#( it's going to be 37 degrees tomorrow and the day after )

[shrineofprophecy]

"This is why I'm more active in dark places... My fur is turning all frizzy."

[pumpkinhcad]

GET TO KNOW ABC'S: MUN EDITION.

A. AGE: Turning 27-years-old next month!

B. BIRTHPLACE: Somewhere in north Spain.

C. CURRENT TIME: 6:13Pm

D. DRINK YOU HAD LAST: Water, it's what I usually have during my break.

E. EASIEST PERSON(S) TO TALK TO: Probably my mom, and some of my non-RP friends and mutuals. Lately I've barely spoken to anyone tho' lol, I haven't been doing too how socially lately, sorry I'm lame like that.

F. FAVORITE CURRENT SONG(S): Found Footage by ■37. I can't stop putting it on repeat when I'm doing anything that doesn't involve writing.

G. GOALS: Keep this blog alive until SM7 releases is my main priority.

H. HORROR YES OR HORROR NO: Oh, the irony... I think I've said this before but I'm not a horror person. Like I'll watch a horror movie with friends on VC, or watch a playthrough of a horror game, but it has to be on my own terms. I don't like playing or watching stuff by myself, and that especially applies to horror (because I'm skittish, whoops).

I. IN LOVE?: Nope. It has never crossed my mind. Tho', sometimes I will ponder whether I'd hypothetically date X or Y person or not. I do have (1) fictional husband, but it took me like 20+ years to actually get one lmao.

J. JEALOUS OF PEOPLE: Yeah, it's definitely one of the reasons I feel insecure sometimes. I feel bad when I cannot post consistently enough, or play games well enough (because I'm painfully mid at everything), very general stuff.

K. KILLED SOMEONE: In videogames, yeah. Maybe I've killed a person or two through my writing, but it's been a while.

L. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT OR SHOULD I WALK BY AGAIN?: I've never fallen in love, so I can't say I believe in love at first sight IRL. In fiction, tho', I think the trope can be cute (one of my older muses' main ship, which is also canon, was the product of love at first sight).

M. MIDDLE NAME: I don't have a middle name because Spaniards have two (2) ✌️ last names. My first last name (lol) is very unique, tho', so I won't reveal it.

N. NUMBER OF SIBLINGS: None (in my mom's words, "one was enough"). But, as a fun fact I guess, I'm the youngest out of my cousins on my father's side and a middle child out of my mother's.

O. ONE WISH: "God, I hope tomorrow is better" - me literally every day only to go to sleep the same way the next day.

Q. QUESTIONS YOU'RE ALWAYS ASKED: My RP mutuals keep asking me "you're angel, you know that, right?" or "does Pump know he's the most important boy in the world?" and I'm always like HHHHH YA'LL ARE TOO NICE!! And, I guess, amongst my non-RP friends, "um, the stream is down??" is a running gag (because sometimes I need to restart Discord if I wanna continue streaming a game or talk without it cutting off).

S. SONG YOU LAST SANG: No Wind Resistance by Kinneret. I'm surprised I remember still, but some lyrics just stick to me.

T. TOP 3 FICTIONAL CHARACTERS: Oh boy, this is why I have a Favorite Character Bingo, I can't just choose three! Though, obviously, Pump is up there somewhere. Like he's MY adopted son, has been for years, and will likely never NOT be my son, so he's practically one of my staple favorite characters. If I had to choose two other staples, in no particular order?? Doraemon and Pip from South Park, no questions asked.

U. UNEXPERIENCED OR EXPERIENCED WRITER: I'm inclining more towards experienced?? After all, I have a master's degree in English literature and writing, and academically-speaking I have always been more proud of my written work than whatever results I've ever gotten in tests. Not to mention, I've technically been RPing for over a decade at this point.

V. VACTION: I haven't gone on vacation in the last couple of years because of money, tbh. More often than not, I go on single-day trips with my mom and, last time, we went to Burgos to see the Sad Hill Cemetery of movie fame! This year, tho', I'm going to visit one of my college buddies for a whole week, and I'll be staying at his house and meet his friends and stuff.

