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audioaujom · 10 months

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(2) The Rest of Patton's First Week (And the Second, and the Third)

LTWF Hub, < prev, next >

Hello! Just a quick note that I'll be aiming to update this every other Tuesday so I have a deadline to finish chapters by lmao There's some very very minor sort of violence and bullying in this chapter, but it's not explicit enough that I feel it warrants a warning. Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 2683

Patton’s second day at the ever-presteous technological school of Pleasant Valley University was spent with nothing but thoughts of the cute ATA from his noon astronomy class from the previous day.

He didn’t mean to be so distracted, but Tuesday passed far too slow for his liking with two more syllabuses to learn from two gen ed classes he couldn’t be terribly bothered with and a distinctive lack of cute androids to hold his attention. By the time Wednesday came around, he was up and dressed over an hour before his class was supposed to start, and actually managed to not almost be late to his Astronomy class for the second time.

“Hi Logan!” Patton greeted as he passed by the ATA’s desk, his smile faltering nervously as Logan looked up at him.

“Oh, um, hello.” Logan’s awkward greeting trailed off as Patton turned and ran away from the desk, desperate to not say anything further and embarrass himself.

Needless to say, he still managed to fail at that as he felt Logan’s confused stare on him until the lecture started, using his hands to try and cool his cheeks off before attempting to focus on taking notes.

He didn’t fare much better in recitation the following morning.

Logan stopped Patton on his way out, after having caught him staring at least three separate times at where he sat—face bright red. “Your face seemed rather flushed today, Patton. Are you unwell?”

“Whaaat?” Patton chuckled awkwardly, his face heating up again as he avoided eye contact and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Uhm… actually yes! Yes, I am, so that means I really gotta go!” He eventually stumbled out, seeing the opportunity to escape and taking it with a called, “See you Monday!” over his shoulder.

Said Monday rolled around and Patton was determined to not make as much of a fool of himself in his second week of classes, marching confidently into 102 Thaw at 11:56 sharp with a smile on his face and blush nowhere to be found. “Hey, Logan! It feels like it’s been so long since I’ve seen you!”

Logan blinked, looking up from papers he was grading in confusion. “It’s only been approximately 3 days. Is that a long time for you?”

Maybe he could redeem himself on Wednesday.

“Oh, I suppose in the sense that we saw each other quite frequently earlier last week and then haven’t seen each other for the last few days, that expression would make sense.” Logan acknowledged before Patton could sulk off to his usual seat, beaming at the response.

“Yeah! That’s what I meant!” He nodded, not quite sure what Logan meant but understanding the intent. “You're pretty literal, aren't you?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, not at all! I actually think it's quite charming, myself!” Patton quickly backtracked, before realizing what he said as his eyes blew wide and he awkwardly stumbled away towards his seat. “Oh shoot, I didn't mean to say that aloud. Bye then!”

Yeah. He'd do better on Wednesday.

Patton then spent his entire Tuesday and all of his Wednesday morning psyching himself up so that on the way out of astronomy he could stop by Logan’s desk and awkwardly ask, “Hey, um… I sure hope this isn’t a weird question but would you like to maybe… hang out? Or something? Sometime?”

“What?” Logan froze, entirely caught off guard as he looked up at Patton. “Why would you want to do that?” “Well… I’d like to be friends with you!” Patton tried to keep up his excited demeanor to not let his disappointment show, smiling as the last few straggling students pushed past them to leave.

“Friends?” Logan blinked a few times, not noticing the way Patton’s eyes flickered to look anywhere but at his face. “I’m afraid I’m not programmed to be intimately familiar with that concept. Could you explain it to me?” “I can try!” Patton’s face broke out in a large slightly wobbly smile from his nerves, thinking before explaining, “It's someone you enjoy spending time with. Like… someone you like. Not in a romantic way or anything! Just… you know. Good company.”

“Hmm. I’ll check what my permissions are for outside of class hours.” Logan nodded thoughtfully, Patton jumping up in excitement. “I think… spending time with you to try and learn more about this concept could be constructive.”

“I’ll take that as a maybe!”

Patton nearly cheered again as he noticed the way the edges of Logan’s mouth twitched up into a very faint smile, clutching the straps of his backpack a little tighter and running out of the room before the android could change his mind.

The next morning during recitation, Logan stopped Patton on the way in with an awkward, “Oh, um, Patton.”

“Heya, Logan! What’s up?”

“In answer to your question from yesterday, I am apparently free to go places other than this building between my designated class periods as long as I am punctual to said designated class periods and I don’t go off campus.” Logan said evenly, Paton lighting up with a wide grin.

“Great!” He nodded, his mind immediately awash with fragmented ideas of what he hoped Logan would enjoy doing. “It would be so much fun to hang out with you! I'll try to think of something fun over the weekend.”

Needless to say, he didn’t pay much attention to his recitation.

Or the rest of the weekend.

…or to his Monday lecture.

His roommate hadn’t seemed to notice his distracted state—too busy either going to frat parties all weekend or also inexplicably going missing during the day—nor did any of his teachers, and he himself only really noticed it when—

“You seemed quite distracted today. Is everything alright?” Patton shook off the odd stupor he was in as he looked down at his completely empty notebook page and then up at the empty classroom, his face flushing bright red as Logan stared curiously down at him. “Oh, I… yeah, I guess my mind has been elsewhere lately.”

“I can help you make up the material from today, if you’d like. Perhaps that could fall under the ‘hanging out’ thing you mentioned, as long as you didn’t mean it in a literal sense.” Logan offered, Patton’s mouth falling open in surprise before he quickly shut it and tried to make himself look less shell-shocked. “For educational purposes, of course.”

“Yeah!” He agreed immediately, brushing some stray bangs out of his eyes. “That sounds awesome! How soon?”

“I have a break tomorrow afternoon, if you are also free.” Logan hummed, pleased, before hurriedly adding, “To help you go over the notes from lecture you missed.”

“I’ve only got two classes in the morning, so we could meet here after lunch? Around 2?”

“That works for me as well.”

Patton’s reflection was beaming as he checked over himself one last time—having rushed back to his dorm after both of his classes and a quick lunch, adjusting his glasses and trying to smooth the last few wrinkles out of the bottom of his light blue undershirt.

I look fine, right? It’s not like this is anything serious, we’re just meeting to go over notes!

He tugged on the sides of the thin jacket to get it better settled on his shoulders before grabbing his backpack and heading for the elevator, his stomach churning in anxious anticipation as he made his way towards Thaw Hall.

The walk was short, the air light and breezy as Patton jogged up the small hill and the outdoor steps to head into the building. The inside steps were taken two at a time, Patton stopping as he heard loud chatter and laughing from down the hall where 102 is.

Isn’t the classroom supposed to be empty at this time? Patton wondered idly, his path drifting faster towards the laughter and open classroom door. Poking his head in through the opening, Patton glanced inside to see two or three kids he didn't recognize kicking at Logan’s prone form on the floor. Patton gasped loudly, catching the attention of the three boys who instantly jumped in surprise and turned to run out of the room. Patton let them go, too focused on worrying about the android as he ran inside to get a better look.

Logan, to his credit, didn't look terribly bothered. His left arm was awkwardly bent and twitching every so often, his eye on that side also completely blank and black as it seemed to be powered off. He turned to look at Patton as he came in, picking his glasses up off the floor beside him and sliding them on before using his working arm to try and make himself look less disheveled.

“Oh shoot, Logan! Are you okay?” Patton fretted, dropping to his knees beside Logan and starting to look him over closely.

“Hmm? Is there a reason I wouldn’t be?”

“Your eye is all…!” Patton gestured widely, Logan’s one good eye blinking slowly in confusion. “And your arm! What happened?”

“That's beside the point. A reset should be enough to fix it. I can walk you through—”

“Err… I actually know someone who may be able to help!” Patton stumbled out, Logan tilting his head a little to the side as Patton got to his feet and shook his head and hands almost wildly. “He should be here right now, actually! Haha, that’s such a funny lil coincidence! I’ll be right back!”

Running out of the room before Logan could say anything, Patton checked his phone and found the nearest stairwell that would lead him down to the first floor and then into the connected engineering building.

I can’t remember if Virgil’s class starts or ends at 2:30… He better be here.

After reaching the first landing of the winding stairs and jogging down the hall towards several corner offices that told him he was on the right track, Patton approached the robotics classroom and glanced around the mostly empty hallways as he pushed on the door to open it. He then tentatively poked his head through the door as it swung in, his eyes scanning the mostly empty lab to land on the only two figures inside.

“Virgil, what the hell is this?”

“It’s just a chair.” Virgil—Oh, good, he’s here—grinned at the professor, who was standing by what appeared to be a sprawling work desk. Virgil himself—in his trademark patchwork hoodie and high tops—was sitting up on the counter in a spot clear of tools and wires, gesturing with his head at a chair with strangely clunky front legs beside him. “You should try it, professor.”

“I can see the pistons.” The professor commented almost nervously, before rolling his eyes as he went back to sit at his desk across the room. “You can get students with it later, but I’m not going near that. Not after your taser chair.”

Patton shook his head, unsurprised by the absurdity as he cleared his throat to grab their attention. “Um… hello?”

“Huh?” Virgil turned to look at the same time as the professor, before recognition washed away his confused expression. “Patton? Oh, hey!”

“Heya, Virge!” Patton stepped further into the lab as Virgil leaped off the desk, jogging over.

“Forgot you had a couple classes here.” Virgil smiled sheepishly, the professor going back to some work in front of him as he led Patton to his desk. “We haven’t talked much since the semester started. You must’ve been too busy to say something, huh?”

“You could say that.” Patton chuckled, feeling much less confident as the worry in stomach grew heavier. “Say, how much do you know about those bots they have in the classrooms?”

“The automated teaching assistants?” Virgil asked, hopping up on his desk. Patton started to go for the chair, but Virgil stopped him. “It’ll launch you. Sit on literally anything else.” Patton nodded gratefully, dragging over a chair from another desk. “What about them? They’re new this year, so they’re a little basic and buggy. Something up?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Patton glanced away, Virgil noticing the worry that finally started to eat at his expression. “Would you know how to, say, fix one that took some damage?”

“Huh? Probably. Why, something happen?”

“You could say that.” Patton repeated, his voice going quiet as his gaze shifted to the colorfully tiled floor beneath his sneakers.

“Pat? What happened?” One of Virgil’s legs started to swing back and forth as his stomach bubbled nervously. “You’re scaring me; you’re never like this.”

“…can I just show you?”

“Alright. Let me grab some stuff, since I’m assuming this question of ‘can I fix it’ isn’t very hypothetical.”

Patton nodded silently as Virgil grabbed a backpack from beside the desk and tossed several of the tools on his desk into it.

“Hey, Dr. V, I’ll be right back. Patton needs my help with finding one of his classes. He’s new.”

“Sure thing, Virgil.” The professor called back, not looking up from his desk. “Be careful.”

“Will do.” Virgil saluted at him, before tugging the bag on and looking at Patton with anxious brown eyes. “Lead the way.”

The trek back into Thaw was tense, Virgil’s converse squeaking a little on the tile as the two silently headed up the stairs and then back into the classroom. Virgil let out a low whistle as they came in, Patton awkwardly dropping to the floor beside Logan—who was still seated.

“Woah. I’m sure you’ve looked better.” Virgil mused as he looked over Logan, slipping his backpack off and starting to hunt inside of it.

“I am quite alright. A reset should be enough, I don’t think anything is out of place.”

“Yeah, I’m not buying that.” Virgil rolled his eyes, halting his hunt after seeming satisfied with what the few things he pulled out, zipping his bag closed again. “I’ll do the reset if I don’t find anything else that needs my attention.”

“If you say so.”

Patton anxiously tapped a random rhythm on his legs while Virgil took care to make sure Logan wasn't damaged anywhere, eventually deeming him fit enough to open a main access panel on the back of Logan’s neck.

“Hey, while I'm here, you want me to give you some boosts?” Virgil asked randomly, setting the panel’s cover on the desk nearby. “I bet I could improve a bunch of shit for you.”

Logan frowned. “I am already optimized for efficiency. I don’t understand your desire to make so-called ‘improvements’.”

“Alright, whatever you say. Your loss.” Virgil shrugged, hesitating as his hands hovered over Logan’s shoulder. “Good for the reset?”

“Yes.”

It was strange to watch him power down. Patton understood he was an android—the metal forearms made that much clear—but it was odd to see it so plainly after all the regular chatting they’d done for the last two weeks. Logan hadn’t actually moved as Virgil fiddled around in the back, the only real indication of him being off the fact that the light in his other eye had gone out, Patton looking away from the empty black screens to notice Virgil counting ten seconds on his fingers before powering Logan back on. His eyes went completely white before the digital pupils appeared in the middle, Logan shaking his head a little and going to test his left arm that had been locked up—only for it to work, good as new.

“Alright, you should be good now.” Virgil quickly put the panel cover back on Logan’s neck after seeing his arm working again, smiling as he packed up his bag and slung it on. “Let me know if either of you need anything else. If you need me and I'm not in Dr. V’s lab, you can just text me, Pat.”

“Okay, thanks Virge.” Patton shot Virgil a nervous yet grateful smile in return as his friend then ducked out of the classroom, leaving the other two alone in a long stretch of very awkward silence.

“So… do you still want me to walk you though the notes from yesterday’s lecture?”

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fic #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #fanfiction #fanfic #cross posted on ao3 #writing #fluff #college au #robot au #logicality #hurt/comfort #light angst

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the-hilda-librarians-wife · 1 year

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Carpe Diem - Chapter 7

Pairing: Sketchbook (Kaisa/Johanna)

Summary: Carpe diem: one of the five latim mottos of the arcadist, or neoclassical movement. Literally translates to "seize the day"

Picking up where Locus Amoenus left off, this fic follows the lives of Kaisa and Johanna for a couple weeks as their feelings grow and develop. Updated weekly.

Notes: Sorry for posting so late into the week, got obsessed with another fandom and sucked into a fic reading void :/ The second paragraph is absolutely an allegory for writing sketchbook fanfiction btw. We are not okay

Read it on ao3 or read the first installment on this verse or read the second installment on this verse

It was not supposed to be this hard. It was absolutely not supposed to be this hard. But every effort was taken to a new level when you wanted something to come out perfect.

It was Kaisa and Johanna’s typical Tuesday, except that they had one of professor Abigail’s torturous essays to submit until Thursday noon. They were in the library, their table filled with books open on pages that they could use for reference, and both of them were elbow deep into a google document with a ridiculously high word count for a topic that absolutely no one in their right mind should be able to write so much about.

Kaisa wanted it to be perfect, because it was still getting on every single one of her nerves that she had not been able to pinpoint what ‘perfect’ even meant for that professor. She just wanted to be rid of this curse as soon as possible so that this seminar could occupy a more reasonable amount of space in her mind. Even Johanna, for all her talk about enjoying the subject and letting this happiness translate into well done assignments, looked stressed out about it.

The problem was, she looked cute when stressed. Kaisa knew she needed every single one of her brain cells on the job, but the biggest part of her neurons seemed to have decided to quit college to just think about Johanna nonstop. And even if this had become a constant problem for her, it was even worse when they were together and Kaisa had to simply turn her eyes away from her screen for a second to see her biting down on a pencil, or scrunching her nose, or running a desperate hand through her beautiful curls.

These conditions were inhuman.

She needed her brain fully focused and fully functioning, but the traitor seemed to have decided to take a nap and leave her heart doing its job instead. She wondered if Sappho would approve of her “Mother, I cannot weave” having turned into a “mother, I cannot write this goddamned essay” in modern times. Every time she thought she’d gained traction with a line of thought, Johanna made a movement or an annoyed noise that reminded her of her presence, and sent her heart beating wildly again.

This couldn’t possibly be a crush. Kaisa hadn’t been able to notice it when she had had a crush. She’d missed the steady escalation of feelings and had been dropped right in the middle of full-blown love, and it felt like more than she could handle.

