and get to editing more so people don’t have to suffer for my mistakes.

Pick one of your plots, or even just a character, and come up with a list of 3-5 “mentor texts” where you can look for inspiration or research, then write a short (2-4 sentences) why you picked those texts. (They don’t have to be books, either!)

I feel like I’m back at school doing a Work Cited page lmao. But okay, for Ratigan:

Of course, the most obvious: The Adventure of the Final Problem by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Thank god this was a short story, lmao. Honestly, reading it you could tell a bitch was just trying to put a wrap on it because Doyle doesn’t really go into detail about anything besides Holmes and Watson’s road trip. Like it never goes into detail about the big back and forth game between Holmes and Moriarty, it just tells us that they had one and this story takes place at the end of it. We only ever get Moriarty through Holme’s storytelling and from afar from Watson’s point of view. So it’s kind of funny that this guy, who appears in one short story and only mentioned in one other book, who had barely any character besides being smart, has been turned into this notorious villain name. I mean….his power….

Anyways, the reason I read it was because Ratigan is the Moriarty of Basil of Baker street, so I figured it would be useful to read the source material since my only experience with the character was Andrew Scott’s in Sherlock the show and then Jared Harris’ in Sherlock Holmes: Game of Shadows, who I still reference since I think he was a brilliant casting choice and is closest to the guy described in the story besides the guy who played Niles in the Nanny showing up as him in that one episode of Star Trek Next Gen lmfao. It was actually very helpful when trying to think of how to adapt him into a person rather than a cartoon rat. It gave me more insight into the criminal world aspect of his plot, too, and how he ran it and everything: “ He sits motionless, like a spider in the center of its web, but that web has a thousand radiations, and he knows well every quiver of each of them.” So that made me think, well why wouldn’t he want to be involved? Why would he want to sit pretty instead of being involved with things like Ratigan? Well, if I made him do it at one point and know that he hated it, then he would do everything in his power to not have to do stuff like that ever again. Hence why he was an assassin and why he worked his way to the top. This also gave him credibility and made people fear him. I also liked how petty the character was. Like the whole part about him trying to kill Holmes and paying someone to push a brick off a roof or run him over with a carriage had me laughing. “Kill him in the dumbest way to make his obituary look ridiculous!!” But yeah, aha, this was mainly very helpful to me when trying to think of how his criminal background would work.

Die Hard (1988) because Hans Gruber baby!! He is one of my fave og villains for many reasons! He’s calculated, witty, intelligent, and dangerous. The movie does a good job of not just telling us these things, but showing us! In his scheme, in his back up plans, shooting the glass upon knowing a bitch is barefoot in there, and trying to get McClane to trust him by improvising in three seconds flat. Obviously the best part is when the police think they’ve got him on his heels by cutting the power when actually that was the plan all along to get into the vault since he knows their protocols!!! I really like that clever and planned out approach to crime and villainy for Ratigan (even if I am too dumb to know what I am doing (^: ) Like Hans, he doesn’t think that what he is doing is for the Great Good or that what he is doing is the right thing. He is fully aware that he is not a good person! He had the chance to get out, but it was of his own volition to go back to that life. I took that villain approach to Ratigan from Hans in that there is no complex reason as to why he does what he does. He’s not like the big purple grape who thinks he has to do it as a favor to the universe, he just wants money and to live comfortably, the end.

Person of Interest, for a lot of reasons actually, but mainly for the character of Elias!! And his whole organized crime operation. He is among that smart and calculated villain trope (even though he wasn’t really a villain over the course of the show lmao.) What I liked about him was that he went into the life of crime because he knew that was how things were going to get done in the world. Watching the show you see the hierarchy of the criminal underground and how he cultivated crime into an organized and sort of civil matter when given rules and regulations!! His overall poise, too, was the kind of villain I wanted for Ratigan. Also that Elias was the guy that people could go to if they needed something done that they themselves couldn’t get around or that was just too grey area for them to go through with themselves. He’ll pull the trigger, he’ll plant the bomb, he’ll ruin someone’s life. I love that concept a lot for a villain, because they already know they’re knee deep in the shit, why let someone else corrupt themselves when they can do it and do it without the whole fuss of morals.

And now, a wishlist! Jot down a few themes or stories or genres etc that you want to maybe pursue in the upcoming year! (i.e. a good ol’ fashion forbidden romance, maybe you want to dig deep into racial identity etc) This doesn’t have to necessarily be attached to any characters or stories you have now– it’s just meant to help you see for yourself what kind of stories call to your heart.

More technology vs magic things! I feel like that theme of the natural vs the made would be fun and interesting considering the juxtaposition of the town to the forest and stuff!!

Also, I mean even doing small, stupid shit with technology would make me very happy

More friendships!! (esp for Clara lol) More enemies!

I would love to do something of like building a house or renovating a place together. if any one wants to go HGTV, please come see me :^)

Scavenger hunt type deal? Like a video game! Get one thing in order to get the next thing so that you can get the next thing until they eventually find what they were looking for.

Misunderstandings! Either ones that are funny and light hearted that result in hijinks or the good old fashion devastating kind that sets trust on the edge.

And then to echo a few of yalls, and MK in the werewolf vs vampire chat, the opportunities of tension between those two parties. I think that would be SO cool??? not even for like a Big Boss Battle, but the build up to it would be really good! making alliances that wouldn’t otherwise be made, stirring the pot to make tensions worse, blackmail, threats. I barely have any stake in this, lmfao, but hey this question asked for things that didn’t have to be attached to my characters so. I would just be sitting on my computer with a bowl of popcorn for it. Big Vampire Diaries/the Originals Energy.

OPTIONAL: Why do you RP?

Since this whole experience has been brand spankin’ new with my first go around in the rp world, the answer is just very simple: it is an absolute delight.

Getting to write with people that double as this built in community/fandom that has been created is actually insane to me. It makes me so !!!!!!!!!!! because it’s so cool!! There’s really nothing out there like it! I like the collaboration aspect so much because it keeps everything exciting and fresh at all hours of the day! Not even just like within your own stories, but getting to see other people’s stories that I’m not even apart of.

Honestly, getting to read the things you guys write for free makes me feel like I’m doing highway robbery. Every day I am a humble peasant who wakes up and is getting to feast upon what you monarchs come up with.

Which just makes me want to say thank you to everyone here because I felt (and STILL DO) like such a fucking idiot coming in here not knowing what I was doing. But you all just welcomed me on in, made me feel comfortable enough to continue writing, and I sincerely believe you all kept me going on this wild and wacky year. I know I don’t talk at all in the big group chat because I am chicken shit!!!!!!!!!! but you’re all very lovely people, I feel lucky and blessed to have found you. Thank you for taking in a newbie like me into your long standing home!!

#bdrptask #not me having to use a whole painting for euterpe since she isn't even in the movie

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xseildnasterces · 4 years

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dream.

COVID-19 Diary. National Emergency Day 12.

I feel a bit better today. I think it’s a variety of things, but actually getting out of bed and sitting in the lounge instead of sitting in bed has been a huge help. I woke up early and forced myself to get up, get ready and go to the pharmacy. Somehow, I got lucky. There was one tub of the medication I needed on the shelf, and I could not have been happier to see them there. Going out so early was a little eerie. I think I saw 4 people the whole time I was outside. Luckily I live really close to a pharmacy (which I didn’t realise until yesterday), so I managed to get what I needed and get back home before 08:30am which was great. Again my sleep last night was limited, so despite going out and getting that one job ticked off my list, after speaking to H for a while about work and then video calling with my mum I ended up laying on the bed and having an almost 2-hour nap. I needed it, even though I shouldn’t have been doing that when I should be working, but nevermind.

I had my first therapy session today since I went to my first initial appointment. Online therapy is a struggle for me. I tried using an app before and I just found not having a physical connection with someone really hard. It was hard to speak to someone when it didn’t feel like they were really there, so today was hard work. However, my therapist is amazing and we did a grounding exercise and I spoke about how I felt in terms of this type of therapy and then we spoke a lot about the virus and the impact that was having on my mental health and wellbeing. Although I don’t like online therapy, I still felt good after it and look forward to actual physical sessions once everything gets back on track. As always it was nice to talk about my feelings and for someone to understand what I felt. I had been asked to complete a questionnaire before my session (I love questionnaires). It was about why I felt I needed therapy and then it went into lots of specifics such as gender identity, sexuality, drink/alcohol issues, food disorders and lots of other things in order to provide an insight into me, who I am and things I have dealt with. I think it was a really great way to introduce myself to my therapist and for her to understand things I had been through and perhaps why I act a certain way. I just really like my therapist so it went better than I expected considering how anxious I was beforehand.

I then had a work meeting which was fine but seemed to drag on for ages. I spent most of it with C sending me photos of her cats sitting on her lap during the meeting and texting L on my phone. Uncertain times do not seem to apply to the world as a whole right now but also our organisation. The department is going through a reorg and everyone's jobs are up in the air. I would hope, and assume that our team is safe because we have unique skills that cannot be used elsewhere in the division… but you never know! Then, whilst making dinner and doing very little we got an email that made me cry. A member of our division, a 26-year-old guy had died from the virus. He is not something I have ever spoken to personally, but I have seen him in meetings before, and for someone in your vicinity, and around your age to be killed by this virus is horrendous and makes everything even more real than it already is. Throughout our meeting, my boss had listed off a few members of our department who had already lost family members and hearing those numbers is horrific. It makes me even angrier that there are still people out there not taking this seriously and not appreciating just how serious this really is.

Yesterday the UK went into ‘lockdown’, although It’s not a real lockdown at all. Everything is ‘advisory’, nothing is enforced and because they are worried about the economy, people that cannot work from home are still being told to go to work - my dad being one of them. So essentially, he cannot walk in the street with anyone other than my mum (not that she's leaving the house), yet he can go to work with 100s of other people? It makes no sense. He’s worried sick and it’s impacting his anxiety really badly and I am worried about him on both points. It is going to seriously diminish his health if it continues like this. The government needs to just state that no one should go to work unless they are key workers. Everything they have done in this crisis and how they have epically failed to deal with it has made me hate the Tories even more - not that I needed any help in doing that.

Here, on the other hand, Trump thinks we will be ‘opening up the country’ by Easter… which is in two weeks. Somehow, I don’t think so. Again this is all due to the economy. I understand that the economy crashing is also a huge issue, but right now I think people's lives are much more important. The Governor of Texas is even quoted saying that he believes grandparents would be happy to die in order to save the economy for their grandchildren!? Are these people even real? They really are insane, and what’s more the way the UK and the US have completely failed to deal with this crisis just highlights what they view as important - money.