W. WHEN'S YOUR BIRTHDAY: August 4th! Less than a month left!

X. X-RAYS: Oh yeah, I've had them before for dental work (three of my wisdom teeth have been extracted for various reasons). I believe I've also had them when I had a tendinitis on my left wrist (which is ironic because, well, I'm right-handed, whoops!).

Y. YOUR FAVORITE FOOD: Oh man, that's a difficult one. It's either bread (any bread, I just can't have enough of it) or Spanish omelet (or eggs in general, egg days are the best days). Though... definitely inclining towards bread more because it's something I buy and eat every day.

Z. ZODIAC SIGN: Leo (and I think it shows lmao).

tagged by: Nobody! I actually stole this one hehe. tagging: YOU should do it if you haven't already.

[charlesandmartine]

Tuesday 10th December 2024

Reluctantly, we left, heels dragging, Dingo Beach this morning. The accommodation was fine and comfortable, but the location was gorgeous. I could live there tomorrow. The people were friendly and to sit having a beer on the beach, turtles doing backstroke and waving as they passed, fish jumping with a little wink, as it got dark each evening was absolutely out of this world.

We have now progressed southward down the Bruce Highway, and our first stop was Proserpine, a town like many in this area built on the sugar industry. Its skyline was dominated by the refinery and, no doubt a significant employer. George Elphinstone Dalrymple named the Proserpine River on an expedition in 1859. Proserpine derives from the legend of the Greek goddess Persephone (whose Latin name is Proserpine). The British moved in in 1860, pretty much straight away, really. The Crystal Brook Sugar Company was formed in 1882 and established a sugar industry in the region a year later. Since then, it has developed into a major industry in the region. We drove 125 km to firstly a small town called Marian and then on to Finch Hatton and it was sugar cane all the way, with their little narrow gauge cane trains weaving across the road networks, first alongside the roads and then through fields, trucks filled with produce.

Marian was a pleasant little town named Marian after the town station, which in turn was named after a local large house called Mary Ann.

The town's other claim to fame, apart obviously the sugar refinery, was the Soprano operatic singer Helen Porter Mitchell, (1861-1931), who later became known as Dame Nellie Melba, taking the name from her home town of Melbourne. Well, no doubt she had a good set of pipes, but I don't have any of her CDs.

We are now ensconced for the next 3 nights in a truly lovely old property, the Old Post Office. Finch Hatton is set close to various National Parks, one famous for platypus around here and also close to the mountains with Dalrymple Heights featuring quite well. The town certainly by first impressions is extremely fetching, and despite us occupying a post office, a replacement thankfully was provided further down the street. Shame really because I rather fancied using a big rubber stamp and sorting postal orders.

The visit in Marian earlier to Woolworths ensured the store cupboard is fully refurbished with rubbery chicken and SB. The great offer on the Banrock SB, 33% extra free, is still on, and the cellars are now well stocked.

A short walk around the town familiarised ourselves with the facilities and we were able to bore witless one or two locals vis-a-vis our travels so far. They look interested for 5 minutes or so, then they glaze over and mutter, sounds like you've been more places than most Australians! This is causing real problems for us now. Magnetic Island was fabulous, Dingo Beach, terrific, and now Finch Hatton we find we love too. It is such a lovely little town, and we have already been invited to the Christmas bash tomorrow night! Decisions, eh?

ps. Temperatures sizzled today circa 37 degrees. The locals all seem to agree it's going to tip down over the next couple of days. Something to do with the wet season. They all look forward to it!

[spaciousreasoning]

Requiescat in pace, Francis

We are mourning the loss of Pope Francis today. I hope the new pope will have more humanity than our current president. Sadly, there are conservative powers in the Roman church that might seek to further complicate the world.

The temperature got down to 42 last night, and it topped out at 59 today. There were clouds most of the morning, then the skies cleared and the sun began to shine unobscured during the rest of the afternoon.

My blood sugar was 180 this morning. Down two points isn’t great, but it’s better than up two points. Or more.

After our coffee and Monday brain games, we both showered and got ready for the day. Just before 11 a.m., Nancy took off to get her hair cut. Then she picked up Kathleen and went to lunch at Pastini, after which Nancy drove her to the Eugene airport to fetch her friend’s car that had been dropped off when the friend and her spouse went out of town.