“Sorry to interrupt you.” Johanna whispered at one point. She wasn’t interrupting anything, of course. Kaisa had just been staring fixedly at the screen while daydreaming about holding her hand at the market. “I may be getting ahead of myself, but what do you say we do something together to celebrate once we submit this? You have lessons on Thursday afternoon, right? I’m free at that time, I was thinking we could grab a bite once you’re done.”

“Yeah, sure.” She tried to sound nonchalant even if she was anything but. It was a failure, of course, her voice came out sounding strained and high pitched. Johanna had probably picked it up, since she looked at her with compassion, making Kaisa wish she’d just spontaneously combust on the spot, even if she took the entire library with her. “There’s a cake place that just opened near where I live. If you’d be willing to make the drive there, we could try it out.”

“Lovely!” Johanna didn’t think she needed to say that she was willing to make the drive there. She was always down to spend fifteen-ish minutes with Kaisa’s full attention in the car. “Let’s hope we have something to celebrate by then.”

One of them turned back to their writing. The other turned back to wondering how the hell she’d gotten herself in this situation.

A wiser person would, perhaps, try to distance herself from the person who was stealing the entirety of their ability to concentrate and could never return her feelings. But Kaisa was not a wiser person. She was finding herself to be closer to a junkie, in this matter. Even if she had to spend the rest of their college years longing, and likely get her heart broken, she couldn’t deny herself Johanna’s presence when it was so freely offered.

Oh, well, she thought as she opened another window in her browser, hoping that this would be the one to show her the information that would get her inspired to write, what is a water drop to a drowning man?

………

The chance that Victoria Van Gale had been waiting for presented herself on a windy day, while she clutched her lab coat tightly around herself and took aimless steps around campus, trying and failing to clear her mind of the turmoil that had become her life lately. It was lucky that her wandering had taken her close to the humanities’ building, because just outside of it, sitting on a bench in the shadow of an oak, was just the person she’d been dying to talk to.

Professor Abigail Lyman was listening intently to something a short, dark skinned woman was saying to her right. On her left side, the tallest woman of the trio, whose features greatly resembled Abigail’s, seemed to be offering a counterpoint to what the first one was saying.

As soon as she’d gotten to her lab after meeting up with Kaisa, she’d done some snooping on who the professor she’d talked about was, and luckily she’d had an open profile with pictures of herself. It made her job just that much easier.

Shaking her head to clear it of any lingering unrelated thoughts, Victoria put on her best people-pleasing smile and walked purposefully towards the bench.

“Good evening, ladies! I am Professor Victoria Van Gale, Weather Sciences specialist. I was wondering if I could borrow Professor Abigail for a second?”

The three of them shared confused looks between themselves, but eventually the youngest among them shrugged and got up without a fight, telling her to follow her into her office.

“May I ask what this is about, professor Van Gale?” She asked professionally as they headed inside the building, the halls empty save for an odd student here and there.

As much as Victoria took pride in her own intellect, she had not prepared herself to having to explain why, exactly, she wanted to talk privately to a woman she didn’t work with, and hadn’t ever interacted with before in her life. Her mind scrambled trying to come up with something.

“I, ah, I was hoping we could discuss the possibility of a joint lecture! Something like a round table, you see. I think it would be very… enriching to our students.”

Abigail turned to her with her brow creased, her right hand frozen where it was holding her office’s key just in front of the lock.

“A joint lecture?” She repeated with more than a bit of disbelief in her voice.

“Yes!” Victoria tried to get her to buy her lie with enthusiasm, since reason would not be on her side in this. “You see, Climatology and Literature, they just go together, don’t you think?”

“Sure.” The disbelief remained in her voice, but at least she unlocked her office’s door and gestured for Victoria to follow her in.

It was a small office, but considering that she hadn’t been teaching for long (wasn’t it amazing how much you could find out through stalking someone’s profile?) and that she didn’t lead any sort of programs in the university, it was a wonder Abigail even got one at all. Victoria wondered if it had anything to do with her sister’s position in the local hierarchy.

“Well, consider me intrigued.” Abigail said, sitting down on her chair behind her dark wooden desk. There was nowhere for Victoria to sit at, but that didn’t seem to bother Abigail at all. “What is it you are picturing for this… lecture?”

Victoria cleared her throat, mostly in an attempt to gain herself time, and looked around for anything that could steer this conversation in the direction she wanted.

“Ah, well, I just thought that there are so many… poems… about the weather! And how we could explain, you know, the context and the science behind them, and, uh, how climate conditions inspired and influenced literary production-”

Her eyes caught on a piece of paper on her desk. It was a calendar of the selection process of the university that year, which she could only imagine was there because of her sister.

“Ah, is it application time already? How quickly this year passed!” Before Abigail could say anything, Victoria continued. “Your sister is on board, isn’t she? I imagine the sort of wild submissions she must have to read.”

The literature professor’s face changed radically now that she had apparently been placed in a comfort zone: badmouthing people. Her stance in her chair relaxed, and the look she gave Victoria made her feel like Abigail thought they were old friends sharing stories over a glass of wine.

“Oh, you wouldn’t even imagine. Students think they can get here with just, nothing. The amount of people out there thinking they're special when really, they’re just another nobody, is amazing.”

Victoria’s instinct was to answer back a ‘oh, I know it is’, but maybe Abigail wasn’t as daft as to not pick up on the insult. She’d already caught the first red flag, anyway. Victoria knew nothing about how the bureaucratic part of the university worked, but she was quite sure that prospective students’ applications weren’t supposed to be shared with your family members.

“I heard there was quite a scandalous case of nepotism a few years ago.” She ran her fingertips over the wood of the edge of the table, pretending to be interested in its texture and not at all in the bait she was putting out. “Is that right?”

The sentence hadn’t even been finished before Abigail started looking delighted.

“Oh, that would be Miss Pilqvist.” She answered in a tone that was both derogatory and clearly happy about the opportunity to talk about that topic. “Shameful indeed. The girl only got the scholarship because her mother used to be in Juniper’s chair - head of History, that is - and still has contacts here. Sometimes I cannot believe that such a renowned former researcher would pull something like this, taking the opportunity away from someone who would not be able to pay for college just so she could put her own daughter in. Heavens knows if it was only the scholarship she got this way, and not her admission in the university! And the girl is so ungrateful, too. She’s at a seminar I’m lecturing, passable at best.”

Doing things like meditation, yoga classes, and practicing “mindfulness” (what the hell did that even mean?) had always seemed like wastes of time to Victoria, but in that moment, they would probably have helped her in the herculean effort to not commit a hate crime. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, balled her fists, and hoped her smile didn’t look too much like a madwoman’s.

“Really?!” She gasped. She better win the fucking oscar for this performance, it was the least she deserved. “That’s outrageous! How did you find out?”

Her chair accused her with a squeak when she squirmed in it. Suddenly, Abigail didn’t meet her eyes anymore, and drummed lightly on her desk with the tips of her fingers.

“Well, it was simply obvious. A two plus two equals four situation, really. There was no other way such a mediocre student would get a full scholarship here.”

Clenching her fists even harder, the scientist took a deep breath to clear her thoughts. If she hadn’t heard it from anyone’s mouth, like she had just admitted, it was easy for Victoria to deduce that she was the source. Or at least, one of them, anyway.

“So you ruined a young girl’s reputation to her peers based on… a hunch?”

She’d said it slowly, reigning herself in, and looking straight at the wall behind the chair. When she looked at the other professor again, she blinked like she couldn’t understand where Victoria’s question had come from.

Victoria had heard enough, she decided as she huffed and turned on her heels to strut out of the office. She was a scientist; hunches were not included in her belief system. She didn’t believe in such a thing, and she most certainly did not believe in talking shit about a literal teenager because of a workplace jealousy case.

Leaving a confused, stuttering Abigail behind her, she made sure the door banged on her way out. As soon as she was in the corridor, she brought a hand to the small device hidden in her labcoat’s breast pocket, ending the precious recording she’d started when Abigail had led her into the building.

Sometimes it paid off to be just a bit morally dubious.

#my fic #fic: cd #verse: carpe diem #sketchbook ship #sketchbook ship hilda #sketchbook ship fanfic #kaisa hilda #johanna hilda #sketchbook college au

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keefwho · 2 years

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August 18

8:32 AM

Im wasting time right now but I’m trying not to worry about next week being a good chance of storms basically all monday-thursday. The prediction will probably lessen since it’s a whole week in advance but it’ll be slightly on my mind until it happens. I have to keep in mind that realistically it’s usually not bad enough to knock out the power and even if it does, that’s not a big deal. It’s only scary when my tummy hurts, which it shouldn’t be since nothing is going to stop or worsen that anyways. Power going out just takes away some of my distractions and sense of safety.

In other news I’m going back to doing my commissions very early in the morning. Starting at around noon every day was not working for me, I want to get this out of the way quick.

10:27 AM

I can’t FOCUS. WHY??? My STUPID brain keeps thinking about those damn storms and potential tummy upset like it does every day. Accept it, nothing is happening. I feel pretty healthy this morning and POTENTIAL storms aren’t even until Monday/Tuesday. I should enjoy what I have right now this moment. Stop thinking about the future, I can’t predict anything. All I can do is hope for the best and adapt to adversity if it happens. I’m fine right now. I don’t CARE about how my tummy feels, its just whining. I dont CARE about the weather. I CARE about being productive.

10:49 AM

I can tell I’m bored and it’s contributing to my anxiety. It doesn’t feel as simple as “just do something” though. I don’t WANT to do anything really, except worry about my health. Maybe because it’s easy? I’m not sure how to escape this trap. It seems like anything I decide to do is just avoidance. I should try to find something that fosters who I want to be. The person I WANT to be would probably find something to watch right now while my food cooks. Something I can commit to.

I used to look forward to hanging out with people in the most wholehearted way possible, but whenever I think about spending time with someone now, I worry about things like “Will I feel okay?” “Will I panic and want to leave?” I want to honestly look forward to it like I used to. It’s hard to put my fear aside. It all comes down to not worrying about what I can’t predict and assuming the outcome will be okay. I need to expect neutral, not bad or even good. Then I can build on it.

The overall goal is to change how I think and feel about things, not necessarily the things themselves. I can change a few external things sure, but I really just need to change myself.

11:23 AM

What often happens is I’ll feel my stomach gurgle in a normal way and it’ll singlehandedly cascade my thoughts into pure fear. I need to set a cap on what should actually be considered worrying. As hard as it might be at first, a little tummy pain isn’t grounds for panic, especially lately. It happens all the time. Ideally I’ll ignore any bad thoughts before they get out of hand.

4:16 PM

I feel like I’m on the brink of panic, or like I’m holding it back still. All because I believe something should be wrong. Why? Please for the love of god let me realize that I am okay. Maybe I’m just too bored right now, but doing anything is starting to drain me. Maybe I feel like this because I want my relaxation to be earned and cutting down on my personal work has left me feeling useless enough to create this new torment. I know I get some sort of sick satisfaction out of it. Sometimes sympathy from others but mostly sympathy from myself. Usually I finally hit a point of relief where I feel okay and it feels really good. Although that isn’t actually the case anymore. It feels like every hour has some kind of worry to it. I don’t even get rewarded anymore. I should try to remember what it was like when I wasn’t this bad. I literally just didn’t pay much attention to my stomach unless it was actually bad which DID happen, maybe once every week and a half-ish. But that was it. Thats still the case, I’ve been getting worked up over normal tummy operation.

5:07 PM

I had some kind of small breakthrough. How could I possibly be sick without having contact with anyone and being incredibly safe with my food? I haven’t actually fallen ill in over a decade, aside from a small cold here and there. I’ve always known this fact but it can be a helpful reminder when my thought cycle gets so far gone that I forget that it’s nearly impossible something could actually be wrong with me. So I can take some comfort in that.

Right now I’m really hoping I can have more breakthroughs like that so I can give myself a sort of test run with the upcoming storms next week. Right now they seem like the end of my life basically, this happens a lot. But in a way they are the only thing I’m looking forward to so I guess it makes sense that it would seem like the end. I think I need to make more long term goals and find value in things like numerical growth again. I truly reached the point where I don’t care about the follower number on any of my art accounts but maybe I should care again. Or set goals even. I’ve always wanted to reach 14,000 followers on my NSFW Twitter just like I had on my Tumblr before it was nuked. I should try to value that number more and work towards it to give myself some kind of extended meaning.

5:42 PM

I don’t know if I should feel concerned or not that I only want to hang out with one person. I’ve always been like this and the person has changed over time. I deliberately seek contact with others so I can make sure I’m getting around and actually socializing, but it always comes back around to the one person I’m fixated on. It doesn’t feel wrong, and I guess I’m not suffering any harm from it. As long as I’m still branching out, I think it’s okay for this person to rest gently on my mind throughout the day.

8:42 PM

I’m at that point again. I feel like something should have gone wrong by now and I’ve run out of things to do so I’m at prime panic risk. I don’t like it. I don’t know how to avoid it. Or maybe it’s time to worry a little bit. I can’t eliminate fear from my life, only reduce it back to a healthy level.

I guess I’m a little existential right now. I simply have no desires and overthinking what I ‘want’ to do usually leads to ‘whats the point in anything’ kind of thinking. If I have no wants then all I have left are things like anxiety and sometimes depression. Im not waiting for anything positive. Only negative.

First of all, when the storms finally happen next week, I worry I’ll be in a bad tummy space and then I’ll freak out if the power goes out. IF that happens, I’ll have to muster the strength to believe that everything is okay and employ every strategy I have to do so. I gotta remember that it can’t be as bad as that one time it went out all day and I wasn’t prepared at all. I have a lot of battery operated lights, crank chargeable lamps, power banks for my phone/switch, and a battery operated white noise speaker. And lots of batteries. I can always get cozy in the corner and distract myself with something like the last time it went out. I have friends to turn to during the roughly 6 hours I have cell service. And the power hopefully shouldn’t be out for longer than 6 hours. I think that’s the average.

The biggest thing to remember is that I’m only afraid of losing power because I’m afraid of being sick WHILE the power is out. It would be dreadful in my imagination, but probably not THAT bad in reality. It would be unpleasant not being able to wash anything since the water requires power, but I’d still be alright. I’d throw up a bit, get used to it eventually, and then it would stop and I’d begin recovering. Thats WORST case scenario though. If I have a tummy ache on a storm day, I’m gonna have to convince myself that its just normal ol tummy achin like usual. Don’t let my thoughts get out of control.

9:19 PM

Okay, I had my worry time. I looked at tons of weather forecasts just to get my FIX. I actually feel a little bit better. Now I gotta start trying to live in the here and now again. My current worries aren’t until Monday/Tuesday, thats 3-4 days from now. I can’t be worrying about it too much until I actually get there and the forecasts are more accurate. I mean, I shouldn’t be worrying about it at all, but baby steps. I want to try to go back to before where I wouldn’t even know a storm was possible until it was happening. Maybe I’ll try to go back to my 3 day forecast only. I want to have SOME heads up so I can avoid behavior that might put my tummy at hurting risk.

God I’m gonna have to read everything I wrote today even though I don’t want to. Maybe it’ll help give me some insight.

10:18 PM

I gotta stop stressing about tomorrow. EVERY tomorrow. I always think something like “Tomorrow’s commissions are going to SUCK” or “Tomorrow I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop my anxiety, it’ll be a challenge.” Fact is, most days are normal and easy until I make it hard. Commissions almost always come out okay if I put in the proper focus and time. I’m still getting better at my anxiety so of course it’ll be tough sometimes. But today proved that some days I can actually overcome it. Today was pretty good, I barely slipped up. A couple times I even grasped that this is what its like to be normal. I’ll be okay tomorrow, I always am. Adapt as problems happen.

#journal #thunderstorms #anxiety #focus #worrying

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i-am-bitterly-jittery · 2 years

Note

Could you write a Logince sickfic with a very delirious loopy Princey?