Johnson and Trump really are Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum.

[Blog title: Dream - Amaranthe].

#me #personal #life #life update #writing #journal #diary #thoughts #feelings #feeling #thought #emotions #emotion #covid19 #covid-19 #coronavirus #dreams #amaranthe #dream

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mcyslarb · 5 years

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CHARACTER INTRODUCTION

THE BASICS

NAME/NICKNAMES: May Parker

ALIAS: “Aunt May”

AGE: 50

PREFERRED PRONOUNS: She/Her

AFFILIATION: #teamspiderman (or, at this point #teamspiderpeople)

FACECLAIM: Paget Brewster

THE DETAILS

FAMILY: Her parents are deceased, she doesn’t have any siblings (that she knows of) and they lost Ben circa pre-Civil War, I believe. All in all, it’s mostly always just been her and Peter. What’s more of a dream team, anyways?

THREE FAVORITE THINGS: Thai food, denim jackets and her #1 nephew.

EDUCATION: A college graduate who spent more time looking cool than studying but she got by, thank you very much.

SKILLS: Being a kickass aunt is a skill. She can also get wine stains out of white dresses, knows pretty much all of Stevie Nicks’ discography, once tied a cherry stem with her tongue and was a two-time ‘if you can get it all, it’s free’ champion at some local diner.

WEAPONS: Just her lowkey fists of fury, huh.

ABILITIES: N/A (the stellar BS detector isn’t universally recognized, unfortunately)

THE QUESTIONNAIRE

IN THE LAST YEAR SINCE THANOS WAS DEFEATED, WHAT HAS YOUR CHARACTER BEEN DOING?

All in all, rebuilding her life and attempting to keep some semblance of normality and stability in Peter's life. The usual stuff, y'know. A roof, a curfew(ish), at least three meals a day that include some sorta vegetable. A lot of pretending that she knows what she's doing in the face of the world literally crumbling and then spitting everyone back out like it was nothing. No big, just another manic Monday in NYC. May's always been pretty good at rolling with the punches. Before Peter's parents died, she was more than settled on being the Cool AuntTM to the absolute max. She was going to sneak Peter his first beer, let him drive her car, not embarrass him when he brought a date around for family dinner but things changed, obviously.

So she rolled with it. Being so suddenly in the know and in the center of things though, she definitely felt a big need to actually do something. Be proactive. Help people; it’s what Peter did, it's what Ben would have done. Despite the lack of super-juju, she did her part where she could helping those whose lives were totally messed up by the ole snap-a-roo.

May absolutely insisted on knowing all the information she could afterwards too. I mean, remember when her kid literally went to space without calling? Yeah, samesies.

WHAT HAS YOUR CHARACTER LEARNED IN THE AFTERMATH OF THANOS, HIS SNAP AND EVENTUAL DEFEAT?

May already had her fair share of experience when it came to grief. She'd known loss, she already knew that permanence wasn't real and you could do every little thing right and still end up heart broken. You never know what the day is going to bring. But this was...a lot. In a way she was weirdly grateful that she'd at least dusted too because being left behind knowing that Peter was gone? That would have been one loss too much. Knowing that she was supposed to have protected him and that she had, undeniably, failed in that? It would have been heartbreaking.

Actually, it still kinda was. Even though they all came back, even though the heroes won and the bad guy was defeated, she still felt as if she had failed. You want the best for your loved ones, you want to keep them safe but what was she was meant to do in the face of something like that? I mean, sure, if she had been there... She definitely would have taken a swing at Thanos for even looking at Peter wrong but that's just the point: she wasn't there and that stuck with her. She was probably a lot more overprotective, insisted on almost constant communication and may have had a small, minor cry over a burnt lasagne (but, like, it wasn't about the lasagne).

Still, there is hope, isn't there? Even in the face of what, for her, was the literal end of the world... There was hope. There had been some wild solution to fix everything, even if it had come at a price. Despite the worst of odds, they still got saved. That was something at least, you know?

THE SAVAGE LANDS IS A NEW AND DANGEROUS PLACE, HOW IS YOUR CHARACTER COPING WITH THE NEW ENVIRONMENT?

Nope. Nope, nope, nope--- no, thank you. She's been a city gal her whole life, hasn't even been on a camping trip so there's no way she's happy about being landed in...wherever the hell this is. Knowing her luck, this will definitely be more Jurassic Park than Land Before Time, you know? If she can make it through the literally day without being eaten, then we can talk.

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Headcanons;

May was the leather pants clad, motorcycle riding, tattoo her parents never found out about having kinda gal who you never would have imagined Ben Parker to end up marrying. Mostly because, well, she'd said on multiple occasions she wasn't the marrying type- unless there was some kinda Elvis impersonator involved. They were best friends since high school though, even went to the same college and just when she thought she couldn't handle having another bad boyfriend (or girlfriend), he finally fessed up about his F-E-E-L-I-N-G-S. The rest was, as they say, history.

Definitely felt too young to be a mom. Well, guardian. Aunt with responsibility. May had never considered kids before and she was scared to death when they first took Peter in. Ben was perfect as always and yes, she'd literally loved that little kiddo since the day he'd been born but it was still scary. What if she forgot to pick him up from school and he joined a biker gang? What did kids even eat? Did she really have to say things like 'do your homework' and 'eat your larb' outloud? Needless to say it all worked out in the end but despite faking it 'til she made it, she was 100% freaking out, lowkey, at the time.

Never dated for a long time after Ben. She showed up to a few dates (online dating... Way scarier stuff than raising a kid) but often ended up bailing or ghosting before they could even show up. Even now it still feels kinda off. Sure, she'll flirt and she has a beating heart but as for epic, true, soulmate, matching tattoo love? She feels like she had it. Done, dusted (poor wording) and that's just...how it is. No big.

Read a ton of blogs about how to handle raising a teenage boy and felt very confident in all she had to say, however ridiculous. Lucky she and Peter have always had a really open and honest relationship. She's always wanted him to feel like he could talk to her about anything. They were a team and it'd always be them against the world, no matter how weird things got.

Loves a two-tone double denim look! Loves some high-waisted jeans. Absolutely adores literally anything with stripes and she shan't be stopped. Always looks great, let's be honest.

Looks like a cinnamon, really is a cinnamon roll...until you try and mess with her spidernephew.

#u: intro #bio #Am I Doing It Right.mp3

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pbandjesse · 5 years

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I don't want to do my post I am so tired. But I will do it because that is what I do. And I always feel better afterwards. Today was great and I really want to tell you all about it.

Last night was really hard. I was in a lot of pain and I didn't know how to deal with it and so I was kind of lashing out at James a bit and was just very upset. We talked it out and everything's fine and we had a great day together I was just in a lot of pain and was very sad. And we had to call 911 at one point because someone was upstairs just absolutely screaming for like an hour. It was really scary sounding. And I hate calling 911. It stresses me out.

I felt weird when we woke up but we got out of bed and got dressed and left here early. We biked down to the harbor and then over to the medical center. I checked in but apparently I had done something wrong on the questionnaire. The question was did it happen on someone else's property and I said yes. Apparently that through the system off somehow. But it was fine we went we waited and soon enough they were taking us back.

I'm glad I had James there to kind of keep me honest. Customer service Jesse tends to come out when I'm in these types of situations and I down play stuff. So having him there helped curbed that a bit. I did not like seeing how much I weigh. That always makes me upset. But it's fine. I'm still working on losing weight because I want to be healthy again but numbers always upset me. But it's okay.

When I showed the nurse my bruise she was legit silent for 10 seconds. She was in the middle of a sentence when I pulled my skirt up to show her and she just stopped and stared. She was shocked. It was not what she was expecting. The doctor basically did the same thing when she came in. They were very surprised that I had continued to bike and hadn't taken any time off work. But they understood my reasoning. And they understood that I just kept feeling like it was just a bruise. And honestly the doctor was very concerned about my elbow to especially because I was having trouble bending and it was hurting really bad last night and today. It's not so bad anymore. Most of the pain has subsided. But I think that's because they put me on pain medication. I'm taking two different things. And I don't hurt at all so that's nice. And Keith were hurting really bad today to from stress and pressure in the air. And all that pain is gone. Very good pain medication.

Basically the doctor said to ice it and then put heat on it. Couple times a day if I can. Elevating it and epsom salt baths as much as possible. She also said that I might need to get some physical therapy if I lose strength in it but because I'm still biking and working on yoga and things she doesn't think that will be too much of an issue. She gave me a sheet that says what I should look out for and basically told me it was a really bad deep tissue wound but I'll be okay. They did some Wound Care on my elbow and wrapped it. And then sent me to the pharmacy to get my prescriptions.

The wrap they put on my arm made it so I couldn't do much and it was a bit of a mess. And then I just kind of fell out of it. But we got everything and then we went to IHOP.

James was very focused on this call back from the job. I really hope they get back to him soon because he really needs those. Just emotionally it would be so good for him. But we have a nice breakfast. And then we biked back to my apartment.

I cleaned up a little bit and he carried the box of toys for the kids. But it was very hot outside and the wrap they put on my arm was hurting me really bad. So we stopped and took it off of me. But I was still in pain so we took off the under bandages well once we got to the bus stop. I really really appreciate all of James help today. He really makes me feel cared about even when I'm having trouble accepting that.

But we got the bus and headed to school. And it was really fun having him there. We got in the building and went to my storage closet. I showed him some stuff but we spent the first 45 minutes organizing. I told James what he could clean and what he could sort through. I'm made labels and swept and dealt with trash. We cleaned off the boards and put things away. It was really good. We were very very accomplished and it was really nice having him there. Chelsea came and was laughing about how we did her job for her. And then we went for a walk. I introduced him to a couple people and we sat and Marcus is classroom for a bit with some of the other teachers. Hung out and I showed James off to all of the people in the school. Everyone thought he was so handsome and kind and funny. Because he is and it's true.

We went downstairs to get the kids and they are so excited to meet him. Darielle screeched. And there was very many handshakes. It was so funny all the adults wanted to hug him and all of the kids wanted to shake his hand. The kids were getting their report cards today so we had to wait for a couple of them but they were getting really antsy so I had James take them upstairs. They were very excited to be able to ask him questions and interrogate him about stuff and threaten him. But they were very excited to take him upstairs.

I came up a few minutes later and we told them what the plan was for the day. Formally introduce them to James. I told them what happened at the doctors. And ask them where they wanted to have their party and they voted to have it inside. But they also wanted to still have recess. So then we went outside for recess.