A little bit after noon, I went out for a walk, which including picking up a mocha. I went 2.17 miles in almost 44 minutes, for a total of 4,700 steps. I made it half-way down the block at the beginning before I realized I had forgotten cash for the mocha, so I had to go back and get it. I was listening to music on Spotify through my AirPods, though, so the walk seemed shorter, thanks to the accompaniment.

Once I was home, I swept the study, the hall and the kitchen. The cats tend to track litter all over the place, so it needs doing regularly. I volunteered to do it because Nancy’s hip hurts when she sweeps. Of course, almost as soon as I finished sweeping, more litter was being tracked across the floor. And dust bunnies seem to appear out of nowhere on a regular basis.

Nancy got home about 2 p.m., and the two of us went down for a nap. Neither of us had a particularly good night of sleep. Of course, naps are something we tend to enjoy every day, so it’s a good thing we are both retired and don’t have anything else to do in the afternoon on most days.

While doing social media scrolling after the nap, I came across a reference to Ethel Cain, a transgender singer-songwriter who is also autistic. I listened to a couple of songs from her album, “Preacher’s Daughter,” which was recently released on vinyl and has hit the top ten on Billboard’s 200 chart. I will be exploring more of the album, as well as her other works.

For dinner, Nancy and I heated up some leftovers. We had the coconut chicken and green beans from the other night and some chicken fettuccine from last week. It’s always best to finish off leftovers before they sit in the fridge long enough to go bad. We had the dark chocolate peanut butter cups for dessert.

Then we sat down to enjoy streamed entertainment for the evening. We began with the opening episode from the 11th series of “The Brokenwood Mysteries,” which just debuted this evening on AcornTV. Detective Shepherd and his team investigate when a devoted fan of the band Stolen Arrow falls to her death from a bell tower. The detectives dig into the band’s secrets and history to find the actual cause of the victim’s demise.

Next we watched the last episode in the current series of “The Chelsea Detective.” It does appear that it will be back for a fourth series, thankfully. In this show, a climate scientist is found dead in a stolen car’s trunk. As detectives Max and Layla investigate, they uncover possible links to his upcoming conference speech and a complex web of deception.

Both shows ran 90 minutes and were very well done.“Brokenwood” was also spiced, as usual, with a bit of comedic flavor.

Tomorrow promises to be another clear and sunny day, rising from an overnight low of 37 degrees to a high of 60. Other than my Tuesday men’s recovery meeting, nothing is on the schedule for the day. We shall see what else we might do to have a fun day.

[theorist-influencer-untitled]

11.19.24 Tuesday--- Oh! I wanna do craft! But we are so broke while thinking & waiting for a new job,again and waiting for him ( BF )....

12 am

Still,have windblow...

Yeah! This coming Wednesday is the 40th day of my friend Ely...His older sister Ate Eden invited me to attend Ely's 40th day of being dead. We will go to "Providence" they put him there, I'll just wait for her update by tomorrow night....

It is really a shocking thing for me... Whew! I just didn't know if Disney+is killing or wishing a negativity or simply a coincidence of situation.

Not Ohkay coz we don't have our own electric and we can't use the washing machine... One of the reasons I wanted to end up right away with my first cousin white on my Aunt Ten/Tin, coz of my super tight situation and not my ideal life. I know they are still somehow in middle-class and he should save me and I must be his favorite aside from I really like that cousin... He is my most-loved and most-favorite cousin....

Life has its own mystery,right? The first time I saw him, I wasn't that matured but I have a maturity of an adult but it was incomplete... Sometimes being too much matured is not good...I was too much matured with Brien that I wasn't happy, I don't know but he was my friend since high school. Yeah! He helped those days on money....We had have a financial ups and downs after college,after I had my depression and broken heart coz of Rocky...My maturity wasn't that complete until 2013 that I knew deep within me,that I was really a fully matured human being... After I read the entire bible...

Hmm....Supposed to be I planned to do blazing....I know he is my most-loved and most favorite cousin white on my Aunt Ten/Tin but still I wanna do the "I heard the rumuor thing" about him and his entire family....I just can't let go of the angry or my madness on him... Whenever I think of him adding a toppings on ice cream, I just can't accept it if he actually did it on our 2nd degree cousin... Do he did it? Did he do eat the ice cream without me??? Without my knowledge???!

8:26 am

Still,have windblow...