Domestic Sick Days

Word Count: 904

Rating: gen+

Pairing: Logince (obvi)

Warning: there is one swear word at the end which is what the plus means, but I didn’t have it in me to actually rate this as teen. Also one minor teeny tiny allusion to sex, but it’s literally a quote from an episode soooo

~~~START~~~

The kettle had just come to a boil when a loud crash came from the bedroom. Logan froze for exactly one second before reacting.

“Roman!” He called apprehensively, already making his way back to the bedroom. “Are you alright?”

He opened the door to find his husband, face down on the floor, struggling to free himself from the comforter that he had insisted on being cocooned in before Logan left to make him tea.

“Roman?”

“I’m late for school!” Cried Roman, struggling harder. “I have a project due! And Remus is going to tell Logan I have a crush on him if I’m not there to stop him! And I gotta… I gotta…”

“Roman, you are thirty-seven years old, you are not late for school, you do not go to school,” Logan corrected him gently.

Roman had finally managed to at least free his upper body from the blanket and was now staring up at Logan like he’d seen a god. Logan stared back at him, bemused.

“You’re gorgeous,” Roman told him, it took everything Logan had not to laugh outright.

“Thank you,” he chuckled. “You are very attractive as well.”

Roman preened at the compliment as he seemingly forgot that his legs were still trapped underneath a blanket.

“Now, how about you get back into bed, and I’ll be right back with your tea.”

“Nooo! I hafta… hafta… ugh!” Roman began struggling against the blanket again, though for some reason he seemed to have forgotten that his arms were completely free, and would be able to untangle the blankets much more easily than the unhinged flopping method he was currently deploying.

Logan chose not to point it out to him, not yet anyway. Roman’s illogical behavior just proved further that he was unfit to get up — though his 102° temperature was truly all the proof Logan had needed.

“Logan!” Roman whined, giving up his struggle to instead lay helplessly, sending Logan his best puppy dog eyes.

“Are you ready to get back into bed?”

“I hafta get to work! They’re expecting me!”

“They are not,” Logan corrected. “I have already called Virgil and informed him of your illness, no one is expecting you to come in today.”

Roman continued to pout, but Logan just gave him an unamused look until he finally gave in.

“Fiiine,” he sighed dramatically. “Can we watch Disney?”

“Of course.” Logan leaned down to help his husband free himself before guiding him back to the bed and handing him the remote for the TV. “You pick something out; I’ll go get the tea.”

“I love you!”

“I love you too.”

Roman fell asleep during the first movie (Big Hero Six), so Logan turned the volume down, and used the opportunity to grade some exams.

Normally, Logan liked to use the bed just for sleeping… and one other thing. Things like grading or other work would be best done in his office — or the living room when he wanted to spend some quiet time with Roman. This system allowed him to fall asleep more easily at night. He hadn’t even wanted to have a television in their room at all, but Roman had insisted (and Logan couldn’t deny him anything he wanted), and it was nice for times like these when one of them was sick.

Luckily, today was a Tuesday, and Logan did not teach on Tuesdays. He normally held office hours, but he’d emailed his students as soon as he’d realized that Roman was sick, and informed them that he would be holding extra office hours on Thursday and Friday, and would be reachable by email for any questions that couldn’t wait.

By noon, he’d received two emails from students with questions about the o-chem homework that was due next week, and had gotten through half of the exams for his gen-chem classes. Roman was still asleep, so Logan turned on Tangled, and carefully made his way out of the bedroom to prepare lunch — chicken noodle soup for Roman, and a ham and cheese sandwich for himself.

Roman was awake and blinking at the screen when Logan came back.

“Ah, I see you’re awake. I’ve brought you lunch.”

Roman continued to blink owlishly, so Logan set the soup tray down on the bedside table and took it upon himself to help Roman sit up.

“Her dress is pretty,” Roman told him, matter-of-factly, pointing at Rapunzel’s dress on the screen. “I want a pretty dress.”

“Roman, you have a pretty dress — many in fact,” Logan informed him while he propped Roman up against a mound of pillows.

“I want to wear a dress!” Decided Roman.

Logan rolled his eyes. “You’re sick, you would be more comfortable in your sleep clothes.”

Roman pouted as Logan placed the soup tray on his lap. “Please?”

“Fine,” Logan sighed. “Eat your soup, then I’ll help you change.”

“Yay!” Roman cheered, nearly spilling his soup. Logan glared at him, but he grinned back, unabashed. “Love you, specs!”

Logan sighed again. “Yes, I love you too, Princey.”

Roman began eating his soup, pausing only to sing along with “I’ve Got A Dream”.

“Logan?” Roman asked several minutes later. Logan glanced at him quizzically, waiting for him to continue. “Did Remus tell you I had a crush on you in high school?”

Logan couldn’t stop himself from snorting. What a ridiculous thing to be concerned about after twenty years and one marriage.

“Yes, he did.”

“Fuck.”

~~~END~~~

I was trying to write all the requests in order, that plan has been thoroughly scrapped, they come out in whatever order I finish them in. I have six more left, two are almost done, one is like half-done, one is started but it’s clearly gonna take me a while, and two of them are 0% done

General taglist:

@pixelated-pineapple @royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @knight-shives

#thursday 500 requests #logince #logan sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides #ts sanders sides #my writing #thursday writes #sanders sides fanfiction

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whoacanada · 4 years

Text

Zimbits - Bartender!Jack + NHL!Bitty AU

Prompt: Retired NHL player Jack Zimmermann takes ownership of a sports bar in Pittsburgh and accidentally falls for the Penguins’ (closeted) new left winger.

A/N - just the start, I’d like to get around to more of this; the basic idea was an It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia AU, but I couldn’t manage to make everyone that terrible so Jack owns and operates a gay sports bar and starts crushing on one of his patrons.

“Can’t believe you’ve owned this place since ’89.” Jack coughs, waving the dust away from his face. “Did you ever come back after we moved home?”

It’d be disingenuous to say Jack had been expecting anything other than cigars and whiskey when his father had invited him on a trip down to Pittsburgh to see Mario and glad-hand some Penguins sponsors. In fact, he’d kind of been looking forward to sulking and getting shit-faced, not limping around a condemned building dodging roaches and rats.

“It was an investment opportunity. That was the trend back then, famous athletes buying up restaurants and clubs — I had big plans for this building. Then your mother got pregnant and I realized I didn’t really give two shits about running a nightclub.”

“Realized you were pretty lazy, huh?”

As Bob laughs, Jack picks at the peeling, lacquered bartop, trying not to imagine how many decades of grime he’s just collecting under his nail, the situation made even more disgusting in such close proximity to the glittering gold championship ring his father had insisted he wear to their lunch meeting with the Penguins front-office suits. Jack flicks the gunk away as Bob levels him with a weighty look, hands braced in the air as if outlining a play and not offering a tour of a cobweb-filled dive.

“Here’s my thought,” Bob says. “The bar. It’s yours.”

Jack leans against the counter, taking some weight off his braced leg, and asks, “What’s mine?”

“This place,” Bob gestures around the room. “The whole building. It’s just sitting here, empty, the bar, the liquor license, there’s apartments and office space upstairs, we’d just need to do some renovations and —“

Jack can’t help himself. He barks a laugh and says, “I’m not moving to Pittsburgh.”

“How many times have you and I talked about opening a sports bar? I’d wanted to get this place fixed up so it’d be ready when you retired, but since the final — you could make it a gay bar, even, if you wanted!” Bob says quickly, offering another awkward olive branch. “A gay sports bar. I wouldn’t care.”

“A gay sports bar. In Pittsburgh,” Jack echoes, reaching for a chirp to defend himself, but he closes him mouth as he realizes a sports bar run by a Zimmermann might not be a terrible investment idea. “The building needs a ton of work,” Jack settles. “I just saw a rat.”

“That was a mouse,” Bob dismisses, not bothering to look at the rat still clearly in view. “Nothing that can’t be fixed. Got a dollar?”

Jack pats his pockets, finds a spare looney and hands it over. Bob doesn’t hesitate, pulling an envelope out of his back pocket to exchange for the coin.

“Congratulations. You are now the proud owner of,” Bob looks around helplessly. “I actually don’t know what they call this place now. A Bar?”

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” Jack swallows against the tightness in his throat, holding the deed carefully in his hands. “Thanks, Dad.”

Bob brings Jack in for a loose hug and they both ignore the soft squeaking coming from the backroom.

Five Years Later

There’s a man examining the announcement board in the vestibule, and Jack knows that posture: the forward hip cant, thick thighs, a small but definite bubble butt — guy’s a hockey player, and he has been for some time.

“Hey. Hi.”

Blondie spins around at Jack’s address. Not quite startled, but something close enough that Jack feels a twinge of guilt. “You interested in playing in our beer league? You look like you might know your way around a rink.”

The man quickly looks at his chest, as if expecting to find something displayed, but relaxes immediately. Jack fights a grin, he was once old hat at wandering into public spaces decked out in identifiable team merch.

“Bitty.” The man squares up to offer his hand; his accent is warm and distinctly southern, not at all what Jack was expecting. “You can call me Bitty.”

“Oh, with a nickname like that, you have to play, now, no excuses,” Jack gives Bitty’s arm a firm shake, surprised at how complementary his grip is; not just an overcompensating bro who’s walked into the wrong club.

“If only I had the time,” Bitty placates wryly. “Is this place new?”

“Been here a few years, but not long. How about you? Are you ‘new’? In town, I mean.”

“Moved for work,” Bitty’s smile is timid, eyes darting around the room looking for other patrons, up at the memorabilia and the various pennants. “First year. Slowly learning the area.”

Jack doesn’t miss the way Bitty’s eyes linger on the Pride flag draped from the second floor railing, but Bitty doesn’t mention it, and Jack isn’t in the business of prying.

“Let me be the first to welcome you to The Bar.”

“I saw that outside, do you not have a name?”

“We weren’t creative. The owner didn’t realize he was filling in the wrong line on the business license so we are literally called ‘The Bar’.”

“That’s actually pretty solid,” Bitty laughs, the sound lifting Jack’s mood easily. “I’ll have to make sure I come back and patron your establishment at a reasonable hour.”

“What you aren’t interested at getting sloshed before noon?”

Bitty laughs, and Jack is enough of an adult to recognize he’s got a tiny bit of a crush.

______

True to form, Bitty slowly becomes a feature of Jack’s early afternoons. The first few weeks, he does little more than quietly purchase a single domestic beer before tucking himself away in a corner booth, hunched over his phone, ball cap pulled low for discretion. Jack gives him space, and aside from a few curious regulars, Bitty is little more than another closeted young man seeking quiet sanctuary.

That is, until, hockey kicks up and Mario hooks Jack up with season tickets beside the bench. It’d taken time for Jack to get comfortable with being in an arena again, especially without the ability to step onto the ice himself, but he’s acclimated and learned to appreciate his new lot in life. He can be happy for his success and mourn the end of his career with equal measure.

(Doesn’t hurt he still gets asked for autographs on the regular.)

Bittle, the new forward traded out of Columbus, spins to whip the puck between Lundqvist’s thighs and the score is 3-2 with a minute left in the third. Jack stands to cheer with the crowd as Bittle’s pulled into a celly with his line mates, and the new angle gives Jack a good look at the man’s sunny face, complete with a familiar, bright smile and missing canine. Jack’s heart leaps into his throat when he realizes Bittle is ‘Bitty’, and Jack can’t help but cheer louder.

________

After the game, Jack does his homework. Pulls up stats pages and articles on Eric Bittle. Looking to link the quiet hottie from his bar with the energetic man he saw tonight on the ice. If Jack wasn’t in love before, he absolutely is after watching highlights from Bittle’s time in Columbus.

The next time Jack finds Bitty slipping into the bar, probably between practice and a good nap, Jack makes his move; filling a pint glass, wedging an orange slice on the rim, and adjusting his shirt before striding to the corner booth as easily as one can with a titanium femur.

“On the house,” Jack says, setting down the glass gently. “Choice goal, Tuesday. Great bounce.”

Bitty’s grateful smile falters, turning into something guarded.

“What goal?” Bitty asks, voice steady, and Jack’s immediately alerted to his misstep. Jack casts a careful eye around the room and doesn’t find anyone watching, kicking himself for not thinking this through. He’s used to playing this game with guys who aren’t quite comfortable, who might be visiting with the wrong people, but he hasn’t had to do the closeted-pro-athlete dance in a while.

“You know, I must have been mistaken.”

“Happens all the time. Very sweet of you, though.” Bitty apologizes and pushes away the beer, but Jack waves him off. It’s the least Jack can do for calling the guy out.

“I should have known,” Jack tries to recover. “You’ve still got all your chiclets. But, between you and me, Bittle’s a spitfire, eh? Crazy soft hands. I’d like to meet him someday.”

Jack whistles low, rapping his knuckles on the table before turning back to the bar, moving slowly enough he catches the way Bitty’s cheeks flare pink at the compliment.

About thirty minutes later, Jack, half focused on counting down the till, nearly misses Bitty’s exit. He looks up to offer a parting wave, and Bitty returns the gesture, flashing a shy, incomplete smile; one canine missing on the left side.

________

“Anything new to report? Sales look good, think you might be able to take some time off and visit your poor parents?”

Jack slides open a window to let some air into his bedroom, not for the first time wishing he’d taken the chance to tear out a wall and convert a corner of the top floor into a balcony. There’s still time — his father never seems to wary of giving Jack renovation loans — but Jack loves his condo and hates the idea of relocating again, even temporarily.

“New distillery opened, cut a deal on some local gin. We’re working on drink specials, if you have any ideas for names I’m open,” Jack eases onto the windowsill and looks down at the line of people waiting to get into the bar. “And I met someone. Think he might be a hockey player.”

“No shit? Beer-league?”

“NHL.” Jack corrects, an edge of caution in his tone he knows his father won’t misinterpret. “Started coming around a few months ago, gave me a fake name. Went to a game last week, scored right in front of me.”

“Well, you going to tell me who or am I going to have to guess?”

“He’s keeping to himself,” Jack holds the curtain steady to catch sight of a particularly flashy person in a glittering teal gown, texting Holster to snag a photo for the bar’s Instagram. “Don’t go hunting.”

“Well, if he needs any help you let me know.”

“What could you do?”

“I don’t know. Talk to . . . someone. I guess.”

“I’ll keep that under advisement.” Jack placates, smiling at the saucy photo Ransom texts back immediately of Holster lifting their favorite Drag Race runner-up above his head like something out of Dirty Dancing.

“So.”

“Mmm?”

“Does this mean you’ve got a little boyfriend, again?”

Jack leans out over the railing and tries to see if the universe has blessed him with a sighting of his favorite new Left Winger. Sadly, it’s Saturday evening and the Penguins are in Dallas, so no Eric tonight.

“Working on it.” Jack offers, rapping his knuckles lightly against the window sill and trying not to think about the way Bittle’s face lights up when he sees that Jack is working. “Think I might really have a shot at something.”

“Well, you know what Wayne always says.”

“I do,” Jack breathes, pressing his forehead against the cool glass, taking in his one-of-a-kind view of the city. “I’ll let you know how it goes. Once he gets back.”

“ — You know, I’ve got the game on right now. I bet you $1000 I can tell who you’ve got the hots for. You have a specific type — ”

“Papa.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

“But it’s the kid we just got from the Blue Jackets, isn’t it. Bittle? You always like the fast ones — ”

“Goodnight, Papa.”

#bar au #jack zimmermann #NHL!Bitty #zimbits #Zimmermann #retired Jack #zimbits fic #look I wrote a thing #it's only been forever #my fic #my stuff #omgcp #check please

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fawnandshadows · 3 years

Text

After The Ceremony - Chapter 5

Happy Saturday!