Recess was really good but they locked the basketball court again so I couldn't show off my skating skills to James as much as I wanted but that's okay. We skated up and down the sidewalk for a bit. But mostly James stayed inside playing basketball with the little kids. I went and checked on him a few times and he just looks so cute with all the kids being so much smaller than him.

I was finally able to connect with my dad on the phone. But he upset me because he wanted to go and upgrade my phone without me ever seeing what phone he's upgrading to. But I've only had my phone since January so I don't even want an upgrade. And I've been saying for like a month now what phone I do want when I do get an upgrade in a year or so. And I was very distressed and overheated. And I'm dealing with a lot with how much pain I'm in a my injury and moving and all the stuff and I didn't need to be told that all of a sudden I was going to need to get another phone. I don't want another phone. I just got this phone. And he didn't understand why I was being difficult when he was doing something nice. But it didn't feel like something nice it felt like something controlling. Just because you can get a free phone from a BOGO sale. But we still have to buy the phone. Upgrades are not free. You still pay for the phone. And I'm trying to explain this to him and I'm like why are you involving me in this we can just add you on the lines for our family plan. But he was obsessed with this free phone. Just let Mom handle this she has been doing it for over a decade and she's good at it. She gets us discounts she make sure everything is the way it's supposed to be. There's no reason for him to take over on this thing that he does not understand. And it was very upsetting and distressing to be almost crying in front of my students for no reason. But we Change the topic and he's going to come visit for Father's Day.

And I am really glad to see him I want him to come here and hang out with me. But I don't like when he does things like that. It's very upsetting to be told I'm being ungrateful when it's something I didn't even ask for. I have enough money now that I could pay for my own phone plan and I appreciate that they keep me on the family plan but still. It's not a necessity and when you hold something that you are doing as a kindness over someone else That makes me not want to ever take any help. And it's something I'm working on right now because I have a lot of toxic Behavior about doing things on my own. And not accepting help from other people. So to have that thrown in my face really hurts.

We took the kids back inside though. And we went right back to our classroom to have our pizza party. I was in charge of handing out pizza. James did drinks. And Chelsea kind of directed traffic. It was a really fun day. We had chips and cupcakes. We had ice cream. The kids got to go to the art store. It was really nice. I gave them all the gifts that I had bought with their comic book money. I got lots of hugs. There was music and dancing. I made a couple more glitter jars with a couple of the girls that weren't here yesterday and then we use the leftover soda bottles to make two big glitter jars. It was a lot of fun. I love having James there in the classroom with me. The kids really liked him too and that was nice. And we used a couple of constellation rules like most quiet table gets to come get food first. And that was really really nice. And Chelsea like him too so that was cool.

We finished up the day with very many hugs. I told everyone they had to give me a hug before they left and they all complied mostly. Ahmad let me hug him but he wouldn't hug me. It's okay. Damon and some of the girls were just holding on to me and didn't want to let go. China was a very sweet one because she hug me and just kind of said to me that she was really going to miss having me as her teacher. And it was very very sweet and soft. Something that doesn't always come through with her. But I can tell she's trying. And that's all that matters.

We cleaned up the room and then I took the final few kids and James up to the cafeteria. Dallas and de'arra asked if they could have boxes to carry the rest of their art until they ran to go get those and soon enough it was time to go. Everyone agreed to meet at karaoke later. And then me and James went to get the bus.

I was in a very good mood when we laughed and we waited and it was too hot but I really enjoyed being with him and I just felt happy. We got back home and I took a shower and got cleaned up. James changed his shirt and around 7 we left to walk to the hotel. Took way less time than we thought it would though.

We got there about 7:05. And no one was there yet. So we went across the street to the park and watched a little bit of the concert that was happening. Mostly just enjoy each other's company. James was very stressed about the whole job thing so I was just trying to comfort him. He said he felt selfish but I like being able to be there for each other. I like that we have that given taken it's not one-sided. But then as we're sitting there we see Tiffany so we head back over to the hotel.

We get in there in the rooms are very small but it ended up being really fun. That's the other thing that was happening was trivia. I did one song with Linnea. A Tom Lehrer song called the masochism Tango. They were all very confused by it. But it was very fun and very silly. I kind of wish I did poisoning pigeons in the park instead but that's all right. But the trivia was what excited James.

Once other people from the school started showing up we were able to get three teams and it was groups of 2. And me and James is team was called Team Rocket. And we ended up winning. James is very good at trivia. Obviously. And I was a little annoyed with myself because I got one wrong that I should have gotten right and mostly he knew the answer is not me. But it was really fun being able to do it together. The music one was the hardest one and neither of us knew like any of the songs so that was frustrating. But the rest of it was really fun and good and I'm really glad we got to do it. And at the end we want a $50 gift card for the fancy restaurant at the top of the hotel. So we're going to get to go on a date together. I'm very excited. And James is only a little tipsy and I like Tipsy James. He's very cute and affectionate.

I went back to the karaoke room to say goodbye. Show Marshall, my boss, my crazy leg bruise and told him what happened. He cursed out loud when I showed him. He was very surprised. And then we all sing one more song. As a group. I just wanted to see Chelsea sing something and then we say goodbye. Chelsea gave me a big hug and told me to keep her updated on my leg. But I'll see her tomorrow. It's fun day for the little kids and we're all helping out in the morning. I'm really glad Chelsea is my co-teacher. I love working with her. But she's also just a really good person and I think we're becoming friends more than just co-workers.

Me and James walked back to my apartment. He took the cheese out of my fridge that he can make dinner and we said goodbye.

I cooked pasta salad for lunch tomorrow and had a couple cookies. I cleaned up and try to play with this expandable rod thing I got. And accidentally cut my hand open. Which is almost worse than when I first open the package earlier and it exploded in my face and almost killed me. Not my best purchase. Very sharp. But I cleaned up and now I'm in bed. Today's been wonderful. I feel confident about my leg and it was a really good school year. And I'm looking forward to a quiet week. Just some BMI days and moving stuff and a good time. I hope you all have a great night. Sleep well everybody. Be safe out there. Until next time.

#ootd #work #babe #selfie #boy #good day #happy #bruise #tired #wound #doctors #tw #thursday #party

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secretgiftsforshaman · 3 years

Text

I wrote 2826 entire words before I collapsed last night

I have been seriously struggling this academic quarter. And I seriously struggled last academic quarter. As I did in undergrad, and in high school, junior high, and elementary. But I do not have any learning disabilities. And you have some idea of how smart I am in general, but I’ll share one specific example about just how very academically intelligent I am. On the SAT, I scored 700 in reading, 730 in writing, and 780 in math and I did not study for it. I spent most of the test bored and waiting for the allotted time to run out because I finished nearly every section way early. Early enough that at one point I had enough time to leisurely leave and use the restroom and came back before everyone else had finished. The only reason I did not score a perfect 800 in math because I missed *exactly* one question. I can still remember and visualize exactly which one it was – and only I missed it because it was the second to last one of the last math section and my brain read the word ‘diameter’ and was tired enough that my brain went ‘oh cool, radius’ even though I could have easily solved that problem when I was 11 or 12 (if you haven’t already gone “wow, she’s got some serious perfectionism issues” then now would be a good time for you to do so).

All of this to say: it has never been a question of not being able to understand the content. Very, very rarely in my entire scholastic lifetime have I ever not understood what was being taught to me. It is – and always has been – a matter of not being able to sit down and do the work.

One of the rubs of being so smart (especially when also socially inept – I don’t think I’ve ever had a formal diagnosis, but I would be astonished to learn if I wasn’t somewhere on the autism spectrum) is that your sense of self-worth is all too easily conflated with your intelligence and academic performance, placing massive pressure on yourself to be good at school, ‘cause that’s one of the few things I was reliably good at.

Most of my school-age bullies, particularly the loudest ones, were just as smart as I was: all enrolled in the same accelerated classes, but they didn’t struggle the way I did, and they definitely saw it, and made sure I knew they did. They could all do their homework and turn things in on time, but I just couldn’t sit down and do even the simplest assignments sometimes – let alone the big projects and reports, not without crippling deadline pressure. My parents and teachers also tended to view the situation as if there was some kind of issue with me, too: that I was lazy/disorganized/not ‘applying myself’/needed discipline and punishment and then I’d be fine – alllll of that unhelpful bullshit.

Nobody thought that I wasn’t smart enough, though. Clearly, I was always great on tests: sit me down and ask me what I know and if there’s a definitive correct answer then odds are good that I knew what it was, so I excelled in math and science, and I took great comfort from knowing what I was doing and working familiar problems over and over. But having to go find sources for research and report on something or answer essay style questions – anything subjective or humanities-ish – was my kryptonite. I couldn’t ever say “this is enough information, this is complete and I’m done now” – once I started searching I’d drown in all of the information available and not be able to pull myself out with just enough to get the job done. I would become paralyzed simply by the thought of needing to sit down and do schoolwork, so I’d avoid it and distract myself with reading or anything else BUT schoolwork. And if I ever fell behind (which ALWAYS happened because that’s what happens when your avoidant coping is your default), then it was like pouring anti-napalm on everything: I’d be even more frozen and unable to function, like cold terrified acid licking through my veins. I have been a student most of my life – 21 and a half years to date – and the entire fucking time I’ve been limping along like this, always hoping at the start of each new term that This Time, somehow, I could Just Do It Already The Way I Should Be Able To, but over and over that optimism has crumbled to ashes in that undying flame of fear, paralysis, self-disgust, and despair.

I am able, now, to identify and name what I have suffered from my entire life, the condition that I was made to carry so much crippling SHAME for, that I learned to hide almost completely from all of my loved ones for over a decade so nobody would see that shame and decide to think less of me.

I have anxiety and complex PTSD.

Where one ends and the other begins isn’t worth the effort of trying to tease them apart. The DSM-5 is an imperfect tool and no diagnosis is a uniform monolith – anxiety, PTSD, depression, and every other name of every other illness is merely a professional shorthand for “all/most of these symptoms are present.” It makes much more sense to treat my anxiety and PTSD as a single condition. Moreover, I have a strong suspicion that my endocrine disorder, PCOS, was triggered by the chronic stress/elevated cortisol and insulin (because one of the most socially acceptable ways for our nervous systems to regulate and soothe themselves when under stress is with food), and if it isn’t completely just part of the same thing, then it’s LARGELY overlapping with the anxiety/PTSD (I know that my mother and grandmother suffered in a very similar way in school, and I know that the PCOS is tied to inherited/ancestral trauma, so it makes every kind of sense if the anxiety/PTSD that we all have is related as well).