Thanks to Mr & Mrs Salarda...

For these... I'm so happy it is slimming coffee,they know I'm super broke...

I really,really like these coz it is "slimming Kohi"... Kohi is a japanese term for coffee...

I met Rosie in De La Salle, we were both a choir member in the church. Rosie is a Roman Catholic and I was a member of INC or Church Of Christ-- was & had or PAST!

Caramel Macchiato is a bit bitterish hahaha funny but the Melon Collagen is a winner coz it tastes like a real melon!!!

Wishing for more of these, angels...

8:37 am

Still,have windblow...

Rosie's mother is also in Japan in & out... We had a bit of same story... She and her hubby Ivan went to Japan from the past years and they went back here in the Philippines... Coz it is weird to go in Japan these days... Rosie's family is as well into a showbiz world mostly are singer's as well as the old character of my family here, a thousand years ago...

8:57 am

Still,have windblow...

Meet Cali the youngest baby of Rosie and Ivan... She gave birth a month ago...

A shitzu...

9:18 am

Still,have windblow...

Uncle Jun just simply dropped these black coffee... Huh? Simply a black coffee...

Thanks Uncle Jun...

Is there added creamer or sugar please???

10:31 am

Still,have windblow...

Is Jean with Mitch? Daughter of Ate Cha? They are not my friends but I just see them here in this village...

1:19 pm

Still,have windblow...

Whew! I'm still worrying thinking of money and job....Again,this is more than a couch potatoe, no choice but to sacrifice for now... I'm hurting, angels... Please Santa help me on money.

5:35 pm

Still,have windblow...

I love my cousin-white on my Aunt Ten/Tin... I hate this windblow trap....I wanna have a new circle... My old fakers friends are gone and fakers.

8:05 pm

Still,have windblow...

I feel biiterish... I'm really panicking... I'm not happy being just like this... I'm self-pitying and I feel jealous on things that I didn't know, that I must know...

My old fakers friends didn't like me to be around since 2007....

I feel bad,where can I find my cousin-white on my Aunt Ten/Tin, I still feel angry on things that I don't know,that I must know as well...

I can't get a bf for 17 years and can't get my cousin or any youtubers... I feel so out of place...

I feel jealous that I don't know why.....I feel angry...

[interitioxx]

It was hard to explain to someone who was not a researcher exactly why Nelle was still staring at her computer screen at such a late hour while watching microscopic organisms drift across her screen. Still, for Nelle Garnett, the sight was fascinating. Usually, when fungal cells encountered deceased organic material, they would secrete an enzyme to break down the organism into simpler substances, but this fungi did the same when it encountered living organic cells. What was usually a transition from death into nutrition instead had the makings of a hostile takeover and the fungus did not require nearly the amount of time of other fungi species; more importantly, this fungi had adapted to extreme heat. Most fungi in the old world could not survive over 98. 6 degrees Fahrenheit or 37 degrees celsius, but this fungus grew more voracious as the temperature increased. Nelle had no practical use for her pet project, not yet, but science was about discovery.

She was still staring at her screen when she heard the familiar tapping of Dr. Estrada's cane. Fixing her hair and quickly shuffling her workspace into some semblance of organization, she spun around and smiled in return. "I remember the quote sir. You used it in a talk you gave when I first started here. It has been a helpful one for long nights like these. Speaking of sir, did you want some coffee. I brought my percolator with me. The caffeine is a bit of a bad habit, I know, but the smell keeps me going." She was probably speaking too fast, but it wasn't every day a scientist got to speak with her professional idol. She had already been over the moon that her team had been picked to look at blood samples. "Yes sir, we looked at them shortly after we received them and noticed some interesting growth patterns in the mutated cells, an abnormal growth and decay rate. We wanted to look at them tomorrow to confirm and make sure that it was a consistent observation before we presented it." After all, there was not one of them who wished to give something half-baked to the doctor.