I was going to wait until Tuesday to post the last chapter of After The Ceremony, but I just couldn't wait! I am so close to finishing the first chapter of my new fic called You Painted Me Golden which I will be posting later this week maybe even Tuesday. I wanted to thank everyone who has read, liked, reblogged, and commented on this story! I never would have finished without all of your encouragement, and I am so appreciative! This story can also be found on AO3

Rating: M

Word Count: 3,903

Warnings: Not super explicit, but nsfw just to be safe

Azriel was a wreck of nerves as he stared at the solid wooden door in front of him. Elain was on the other side — his soulmate, his literal soulmate, his other half was only a knock away, and Azriel, who had been in countless battles and performed unspeakably brutal acts without so much as flinching, was scared. He was scared to show her the knowledge the book in his hand held because even though he knew that Elain had feelings for him, what if she didn’t want this?

He took a steadying breath and raised his fist to knock when the door opened. His hazel eyes looked down to find a flustered Elain looking up at him, her brown eyes warm with relief and crackling with desire. The little sigh that escaped nearly broke him.

“Hi,” Az said lamely, but that was all it took for Elain to launch herself at him. Her arms twining around his neck and her legs wrapping around his hips, her sweet smell of jasmine went straight to his head, and he had to prop his hand against the door jam because his knees wobbled and threatened to give out. “Elain.” He groaned and took a deep breath, trying to inhale as much of her scent as he could.

“I missed you,” Elain whispered and pulled back to plant kisses across his face. She stopped long enough to give him a heated yet shy smile, “Thanks for coming back.”

“I’ll always come back, Elain,” Azriel said and pressed his lips to her forehead. She was so small it was adorable how easily she fit in his arms, even when he was holding her she wasn’t quite eye-level. “Always.”

She beamed at him, and her smile looked like sunlight streaming through a rain cloud, and suddenly every worry, every hesitation, and every apprehension disappeared. He walked through the door, set her on the closest surface —which happened to be the counter in her kitchenette that was also splattered with flour and filled with baking equipment— at his questioning glance she said, “I was stress baking.”

Azriel released a small chuckle and fully took in her appearance. Flour was sprinkled in her messy hair and her cheeks were flush, she had an almost drunken look on her face as she gazed at him with heavy eyes. She looked absolutely adorable. He loved seeing her rumpled and flustered. And suddenly an image burst into his mind of Elain with a rounded belly breaking bread, and two children — an older male with dark hair, and a younger female honeyed hair— running through the kitchen, and his heart started to ache.

The small smile on her face tugged at his heart.

“Have you seen that? In one of your visions,” Azriel asked and at her confused look he explained. “Us, or you, with children.” The loving, knowing smile on her face was his answer.

Wordlessly, Azriel opened the book from the library and handed it to her. She looked surprised, as if she had forgotten everything that had happened that morning, and took the book from him. A frown creased her brow as she concentrated on the words in front of her, and Azriel soaked in every small movement her face made. He was so used to watching her from afar that he relished the opportunity to gaze at her freely. Her face was so naturally expressive it warmed his heart that she didn’t feel the need to guard herself and hide what she was feeling around him, he had noted that she did it with the rest of their family, but not with him.

Slowly Elain lifted her head and her wide eyes connected with Azriel’s. He spent the last 500 years training himself to have an unreadable face at all times, and all that hard word came crumbling down as Elain let out a breathy “oh.” He let her see everything he was feeling: his fear, his anxiety, his limitless and unyielding love. He put it all on his face for her to see.

Elain, more collected than she had the right to be, placed the book beside her and cupped his face in her hands. Azriel stepped between her legs, and his hands gently landed on her hips. He felt the breath leave his lungs as Elain pressed the sweetest kiss on his lips. She pulled back just enough and said, “I love you, Azriel.”

Her heart was threatening to crack her ribs in two. Elain couldn’t bring herself to say anything else once she saw the openness on his face, her heart almost broke at the tender emotions laid bare on Azriel’s beautiful face. Elain watched, and the shadowsinger was surprisingly easy to read without his walls up — she saw the disbelief, the twinge of uncertainty, and wanted nothing more than to wipe away all of his fears and self doubt. She supposed she had the rest of her life to do that.

“I love you, Azriel,” Elain repeated herself and brought his face closer to hers. She brushed her lips against his, which were slightly more puckered than usual due to her hands holding his cheeks, and she had to hold her own tears back as she felt his warm tears stream down his face. “And I need you to know that. This soul bond between us, whatever it is, I would love you just as much without it. I love every scar on your body, and I won’t stop loving everything about you until my heart stops beating because it only beats for you.”

She kissed him again. Her fingers cupped his strong jaw, and his grip on her hips was so tight she knew there would be bruises, but she didn’t mind — she loved how strong he was, and she didn’t want him to hold back, ever. Their lips moved together, slow and unrushed yet Elain could feel his emotion with every brush of his tongue. She pulled back and brushed away his tears with her lips. Her hand slid down his neck to rest over his chest, and Elain could feel his heart pounding just as hard as her own.

“Soul mates, huh?” Elain asked with a silly grin. “How would you feel if I said I already guessed that?”

Azriel let out a harsh laugh.

“Did you?”

Elain gave him a playful nod and said, “Yes. Ever since we all sat down to dinner the first night, I just couldn’t get you out of my head, and when you came for me. I was screaming so loudly, so loudly down whatever bond I could find, and you came for me. When I saw you I knew that my prayers had been answered — in more ways than one. That was when I knew you were the only male for me. The only male that I would ever want. The only male I would ever love.”

Azriel’s hand came up and pressed against hers, pushing her hand closer to his chest to feel the beating of his heart. He licked his lips before saying in a broken voice, “This is yours. I tried to ignore it for so long, I hope it wasn’t — I hoped my heart couldn’t belong to someone else because that’s fucking terrifying. And I thought that it made sense in a perfectly twisted way, that I finally found someone I could love and somebody who could love me back, but the only catch was that she had a mate— the cauldron had given hers to someone else,” A small smile formed at his lips. “I should have known you wouldn’t give a damn about what the cauldron said. I’m not very good with my words, but I will show you everyday that I love you. When I bring you coffee in the morning. When I kiss you awake and kiss you to sleep. When I have to beat up Cassian for the stupid things he says,” Elain couldn’t stop the laugh that forced it’s way out. “Just know that whatever I do, I do it with love for you.”

Elain flung herself at Azriel, and this time he was prepared for her. His arms enclosed her in the safest place she had ever known. Azriel lifted her off the counter, without breaking their kiss, and carried her into her room. He only stopped when his shins hit the wood of the bed, and he let out a curse as he took in the tiny cot.

“It was just meant for one. I don’t think my sister thought I would be… entertaining in the bedroom.” Elain explained with a blush. Gods did he love when she blushed.

“Hold on tight, Love.” Azriel said, and Elain knew what was coming next. In the blink of an eye everything was black and she was engulfed in shadow, and a moment later she was back in Azriel’s room. It looked exactly how it did early this morning when she left it. The same fire crackling in the fireplace and the same cozy quilt on the bed. Elain thought it was cute that he slept with the quilt, but she wasn’t sure why.

Azriel tossed her gently on the bed, only to prop his arms on either side of her, and kiss her again. He kissed her as if he were drinking from her, sipping at her lips, as if she was his only source of life. Elain let out a moan as her finger went to his hair. She loved his hair. He kissed her, and with every kiss they leaned a little farther back on the bed until he was crushing her with his weight. She loved how heavy he was on top of her; it made her feel safe. Elain brought her legs up to wrap around his hips, and she shifted her legs forward in a deliberate move, and this time they both let out a groan at the friction.

Scarred hands fisted in her dress, and Azriel pulled away to ask, “Can I take this off?”

“Yes,” Elain said breathlessly. “Just don’t rip it. It’s hard to find dresses that match your siphons.”

“I love you so much,” Azriel said with a surprisingly gentle kiss, and removed her dress with such delicacy it was borderline reverent, and in no time she was naked beneath him.“And I’m going to tell you every day for the rest of our lives. Morning,” Azriel pressed his lips to her lips. “Noon,” He kissed her bare stomach. “And night.” He pressed a kiss to her hot center.

All of his desperation seemed to have melted away and he licked at her like she was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted, as if she was something to be savored and enjoyed. Elain wished she had his serenity, but her fire was burning hotter than ever, and Azriel’s tongue was the only thing that could soothe her. She gripped his hair a little too harshly and ground against her face in a lewdness she had never experienced before.

The growl that came from Azriels throat vibrated in all the right places that she couldn’t stop herself from coming all over his face. She rode out her orgasm, until the fog lifted from her mind, and when she opened her eyes she saw his molten eyes gazing at her as he licked her center. His wings fluttered ever so slightly.

“Oh,” Elain said with a sudden wave of doubt. “Was- was that ok?”

He grinned at her in a way that promised pleasure and said, “That was more than ok,” He crawled up the bed to her until he was right above her. “I think hearing you scream as you come on my tongue is my new favorite sound.”

Elain’s face heated and she gently pushed his shoulder.

“Do you think someone heard?” Elain whispered and Azriel threw his head back with a laugh. A wild and free sound that resonated deep in Elain’s soul. He didn’t think he had ever laughed when he was in bed with a woman before, but he found he loved it.

“I hope they did.” Azriel said with a self-satisfied smile, and laughed even harder at Elain’s horrified expression. He didn’t stop himself from kissing her nose. He would never stop himself from kissing her ever again.

“Az!” Elain whisper-yelled, and Azriel couldn’t help but adore her more.

“Promise me something,” Azriel said. His hand found hers, and he wrapped their fingers together before brushing his lips against her delicate fingers. “Promise me that you will never hold back. Never suppress your sighs, moans, or screams — even if you’re screaming at me for something I did wrong,” The vulnerability in his voice nearly shattered Elain’s heart. “Never feel embarrassed when you feel anything, especially when you feel pleasure.” The vulnerability melted away into something smoother and headier that caused Elain’s skin to heat and prickle.

“I promise.”

Azriel shifted just a little and Elain felt the blunt edge of him at her entrance, and she didn’t even try to stop the moan came from her throat. He brought their entwined hands up over her head, and the other placed itself at her hip. Elain would have sworn that her blood was boiling wherever he touched her.

“Are you ready?” Azriel asked, and Elain was too muddled from her lust to form words, so she gave him the barest of nods. His lips captured hers is a slow, lazy kiss, and if Elain were capable of thinking she would have been irritated by how collected he was. She felt more impatient than she had in her entire life, and true to her promise she didn’t hold back, she lifted her hips and let out a sharp breath at the feel of him inside of her.

Elain’s eyes had opened just in time to see Azriel’s roll back into his head.

“Fuck.” Azriel let out a jagged breath. He held himself still, Azriel knew how large he was and that Elain needed to adjust to the size of him, the feeling of her soft, velvety heat clenching around him — coupled with an ungodly amount of restraint — caused his body to tremble. He waited until he felt her relax around him before pressing deeper into her, and after a small eternity she accepted all of him.

“Elain,” Azriel said in a strained voice. He waited to hear Elain’s incoherent mumbling before speaking again. “I’m not sure how gentle I can be.”

The brown eyes that gazed up at him somehow turned incredibly clear.

“I’ll take whatever you give,” Elain said with a loving smile. “I don’t want you to hold back either.”

She had shattered his self control — completely annihilated it and smashed it to smithereens. He heard him promise her that the next time would be better, but his hips were already snapping into hers, and then their lips were seering each other's skin, and the smell of their arousal and sweat perfumed the room.

Neither of them cared that the bedframe was hitting the wall at an alarming rate, and that if their family didn’t know what was happening, then they certainly did now.

The only thing the lovers cared about was each other.

Azriel had never left so drained, yet so light, after making love. Actually, Azriel thought, this was probably the first time he had ever made love before.

Soon after Azriel found his release he gracelessly flopped onto Elain. He didn’t have the strength to lift himself up, or pull himself out of her body, but he needed to feel her. Feeling her skin against his reminded Azriel that it was real — that what had happened between them, something he had never even let himself dare to hope, was real and that no one would take it from him.

“Azriel?” Elain said, her voice thick with sleepy pleasure. This time it was Azriel’s turn to form some type of disjointed reply of random sounds, which caused a sense of giddiness to flood Elain. She had done that to the shadowsinger. She made him feel so good that he couldn’t form words. “I think we should do that as often as possible,” She suggested and was pleased when she felt him nod. His head was tucked into her shoulder, and his hair tickled her neck. “I think I want us to make love in a meadow. I found this beautiful clearing a couple months ago, it’s so secluded, it would be the perfect spot. I want to see how your skin looks in the sunlight, fully exposed. All of your skin.”

Azriel could tell that she was slightly embarrassed by her request, and his heart thrummed excitedly with the knowledge that she felt safe and comfortable enough to share that with him. He didn’t think he would ever get used to that. He peered up at her and said, “As you wish, my love.”

Eventually, their frantic love making turned into lazy melding of their bodies and souls. All day and night they planted hot kisses on each other, their bodies easily finding a perfect pace every time they made love, and they stopped only when they felt the need to sleep, but whoever woke up first would wake the other in the most delightful way.

Nobody dared disturb them. Not even to bring them food.

As the dawn broke the next morning Elain and Azriel came to an unspoken agreement that it was finally time to face their family and return to reality, no matter how much they wished they could stay in their own world they created. When they finally tore themselves away from each other long enough to put some clothes on and go downstairs, they realized how hungry they were. Not two seconds after smelling the freshly cooked bacon did Elains stomach growl, in a very unladylike way, and notify everyone in the dining room of their presence.

Everything looked almost the same as it did the day before, except this time Mor was sitting at the table with an absurd amount of food piled on her plate, and Lucien was nowhere to be found.

Mor was looking at the pair with a knowing grin, and Cassian’s wolfish smile was almost enough to ruin the bliss that Elain and Azriel felt. Almost, but not quite. Feyre and Nesta looked almost as happy as Elain felt, and both Az and Elain were surprised at the happiness on Rhysand’s face.

“Good morning.” Elain said tentatively. She noted that they didn’t bother to wait for them to eat. Azriel didn’t say anything, but he followed Elain to the buffet table and held two plates that she filled with bacon, ham, eggs, bread, and potatoes. It was more food than Az had ever seen Elain eat at once, and a blush coated her cheeks at his raised everbrow. It was obvious to everyone in the room how Elain had worked up such an appetite.

They remained silent as they sat in the two open seats at the table, ignoring how everyone watched their movements. Azriel smiled fondly as he watched Elain prepared their coffee.

“Took my advice, huh?” Cassian broke the silence, which caused a flurry of events. Mor, Feyre, and Nesta all scolded him — Mor even smacked him on the head. Amren gave an amused smile, and Rhysand rolled his eyes affectionately, but his smile turned wolfish as well.

“Do you know?” Elain asked, fighting off any embarrassment she might have felt. She didn’t love the idea of her family knowing all of the sensual details, but she knew she did nothing wrong. Maybe someday she would feel more comfortable discussing her sex life, but right now she wanted to keep it between her and Azriel. “About the bond?”

They all nodded their heads.

“And you're happy about it?” Elain asked the group, but it was really directed towards Rhysand.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Rhysand said with an annoying grin. “A bond created by the Mother certainly trumps a mating bond, and now that there is no cause for a Blood Duel there’s no real chance of you guys starting the next war,” The High Lord stopped and thought for a moment. “Hopefully.”

Elain reached under the table to grab Azriel’s hand to give it a squeeze. All of her worries were quickly vanishing except one. She turned to Feyre to ask, “Is Lucien still here?”

Feyre looked at her with surprise in her blue eyes, and Elain knew why; She never once sought out Lucien before, but Elain had hoped to catch him before he left. She didn’t want any more misunderstandings or hurt feelings.

“He’s packing now,” Feyre explained. “At some point yesterday after you left breakfast Lucien tried to feel you through the bond, but the bond wasn’t there,” Her eyes went back and forth between her sister and the spymaster. “We connected the dots after Mor told us what happened.”

“I’d like to speak with him before he leaves.” Elain said, and that was the end of that. They all went back to their breakfasts and simply enjoyed the food and each other's company, and they tolerated Cassian’s crude jokes.