I have had a generalized anxiety disorder diagnosis on my chart for years, and I’ve known, in my rational brain, that I’ve needed to get it under control to feel better and function in school (and to be honest, with almost all other professional/adulting things too). But thinking about what I need and actually DOING something about it are such utterly different things. It has only been in the past few weeks that I have been able to admit to myself that I need real, professional help to overcome this condition – and to ask for and start receiving that help. There is a big culture in my family, especially us women, about ignoring our own issues and focusing on helping other people first (I know I must have written to you about this before), so this has been a massive step for me.

For a while I’ve been struggling to stay on top of my classes, and have fallen behind in all four of them, and the feeling of being overwhelmed has only increased exponentially. I’ve wanted, desperately, to go to an emotional ER so many times the past month, so much so that I found myself wanting (and knowing on a deep level that my body needs) some kind of pharmaceutical support to get me through the fucking day and allow me to do some of the massive, teetering pile of backlogged work. Upon hearing about my experiences of paralysis and dysfunction, and scoring very high on the anxiety diagnosis questionnaire she used, my doc, who rarely reaches for her Rx pad off the bat, suggested putting me on Clonidine (non-addictive, originally developed for hypertension) especially after my double-checked at-home blood pressure reading was 154/80 (which is consistent with STAGE 2 HYPERTENSION in an otherwise healthy and young TWENTY-NINE YEAR OLD for fucks sake)(insert emojis denoting ABJECT PANIC here).

I am comforted by the fact that my doctor, who I’ve seen since I was a tweenager, has shifted in the past few years to specialize in treating addiction and substance dependency, so if there’s anybody who I can trust to medicate me without causing a chemical dependence it’s her (thank GODDESS). Dr. M agrees with my perspective that the meds are just a temporary measure to alleviate my symptoms enough to function, and that the true treatment is the therapy work that I’ve been trying to do for myself, but there’s only so much you can do all by your lonesome, no matter how many self-help books you read (and goodness knows I’ve read a TON).

So I also finally started seeing a therapist (!), and just admitting some of this out loud to another person has been so profoundly healing. Our second session was this past Wednesday, and I was able to start opening up and telling her that I think my anxiety traces back to ancestral trauma and how I feel called to use a bottom-up, somatic approach (hence my recent interest in shamanism, ritual, soul retrieval, transpersonal psychology, etc., which she’s totally accepting of; again, THANK GODDESS).

One of the many many many self-help books that I’ve had my nose in is “The Instinct to Heal: Curing Depression, Anxiety, and Stress Without Drugs and Without Talk Therapy” by David Servan-Schreiber, MD, PhD (which I started reading like a day before I finally admitted that I needed to take drugs and do talk therapy *laughing at myself emoji here*). Servan-Schreiber beautifully articulated the relationship between our neocortex: the newly, highly developed, outer portions of the brain where our logic, reason, cognition, and consciousness arise from, and our limbic system: the older, more primitive inner section of our brains that controls our unconscious, autonomic physiological processes (like breathing, digestion, heart rate, etc.), trauma, instinct, intuition, and emotion, and is therefore far more deeply and intensely connected to the body (and bodily held memories) than the neocortex.

I’ve been running around in my rational, conscious, neocortex mind *thinking* about all of my issues and traumas and everything for ages, and I understand so much about these things on that rational level – but that is miles away from the irrational, unconscious, limbic bodymind where all of those traumas actually ARE and continue to play out over and over as if they’re still happening. This is something that my therapist helped me understand – our neocortex understands that this is a different time and the thing that happened in the past is over and done and we’re safe now, but the limbic system has no sense of time. In our irrational reptile brains, everything still exists the same as it did all those years ago as if it never stopped happening. THIS is where our inner wounded child lives, where a soul fragment likely fled from for safety in the midst of the unendurable whatever-it-was that precipitated the trauma response, and where the empty spot is where it needs to be called back to still resides, open and waiting and longing.

THIS is why I’ve felt called towards the irrational, mystical, shamanic modes of healing: I’ve done as much as I can with my rational mind, which cannot be used to solve an irrational problem or heal an irrational wound, which is what all trauma is. A couple of weeks ago, when I asked you for your help as a shaman with conducting a soul retrieval, this is the kind of work that I was starting to realize that I need to do. The crazy Thing That I Did that I told you about (and meant to describe for you more at the time but I was exhausted and desperately needed the rest instead) was a small and beautiful spontaneous retrieval of a part of me when I was seven, a part that was thirteen, and a part of me as a young infant that I brought to my own breast in recognition that I was both deserving of my own love, nourishment, and care, and capable of being a loving, heart-centered parent to myself. I felt all of the past, younger versions of me that I’ve already been gathered in concentric circles within me, and all of the older versions of me that I’ve not yet been spiraling around me, and my ancestors and guides and spirits and all of the love and kindness that anyone has ever directed towards me gathered around all of me like a compassionate embrace, and I think that it was that experience that gave me just enough of my soul back, just enough juice and magic that I could start digging my teeth in and taking the steps I needed to take to seek treatment and get my legs back underneath me.

As amazing and beautiful as that experience was, it wasn’t everything that I need in order to heal. I want to do a soul retrieval/healing ritual to unfreeze the part of me (and the part of my mother, grandmother, and other ancestors) that is stuck in that root trauma – where the anxiety, complex PTSD, PCOS - where all of that junk stems from. I don’t yet have much sense at all what that’s gonna look like, but I know that it’s gonna be the biggest damn spell I’ve ever cast, and that I don’t think I can cast it alone. Watch this space.

I do think, though, that preparing for that is the thing to do for now, by accumulating small things on multiple fronts – growing my strength, calling back small parts of me, telling more and more loved ones about my truth, chipping away at the stack of things to do, continuing with meds and therapy, contacting my professors and possibly the department/program admin (with a letter from Dr. M in hand documenting my diagnosis and treatment) to let them know that I need help I’m figuring out how to make up for assignments that I haven’t turned in and make sure that I can continue next quarter and not get kicked out of the program. I’m still carrying a lot of fear of failure/expulsion around this (and anxiety = paralysis = inaction for me, even though I desperately want to fix it) – especially after handling myself so badly in a similar situation at the end of last quarter. When you’ve got a minute, I’d appreciate a pep talk about broaching the subject with them.

All in all, I’m doing well and things are looking up in a way I’ve NEEDED them to start looking up for literal decades. I’ve even been able to start telling my mother about how badly I’ve been doing (she knows I’ve seen my doctor and started therapy and meds) and allowing her to see that pain and struggle after years of hiding it from her out of shame has been scary but such a relief. But Goddess Knows I’ve got A LOT to do still. Just cause I’ve finally struck a match and can navigate a little better doesn’t mean I’m out of the dungeon yet.

I began the meds just yesterday, and I’ve spent the day decompressing (never been a better time for me to have a few days all to myself kitten-sitting for some friends while they go to a tiny, COVID-regulation compliant thanksgiving visit with their family in Portland). Drowsiness is a listed side effect of Clonidine, and I was really worried that my prescribed dose was too high after being soooooo tired yesterday and today after I took the pills, but my increasing suspicion is that I’ve just been so high-strung and hypervigilant (hello super premature hypertension!) that the anti-anxiety/BP-lowering drug just uncovered the chronic e x h a u s t I o n that was already (always) there, rather than them making me drowsy when I wasn’t. So I’ve spent the day eating my friend’s leftovers (she’s an AMAZING cook) and cat napping with the two sweetest little troublemakers you ever did see (I’ll send pics!).

I think that FINALLY being able to relax like this was what helped me to begin to be receptive and start opening up (and connecting with you!) again. Anxiety = I clam up, my libido nosedives, and my pelvic tightness/vaginal armoring gets painful and rigid – all bad prospects for wild, sexy, blooming Love-Lust-and-Light fun. I was so glad to reconnect with you – and that you reminded me that I need to get this out and I can process it and heal it by sharing it with you – that our Sacred Space is still there for me to use and pour my pain and magic and consciousness out into.

I think that’s all the most important developments. I’m excited to hear all about all of your new developments, processing, perspectives too.

And now I’m gonna go to bed. One nap today was NOT enough to recover from goddess-knows-how-long-I’ve-had-this chronic fatigue. I’ll talk to you soon

I love you, Άδης

Your Εκάτε <3

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creativitytoexplore · 4 years

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The Konigsberg Affair by David W Landrum https://ift.tt/34GKli0 In Nazi Germany, a US diplomat discovers a clandestine smuggling operation, and must make a difficult choice; by David W Landrum.