When he asked about her work on the screen, though, Nelle lit up, her eyes widening with excitement. "It's a fungus sir, but it seems to prefer living tissue to deceased tissue and it's adapted to be heat resistant. Actually, it almost seems to prefer the heat. Would you like to take a look?" Nelle stepped back and bit her lip, worried that the doctor might feel that she had been wasting her time and efforts. Even so, she was sure that there would be some use for the fungus down the line.

who : nelle garnett ( @interitioxx ) where : afterglow research labs when : april, late night

the silence that settles over the afterglow research laboratory at this hour is a familiar one ; nearly everyone with any sort of sense ( or self-worth ) has long since retired to the compound's numerous residential facilities, leaving behind a sea of empty desks illuminated only by the occasional glow of a lone computer screen or desk lamp. from his office, dr. felix estrada has watched the lights grow dimmer with each passing hour as, one by one, his team of scientists and researchers call it a night.

of course, dr. estrada has no intentions of abandoning his work so early ; it is not uncommon to find afterglow's chief medical officer working well into the early hours of morning. ( it need not be said most of his private research is conducted after hours, only with the confidence that the building — and therefore his experiments — are secure. ) he has no idea the hour when he finally rises from his desk — not to leave, no, but to seek out the caffeination required to stave off the stinging behind his eyes and allow him a few more hours' work before he himself retires.

there's a small break room just down the hall from his office and felix has his focus fixed on a strong, dark brew when he notices a silhouette bent over a desk and he lifts a brow, his pursuit of coffee momentarily paused. the click of his cane against the cold tile floor announces her approach to his desk several seconds before he appears and felix offers the young woman a warm smile ( he's had many years to practice! ) as he peers over her shoulder at the monitor she studying meticulously.

❝ burning the midnight oil, ms. garnett? ❞ a rhetorical inquiry, of course. ❝ nothing ever comes to one, that is worth having, except as a result of hard work. calvin coolidge, i believe it was. ❞ the quote is recited easily, intended as praise. her own efforts do not go unnoticed. ❝ and, on the subject, have you had a chance yet to look over the samples i sent to the lab this morning? ❞ blood samples, they were, from another round of mutated humans rounded up by the eaa's organized efforts. ❝ never the matter if you've not. patience is a virtue i've been meaning to practice more of. ❞ his gaze flickers back to her screen. ❝ what is it you're working on now? ❞

[un-nonymous]

4:33, still at it. Will this be an all-nighter? Just for not being sleepies?? That would be so stupid, but it might be. (My alarm is set for 5:30am tomorrow/most workdays, and would you believe I hit snooze for like an hour, every fucking day, and Matt still wants to marry me??)

My nose will not stop leaking and I can’t figure it out. It’s really bad. I have Kleenex just stuck up there, I’m coughing, my eyes are watering too. I am a vision right now.

My phone just alerted me to ask how rested I felt when waking up today. Cruel and unusual.

I also meant to post this photo in my last post but I can’t figure out how to replace, also why not just do a second one anyway? Yes we have better pictures but those aren’t for blogs, they’re for aunts and uncles. We are considering “”””engagement photos”””” but we’re in our mid/late 30s and we’re so awkward, you guys. I’d want to find a coach to help me learn how to pose and smile and not hate the outcome. I’m 37, it’s fine. My face here is not ideal and would you believe this is a Walmart bathroom? Anyway, that’s what I look like as a fiancée who drove for 7 hours straight (15 total) and braved the Iowan highways in an early snowstorm after the sun went down just to see our goofy families and celebrate with them and I guess talk about Christmas a bit too.

Welcome (back) to my blog where I write about the tissues stuck up my nose and complain about my face in the same selfie pose I’ve been using for as long as I surrendered to the concept of a camera phone.

I’m going to go take a nap on the couch before I *actually* have to get up for work. It’s 700 degrees cooler down there. I expect to have the best 42-minute sleep of my life and will definitely not wake up in a terrible mood. Tomorrow will not suck at all.

[wonderfulspells-122003]

An introduction & what the Pink Moon means to me.

Hello, how’re you all doing today? Please call me ‘W.S’ or just ‘W’ as I don’t wish to give my name out online. I am a… relatively young practitioner; I’d say. You can check my bio for my age and how long I’ve been practicing. But anyways, here’s a little bit more about me; astrology wise.

My Sun sign is Sagittarius, which is also in my second house. My Moon sign is in Scorpio, which is in my twelfth house, and my Ascendent is also in Scorpio, but that’s in my first house.

If anyone is interested in me going into more detail about what I just said, please like and/or reblog this post; or comment/ask me to go over it. Whatever works, really.