It was an hour after they had finished breakfast that Lucien was ready to travel home to the human lands. Feyre, Rhysand, Elain, and Azriel waited in the parlor to see him off. Lucien shook hands with Rhysand and said a quick goodbye before turning to Feyre to give her a warm hug. When Lucien finally turned towards Elain, who was tucked into Azriel’s side, his eyes widened and he let out a small gasp as he saw the bond between them. For whatever reason he hadn’t noticed the bond between them yesterday, and it was only now that he saw the silver-blue river flowing between them. Elain would have loved to see it again.

“I hope you travel safely,” Elain said with a kind smile. “And I hope there are no hard feelings.”

Lucien tipped his head towards her and said, “I hope you are happy,” He turned towards Azriel and almost all of the warmth in his face had faded. Their relationship was still impersonal and cold, but they had hundreds of years to fix that. “Treat her well.” Was all the goodbye that Azriel got, and the shadowsinger’s response was only a narrowing of his eyes.

“Oh, Lucien!” Elain remembered right before Lucien went on his way. A big smile formed on her face as she said, “Vassa loves orange carnations. Especially ones from the field where you walk.”

Elain was delighted by the blush that appeared on his face, and the stutter that he had as he tried to figure out how she knew. It took a second before everything clicked into place and he realized that she had seen it. Lucien gave a warm thank you before leaving.

“Playing matchmaker?” Feyre asked with a bright smile.

“The world could use more love.” Elain responded before beaming up at Azriel, and she saw him gazing down at her with pure adoration and unadulterated affection. Love churned in his hazel eyes.

“I agree.” Azriel muttered and pulled her into a kiss.

They were finally free to kiss as much as they wanted, and Azriel was going to make every kiss count.

#elain archeron #elain acotar #elriel fanfic #pro elriel #elriel fanfiction #elain x azriel #elriel #pro azriel #azriel #after the ceremony #after the ceremony chapter 5 #my fanfiction #my writing #acotar fanfiction

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mynumberfivethings · 3 years

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okay so you know the naps when you wake up and you have no idea where you are or when it is? Just imagine five passing out on the sofa and then waking up little, with no idea where/when he is. and then Vanya walks into the room and he’s like “perfect, someone will hold me now” so he sticks his arms out to her and then they just stare at each other- vanya knows she can’t pick five up (he’s the same height) and then they both keeping getting more and more frustrated

hi, i am SOBBING at how sad/cute this is????

five has been up for no less than THREE days now working on some time traveling formulas and it’s like not even noon now on a tuesday of all days and there’s a blessed couch with throw pillows that look like heaven right now so he just collapses into it and knocks out instantly, completely down for the count.

about two hours later five sits up, still half asleep and completely unaware of how much time has or hasn’t passed since he fell asleep. he’s still tired, but now he’s cranky on top of that and confused and a hundred percent officially in his “little” headspace. he’s about ready to start crying when vanya walks into the room holding her violin case. she must have just finished practicing downtown.

the moment he spots her five throws his arms out and demands to be picked up! vanya stares at him from across the room and purses her lips. “Um, so, I would if I could, baby, just uh, we’re the same size?” she tries to explain in the most logical way she knows how, but it doesn’t look like he understands a word that’s come out of her mouth.

“Please?” he keeps his arms outstretched and tilts his head in confusion.

vanya grimaces. “Five I can’t.” she tries again. “Like, I physically can’t.” five is small-smaller still than your average thirteen year old-literally all of the hargreeves can pick five up with relative ease. even allison and klaus-they’re both stronger than they look, for sure. vanya is the only one who’s never tried-mostly because she knows it’d be impossible.

“Up!” five insists, growing visibly frustrated.

vanya sighs, “Five I’m telling you I cannot, why don’t you come with me to the kitchen and I’ll make you your favorite sandwich, instead?” she puts down her violin case and gestures for him to follow her but he remains seated.

“Vee!” he huffs out, putting his arms down but not giving up in his quest to be picked up.

just her luck that diego’s upstairs sleeping from having done patrol the night before, luther’s not going to be home until dinnertime, this is allisons week with claire, and klaus is...well, out and about, being klaus. she thinks about waking diego up, but she’s seen him sleep deprived before, and it is not pretty.

vanya folds her arms across her chest. five’s not the only frustrated one here. “i said no.” she hates to deny him this-five in his “big” headspace is so often closed off and incredibly obstinate about being as tactile as he allows himself to be as a “little” after all.

she’s not sure what she’s expecting when she tells him ‘no’, but she knows she’s unprepared for when five suddenly bursts into tears before promptly blinking away to who knows where, leaving vanya in a panic. “Five?! Five!” she calls out, “Five!”

#tua #five hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #little!five #ask #answered #long post

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reversecreek · 3 years

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struts onto the dash carrying this deliriously wriggling little elf in my arms like a swaddled bebe......... they’re genuinely my oldest muse of all time i think i created them when i was like. 13 possibly. n i haven’t written them in Years but. i’m literally so excited to jst vibrating w muse. smiles at u all demurely..... they have risen. u can find their pinterest here n their playlist here.

* alana champion, nonbinary + they/them | you know nyla palmer, right? they’re twenty-two, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, eight months? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to 6669 (i don’t know if you know) by neon indian like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole a two headed doll of a prairie girl with stitched on rabbit ears and butterfly wings, befriending shadow puppets & finding god with your eyes open underwater in a public pool you broke into thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is march 2nd, so they’re a pisces, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nai, 24, gmt she/her )

HISTORY:

was born in georgiaaaa georgiaaaa (phoebe bridgers voice holds my bang...) to a vry honest hard working man named george (omgggg he’s called GEORGE and he’s from GEORGIA? ahaaaaa fuckk ur jestinggg) nd a woman who did her best named pamela..... george worked on a construction site n pamela was a pharmacist..... their house was this small rickety white thing with a wrap around porch n a very rabid overgrown garden tht kind of looked like the earth ws trying to reclaim it bc nobody ever hd the time or motivation to mow the lawn.... there ws literally a piece of fold out furniture just entirely submerged by weeds n foliage

nyla ws always closest w their dad george..... he hd this way of looking at the world tht was seeing the best in all of it.... he took them on long walks where he talked abt how u have to respect the trees bc they’re breathing fr us n we’re breathing fr them..... he hd a strange whimsical sense of humour n a gnome alter ego called grundlebolt who always tickled them..... in a way this closeness created a distance between nyla n their mother but not so much that it ws rly a problem. just enough tht nyla sometimes waited until their mother ws out of eye n ear shot to tell their dad they loved him bc they didn’t wna make her sad >_>

(mental health, death & grief tw) pamela always struggled w her mental health but george ws great n understanding n knew how to help her thru this... nyla didn’t get it too greatly at a very young age bt they knew their mum got “the sads” sometimes (how their dad wld explain tht she needed to lay down in the quiet for a while or why she’d stood at the stove n let the dinner burn until the smoke detector went off without doing anything abt it). when nyla was 14 they got home one day to a police car in the driveway n came prancing in exuberantly as they always did. immediately hugged the legs of an officer bc this is hw they wld greet everyone they ever met. they only realised something was wrong when they let go n saw their mum sat at the table crying. essentially there ws an accident at the construction site george worked at n :/ yeah.

(jst mental health & grief tw now) this rly had an intense ripple effect on everyone tbh. pamela’s mental health deteriorated quite a lot without george there as her rock n nyla sort of had to step in as best they cld but it was....... hard. some days she ws better bt some days nyla had to sit her in the bath n stroke a wet sponge over her back bc they didn’t know how else to calm her down. nyla always had a very overactive imagination which george encouraged bt it ws like. losing him rly opened a window in nyla’s head n all rationality went floating out of it. their dreams seemed more real than being awake. fantasy wasn’t jst the way they coped bt it was the way they thought n the way they saw. everything on earth was alive. the trees n the clouds n the wall with a brick missing at the bottom of her road n especially their dad. their dad was alive in everything in nyla’s head. the sun shining extra bright in the morning was george. ponds were a veil they could dunk her head under and find george waiting on the other side. reality rly just pulled the plug n said bye tbh n they were ok w that <3

(abuse implied tw) their mum remarried too fast to a man named stephen n it was jst not a good arrangement. he was Not a nice man. i won’t go into this but home wasn’t a nice place for nyla any more n after a couple of yrs stephen wound up asking them to leave n their mum said nothing to contradict tht. there’s more to this bt long story short nyla left <3

(drugs tw) they couch surfed fr a while before settling living w their best friend. they got up to like... all sorts of trouble n grew up far too fast. nyla’s lack of sense n realism hd a habit of getting them into some sticky situations n these few yrs were a rollercoaster where they got by on the skin of their teeth. when they think of high skl they think of gravel and skinned knees and sucking sherbet dunkers to ignore the taste of pennies in ur mouth and getting lost in the woods a lot bc they’d take FAR too many drugs n be lead astray having conversations with kind trees whose branches held their hands

(drug mention) got by on odd jobs like making candles n selling them at market stalls. leaf blowing at cemeteries. face painting fr children’s parties (where they were blatantly high). random stuff. all over the place. in this time them n their best friend also hd a sugar daddy named tony who always wore very impressive colour block suits n mink stoles n jewelled fedoras n hd a swanky apartment w marble floors. rly just. surreal. lots of strange stories frm this time.

things kind of blew up in their friendship group n they fell out w their best friend raya bc she slept w this guy aj who nyla hd been madly in love w for yrs.... he was a Stinker n honestly so ws their best friend so good riddance i say bt obviously it felt like having their entire world flipped upside dwn fr nyla.... they split after this came out bc they just did Not want to b around these ppl any more n they decided to leave w this guy frm a band they barely knew tht much save fr a one night stand to tour w them..... this ws another whirlwind. jst chock full of them. it ws similar to being on a teacup ride at a carnival n spinning round n round n only knowing u were surrounded by lots of lights. tht’s how they’d best describe their time on tour.

SO in terms of them coming to irving 8 months ago they came w the band.... they honestly did pretty well on tour n wound up renting a big beach house on dorado as a kind of “retreat” sort of place fr them to shack up in while they worked on writing and recording their first big studio album (they gt signed w a label so it’s all vry exciting stuff). nyla among like 3 others were allowed to stay w them too bc they hd a lot of fun on tour. literally jst. taken on as professional groupies essentially. nyla loved it bc they’d never seen the ocean n when they first got there they jst threw off all their clothes n ran straight into the water. it was 3pm on a tuesday afternoon. they got arrested fr public indecency n didn’t get why bc they were like but i just wanted to hug the ocean u silly little oinker? i picture the beach house as like. the loudest one on dorado.... comes alive like a jungle at night..... they r probably bad neighbours. anyway. onto personality puts hand on hip.

PERSONALITY:

sets out patio furniture on someone else’s lawn n jst takes a seat n leans back like ahhhhh vat a nice day to be alive ya! (swedish accent suddenly bc they think it’s fun). they come out n start yelling n they’re jst so confused they’re like hey wat’s the big idea hey wat’s go on here why u angies why this happen?

likes drawing imaginary veins over their arms in all different colour blue pens in a sudden fit of hyperfixation n then forgets all abt it n goes out like tht n scares several townsfolk bt they’re oblivious they’re jst in her own world loving life already onto the next fixation. has many many different fads like this. one day will jst start snipping up a bunch of magazines bc they’re like EYES ARE COOL N THEY SEE EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :P n they’ll stick a bunch of them over their wall n then forget they was doing that n leap onto the next. quite a pattern. bt they love the vein thing a lot it makes them feel like a walking planetarium like they have their own constellations

sometimes jst doesn’t make sense. they’re honestly kind of strange. pops up in places like they suddenly materialised there n it’s like how did u get there where have u been when were u last seen are u ok. has the energy of an ancient deity frm deep in a mountain cave n an ambiguous forest sprite all at once..... talks shit honestly. abt anything n everything. sometimes outrageous. sometimes plain incoherent. like what are u talking about? i dnt kno. even i dnt kno sometimes.

luvs stick n pokes will let anyone tattoo whatever they want on them for the price of a gummy bear kindly placed onto their tongue n swallowed whole

has this obsession w being underwater w their eyes open luvs it. calls it their tadpole time. runs baths just to lie there blinking looking around n drifting her arms. best friends w the bottom of any local swimming pool n hs probably given it a quick kiss so it knows they’re bff’s n then got sick bc there’s sm germs in a public pool. says the kgb probably poisoned their oatmeal n r finally here to deliver on their promise n THAT’S why they got sick unrelated to the pool incident. what promise? noone knows.

unclear if they believe what they say or if they jst has a very expanded sense of humour where they nvr let on if they’re joking.... lines r blurred a lot.....

loves excitedly shouting things. sometimes just screams at the sky bc they say it’s good to let the creatures in ur belly fly out every once in a while otherwise their wings get sore.

(drugs tw) still does an excessive amt of hallucinogens n it kind of shows. very bad fr their brain bt we’re going to ignore it.

dresses fun n strange n eccentric n careless. loves to experiment. does nt care abt what’s considered to be societally appropriate. living in their own world.

sleeps around a lot... jst doesn’t rly see sex as a big deal.... very free w themselves in that way..... sometimes greets their friends w a kiss on the lips they’re like awww :) kisses <3 when they run into them in the middle of the cereal aisle n then pulls away n suddenly breaks into a box tht has a free toy in it bc it’s a banana with googly eyes n that’s the best thing they’ve ever heard in their LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! n isn’t he so HANDSOME????? enchante indeed my good sir ;)... gives the toy a kiss too.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

other groupies of the band: self explanatory a little.... i dnt have a name for the band yet bt all can b worked out..... i picture them as kind of. not that nice but like. there for a good time........ rock genre.... bit chaotic...... to say the least........ they dnt have to have come there w the band like nyla n the others they cld have been adopted in their time there.... whoever wld b wild n down fr a good time <3

chaotic trash goblin friends: idk what this title rly means it just came to me in a vision....... jst ppl tht r rly kind of off the rails n don’t care abt anything...... they r who nyla tends to mesh very well w......... they rly r living in their own world n by their own rules n they like ppl who do this too <3 inevitably they get up to no good n party far too much...... cld be angst to this if they enable each other’s bad habits...... world’s our oyster. opens my office door. let’s talk abt it.

nyla set up camp on their front lawn: maybe jst w a fold out chair. maybe w a literal pop up tent w someone else too. genuinely so bizarre of them bt that’s what we’re dealing with. they poke their head into the tent n nyla’s lying down crunching on a cracker crumbs over their tits n they just hold it out to them nt even fully consumed n are like hey polly want a cracker? :)

they responded to her craigslist ad: they posted one saying they cld cleanse their house of demonic energy bc they’re an all seeing eye in touch w the spirits. this is a lie. they came n waved sage around n did a little dance as they did it w bird sounds playing on a special cd they brought fr the occasion (had weird indistinct doodles over the case it ws brought in) n then ws like OOH! scary.... n jumped at something in the hall. they go in thinking maybe they’ve seen a ghost bt they just were startled by their own reflection in a mirror n is like. scary mirror placement...... might wna reconsider that........ they charge them merely 10 dollars fr their time n is like this was so fun we shd do it again some time :) also i think u have mould on ur bathroom tile! vanishes. they dnt recall them ever going to the bathroom.

came knocking asking for items for a garage sale: yes. u heard that right. they’re asking for ur muses things to set up their own garage sale. selling items that do not belong to them. they think this is a genius business strategy n don’t understand why ppl think this is so strange or why they cant just ask ppl to donate them things to sell bc hey they’re an entrepreneur? they even had a pencil behind their ear when they knocked on the door so why aren’t ppl taking their business seriously? probably got distracted several times trying to explain their pitch n chattered abt random other things instead.

honestly anything... fwbs... flings... good influence... someone who cnt stand the fact they’re barely coherent.... someone they stopped on the street one day n asked for their opinion on water beds.... we cn do literally anything. fling ur chara my way n we can talk.