My secretary told me the meeting with Golper was on and that he was waiting for me at a small restaurant seven miles away. Since it was urgent, I left at once. I stuck the reports of the incident that involved him into a diplomatic case, headed to the garage, and threw the satchel into the sidecar of my BMW R75 motorcycle. I am the only US diplomat who lives in this part of the German state of Prussia. We have a Consulate in Konigsberg, but there are enough Americans in the local settlements and surrounding countryside to warrant having a representative for them so they did not have to go all the way to K-Town when they needed something or got into a scrape. I pulled out on the road that led to the largest town in the area. To my left, the Baltic, grey and choppy, spread north toward Scandinavia and the Arctic. Gulls screeched. The road was clear that morning. I turned the throttle open and felt the cold, raw morning air buffet my face. I liked riding in weather like this. Sometimes after a long ride on a blustery day my face felt like the top layer of skin had been sandpapered off, but the pain was worth the thrill of riding fast, of wind, mist, and rain on my skin - and of nothing ahead but the air and the road. My R75 ran like a dream. The Germans know how to build machines. For a little while, I could forget my job as a diplomat. Americans over here got in trouble. They had affairs with German wives, young boys, underage girls; they got drunk and in fights in bars; they swindled people and took advantage of the local populace. Then they ran (sometimes literally) to the house where I lived and worked to ask for help - or for refuge. Sometimes I felt like a priest who, through years of sitting in the confession booth, knows the pathetic or shocking sins of the people in his parish. I knew the sins of my countrymen - and countrywomen. Though I could shove these sordid episodes into a compartment in my mind, they always were there to emerge and mess with my gut. The outlines of the small city where I was to meet Golper appeared. I saw the old church tower and the roofs of the buildings around the city square. People were out shopping, visiting, transacting business. On the courthouse a Nazi banner flapped in the sea breeze. I slowed to a halt, parked my motorcycle at the address the ambassador had given me, climbed off, and headed for the gasthöff where Golper had agreed to meet with me. I went in and saw him sitting at a table, a stein of beer in front of him. His three bodyguards - I assumed they were this - sat at a table near the front door. Two local citizens sat and played dominoes at a table a little further off. Golper looked up and gave me a crooked smile. "Welcome, Mr. Popper." I sat down, looked over at his bodyguards and back at him. "You guys are causing me woe," I said. "We're sorry, of course. I guess I should have been a good little boy and let those bastards beat the hell out of me like they did to the Kaltenborn family, Samuel Bossard, Harold Dahlquist and Roland Velz." He had recited the names of American citizens assaulted by German paramilitary the past few months. Meacham Golper had lived here several years. He came from New York and had grown up in the ethnic sprawl of the Big Apple. From a German-speaking home, he fit right into this area of Europe. He spoke Deutsch so well the Germans could not believe he was not a native. He also spoke fluent Polish - besides English and Yiddish and Russian. His polyglot abilities landed him in international business. He managed a highly profitable shipping firm in Konigsberg, though he lived out in the country in a palace built by the Teutonic knights. Of late, he had landed in a conflict with the government. Government - it would be more accurate to say he got in a conflict with the thugs and criminals running in packs across Germany now that Hitler and Röhm had come to power. The brownshirts loped through the streets of German cities like gangs looking for people to intimidate. They had frightened most of the population of Berlin, Cologne, Munich and Frankfurt, into submission. Konigsberg too. Every now and then a contingent of them showed up in our small city. They strutted around flying Nazi banners and singing patriotic songs. Everyone knew to give the arm-extending Hitler salute when the passed by. Foreigners who did not do so, and German citizens who were not aware of the new requirement, were roughed up. Golper caused a row by turning the tables on the brownshirts one afternoon. Out for a stroll, he turned a corner and came upon a parade of maybe twenty Sturmabteilung marching down the main street of town. Five of them in the rear beat drums and played trumpets and fifes. Two in front carried Nazi standards - the now-familiar red banner with a white circle and black swastika in the center. The town folk, most of who were politically conservative and did not like the Nazis, knew enough to cheer and stick their arms up. Some even said, "Sieg heil," or "Heil Hitler." Golper knew what was expected but stood with his hands in his pockets and watched the troupe go by. The reaction came immediately. The two commanders of the brownshirt unit broke ranks and strode over to where he stood. They demanded he give the salute. "I'm an American," he answered in his flawless, unaccented German. "Since I am not a citizen of your country, I am not compelled to salute the symbol of your ruling party. I only salute my own nation's flag." They stood, fulminating. Legally, he was right. Still, they were piqued and wanted to have the last word. This is where the trouble started. "Maybe so," one of them said. "But people who observe that you do not salute the symbol of our Fatherland might get the wrong idea. They don't know you are an American. They might suppose you are a disloyal German - or a Communist or a Jew." "I am not a Communist," Golper said, "but I am a Jew." The younger of the two, I was told by a couple of eye-witnesses, turned beet red and, in a spasm of rage, drew back his arm to strike Golper. He never delivered the blow. In a split second, one of Golper's bodyguards knocked him cold. The other brownshirt leader, who was older, stared a moment, stunned, roared out his anger, and lunged at Golper. Another KO put him down on the cobblestones. The parade had stopped and the brownshirts gaped at what had just befallen their leaders. Most of them were just kids - members of the Jungenbond, a sort of perverted version of the Boy Scouts the Nazis had come up with. They stared and, seeing Golper's tall, Aryan-looking bodyguards eyeing them, turned tail and ran. Now I had to undo the damage at the diplomatic level. "We need to talk about it," I said. "Beer always helps," he answered. He ordered me one. Golper had red hair and the kind of ruddy face that went along with having red hair. I would put his age at a little over forty. I knew from my file that he had fought with distinction in World War I. He had built his shipping business up from nothing. Today he was worth millions. The waitress brought a stein over. The Germans drink their beer at room temperature. "I do miss a good cold one," Golper said, reading my expression. "A toast." I raised my glass indicating that he could propose it. "To the Sturmabteilung - bad health and short life." He said this in German. I scanned the room, afraid someone had heard us. The two men up front did not look up from their game of dominoes. The waitress had walked back to the bar and was washing glasses. "I see they have you on edge too." "It might be best to accommodate them." "Popper, I would rather shovel shit than show deference to those goddamned thugs. Shoveling shit is an honest living, so it would be preferable to accommodating the stormtroopers, as they call themselves - which is also a travesty. I fought against General Hutier's stormtroopers in France during the War, and I respected them. They were tough. These paltry bastards wouldn't have lasted two days in one of his units." I looked over at the three men sitting at the table on the other side of the room. "So who are your bodyguards?" I asked. "Would you like to meet them?" We got up and went over to see them. They rose as we approached. Ironically, the men looked like they could have been members of the Sturmabteilung. Tall, blond, they had the bearing of soldiers. They were trim, fit, and muscular. "Gentlemen, let me introduce you to my friend. This is Shimen Lapid, Eli Shalit, and Michael Hartman. Gentlemen, may I present to you the representative of the United States government for this district, Solomon Popper." "Joel," I said. This rankled me. I go by my middle name, Joel, not by my given name of Solomon. That bastard Golper knew I was a Jew and meant to make a point of it. The way I was raised, I feel as out of place in a synagogue as a snake-handler from Kentucky would feel in an Episcopal Church. Except for having a little better food on the Sabbath and my sisters getting married under a canopy, there was nothing to distinguish me from any other New Yorker. When questionnaires had a set of choices for "Religious Preferences," I always checked "Other." Of the three men, two were American and one Russian. I found out, in our short conversation, that all of them were Zionist settlers from British Palestine. A report circulated to the Consulate suggested Golper had a connection with the endeavor of settling Jews in that territory, though we had no more information on it. Their presence suggested the connection was more significant than the embassy imagined. The men, polite but taciturn, settled back to their beer. Golper and I returned to our table. "I didn't know you had a connection with the Palestinian project," I told him when we were seated and sipping our beer once more. "I have a connection, yes. I'm even helping your friend and mistress Anoushka get there. She and her family will be safe when the Nazi tyranny fully engulfs this land." I had broken up with Anoushka three months ago. Golper seemed to have his own private intelligence-gathering agency and a thick file on me. "Anything else you would like to tell me about myself that I don't know?" He laughed. "I don't normally get mixed up in local politics, especially with a bunch of overgrown boys who like to play soldier and think wearing a swastika arm band makes them one. But this time I couldn't put up with the insults." "I'll grant as much, but what you did will only provoke more harassment." "Like what happened to those Americans in Berlin? Is our government going to stand by and let those gangsters abuse us like they've been doing lately?" "We've filed protests over all of those incidents. Of course, your bodyguards complicated things." "Were they supposed to just stand by and let the krauts beat me up so you could lodge a protest?" "We're doing all we can, Mr. Golper, to protect our citizens over here. You called the brownshirts a gang, and your characterization is accurate. They are a gang and they act like a gang. They'll want to avenge the members of their band of thugs that you hurt. They're mobilizing the ST units from Konigsberg, Zinten, and Insterburg to converge on our city for a rally that could easily turn violent. You might be targeted." "Can't you protect the Americans in this region?" "We'll try our best. But picking fights with the brownshirts is not a good strategy for creating a peaceful environment." "I won't gainsay that. I'll try to be more careful." He looked around and lowered his voice. "And, by the way, Mina sends her greetings." Up to now he had failed to get a rise out of me. This jab hit home. I sat silent a long moment and then spoke. "You must spend a lot more time over in Palestine than I realized." "I've got to go now. Come to my place tonight at six. Dinner. I'll explain it all to you. You might find it an interesting conversation." He drained his beer and left me sitting there. His three bodyguards followed him out the door. When I got back on my bike, I opened it up all the way. The motorcycle shot along the road at top speed. I felt the vibration of the engine shake my body and the wind batter my frame, chilling me to the bone. Back at my residence I told my valet I did not want to be disturbed, poured a whisky, and down in a chair. I gazed out the window at the grey sky and the slate-colored water of the Baltic Sea. Though the water was rough, five cargo ships went by as I sat there and drank. All of them might have belonged to Golper. He knew something about Mina Lavington, who, since she had settled in Palestine, went by the name of Chava Zurer. Mina was my first lover. Golper knew how to throw good punches. I never imagined he could reach into my life to pluck a string that would resonate so painfully. I knew her in school. We went to a rough school, and as a Jewish girl she took a lot of crap from people. She got it from teachers as well as students. Mina was smart and sharp - athletic too. She did gymnastics and played on the girls' softball team. Our families were friends. She graduated in the top ten of our class. I think she might have been valedictorian if some of her teachers had not graded her so hard because she was a Jew. We hung out. I got my first kiss from her. And, one night, after we went to see the Dodgers play, she asked me to come to her family's apartment. I was so naïve I focused my mind on how to make a good impression on her family. When we got there, the place was deserted. It was the first time for both of us, I remembered our clumsiness, her hymeneal blood, my over-eagerness, but I also remember how sweet it was. She and I were lovers from our junior year. We might have walked the old familiar road of marriage and kids but that she went away for a summer to