I’m not really sure what else to put here, so here’s what the Pink Moon means to me.

Okay, so; the Pink Moon is arriving at 12:37 a.m. EST on April 6. Which is tomorrow morning if you’re also in the US. The first full moon of spring has the chance to heal us, and those around us — but growth comes with its challenges. As the full moon in Libra lights up the sky, we’ll take notice of what we need to do in order to improve our circumstances and relationships.

And it’s actually nicknamed the Pink Moon because of the wild pink flowers that bloom with spring. This specific lunation is often associated with rebirth, renewal and newness. After a long winter, we're getting a glimpse of the beauty the season brings, welcoming the sunshine back into our lives (and our hearts). 

And since this is technically Aries season, this full moon in Libra so, with any luck, its energy will help us balance out Aries' bold spirit with Libra's relationship-minded energy during this exciting time of year.

And another thing to note: On April 11, Venus and Pluto will make a trine, and the sun and Jupiter unite in the same sign, Aries. This is the luckiest day of the year!

But before we get there, we have to go through the full moon. The full moon falls within the via combusta, from 15 degrees Libra to 15 degrees Scorpio. It's known as the fiery path, and it adds some intensity to the full moon. You might see people dig their heels into the ground more.

Chiron is a small solar system body, per NASA, that also represents the healer of the zodiac. It's opposing the moon at this time, which can add a healing energy to the mix.

Okay, that’s all I have to say, have a good day.

[blue-boba]

Mafia’s Soulmate❤ (Jeon Jungkook ff) Mafia AU! Pt.1

Pt.2

This is pure fiction. This has nothing to do with real-life whatsoever. This is just for entertainment purposes. I am not showing my hatred towards the idols I use as the “villains” in this story, I love them & I just use random idols. I don’t have ANY hatred towards them whatsoever. 

In this world, on your 21st birthday, you get your soulmate’s first words on your arm. You were excited because tomorrow was your 21st birthday! Knowing that there is someone out there JUST for you sounds so sweet and perfect right? WRONG! Even the sweetest things have a bitter side for them. This is not a fairy tale that everyone gets “happily ever afters”, this is real life. Some lucky people find their soulmates quickly and actually live happily ever after. But some don’t. Some people never find their soulmate and just end up all alone, some find their soulmate, but either their relationship doesn’t work out or their partner doesn’t want to be with them from the beginning. And some don’t believe in soulmates at all. Even though you knew these conditions; and some also happened to some people you know, you were still excited. But little did you or a particular person sitting in the living room of his house on the other side of Seoul know that both your lives were going to change tomorrow.........

Y/N POV:

Laying on your bed, wide awake cause you can’t fall asleep, you started at your alarm clock; 2:37, it read. You tossed & turned trying to fall asleep. But it was no use. You got up & made your way towards your kitchen to make yourself some tea to help you sleep. You stood on the balcony sipping your tea, the cool breeze flowing through your hair. You looked over the beautiful busy city in front of you, Seoul. 

You had moved here a few years ago because you got a college scholarship to Seoul National University to study literature. You were currently working on receiving your MA (Master of Arts) degree. You moved here with your older sister, Jisoo. She didn’t live with you, she lived in Busan because of her work. She works as the secretary for the CEO of a fashion company. You worked part-time in a café near your university. You sighed remembering your sister. She was your only family left. Your mom died when you were 7 in an accident & your dad became an alcoholic after that & died of liver cancer. Now it was just the two of you. You looked up to the sky remembering your mom & dad. You smiled sadly remembering all your happy memories. You took a deep breath, *sigh* ”come on Y/N you know your parents won’t be happy if they saw you crying the day before your birthday.” you told yourself. You went back inside & decided to get some sleep. 

*BEEP* *BEEP* * BEEP*

“Happy Birthday to me!”, you exclaimed happily.

You got up switched off your alarm & went towards your bathroom to take a shower & get ready for the day.

While you were removing your clothes, you saw your soulmate’s mark on your arm. Your eyes got wide & you excitedly checked what was written on it. “Are you ok baby girl?” was what was written on your arm. Your brows furrowed in confusion “Is my soulmate a sugar daddy or something?” “well at least I won’t have any confusion finding my soulmate,” you thought. You shrugged off your thoughts & finished your morning routine. You got out & wore this

You made your way downstairs & made breakfast for yourself.