#irvingintro #mental health tw #death tw #grief tw #drugs tw #abuse tw

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anthonycrowleymoved · 4 years

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okay i’m going to tell u all what i’m smug about if u promise not to like, spread it around. i don’t want to Start Shit so i am asking you to n/ot re/blog but. Oh Boy. anyway. here u go

so. for the past few weeks i have been very mad. going back you may see me a few times in my personal post’s tags being shady about something. this is the something. i was strong armed into taking a job i didn’t want with zero benefits, bad pay, a location i didn’t want to be in, an industry i didn’t want to be in, and without the ability to work remotely during a pandemic and without the ability to set my own hours because, for reasons i don’t want to get into because of the aforementioned not wanting to Start Shit, i was concerned that if i didn’t take it i would lose my unemployment. truly capitalism at its finest. so. anyway. on top of all that, they demand i start with a WEIRDLY soon start date, and oh yeah, it’s a temp job and they can fire me at any time (which means, if they want, they can also continue my contract if they want, which means i will continue to be stuck in a shitty job i don’t want with all of the aforementioned problems because the alternative is cut unemployment if i quit. anyway). so i go in on monday, fuming internally, because i KNOW i’m being taken advantage of, right? but i’m not an idiot. i do my work. i do it quick and i do it well, because i’m not stupid i’m a professional. i feel like, for context, i need to explain that i am also the only goddamned person who can do this work, because this company has no respect for or knowledge of the general job market for this position, which is why they feel they can do this shit. anyway. same with tuesday. and then wednesday rolls around. wednesday. today. three days on the job. three. i’m going through the motions. internally fuming externally smiling. and then noon happens. i get a call. i got a different fucking job offer. an offer for full time employment with benefits that pays enough that i can theoretically move out of my parent’s house. i can work from home until i actually feel SAFE returning to work. and i’m sitting there like. if you didn’t pull all of this bullshit with me. i wouldn’t feel the need to quit with little (not none, i’m not a jackass, but little) notice. hell, maybe i wouldn’t have even bothered starting, because you forced me to start so quick. this is just more paperwork and bullshit for you now that you could have avoided if you just let me continue going on my merry way without making me pissed for no reason. you have sewed the seeds of your own destruction and i am simply waiting for a written letter offering me employment to set off a fucking bomb. you thought i was playing with a two of hearts, a jack of clubs, and two uno cards, but i got a royal flush babeeey. when i say schadenfreude is the greatest feeling and i was literally holding back a cackle, not a laugh, but a cackle at my desk, i am not kidding.

#shut up maggie #text #this was cathartic to write. like it vaguely explains the situation but it also just felt nice #seriously though d/on't re/blog i need to keep a good relationship w this place #and also i don't want to be seen publicly complaining about an employer no matter how vague

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bomberqueen17 · 4 years

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work

so I went into work for a while yesterday. Yes, my old job, from the Before Times. I was furloughed on March 17th, and had been keeping in touch via text with my supervisor, and in early June he’d said they didn’t really need me back yet, I should stay away a while yet and so on and so forth.

The first week of July, my first time back home in over a month, I’d stopped by to check in in person, since the store’s been reopened. My supervisor was like “are you not ever coming back???” and I was like... you said... not to yet? you have my number? anyway, he’d seemed, at that point, like he was mad at me for not coming back yet and was like when can you start you’ve got to come back.

Like, okay, well, I had farm commitments so I went there to deal with those. And then I had to attempt to put my life somewhat back in order, and spent Monday and Tuesday on that.

So I went in yesterday, around noon, and worked until fiveish, and...

I mean, they don’t need me. And he was like “so I get dizzy if I leave the mask on too long and anyway the two of us in this ten by ten foot room, the mask is only gonna buy you a few minutes really.”

“So,” I said, “let’s not both sit in this ten by ten foot room.” There’s an entire upstairs to the store, and customers rarely come up, and it really does not need to be a Retail Showroom at all times. There’s a big table we use for in-person classes, which are not currently running. There’s a studio set up, which only employees are using and only for fun projects they feel like doing. And there’s a manager’s office, which instantly when we moved in a year and a half ago was transformed into a junk storage room, and the manager’s still part-time because unemployment pays so much more than the store wages. So it’s literally not being used at all.

I felt a bit like a prima donna but there is literally no reason for the two of us to cram into a room so small that masking won’t actually work. Not when there’s an entire largely-empty floor.

My desk was covered in stuff because my coworker uses it in my absence, because the room is tiny and there’s an awful lot of crap that has to come into the room and go back out on a regular basis, just tides coming in and rolling out of junk, constantly. It makes sense to have an empty, extra desk there.

And it’s trivially easy to get my computer set up in the other room. At the moment it’s not online, so I can’t do about half of my work tasks, but those are the things Supervisor’s been doing anyway. The stuff that doesn’t get done if I’m not there, most of that I don’t need the Internet for: I can load the files onto a memory card and hand them to him. So I’ve been doing that, I did five hours of it yesterday and I’ll do however many hours of it today that I can stand.

It’s mind-numbingly boring and doesn’t feel important at all but you know what, that’s what the job was like before.

I’m hoping there’s a way to collect partial unemployment, because the manager seems to be doing that; I want to get a few hours of work done, and find out how the system works now so that I can fill in for Supervisor if he wants to take his first day off in seven months, and then i really have very little interest in collecting any more hours there. Supervisor made it sound like there were all these urgent tasks and such, and I don’t see any evidence of that; he has it well in hand without me.

Oh, and they’d just had one of the young kids come back for a few hours a week at the store? and then his roommate’s friend tested positive for the ‘rona, so he’s in quarantine again. Turns out they need more workers than they currently can get-- again because of 1) the risk and 2) the fact that unemployment pays more than working right now because wages are so low at the store. I feel like this should force some sort of reckoning, some sort of like, deep calculation or existential question upon the store owners, but.

I’m also not holding my breath. I’ll give them like twenty hours every other week all summer if that’s what they want.

It’s so hard to get motivated. The world is different, and yet, nothing’s changed, and nothing matters. Bleagh.

#about the author #dayjob camera store

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sincerelyreidburke · 3 years

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A fic for day 2!

The 25 days of Kiersey continue! This is Thanksgiving-focused, but I wanted to get this one early in the countdown before Thanksgiving was too distant of an event. I’m counting this as a winter holiday.

For context, if you want or need it, here is a ficlet that will function as a faraway prequel to the events of the following fic.

In the summer between his sophomore and junior year, Quinn tours with a fictional production of a real Broadway show, Deaf West's Spring Awakening. I recently watched the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade and decided that Quinn Cooper needed to be in on that action. Here's what happened as a result.

Heaven forgive me, for it is LONG under that cut! I saw the opportunity for Quindo fluff in New York City, and I ran with it, my friends. Featuring Quinn’s tour friend Kyra (in person, finally!), some stereotypical NYC tourism shit, and, of course, the actual Thanksgiving festivities.

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Playbill.com

November 1st

Summer Cast of Deaf West’s Spring Awakening To Perform At Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade

Tuesday

Kiersey, NH

Technically, the official start of Quinn’s Thanksgiving break occurs at 1:15 on Tuesday, when his last class lets out. Walking across campus after he leaves the sciences building is, to be sure, a very freeing experience. But it’s not until he’s by the door at the house on Beech Street, with a packed bag over his shoulder and a train ticket in his pocket, that it truly feels like his break is beginning.

“I can’t believe you two are ditching out on Shaley Thanksgiving,” Ben tells him, shaking his head and mock-scowling, as he takes the keys to his Prius off a hook by the door. “After all I’ve done for you?”

Quinn smiles brightly, and offers Ben nothing but a shrug. “I’m sorry, Ben,” he hums, “but I’ll be thinking of you in spirit.”

“Wow, that’s so nice of you, Mini.” Ben puts a hand to his heart, with all the snark in the world still in his eyes. “It’s almost for a moment like you’re not ditching to go to the big city.”

Quinn hums contemplatively, then glances at the time on his phone. “Sebastián,” he calls, and hopes his voice travels up the stairs. “We’ve got to go! The train’s in twenty minutes!”

“Twenty-four,” corrects Remy, as he walks to the door to join them with his own bag in tow. “You’ve got time, Q.”

Quinn knows he does have time, but as they say in the theater, on time is ten minutes early. He smiles at Remy anyway, and sighs. “I suppose we do, don’t we?”

Remy shrugs. “The train station is, like, two seconds away.”

This is also true.

“You’ll have to forgive me, Ben,” he adds, while they’re waiting. “Goodness knows I’m grateful for your mother’s hospitality.”

“It’s okay.” Ben smirks. “On the bright side, this year you won’t have to deal with her being weird.”

Mrs. Shaley does say odd things, most of them thinly veiled discomfort about his existence as an openly gay man (Quinn, you are just so stylish! It must just be natural for you people), but Quinn is still grateful that she had him to her house last year all the same.

Remy, who is going home with Ben again this year for the brief break, looks to him now, and asks, “Will we see you on TV?”

Quinn smiles�� he can’t help it— and dusts off his knit scarf where it’s wound around his neck. “I certainly hope you will,” he replies. “So long as the parade is on, I don’t see why you wouldn’t.”

“That’s awesome,” Remy says, with a smile of his own, and Ben adds, “I can’t wait to live-Tweet it and say I know you.”

He sighs into his hand. “Oh, Benjamin.” He’s about to call for Sebastián again— he did have the class that released the latest of all of them, so it makes sense he’s the last to be ready, but then again, he should have just packed last night— but before he can call him, the floor shakes with the unmistakable rhythm of him bounding down the stairs, and in another second, he’s joined them by the door.

“Sorry, baby.” With his backpack over his shoulder, Sebastián looks handsome enough that Quinn is willing to forget his previous punctuality stress. “I’m ready now.” He’s in his nice winter jacket, with the red scarf and matching hat, and he looks every bit prepared for the November streets of New York.

“Good,” Quinn says, simply, and fixes the way his scarf tucks into his jacket before he turns to nod at Ben. “We’re ready when you are, mister taxi service.”

“You’re an asshole,” Ben replies, “and let’s get outta here.”

The train station is only a three-minute drive from campus, and Ben and Remy drop them off there, with their own long drive to Providence awaiting them as they pull out of sight. Quinn feels as if he’s buzzing with adrenaline, with the excitement of the five days that lie ahead of them. Thanksgiving break may not be long, and in past years, it hasn’t been very eventful for him— freshman year, he stayed on campus, and last year at Ben’s house was nice but not particularly crazy— but this year is a whole new story.

This year, he gets a Thanksgiving break straight out of his wildest, most wonderful daydreams.

“Are you excited, cariño?” Sebastián asks him, as they’re waiting on the platform for the train, bundled up with their bags in the cold. Quinn feels like they’re at the start of a wonderful holiday movie.

“Of course I am.” He winds his arm up in his and remarks, “In fact, I can’t remember the last time I was quite this excited.”

Sebastián smiles. Under his knit cap, his curls are just a little windblown. Quinn has never seen a more handsome sight. “I’m excited for you,” he says, and kisses his forehead, and this is going to be the greatest school break ever.

Wednesday

New York, NY

On their first full day in New York, Quinn has rehearsals. This makes sense, because the whole reason they’re in New York in the first place is so that Quinn can perform. Nando doesn’t even have enough words for how proud he is of him, and the performance hasn’t even happened yet.

Quinn is up bright and early Wednesday morning. He’s headed to the hotel convention center downstairs, where he’s meeting up with his castmates from over the summer for the first time since he left tour in August. Nando rolls over in bed— it’s still dark out— and smiles when he feels him a kiss to his cheek on his way out. He reaches out of the covers and feels around until he can grab Quinn’s hand in the dark.

He squeezes it, three times— their wordless way to say I love you. Quinn returns the three squeezes, kisses the back of his hand, and then turns to go, a silhouette in rehearsal clothes as he leaves.

The bed feels empty without him afterwards, but it’s still dark outside the windows of the room, so Nando falls asleep for another little while and dreams of

When he wakes again, he has an interesting situation on his hands: time to himself, in the middle of New York City. He’s never been here before, but he’s fully prepared to become a huge tourist so he can visit some of the food spots he follows on Instagram.

At a respectable hour, he gets up, gets dressed, and does just that in Quinn’s absence. A few very successful dessert-for-breakfast experiences later, he heads back to the hotel to FaceTime Mama and his sisters.

“Can we watch him on TV?” Gabi asks.

“Is he gonna be on one of the floats?” adds Rosa.

“Well, not exactly on a float,” Nando tells them, “but yeah, you can watch him on TV! I don’t know when he’s on, but he’ll know, so I’ll text you guys later.”

“Wish him luck for us,” Mama says, with a warm smile, and Nando smiles, too. It’s not that often you spend Thanksgiving in New York, when your family is thousands of miles away and your friends hundreds, but it’s also not often that your boyfriend, the love of your life, your favorite person in the entire world, is performing at the Thanksgiving Day Parade, so. Y’know.

Nando didn’t know it was possible to be this cheeky with pride.

At noon, he goes downstairs to pick Quinn up from rehearsal. He’ll have a busy Thursday, what with the parade and everything, but for the rest of the day, their time is entirely theirs.

It’s kind of easy to tell where the cast people are coming from, because one of Nando’s various acquired skills from the course the two years so far of this relationship is being able to spot Deaf people in public. It’s really not hard. Just watch for flying hands!

That’s how he spots Quinn— leaving the convention area, among his fellow Deaf West people, or— Kyra, actually, to be more specific. Nando hasn’t seen Kyra in months, since July, actually, when he met her on their Phoenix Spring Awakening tour stop. Her hair is different— in space buns instead of her afro— and she’s wearing a bright orange sweater, which, if her Instagram is accurate, is right in line with her sunshine aesthetic. She was amazing on tour; she’s such a talented person.

She walks side by side with Quinn, and they’re moving kind of slowly because they’re turned halfway toward each other to talk. Their hands move a mile a minute, and Nando knows a good amount of sign, but can’t keep up with this rapid conversation.

Lucky for him, he doesn’t have to. Quinn and Kyra seem to see him at the same time— and Kyra signs something he does understand, with this huge, bright smile. Literally, her sign means cactus and S, but Nando knows that’s just his sign name.

He waves across the lobby, then signs back to her— sunshine and K, for Kyra, and she lights up even more. She runs the rest of the way over, and Quinn goes after her.

How are you? he asks, and Kyra looks so excited that she almost jumps up and down.

They get to hold a small conversation in sign, and Nando loves catching up with Kyra but sort of loves even more how Quinn smiles as he watches them talk, like he’s glad they’re interacting, and it’s just— it’s wholesome. It’s great. Kyra is great, and he’s just so happy for Quinn that he gets to see her and all his tour friends again. He was sad to part with them at the end of the summer.

Kyra’s mom is in the city with her, so they part ways when she arrives; Quinn has another brief and very fast sign conversation with her as she’s leaving. Nando figures it’s probably just ‘see you tomorrow,’ but you never know.

“Baby,” he whispers, leaning down to him as they start side-by-side toward the elevator, “you have to hear about the churro I found this morning.”

Quinn laughs, and looks up to him, winding his arm in his elbow. Nando thinks they were meant to fit together this way. It’s so natural, and so easy. “I would love to hear about that.”

“I took pictures and everything,” he says, then pauses to press the button and hail the elevator. He looks to him again to add, “But also, how was rehearsal? Can I take you out to lunch?”

“Out to lunch?” Quinn swoons. “You must be trying to get in my good graces.”

He pretends to pout. “Am I not already in your good graces?”

Quinn swats at his chest. “Oh, don’t be a drama queen.”

He kind of wants to point out that Quinn, rather than he, is the one who just got out of several hours of pro theatre rehearsal— but he guesses that would be telling him what he already knows. Instead, he grins and shrugs, then kisses his forehead. The elevator dings upon arrival. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, and they have a very good afternoon.

Thursday

It’s absolutely frigid outside, and it’s six in the morning, and Quinn is having the time of his life.

He’s huddled on a couch with his castmates, in a trailer, waiting for the day to begin— though he supposes it’s already started, given his five o’clock wake-up call. He thought the tour was exciting, and truly, it was, but this is a whole other excitement entirely— being in New York, with so many performers all in one small place, knowing what lies in store for his day.