work on a farm - she called it a kibbutz - in the Jewish area of Palestine. She left in May and returned in August. I registered amazement when I saw her. Of course, there was the tan, but she looked taller and stronger. She seemed more confident. Talking with her, I found out she had become an ardent Zionist. This rattled me. Mina had never been political. A lot of kids in my school had picked up on the Marxist ideas going around, but Mina never paid much attention to any sort of ideology. When she came back from Palestine, though, she had brought the notions of the Zionist movement hook, line, and sinker. I wondered if maybe she had found a new guy over in the Promised Land. If she had, it did not end what she and I had shared. Three days after we were back, and at her bidding, we rented a room and spent the night. She felt so different in my arms I could hardly believe it was the same woman. We made love at dusk and then at night and again at three am. We sneaked out before the sun came up and constructed alibis about where we had been. Her increased strength seemed to have increased her desire, which was fine with me. She talked a lot about Palestine, the Jewish people, and Zionism. I listened to her stories. Her eyes lit up as she talked about the increasing number of Jews settling in the British colony; of how they were draining the swamps and transforming the country from a fen to a place of productive farms where everyone owned a share and lived as equals. "We work hard. We do strength training. We've got to be strong to defend ourselves. So I've done calisthenics, weight work-outs, hiking and running." "Who do you have to defend yourself against?" "Bandits. Arab militants. They attack us sometimes. I think you would like it there, Joel. You could train some guys there to box." Inspired by Barney Ross, Max Baer and other champion Jewish fighters, I had trained at boxing clubs since I was in high school. "You should come over with me next summer." As it turned out, I did not go with her. I finished a second whisky and went to clean up and change. Dinners at Golper's place were usually fancy affairs. I didn't ride my motorcycle. The US government knows that good-quality vehicles are necessary to create a classy impression of their diplomatic corps and had blessed me with a Cord 812 Phaeton - a car that dazzled the Germans to no end. I drove through the deepening darkness and arrived at Golper's place. The windows were brightly lit. Stars gleamed over the turrets of the old castle. I had expected something like a gala, but only my vehicle occupied the circular driveway. I parked. A valet came to escort me inside. Golper, dressed elegantly for dinner, greeted me. Standing not far from him was Mina. I had not seen her in eight years. In high school, she was just a girl - a beautiful, strong, mature girl to be sure, but not quite an adult. Now I saw her in the fullness of her womanhood. She wore her hair long. She still possessed the strength that I had noticed the first year she came back from Palestine, but looked comfortable with it, whereas that first year she had seemed awkward with it. Now, settled into herself, she wore her strength and her full maturity with confidence. I admired, just for a second, the light brown hair, green eyes, symmetrical face that was square and beautifully featured, eyes, straight nose, a small, slightly bowed mouth, her strong shoulders and full breasts mounted atop a slender waist and long legs. She wore a simple blue blouse and a black skirt that came to the middle of her knees. I had to remind myself not to stare. In a flash my mind remembered her in her beautiful white nakedness: the slope of her arms and shoulders, her breasts with dark nipples above her flat stomach and powerful rib cage, the strong thighs and swath of dark brown hair that thatched her opening. Her firm knees and ankles gave uplift to the top part of her body. I thought of the gasping way she made love, of how she had educated me into the mysteries of sexuality, and of what a marvelous teacher she had been. It seemed like a dream now. She stepped forward. "Hello, Joel. It so good to see you again." She took hold of my shoulders and gave me a kiss. The kiss generated even more specificity of memory. "Wonderful to see you, Mina. You're more beautiful than ever." "I like to think I'm better looking than when I was a gawky eighteen-year-old girl." "Gawky you never were." Golper, who had been watching all this with benign amusement, gestured toward the dining room. "Shall we eat?" He escorted us to the next room. A long table occupied the center. Two young women in black maid's livery stood nearby. Broad windows on the north side looked out on the Baltic. Stars pulsated white and blue and reflected in the expanse of water. Lights of ships moving across the sea-lanes added their artificial glow to the night. The servers brought in salad to begin the meal. I felt too anxious to talk to Mina - like when I was fifteen and too nervous to talk to girls I liked. She looked over at me and smiled. I remembered her smile in her bedroom when her parents were away, the lights of the City filtering in, the shadows on her body accentuating her curves and lines. "I hear some good things about you, Joel," she said. "I'm surprised anyone in Palestine hears about me." "Quite the opposite. Your journalism is popular. Your article on the anti-Semitism in the State Department circulated all over the protectorate." "That was a stupid thing to do and I'm still wondering why I did it. It made me lots of enemies in Washington. I'll probably never go very far in the foreign service because of it." "Why would you want to work for people like that?" "Only a few people in the State Department are biased. I hoped calling attention to it would change that. I think I can do some good by staying in and calling attention to what's wrong on Capitol Hill." "Admirable. It's a lonely post you have." She hardly knew how lonely it was. "Sometimes," I replied. "And you, Mina - I haven't heard much of what you're doing these days." "I live on a communal settlement. We work together - mostly farming. We've started a couple of business ventures as well. I'm also trained as a soldier. We have to fight to defend ourselves." I had already noticed how strong she looked. Even through her dress made out of thick material I could see her strength. As we ate, she gave me a detailed description of her life in a Jewish enclave in Palestine. "We call a collective farm a kibbutz. It's Hebrew. It means 'clump' or 'gathering.' We're learning to speak the language of the ancient Israelites." "Speak it? For everyday conversations? You're using the sacred tongue to talk about how much manure to spread on the cabbage patch?" "Why not? King David did. The settlers who come to our farm and the adjoining area speak Russian, German, Yiddish, Polish, Lithuanian, English... you name it. Rather than trying to accommodate one language, we're just going to start new - going back to our roots." "I'm impressed." "You should be," Golper commented. "And maybe you should be over there yourself." Golper had no doubt done research on me and knew my lack of religious fervor. "I think I can do more good by serving in the US Diplomatic Corps - at least for right now." "We're in agreement on that," Golper said. We had just finished dessert and wine. The serving women would bring us coffee soon, but I could see that the words my host had just spoken were a cue. He had brought me here to ask something of me. Now I would find out what it was. Mina was in on it. The request would undoubtedly relate to the current situation in Palestine. "Do you know much about what's going on in Palestine?" Golper asked. "Only what's been in the news. The settlers and the Arabs are fighting." "The British are worried that the Arabs will support the Germans when war breaks out - and it will break out pretty soon. They have restricted Jewish immigration and will continue to do so." I began to get annoyed. "Look, why don't you just tell me up front what's going on and why you brought me here?" Golper looked over at Mina and then back at me. "I think I can safely tell you, Popper. I'm in the resettlement business. I use my ships to take Jews who emigrate from Russia and the Baltic nations and ferry them to Palestine - Ertz Israel it will eventually be. Now that the British are clamping down, limiting the number of settlers we can bring, we have to do this clandestinely. We also run guns so the settlements can defend themselves." "You didn't invite me over to tell me this." "Do you remember Marion Warner?" he asked. I knew Marion from school. He had been a gung-ho advocate of the Zionist project to settle Jews in Palestine. I liked him because, like me, being a Jew was more of a cultural thing. Unlike me, being Jewish in the secular sense did matter a lot to him. I especially remembered him because he had taken me up in an airplane. He had money, had learned to fly, and owned a DH 60 Cirrus Moth. One sunny afternoon he and I flew the two-seater out to sea. I remembered the exhilaration of flying and the sense of freedom it gave. Marion eventually served four years in the Army Air Corps and then, like Mina, emigrated to Palestine. "I remember him. How does he fit into this?" "He flies for us," Golper said. "For us?" "Mina and I are involved in the immigration project - to get our people to Palestine before war breaks out and Europe shuts down." I glanced out at the Baltic. So that was it. "Your ships from Konigsberg aren't carrying what's on the cargo manifesto?" "They carry what I list. It's just that, below decks, they have a few hundred people we're smuggling into the land." "And how does Warner fit into this?" "He flies missions for us. The Nazis caught him." "Caught him?" "He had some engine trouble and had to land in a field not far from here. The brownshirts captured him. He had a Russian - a military leader we want to get to Israel; the Russians want to keep him for when the Germans attack. The brownshirts are holding them both. He also has some documents on him we don't want them to see." "Why are they holding him?' "They're suspicious. You know how these people work. They have no legal reason to hold him, but they think they are above the law. He's an American citizen. They're holding him illegally." "The consulate in Konigsberg has a lot more clout that I do. Why don't you call them?" "We don't want the Consulate to know about our operation." "Why not?" "A lot of people in Washington are not far from being brownshirts themselves. And there are a whole knot of bankers who are afraid if we antagonize the Nazis they might default on the debts Germany owes us. If they find out we're running an unauthorized operation taking thousands of German Jews out of the country, they'll shut us down." "So you think I'm a loyalist?" "I think you might become one. I know you're not keen on your heritage. Let's be frank and lay our cards on the table. We need your help and you are on our side whether you want to be or not. We know you can trust us because of that." Silence fell - a very tense silence. For a moment I wondered if Golper had brought Mina along to offer to me as a reward if I agreed to the mission, but I dismissed the idea. Still, I thought I would ask. "How does Miss Zurer fit into this?" "I fit in because we used to be in love and because I know our people matter to you." "I've never been religious." "Neither have I. What we're doing is building a homeland. It will be for the religious, yes. But also for people like you and me. Can you help us out?" I looked at her. God, what a beautiful woman, I thought. She and Golper waited for me to reply. "If I agree," I said, "what Mina's role in the deal?" "She will accompany you when you go to arrange for Marion's release. He knows you, of course, but would think you are simply coming because you're the embassy contact in this part of the country. She will be the signal to him that you're okay and that he is to cooperate. And she also will keep you safe." I looked at him and over at her. They were dead serious, though Mina's eyes were soft. I liked to think I saw a spark of the old-time feeling there. The silence had grown too tense. "All right," I said. "I'll see if I can get them to free him." "I think you can, Joel," Golper said. "I hope I'm not overstepping the bounds of propriety by calling you that." "We can be on a first-name basis. Your first name is Meacham, but you've always gone by Melvin." He smiled. "I wouldn't think you could find something like that out." "We have a file on you." Afterward, we went to the parlor. Golper lit up a cigar. I had never smoked. Apparently Mina didn't either. We had some good brandy - too good. After a couple of hours and several glasses of the stuff, Golper stretched in his chair. "You'll never make it home, Popper. You're soused. I don't want you to get in an accident. You can stay here." I might have objected but when I got up out of my chair I almost fell over. I nodded as he chuckled. Mina maintained an austere silence. Golper led me to a room. I settled into a comfortable bed and fell asleep at once. A noise woke me early in the morning and opened my eyes the sky pre-dawn grey over the sea. More noise. I rolled over to see Mina standing just past the door to my room. She wore a simple white cotton nightgown. She smiled at my startled expression. "Nothing has changed, Joel," she said. She pulled the nightgown off. Without any ado or fanfare, she got in bed with me. The grogginess and headache from drinking too much last night miraculously disappeared. She lay down beside me. I gripped and pushed into her. The ripple of strength that came down her back