Life, he thinks, is maybe a dream come true right now. From coming here with Sebastián to getting to perform, there are so many things he’s grateful for, so many experiences he feels so lucky to have. This is no exception, as he sits in the trailer, with space heaters warming his feet and cast friends on either side. It’s like being back on tour, except this time, it’s one time only. He has to make it count.

And… yes. Quinn is decided. He is going to be completely obnoxious on Instagram today. To start it out, he nudges Kyra, who sits directly next to him, and opens the front camera on his phone.

Kyra lights up for the camera— she truly is the human embodiment of the sun, and Quinn is honestly a little jealous of how good and put-together she already looks at six in the morning. She’s wearing yellow earmuffs that sort of match the gold rims on her glasses, and she hooks an arm around his neck to lean into the picture. Her cheek is warm against his, and he laughs. On his other side, their friend Minji pushes into the camera, too, and flashes a heart at the camera with her thumb and pointer picture together.

Are you posting that? Minji asks, once he’s snapped the selfie.

He puts his phone down and grins. Obviously, I’m posting it.

He’s hunting for stickers to put it on his story when it becomes something of a ‘thing’— the various other friends and castmates around him realize he’s taking pictures, and then, right as he gets the selfie up on his story with a little turkey sticker, everyone is clustering for another.

Group shot!

Let us be on your Instagram!

Yeah, we need a reunion picture.

Hang on, he tells them, and laughs, then climbs up onto the edge of the couch. He faces them to add, I’m not tall enough for that, and while they laugh at his height’s expense, he rolls his eyes and opens his camera again.

Smile! he signs into the camera, and then clicks the button a few times so he’ll have options to choose from. This one should be a post, not a story, he decides. He thinks there are enough cast members in it to maybe send it to production staff. Not to pat himself on the back or anything. Really, he just wants to document these moments with his friends, while they’re all still in one place again.

Oh, you know what we should do? he says to Kyra, as he’s sitting down on the arm of the couch. A before and after picture, with costumes.

Kyra grins, and she nods. They did posts like that several times, over tour— a picture before you get costumed, and then the same picture but after you’re ready to go onstage. We should make a TikTok, Kyra says.

He laughs. Oh, goodness, he says, but he knows he’ll probably wind up doing just that. He has a feeling his social media will be quite alive and well by the end of the day today.

He wants to hold every part of this day in his memory, so he’ll never forget what this feels like.

It’s been three months since Quinn got to be Moritz Stiefel.

Though it took a lot out of him this summer, it’s a role he’s missed sorely, and he doesn’t usually get to go back to playing characters whose shows have come to a close for him. He supposes today is a bit of an exception, and, to be sure, he’s been excited for today since the very moment he learned this performance would be happening— but it’s not real, exactly, until he sees himself in a mirror, in costume.

He knows this version of himself, though he hasn’t seen it in awhile. His hair is mussed up, and the school uniform costume fits just as it’s supposed to, with a crooked tie and a tall pair of socks. He isn’t mic’d yet— that’s a step they’ll reach later this morning, with the sound technicians at the parade, and his hearing aids have been out for several hours; they’re tucked into his jacket pocket right now.

The mirror in the trailer is small, and he smiles at himself in it. He always likes this part, performing— when he gets to see himself as the character he’s going to be. Today, it’ll only be for five minutes— but five minutes of glory, on television, with his friends from the summer, and so they’re bound to be some of the most exhilarating five minutes of his life.

He doesn’t want to get a big head, but the fact that so many people will be watching… that’s a lot to take in. On the street, in person, Sebastián will be watching, too, and that’s something he’s very mindful of.

Kyra is putting flowers into her hair, at the small mirror next to him. He grabs his phone to wave it at her, and she grins, then signs for him to wait one second, so he does.

Just like old times, she says, when she’s done, and then lets him take their picture in the mirror. He sends it off to Sebastián first, then puts it on his steadily growing Instagram story.

It is just like old times. Quinn doesn’t want the day to be over, and it’s barely begun.

Of all the places he’s performed, Quinn has to say that the streets of New York City rank high.

The morning is a blur— move from place to place, let people tell you where to be, get briefed by tech people who know a lot more about what’s going on than he does. Comply, because that’s what you do. Warm up your voice. Take so many pictures that your phone starts to yell at you that it’s running out of storage.

From a distance, spot someone who looks an awful lot like your boyfriend on the side of the street. You can tell it’s him, because you knit that red scarf for him two Christmases ago. It’s his color, undoubtedly. Kyra signs his name at him from afar, but he doesn’t see either of you. Until you go on.

You get a little nervous, but you don’t have time to be nervous, because you’re on the move and you’re waiting to perform, and then— you blink, a rush of adrenaline, and it’s over.

And you just did what actors all over the country dream of doing.

There aren’t words for that in English or in sign.

Friday

On Friday morning, when Quinn wakes up, it’s snowing.

He doesn’t realize it at first. He’s tucked beneath Sebastián in their hotel bed, waking from a sleep so deep and welcome it felt truly heavenly, buried between covers and warm weight. He opens his eyes to gentle, natural light in the room, a sure sign they slept in, and he blinks a few times before he realizes what he’s seeing in the nearby window.

Snow. So much snow, and falling fast. Goodness, it’s beautiful. The view isn’t bad, either; Manhattan is a sea of buildings, and this snapshot of glass is only a glance. The snow is so peaceful, coupled with the thought that they have nowhere to go, nowhere to be. After the dream come true that was yesterday— the parade, the performance, getting dinner with Sebastián and Kyra at some diner with no other patrons in the middle of the Thanksgiving afternoon— he could use to rest and reflect.

Quinn knows it’s cliché, but he truly does love this city.

He threads his fingers into Sebastián’s curls, and pulls his head close to his chest, and rests in bed while he watches the snow come down.

Some time later, when Sebastián has woken, he gets to spend a lazy, snowy morning in bed, and between gentle kisses, he tells him there’s nowhere else he would rather be.

Saturday

“Can you keep up, baby?”

Nando knows a retort is coming before it even does, but he still grins when Quinn pipes up, from a few feet behind him, “Oh, you just mind your business, Sebastián; I am fine.”

As if to prove it, he closes the small space between them and skates up by his side. Nando knows that getting out on the ice and immediately taunting him was not practical, but it was entertaining, and he likes that Quinn’s cheeks are flushing now. He holds out his elbow, like a peace offering, and Quinn wraps his gloved hand up in it.

“You wanna take a winter stroll?” Nando asks him, with a wink down in his direction.

“This is hardly a stroll,” Quinn replies, in that know-it-all voice that drives Nando crazy in the best way possible. “It’s more of a glide,” he adds, and with that, they start skating along.

“That’s fair,” Nando replies, and tips his head up to take in the view.

He couldn’t spend any weekend even slightly related to the holiday season in New York City without going ice skating under the huge tree. Because first of all, it’s in every New York Christmas movie ever, and second, one of his and Quinn’s first dates was skating, and third, he fricking loves to skate, and fourth, this is his life, so there.

“This is breathtaking,” Quinn remarks, and that’s an understatement. There are enough lights on the tree to probably show up from space, and Nando has learned over the past few days how huge this city actually is, but being right here in the middle of everything just reinforces that truth. They skate along in the throngs of other people, which is part of the tourist experience, and honestly just makes it even better. Nando has seen this on TV so many times. He can’t believe he’s actually here. Pretty much everything about this weekend has been like some kind of dream situation where crazy things you imagine actually come true.

And speaking of dreams. He looks down to Quinn, and it’s, like, okay— cheesy, but the lights are all reflecting in his eyes, and he’s bundled in his scarf and peacoat, and he’s the prettiest thing Nando has ever seen. Including the giant tree. Including everything.

Quinn catches him looking. Of course he does. He smiles, rosy-cheeked and windblown, and hums, “What?”

“I love you,” Nando replies, and kisses him right in the middle of everything.

Quinn laughs out of the kiss. He stays tight on his arm, and somehow, they keep skating without falling. Nando thanks his hockey side for that.

“I love you, too,” Quinn replies, and his voice could block out all the noise of the whole city.

They’re the center of the world.

Sunday

Kiersey, NH

The whole way home to Kiersey, Quinn sleeps on Sebastián’s shoulder.

It’s unintentional, but peaceful all the same, dreams full of memories of the weekend. He gets into his seat at Grand Central Station, slumps against him, and wakes to his gentle nudging hours later, so they can change trains in Boston. The next ride is shorter, but he rests again anyways, and the gray November day is dimming outside the train windows when he opens his eyes at the Kiersey station.

They walk back to campus— it isn’t far. Sebastián is holding both of their bags, and Quinn is holding nothing but his arm. It’s chilly, but bundled up, it isn’t so bad. With this boy, Quinn is so very warm. By the time they round the corner onto Beech Street, lines of student houses with warm windows stretching down either side of the familiar road, the sun has gone down.

On the front steps, Quinn pulls his hands out and looks up to him. He hasn’t had his hearing aids on in over twenty-four hours, and it’s been the most liberating and lovely experience. Before they re-enter the chaos of the hockey house and he’ll have to put them in again, he wants to sign him one last thing.

Thank you for joining me, he says, once he has his gaze. I love you so much.

Sebastián smiles. He puts the bags down by the door, rests both hands on his shoulders, and kisses him gently. No wintry breeze could stop the warmth in Quinn’s chest.

When he’s pulled back, Sebastián replies, I’d join you anywhere. I love you, too.

Quinn beams at him, and with one more shared, quiet moment, Sebastián picks up the bags, and Quinn leans into the front door and pushes it open. Hey, people! he reads on Sebastián’s lips, no doubt a loud exclamation, as they cross the threshold together. We’re home!

Home, indeed. Quinn closes the door behind them, and the warm, familiar, slightly chaotic embrace of Beech Street welcomes them back.

#25 days of kiersey #quinn theatre hours #mini quinny #nandoooooooo #quindo #quinn and dwsa #that should be a tag on this blog #my writing #ficlet #nah this is a straight up fic #whatever #uhhh #what else #kiersey college #crickets #mel writes

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thenon-fictiondays · 4 years

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Tip for anyone with ADHD/generally bad time management skills and is thinking about starting college online in the fall

Don’t.

It’s hard enough adjusting to the new expectations, workload, and systems of college whether you just finished high school or are starting college after gap year(s). For me, and for a lot of people I know with ADHD, online classes are the literal devil. If I have an in person class on Tuesdays and Thursdays from noon to 2, I at least know when it’s a Tuesday or Thursday vs days that are not Tuesday or Thursday. I know when it’s noon on T/TR and when it’s just before noon or just after 2. I have a very specific, precise day and time in which I know something very specific is expected of me. I can build in routines around that very specific day and time that further ground my understanding of time.

With an online class, where there’s no specific, weekly obligation that I have to acknowledge like an in-person class, it is chaos. There are no laws. Time isn’t real. I don’t know if the class has been going on for 3 weeks or 2 months, I don’t know what the fuck day of the week it is, there’s a good chance I don’t even know what month it is. I realize I had an essay due yesterday at 11:59. I didn’t even realize yesterday happened. At the end of the semester, or what I think is the end of the semester, I’m burned out from rushing all my assignments, my grade is way lower than it should have been, and I learned absolutely none of the class material.

I’m not saying this is going to happen to you- maybe online classes will really be your thing, or maybe you’re way better at working around ADHD than I am- but if you know you struggle with keeping track of time and self-motivation, I strongly suggest holding off on taking classes until you can do so in person.

#if there are any incoming freshmen who have questions about online classes or how college works in general #you are welcome to pm me!#i've actually had a shitty college experience so i might not be the best guiding hand #but ya know....it's not easy to find info on what college is really like if ur mentally ill #adhd #time management #college advice #mental illness

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thedistantstorm · 5 years

Text

Come Together 02

Fandom: Destiny

Pairing: Devrim Kay/Marc

Warnings: ridiculous romancing, eventual smut

“A young city planner set his eyes on an older militiaman. He was unkempt and terribly forward. The militiaman had class. He wasn’t interested.”

“Clearly,” Marc tells their friends. “That’s why they decided to get married.”

(A story told in bits and pieces.)

Chapters: 01

He enters the office with an impressive swagger come Monday morning. Manages not to piss off Devrim, passing him on his way in without so much as a direct look. Marc could absolutely feel that coldwater gaze on his back, though. Good, he thought.

Devrim meets him for lunch, arriving at noon like clockwork. Marc makes another concession, already having his usual meal sitting there, waiting for him when he sets down his pack.

“What, no aioli? You’ve only been trying to get me to put it on everything for nearly a week now.”

“Hello to you, too,” Marc chirps, pulling the extra from his take-away container and holding it out between his index and middle fingers. “Knew I’d convert you eventually. Artisanal food is my specialty.”

“I didn’t know the City employed food-tasters,” Devrim sasses him. “Is that what they do in the Planning Office now?”

“Oh, of course,” He agrees, treating Devrim to an eye-roll that’s been stolen from his own playbook. “Who needs infrastructure?”

“You’re a monster. Who needs infrastructure, indeed.” He grumbles.

His reply begins with a laugh. “I’m kidding. I love infrastructure,” Marc leans in, his eyes on Devrim’s lips before flicking up to meet his intent gaze. He hopes it’s as heavy as it feels, flirtatious but not overwhelming.

“Is that so?”

Marc’s eyes light up. “It is.”

“What do you do in the City Planner’s office?”

He shrugs. “I fool around until someone gives me something to work with.”

“Like what?”

“Like the redesign of the Market District, or the Plaza, or the Consensus Hall.” Devrim leans in as Marc leans back, crossing his arms over his chest, giving Devrim a peek of the chest hair that peeks from his unbuttoned collar. His hazel eyes flash as he grins. “I’m an architect.” He clicks his tongue against his teeth, enunciating that final ‘t.’ “Lead architect, actually.”

Devrim shakes his head. “At your age?”

“Trust me,” His smile errs toward sheepish then, “My subordinates hate me.”

That earns him a laugh. No sarcasm, no irritated expressions. It’s glorious.

Marc cannot wait to get this man under him.

Devrim cancels their second ‘official’ date, that Thursday.

He’s managed to come down with a nasty cold, the bark of his cough making Marc wince as he sees him that morning. He receives a message on his tablet - having only just exchanging contact info on Tuesday.

>CO sent me home sick. Afraid we’ll have to reschedule.

Marc takes one look at the message and scoffs. Instead of going home to change into something a bit more date-worthy after work - well, now going home to mope over cancelled plans, technically - he heads to the market for supplies and directly to the address Devrim had scribbled on that napkin he definitely isn’t keeping in a box atop his dresser since he's already memorized it.

Of course the other man lives on the upper, but as luck would have it, Devrim's neighbor lets him in without him having to use the outside buzzer. For the best, since he wasn't really sure what he was working with and grabbed a little bit of everything.

He only sets one of the three heavy bags down outside the door, preferring to do so rather than bash his produce against the wall beside it. There's some rustling from inside the flat - thin walls, he catalogs for later - and then the door opens a crack.

Red eyes, feverish cheeks, pink nose… no doubt about it. Devrim is sick as a dog.

"Did I - I swore I sent you a message saying I had to cancel," Devrim says, his voice hoarse but no less rugged or handsome.

Marc turns on his most charming of smiles. "You did. Thought I'd come-"

"I'm not dressed."

The door closes immediately in his face.

Undeterred, Marc knocks again. More insistently than before.

Devrim throws the door open a little more, just in time for Marc to catch his attire.

"WHAT," He snips, irritated. Genuinely so.

"You're in pajamas. And a robe." Marc's eyes don't leave Devrim's face for once, and his smile fades into something less put-on and more genuine. Affection bleeds into his voice as he teases, "You're plenty decent. Let a man cook for you."

Whatever comes out of his mouth is more grumble than actual words, but he's allowed entry. Even if he knows it's mostly due to Devrim wanting to lay back down. Devrim waves him in the general direction of the kitchen - sparse, but expansive - and he sets the bags down before he returns to what's clearly a living room. Surely if it has been any other time and the other man not been sick, he'd have been given a tour.

But instead, Devrim is reclined on a chair, though it's clear he'd been laying on the sofa based on the blanket and box of tissues there.

He opts for transparency. "Figured you wouldn't be up anything crazy, so I'm making chicken soup. I'll force you into trying something new when you can actually taste it."

Devrim casts him a tired glance, as if silently willing him to get on with it.

"And lay on the couch, would you? I'm not about to make a pass at you while you're sick. I'm not that trashy."

"Is that so?" He coughs into his elbow, and cuts his momentum in half. He doesn't manage to spin it into an eloquent insult.

"I'll be in the kitchen," Marc says, pressing cool fingers against Devrim's forehead as he passes. He's burning up. Maybe he should have grabbed some cold medicine. "It'll take a bit, so let me know if you need anything."

He wakes in the middle of the night with a gasp. He's still on the couch, which explains why he's so stiff. Only the light over the kitchen stove is on, casting a sliver of light into the living room, enough to see the reflection of a glass of water he definitely did not set out for himself on the coffee table. He knows this because he would have used a coaster.

Beside it is a scrap of paper.

Soup in fridge. Feel better.

-M

He sags back against the cushions, listening carefully. He barely remembers Marc showing up, he'd been so out of it, but he remembers that the other man had brought groceries. After a moment of intense scrutiny he determines that unless his senses are failing, he's definitely alone in the apartment.

Groaning, he rises, taking the cup of water with him and drinking his fill before forcing himself to see what force of nature has wrecked his kitchen.

What he finds surprises him. Whatever dishes he'd used are sitting in the rack, his cutting board cleaned and replaced on the hook near the range. Even the garbage has been emptied. It's as if he'd never been there in the first place.

"Well I'll be," He marvels aloud. He opens the refrigerator to find a large stockpot of soup, proof that Devrim needs a better array of storage containers and that Marc was not joking.

He searches for a ladle in the drawers, only to discover it and a single place setting laid out on the counter beside the refrigerator. Shaking his head, the sick militiaman takes his time reheating the bowl.

It might be mean, but he's glad Marc is long gone when he tries it. He might be sick, and his sense of taste might be lacking, but the soup is out of this world.

Marc isn't surprised to see someone else standing at Devrim's post the next morning.

What he is surprised to see, however, is the lush bouquet of cream-colored roses delivered to his office while he's out at his ten o'clock meeting. He does not want to imagine what Devrim paid for same-day delivery. Assuming they're from Devrim.

At least, he really hopes they're from Devrim. Cream roses are a rather traditional flower of gratitude. Seems his style.

He waits until his nosy co-workers buzz off, slipping the card into his suit jacket to prevent them from asking. Which they do. Surprise flowers are the most exciting thing to happen in the planning office since his secretary adopted a dog. Which was cute, but the event has come and gone and Marc would be more invested if it was a cat and not some yappy little thing the woman keeps insisting upon bringing to the office.

When the anticipation feels like it’s literally killing him, he very covertly removes the small envelope and opens the card, which has an elegant scroll of ‘Thanks’ embossed on the front of it.

Inside, it’s blank.

It’s from Devrim alright.

His tablet buzzes around the time he’d go for lunch. Which, without anyone to meet, there’s no point, so he grabs another coffee and tries to get ahead on a proposal that has to go in front of the Consensus next week. It’s always extra brownie points if he gets it in early to Zavala.

Marc nearly forgets that he’s missed a message, he’s so in the zone. More than likely it’s from his secretary, who will insist on bringing him something to eat even though he’ll stop for something on the way home.

The reminder buzz interrupts his double check of a materials analysis.

>Take away? Assuming you and your new secret admirer don’t have plans.

Marc grins.

<I’ll see you in a few hours.

#destiny fanfiction #devrim kay #devrim x marc #devrim kay/marc #devrim's marc #destiny marc #i don't know how to tag him bungo can a girl get his last name please #making soup for a sick so #this fic is going to have so many tropes #i regret nothing

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eye-zen · 4 years

Text

SILENE

The sun blended with the bright blue sky like an ornament. Waves crashed on the beach, bringing with it small stones from the sea and sand that became buried between her toes. An ocean breeze opened her nasal passages and a gust of sea salt covered her inhale, The white sandy beach was empty and serene as if she were the only human left on earth. For that moment, I’m sure she wouldn’t have minded if that were true. Using her right pointer finger she drew in the sand, writing, “Where Am I Right Now ? “ As she finished writing, a wave swept along the beach erasing her words.

*TIK TOK TIK TOK TIK TOK TIK TOK TIK TOK”

Her hand was balled up in a fist resting on her right cheek,reluctantly holding her head up. She looked at the clock across the room as it read 8:07 am. The sound of the clock was the loudest thing in the empty office. Echoing a constant reminder that this would be her serene beach for the next 8 hours or 28,800 tik toks to be exact. Her desk was covered in a mound of paper that would be better suited for a beach bonfire but….who wants to get fired on a Friday.

Usually she sat at her desk diligently doing her work and occasionally looking out the window. Daydreaming about staring out of a plane or reading a novel under a palm tree. Her daydreaming at moments felt so real that she became upset whenever she “snapped back to reality”. Wishing one day that her eyes opened and the image of what she imagined would not escape her brown eyes.

She finished her tasks just before noon with a wearisome four hours remaining to the end of her shift. Opening her laptop she exited out of the work programs and logged on to the internet.

Searching google, she typed the question “How Do you lucid dream ? “ An array of images and articles flooded the screen with many directions and tips for lucid dreaming. She clicked through at least 6 pages of tips before the alarm on her phone went off signaling the beginning of lunch. Reaching in her tote, she retrieved a black plastic bag with a bowl of yesterday’s dinner. It was still warm from this morning as she heated it up before leaving the house. Sitting at her desk and eating she continued to look through the many articles and images. There were thousands of people with advice but who was right ?

As she continued browsing…her phone vibrated from a text message…

You’re right, The world has finally gone crazy lol…

Yes, I know lol…

If there was a off button to make everyone STFU I would like to push it..

Lol well I think there is. It’s called Wifi and Tv.

Lol wow, I think you’re right. I’m literally witnessing people go crazy. Just from watching the news on TV and self proclaimed scientists, politicians, and news reporters on social media.

Lol yea i see. Well today I was spared from those at work but well see how the rest of the day goes.

.Lol right, Well what are you doing later ?

I’m not sure yet. No plans, just going home and relaxing, maybe go to the beach.

Ok cool, The beach ? what beach are you going too.

None smh..lol I wish though, Have to speak things into existence.

Yes! You’re right about that. I’ll speak to you later.

Okay…

Time after lunch went relatively quickly. She read enough about dreams to receive her bachelor’s degree and doodled enough to fill a whole children’s book. The clock read 3:50 pm. She thought to herself, 10 more minutes until I’m free. She began cleaning her desk and organizing the folders back accordingly. There was a pile of papers of doodles accumulated from the day. She began throwing them away in the trash. One drawing in particular captured her attention so she decided to keep it. Folding it neatly and placing it in a small zippered compartment on her bag. After a final check of her desk she stood up and left the office.

On the way home she stopped at the grocery store and ran a couple of errands. Once she entered her front door a sigh of relief hit her like falling on a thick pile of feathers.

She placed her groceries on the kitchen counter and washed her hands. Sat down in the chair and answered an incoming text message.

Hey, do you still want to go to the beach ?

what ? I mean yea but when ? I know you don’t mean now.

Sure..yes, now..sooo do you still want to go ?

Do you see what time it is

Yes, I know. We have all the time in the world.

Lol ok. If you say so…

She unpacked her groceries then walked to her bedroom. After undressing then headed to the shower. Bathing herself with a sweet lavender soap that washed off the filth of the day. Following her shower she went back to her bedroom and threw herself on the bed. There, she laid and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. The black oscillating fan dried her off and swayed her curtains back and forth. Her bag lay at the side of the bed, she rolled over, unzipped a pocket and pulled out the drawing she kept from work. It was a drawing of a beach. There was a full moon that shone bright in the night sky leaving a streak of glistening water in the sea. On the beach was a small bonfire pit and a few feet away from that was a large blanket just under a leaning palm tree. She stared at the drawing for a few minutes before placing it on the nightstand near her bed. After a few deep breaths she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

*ATTENTION ALL PASSENGERS, FLIGHT NUMBER 1135 WILL BE BOARDING IN 15 MINUTES. PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO GATE 7 AND PREPARE TO BOARD YOUR FLIGHT*

The airport was hardly crowded. It was a Tuesday afternoon with a slight overcast. A few people could be seen stretched out on airport chairs awaiting their flight as a few other gates began boarding. Two or three airport workers were canvassing the terminal wiping down seats and searching for trash on the floor. She had a bag of chips that were almost finished and a bottle of water she used to wash it down, Her black sweatpants and hoodie had managed to accumulate a few crumbs. With her phone in her lap she used her pinkie finger to swipe through music switching from song to song.

After finishing the bag of chips she wiped her hand with a paper towel and made her way to the bathroom and back to the boarding gate. Passport and ticket in hand she passed through the gate and walked down the long corridor to the plane. The flight was relatively empty. When she boarded the plane and sat down there were plenty of seats unoccupied. She was assigned to the middle seat in her row. After 15 minutes there seemed to be no one else coming so she moved to the window seat and placed her bag in the seat next to her.

*THANK YOU FOR BOARDING FLIGHT 1135 , PLEASE BE SEATED, FASTEN YOUR SEAT BELT AND PREPARE FOR TAKEOFF*

As the flight attendant began giving the flight instructions she turned her phone on airplane mode and put the playlist on shuffle. The plane began making its way up the airstrip and increased in speed. The plane’s engine began roaring as her back pressed firmly against the seat. Within seconds the slowly began ascending off the ground and towards the sun. She opened the window cover and was now adjacent with the clouds.

*GOOD AFTERNOON LADIES AND GENTLEMEN THIS IS YOUR CAPTAIN SPEAKING. WE WILL BE CLIMBING TO 30,000 FEET. PLEASE REMAIN SEATED UNTIL WE REACH THAT ALTITUDE. THIS FLIGHT IS SCHEDULED TO TAKE 5 HOURS. THE WEATHER IS PRETTY CLEAR UP HERE SO WE EXPECT A SMOOTH RIDE. SIT BACK RELAX AND THANK YOU FOR FLYING WITH US.

*BUZZZ BUZZZ BUZZZ*

The phone vibrated the bed but it was nowhere in sight. With eyes still closed she felt around for it until it stopped vibrating. The fan was still spinning like propellers and had moved the curtain just enough to see out the window. The sun was down but the last bit of light created a purple hue in the sky covered by fresh white clouds. She rolled over and the phone was just under her left leg. When she looked at it, it read…

DO YOU STILL WANT TO GO TO THE BEACH ?

SURE, WHY NOT…

OK MEET ME AT MY HOUSE IN 50 MINUTES…

OK..

She laid in bed for a few minutes before heading to the kitchen for a drink. While she was in there, she grabbed a bottle of water and walked back to the bedroom. Sitting on the edge of her bed she browsed through her phone for a few minutes before preparing to go out.

I AM ON MY WAY..WILL BE THERE IN ABOUT 7 MINUTES.

OK…..WHEN YOU GET HERE JUST OPEN THE GATE AND COME IN.

OK…COOL

The sky was black as tar and the stars painted trails across its surface. The moon was full and occasionally blanketed by passing clouds. There was a slight breeze, warm enough to wear shorts but cool enough for a long sleeve shirt or hoodie. As she approached the black gate, insects could be heard speaking in the bush and dogs barking in the distance. She opened the gate as it squealed and closed it gently behind her. Immediately a hammock caught her attention hanging just under the house. She laid her bag down on a nearby chair and sat in the hammock. As she sat down he exited the front door of the house with two cups in hand.

WHAT’S UP…I HOPE YOU AREN’T ALLERGIC TO NUTS.

NO, I’M NOT.

OK COOL…WELL I MADE A SMOOTHIE. IT HAS BANANA, NUTMEG, PEANUT BUTTER, HONEY AND DATES

UHhhh…..SOUNDS INTERESTING…

JUST TRY IT….

OK.

She took a sip of the smoothie and didn’t die so she began drinking some more.

OK, SO IT’S NOT THAT BAD

LOL OK COOL

Yea SO WHAT BEACH ARE WE GOING TO THIS TIME OF NIGHT.

WELL WE HAVE TIME, BE THERE IN A MINUTE.

They both sat there and drank their smoothies until finished. Talking and discussing their days and plans for the weekend.

WELL I KNOW YOU HAD A LONG WEEK…

HOW WOULD YOU KNOW THAT ?

BECAUSE YOU HAVE A JOB..DOESN’T IT COME WITH THE TERRITORY

WELL IN MY CASE I CAN’T ARGUE WITH THAT..

SO I WANT TO HELP YOU WIND DOWN AND RELAX

OK…HELP LIKE WHAT ?

He walks back in the house for a few minutes and comes back out with a small bag.

OK…SO…THIS IS WHAT I LIKE TO CALL A DREAM KIT.

Lol ok….A DREAM KIT ? You just got weird on me,,

LOL NAH JUST TRUST ME.

He reaches into the bag and pulls out a bottle of lavender oil, diffuser , and Shea. He placed each item on the table just left of the hammock.

JUST RELAX…LAY BACK AND TAKE DEEP BREATHS.

He picks up his phone and turns on a sound of waves, similar to the sounds at a beach.

OK…WOW SO IS THIS YOUR BEACH….SMH

He then puts lavender into the diffuser, letting out a warm scent of lavender that complimented the brisk night air. As she takes deeper breaths her body relaxes more and she falls deeper into the hammock. He grabs a piece of shea from the small container then puts a flame to it. The shea begins to melt in his hand and spreads across his palms. He then picks up the bottle of lavender oil and puts a drop in his hand along with the shea. Rubbing his hands quickly together he creates heat and then grabs her foot. Firmly squeezing until the heat transferred from his hand to her feet. She takes an even deeper breath and inhales the soothing lavender air. He began firmly pressing on her feet inch by inch removing the tension as the stress began escaping with each press. A few minutes had gone by as she laid in silence and gently moaning from the massage.

ARE YOU OK ?

She replied…Yes.

OK, well I need you to do one thing for me.

What is that ?

I need you to continue breathing slowly and deeply. Focus on your inhale and your exhales. Synchronize your breaths with the sound of the waves.

OK, and then what ?

WITH EVERY INHALE THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU WANT AND WITH EVERY EXHALE DISPEL ALL NEGATIVE THOUGHTS.

OK…

Her body temperature began rising and her breaths got deeper and deeper. After a final exhale her body got a tingling sensation and everything went black. When she blinked her eyes she looked up at the moon and its mesmerizing presence. As she continued gazing at the moon she could hear the waves crashing in the background. Her eyes slowly panned until she was staring at the sea. In disbelief she looked around and realized she was on the beach. The hammock was now a large quilt and it was under a palm tree instead of the house. A few feet to the left of her was a small bonfire with crackling wood. She stood up and started walking towards the water. A wave washed her feet and removed all of the sand, only to put more in between her toes. She began walking up the beach, feet sinking deep into the sand with every step. She walked towards the moon which was so large it felt as though she could grab it.

HEY ! ….you couldn’t hear me ?

Huh…um no. No, I couldn’t hear anything.

Dam,Yea you was knocked out for a couple of hours.

At that moment an alarm goes off..

*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*

Oh No not again… SMH

Not again what… What’s wrong ?

Don’t tell me this is another D…

Yes…….it’s another Dinner. That’s the alarm for dinner at the restaurant on the beach. Did you not like the food last time ?

She turns around and sees a trail of lights and hears the faint sound of laughter, music, and forks clanking against plates.

No, It’s ok, Lets go

We have to be there in 20 minutes. Let’s try to make it on time today,

They both started walking on the beach towards their belongings.

Wow..i Just had the weirdest dream. Felt like I was there……

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