into her hips then into the muscles around her velvety opening sent shocks of pleasure through me. I thanked my lucky stars (couldn't thank God, since I didn't figure he would approve of this) that I had continued to train as a boxer and that my strength was at least equal to hers. I worked out at a local boxing club and sparred with Germans who were into fisticuffs. Mina bucked like a colt, twisted her hips, locked her legs around mine, bit me, swore and cursed in English, Polish, and what I assumed was Hebrew. We went off at the same time. Afterwards, it took me a couple of minutes to get my breath and orient myself. I realized we had not used protection. We lay side by side. I wanted to talk to her, but there are times when silence is the proper utterance. After what must have been ten minutes, she spoke. "I love you." I tried not to laugh and the effort brought a twisted grin to my face. "I can hardly believe that, Mina." "Why?" "You've forged a new life for yourself - without me." "Who says I was without you? A person can live in another person's heart and mind." "You're not in love with one of your fellow kibbutzniks?" "I won't say I haven't had my flings - but they're different - ideological and manipulative. The kibbutz men are like most converts - not to Judaism but to Zionist ideology. They are too zealous and too sure they're absolutely right and the rest of world is wrong. They scorn anyone who compromises what they believe is orthodoxy." I did not reply. A long silence passed then she spoke. "I hope you don't think I slept with you to get you to go on our mission. You can banish that thinking from your mind. I'm not that much of a slut." "You were never a slut." A long silence, then she said, "Come with me to Palestine." "Who's the convert now?" "Not me. I'm not urging you to become a convert to anything. In fact, I want you there so I don't become a convert." "It would be hard to leave what I have." "What do you have, Joel?" "A job I like. The chance at a career." "You shot your career in the foot when you wrote those articles. Those rich goyim don't forget. They won't forget that you called attention to what they don't want anybody to know." She was probably right. I regretted writing those opinion pieces. I had already felt a chill from the higher ups in Berlin (except for Ambassador Dodd, but he was an exceptional man). "Let's get on the other side of this little undertaking. Then we'll talk about the future." I felt a twinge of shame as I looked at her, the curve of her breasts, the beauty of her light hair falling over her shoulders. "You're the most beautiful woman in the world," I said. A sad look crossed her face. "All I hear back home is that I'm a good comrade; or a fine, strong woman who could give birth to a whole platoon of healthy Jewish settlers - like I was breeding stock - a cow or a healthy filly. I get sick of it." "I can't imagine how any man would think of you that way." "They do," she said curtly. She went off to clean up. I lay back and enjoyed the feeling. It had been a while. Occasionally I made it with a woman from the expatriate community - Anoushka Blacoviac being my most frequent lady friend. When she was not able to arrange to be around much, a trusted German associate discretely arranged for me to rendezvous with various whores. It had been a long time since I had slept with a woman I loved - it had, in fact, been the last time I was with Mina. I came down to breakfast. Golper greeted me with a grin that was not supposed to be knowing, but he could not disguise his glee. Mina sat at the table and ate a grapefruit. She had put on a sensible business suit. She would pose as my secretary. As we ate, he gave me the details. The brownshirts had detained Warner and the man he was flying out of Russia. They had not officially arrested him. They did not have authority to make arrests and were afraid they had overstepped their jurisdiction and might get in trouble. Rudolf Diels, the head of the German secret police, was not overly friendly toward the brownshirts. But they suspected Warner of wrongdoing, even of espionage. I needed to get there before they made definite plans. If the Nazi party in Berlin decided to question Warner, he might reveal vital information about the smuggling operation. And, worse, they would recognize the Russian, whose name was Mosin. He was a man the Germans would love to get out of circulation so their troops would never have to fight him. Mina and I headed off in the Cord. The weather had turned cold. The sun and clouds fought for dominance of the sky. A cold, stiff wind blew off the sea. The brownshirts had located their headquarters in an old farmhouse maybe twelve miles from Konigsberg. Swastika banners festooned it. Scores of vehicles circled the place. Armed guards stood near the doors. I saw additional guards had posted farther out from the house. They raised their rifles when we approached, though we had called to tell them we were coming. I slowed. The guards demanded I identify myself and when I did they pointed us to a parking slot. We climbed out of the car and were escorted inside the old, spacious house that had served as residence for a big farming family. It was warm inside. The brownshirts had stoked a fire in the fireplace. Two swastika flags covered the walls. It seemed these people had to have one of those everywhere they went. Guards stood on either side of the desk where their commander sat. He identified himself as Jergen Eibeling - about thirty years old with short blond hair and Nordic face. Like many young Nazis, he looked trim and fit. I wondered if he would give the Nazi salute and expect me to return it. He did not. He got right to the point. "Mr. Council, we are not convinced by your explanation of Mr. Warner's activities." "He is an American citizen, Captain Eibeling. As far as I know, he has committed no crime. He had permission to fly from the Soviet Union into Germany." "And bring a Russian with him?" "He is authorized to carry passengers. The passenger had a valid passport and the necessary paperwork to authorize entrance into the country. Again, no crime was committed." (Mosin's paperwork, Golper had told me, was forged.) He had nowhere to go. He might waste my time and his through obfuscation, but it looked like he did not intend to do so. "We will release him. Your American compatriots, like Mr. Golper, seem to like to make trouble for us. Of course, we would expect as much of Jews." I did not reply. I wondered if he knew I was a Jew - or Mina. Probably not. He would have no way of knowing. The German shuffled a sheaf of paper and then tapped them on the desktop to get them straight. "Take him and the other one too." "The embassy will contact you about the recovery of his aircraft." In a moment they had brought Warren and Mosin in. They looked weary but unharmed. Warren recognized me, though he apparently thought I had just come as a representative of the US government. I gave him a look and he communicated that he would not greet me or seem familiar. It might complicate the procedure if the local commander knew we were friends. And I could also tell he recognized Mina and knew we were working for his spy cell. The four of us went out into the cold, clear day. We got Mosin and Warren into the Cord. Just as Mina was crossing in front of the Cord to get in one the passenger side, a hubbub broke out. I heard shouting and, worse, footsteps of running jackboots and the clatter of arms. Someone shouted, "It's Mosin, it's Mosin!" I turned. Mina ran around to the front of the car. Two brownshirts with rifles rushed toward us. One closed in from the other side. Someone had identified the Russian. They did not intend to let him get away. As I stood there, paralyzed with fear, not certain what to do, shots rang out. The two Germans coming at me fell to the pavement only a foot away, their bright blood spurting out, staining the cobblestones, and smoking in the chilly air. A shot sounded behind me. I turned. Mina stood over the prostrate body of a stormtrooper. She had shot him with a pistol. She looked up. "Let's get out of here." I broke from my lethargy. More shots sounded. Brownshirts swarmed out of the building but were brought down by rifle and machinegun fire coming from a copse of trees fifty yards beyond their headquarters. I caught a glimpse of Lapid, Shalit, and Hartman. They were our back-up. They had taken down the first two Germans and now were engaging the group of them that had surged from their headquarters building. I sped around to the driver's door. As I did, Mina turned to get into the car. I saw three stormtroopers round the corner of the building. They were only thirty feet away. Instinct for protection kicked in. I dove, picked up one of the rifles from the fallen guards, leveled it, and fired just as they were drawing a bead on Mina. The bullet glanced off the rifle the brownshirt in the middle had aimed. I think (I was never certain) its velocity knocked the weapon out of the center guard's hands and ricocheted, hitting the one to his left. The one in the center fell, knocking the third guard over. I fired at them as they tried to get up. If they got a shot off, they could hit Mina or me. They could puncture the tires or the engine or gas tank on my Cord. I'm not a good shot, but I hit all three of them, threw down the rifle, and dove into the front seat. (I later found out I had wounded all them severely, but they did recover, fought through and survived the war.) Gunfire rang as I screeched out of the compound and on to the road. I immediately got off the main highway and and on to the rural routes and backroads I knew from riding my motorcycle. Fortunately, the Phaeton was a fast car and we rapidly put distance between us and the Germans. When we were a safely away from the compound, I turned to Mina. "So," I said. She looked at me. Those eyes. "So?" "So this was a set-up?" Warren and Mosin began to converse quietly in the back seat, speaking Russian. "Not like you think. We knew things might not go as planned. We had a back-up course of action." "So Golper's bodyguards were in place and armed, and you had a gun?" "Yes. And we have a plan to get you out of Germany." Realization struck. This incident that would cost me my job and my freedom. Diplomats do not shoot nationals of the country where they are posted. The fallout would be intense. I would be hung out to dry. I would probably spend the rest of my life, or the best part of it, at Sing-Sing or Alcatraz with Al Capone and Baby-Face Nelson. "We've arranged for you to get on a ship and come to Israel." I looked at her. I stared so long I almost ran off the road. "We? Who are 'we'?" "Mr. Golper and his associates." I gripped the steering wheel. Mina leaned toward me. "We didn't want this to happen, Joel," she said, trying to express her sincerity through tone of voice. "But we knew it could happen. We had plans if it did." "Plans that mean exiting the life I've lived up to now?" "What life, Joel? You've never married. From what Meacham tells me, you don't have many friends. After those articles you wrote, your career will go nowhere. Those high-ups in Washington who hated your exposé of their attitudes toward us will delight to see you tarred and feathered and sent to prison." I said nothing. By now our two passengers had quieted down and were listening to our conversation. She went on. "That's not because you couldn't have all of those things I mentioned that you don't have. You had them with me. I had them with you. Since we went our separate ways, neither of us has much of anything in life." She paused. "They'll to block the roads. Can you find Niederwerrenstrausser?" "It's about a mile up ahead." "We'll ditch the car there. Someone will pick us up and take us to the ship." "To take me to Palestine?" "It's your choice. You can stay here and face the music if you want to." The full impact of what I had done began to register even more clearly. The mission to free Warren was unauthorized. I had allied myself with a clandestine organization. In my role as a representative of the United States Foreign Service, I had shot and possibly killed three representatives of the new German government - a government with whom our relations were tense. Mina had nailed it. I had interfered with the arrest of two figures the Germans considered criminals opposed to their government. I was a dead duck. We turned on Niederwerrenstrausser. A mile down the road I saw Golper and his three bodyguards (who had emerged from the gunfight unscathed). We all got out of the car. I wanted to slug Golper but restrained myself. He had me by the balls. My life depended on his good will. He knew it too. He grinned. "You'll like Palestine, Popper," he said. "We've got everything set up. You'll go there with Mina." I looked over at her. Her beauty brought a little comfort in the grimness of the whole thing. I had no choice, but at least I would be with her. It would be like old times, though I would never have wanted it to happen like this. "I'll see to it that you get your car. We've already stolen your motorcycle and packed it on a freighter - and your clothes and personal belongings. I think we got most everything you own. If you'll trust me with your access number, I'll transfer all your money to a Swiss bank before they freeze your assets." He would know I owned no property. Looking out to the sea, I saw a ship sitting at anchor. Two men were speeding from it in a motorboat. They would get us on the ship and take us to Palestine. No choice and no way out. I nodded. Mina came over and took my hand. We stood by the grey, choppy waters of the Baltic and watched as the boat slowed down and drew to shore.

#FICTION on the WEB short stories

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x-oc-blog-x · 4 years

Text

Inside Avas’ OCs

I got a questionnaire from mibba.com for OCs gonna do this for my favorite OCs

Jackson Canmore

Basic

1. What is your full birth name?

Jackson Michael Canmore

2. Any nicknames?

Jack

3. When were you born/how old are you?

November 2. I am 19.

4. If immortal or slow-ageing, what is your apparent age?

I’m not immortal. That’s be cool though

5. Where were you born?

London, England. I moved to the US when I was 2.

6. Who were your parents?

My mom is alive. Her name is Angel. I never knew my dad.

7. Do you have any siblings?

8. Where do you live now?

In the US

9. Who do you live with?

I used to live at home with mom but after oli and I finished school we moved in together.

10. Are you right or left-handed?

Right.

11. What words/phrases do you regularly use?

I like to cuss. My favorite word is ass. I don’t know why.

12. Name some habits or strange quirks you have?

Cussing is definitely a habit. I like to play with plus hair. I also like to make him blush

Appearance

13. Height: 5’ 10”

14. Weight: 130 pounds

15. Skin Tone: I’m very pale.

16. Body Shape: I’m kinda tall and skinny

17. Hair: I’m dirty blonde

18. Eyes: green.

19. Face Shape: I don’t know man. What does it look like? Tell me.

20. Everyday Dress Style:usually a white shirt with my black jean jacket. Ripped blue jeans. Converse.

21. Formal Dress Style: i don’t know. I don’t really go to formal events. But probably a casual suit? I don’t do fancy.

22. Any Jewelry? Maybe a neck here or there. I don’t really wear anything but the ring oli bought me

23. Any Scars? No

24. Tattoos? Not yet

Growing Up

25. How would you describe your childhood in general?

I was a pretty weird child actually. I ate play doh. But I was wild. I was always the tough kid. Not really. I talked tough though. And I never had attraction to girls growing up. I always knew I was gay. My mom was super supportive of that. She said she still loved me, which definitely helped make me to supportive and loving person I am. I don’t think I could have done anything without my mom.

26. What is your earliest memory?

My mom and I went out to ice cream and I saw a guy get chased by the cops. I might have been 4.

27. How much schooling have you had?

I just graduated high school.

28. Did you enjoy school?

It wasn’t bad. I wasn’t bullied. I had Oli, Misha, and Collin as friends. And they are all great.

29. Where did you learn most of your skills/abilities?

School, mom, and youtube.

30. Any role models while growing up?

The flash. My mom.

31. What did you want to be when you grew up?

I wanted to be an astronaut. I now want to just have a job from home. I do commissions for art and photography.

32. What was your favourite thing to do?

Other than being with oli? I like to draw, take pictures, and play video games. I like to watch Netflix too.

33. Were you popular?

No. But I wasn’t an outcast either

34. Who were your friends?

Misha, oli, Collin.

35. When and who was your first kiss?

My first kiss was with a boy named Liam. I was 14.

Past Influences

36. What do you consider the most important event of your life so far?

Moving out with Oli

37. Who has had the most influence on you? My mom.

38. What do you consider is your greatest achievement?

Being confident. I was really insecure in middle school but I worked on my self image a lot. I’m proud of that.

39. What is your greatest regret?

Not asking oli to date me sooner

40. What is the most evil thing you have ever done?

I tripped a kid once with his lunch tray in his hand. He bullied Misha.

41. Do you have a criminal record of any kind?

42. When was the time you were the most frightened?

When I got on a plane when I was 14 to visit London with my mom. I hate heights.

43. The most embarrassing moment of your life so far?

I peed my pants in 1st grade. Also being afraid of the Ferris wheel.

44. If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be and why?

I want to meet my dad. Would I be different if I knew him? Why did he leave?

45. What is your best memory?

When oli and I had our first kiss. We were sitting in a tree.

46. What is your worst memory?

Definitely watching these homophobes best oli almost to death in a bookstore because we held hands.

Beliefs and Opinions

47. Are you more optimistic or pessimistic?

I’m in the middle I guess.

48. What is your greatest fear?

Heights.

49. What are your religious views?

I don’t believe in god. I’m an atheist.

50. Political views?

I know this is gonna seem like common sense but some people don’t believe the same???

Everyone is equal. Gays, straights. Girls, boys, trans, non binary, etc. I also think people with a uterus should be allowed to have abortions. Immigrants are okay to come in the country. Black lives do matter. Guns are gross. Etc.

51. Views on Sex?

I really like sex. I even one time went to a party with oli and it was a truth or dare party. Let’s just say it was not pg13. It was R.

52. In your own opinion, what is the most evil thing someone could do?

Not accept someone for something they can’t change about themself.

53. Do you believe in Soul Mates/True love?

Kind of. There are different kinds of soul mates that people don’t talk about. There are friend soul mates. Romantic soulmates. Yeah.

54. What do you base success on?

I know this is dumb but how mainstream someone is. Like. Everyone knows we sheeran. So he is successful. Sorry.

55. How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings with yourself?

I’ve always been honest with how I felt because I know that negative emotions are okay to feel.

56. How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings with others?

I tend to keep how I feel to myself because I don’t want to bother others. I can handle myself.

57. Do you have any biases or prejudices?

Yes. If you don’t respect the lgbt+ community we can’t be friends. If you honesty just can’t respect someone’s existence being different than yours such as ableism and racism and the lgbt+, we can’t get along.

58. Is there anything you would absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances?

Bungi jumping. Sky diving. Nope nope nope.

59. Why would you refuse?

WHAT IF I FALL??? ID DIE.

60. Who or what, if anything, would you die for?

I’d die for my friends. And my mom.

61. What do you feel the most passionate about?

Human rights for the oppressed.

62. What one act are you most proud of?

I went to my first pride parade with my mom at 13. I was so happy that I wasn’t alone and that I was part of something.

63. What one act are you most ashamed of?

Disrespecting my mom when I was a little shit. She is the world. I love you mom.

64. Are you a leader or follower?

Leader.

Relationships

65. In general, how do you treat people you don’t know well?

I treat everyone with respect unless they give me a reason not to.

66. How do you treat people you do know? With love :)

67. Who do you respect the most and why?

My mom. She went through so much shit growing up and she didn’t deserve that. Also Oli. I’m proud of him for surging through all the bullshit he faced getting bullied for being out at school. And he survived getting kicked out by his parents. I’m proud of them both.

68. Who are your friends?

Misha, Collin, oli, Rex, Loni, Alex

69. Who is your best friend?

Oli, Misha, Collin.

70. Ever been in love?

Yes

71. Who do you consider family?

Oli, Misha, collin, and my mom.

72. How close are you to your family?

Very

73. Who do you turn to in desperate times and why?

Oli and mom because they have been there for me through so much.

74. Who do you trust to protect you and why?

I trust that all of my friends would, but I don’t expect them to.

75. Who do you despise the most and why?

That guy who almost killed Oli at the bookstore.

76. Do you tend to argue or avoid conflict?

I argue. I don’t deal with bullshit.

77. Do you care what others think of you?

I don’t in most cases, but I’m afraid to be gay in public because of those guys hurting us again.

Sex and Intimacy

78. Do you consider yourself straight, gay, bi, trans or something else?

Gayyyyyyyy

79. Do you have a significant other?

Yes. Oli.

80. Describe them:

Sweet, loving, kind, supportive, smart, and hot as hell.

81. What is the perfect romantic date?

Dinner at home. Then maybe even sexy sexy time.

82. Best sexual partner?oli

83. Worst sexual partner? Oli has been my only consenual partner. So there isn’t really a worst unless you count my sexual assault.

84. Worst thing you’ve done to someone you love?

I broke Liams heart when we dated. I broke up with him because it didn’t feel right anymore. We both changed. It didn’t work.

Likes and Dislikes

85. What is/are your favourite hobbies/pastimes? Drawing, photography, video games, cuddling.

86. What is your most prized possession?

My ring from Oli.

87. Favourite colour?

Black

88. Favourite food?

Spaghetti

89. Favourite movie?

The fault in our stars

90. Favourite TV show?

The flash.

91. What, if anything, do you like to read?

Young adult dystopian novels

92. What style of music do you like?

Pop and emo

93. What is your idea of good entertainment?

Most media like tv. Music. Any form of expression.

94. Do you smoke?

Ew. No

95. Drink?

Absolutely not.

96. Drugs?

No.

97. Typical Friday night?

Spending the night with Oli

98. What would be the perfect gift for you?

A new camera? I don’t know.

99. Rain or Sun and why?

Rain. The sun burns my skin cause I’m so pale.

100. Day or Night and why?

Night. It’s so calm at night.

101. What makes you laugh?

Jokes. Oli. My friends.

102. What shocks/offends you?

Anyone who does not support equal rights.

103. How do you deal with stress?

I usually go to my room and listen to music.

104. Are you spontaneous, or do you feel you always need a plan?

Spontaneous.

105. Any pet peeves?

I can’t stand when people chew with their mouth open.

Occupation/Study

106. Do you have a job or are you studying? I do commissions on the internet.

107. If so, what is it/what course? Photography, drawing.

108. Do you like it? Yess.

109. If studying/not working, where does your money come from? That is my only income.

110. What is your boss/teacher(s)/agent/publisher ect like? I am my own boss and I’m pretty cool if I say so myself.

111. What are your co-workers/other students like? Nah

112. Do you get along with them? I don’t have any

113. What is something you had to learn that you hated?

DRAWING HAIR. OH MY GOD IT WAS SO HARD.

114. Do you tend to save or spend your money?

Spend

Misc.

115. Describe the routine of a normal day for you: wake up, cuddle, eat, draw, photography, hang with Oli, eat, sleep.

116. What is your greatest strength?

Being a leader and being able to handle hard situations

117. Greatest weakness?

I’m not very smart and I make dumb decisions sometimes

118. If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?

I would want to be a better support for my friends

119. Introvert or Extrovert? Extrovert

120. Organised or messy? I’m a bit of both

121. Three things you’re good at:

- drawing

- listening

- photography

122. Three things you’re bad at:

- anything heights

- writing

- math

123. Do you like yourself?

Mostly

124. What is your life goal? To be happy

125. Where do you see yourself in five years? Hopefully married to oli and a baby

126. If you could choose, how would you want to die? Quickly. I don’t want to suffer. But I want to go in a way that doesn’t hurt everyone as bad. Natural causes.

127. Three things you would do with 24 hours left to live? - marry Oli, spend time with friends and family, and write a will.

128. What is one thing you’d like to be remembered for after your death? Being badass. Just kidding. I want people to remember me for trying my best to be there for those who needed support

129. Three words to describe your personality?

Badass, confident, kind

130. Three words others use to describe your personality?

Extroverted, goofy, and strong

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