You sat down scrolling through your phone replying back to the birthday wishes you got from your sister & friends. After you were done you heard a knock on the door, it was Chaeryeong. She was your best friend & only friend. You were an introvert so you didn’t like social interaction much so you only had Chaeryeong as a friend, but you didn’t mind. You were grateful & happy that she was your friend.

“Hey birthday girl,” she said giving you a big hug. You hugged her back giggling, “hey”. “Let’s go?”, she asked, you nodded & headed out to her car. You both headed to the university.

You guys reached & headed inside. Chaeryeong was in your same class, both of you loved literature. “There are still 40 minutes before our first lecture starts. Do u want to go to the library?” Chaeryeong asked. “Sure!” you said.

Both of you sat down at a table together & started reading. 

*BELL RINGS*

Both of you got up, kept your books back to their original places & headed to class.

~Time Skip~

You were finished with your classes for the day & you guys were going home. “Hey! It’s your birthday today, let’s go to the club!” Chaeryeong exclaimed excitedly. Since it was the weekend & it was your birthday, you agreed to go. You guys headed back home to get ready. “I’ll pick you up at 8 be ready by then,”  Chaeryeong said. You nodded at getting in your house.

You took a warm shower & started getting ready.

You wore this:

Dress:

Shoes:

Hair:

Makeup:

Nails:

Purse:

“Wow!” you said looking at yourself in the mirror. Just then you got a call from Chaeryeong saying she’s outside. You quickly took your phone & made your way down. 

“Wow! You look hot!” Chaeryeong said making you laugh. You got in her car & she drove to the club.

After reaching the club & getting in, Chaeryeong went dancing while you went to get a drink. Suddenly you felt a hand on your waist, you flinched at the sudden touch & turned to see a man.

“Hi, gorgeous. My name is Kai.” “Hi my name is Y/N,” you said awkwardly. “Why is a pretty girl like you sitting all alone?” he asked, you were getting uncomfortable so you tried to leave. “Excuse me”, you said, “ where are you going?” he asked garbing your arm roughly. You tried to pull it out but he was holding it tightly. “Let me go!”, you said. “& let a sexy, pretty lady like you go? No way!”, he said dragging you to the back area, near the washroom, where not many people were. 

He pinned you on the wall & started harassing you. “Please let me go!”, you cried, but he didn’t let go & started kissing your neck while you’re tried to push him away. But since he was much bigger & stronger, you couldn’t push him off. You started crying knowing that no one would save you now.

??? POV

I was looking for my rival, Mr. Kwon Ji-young because he wanted to meet me to discuss an important deal. I don’t go to clubs that I don’t own, so I don’t know this place so I got lost & ended up in the back. Suddenly I heard a girl scream, I went & saw a guy touching a pretty girl inappropriately, I don’t know why, but I had a strange feeling inside of me & got angry. I hurriedly went to him and pulled him off the girl, I think he knew me because he looked at me scared, I smirked at him & he ran off. I turned to the girl, “are you, ok baby girl?”, I asked her. 

To be continued................

Hi! This is my first series & bts ff. It is also my first time writing mafia stuff so please bear with me. & I am once again saying THIS IS BASED ON MY IMAGINATION, NONE OF IT IS TRUE & I DO NOT HATE ANY OF THESE IDOLS IN REAL LIFE! My requests are always open & feel free to request or suggestion on how to improve my writing. Please share my blog with your friends & like if you enjoyed reading. Thank you!💜🙏

Masterlist

[tearsasmascara]

I posted 1,406 times in 2022

That's 1,406 more posts than 2021!

398 posts created (28%)

1,008 posts reblogged (72%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@xingqiusleftearring

@anotherteenageroninternet

@w4yf1nder

@ataraxyystories

@echo-at-the-pond

I tagged 889 of my posts in 2022

Only 37% of my posts had no tags

#[pages rustling] - 346 posts

#[bulletin board] - 190 posts

#[librarians rambles] - 97 posts

#[zee <;3] - 62 posts

#genshin impact x reader - 58 posts

#genshin impact - 51 posts

#[quinns favs <33] - 47 posts

#genshin x reader - 44 posts

#kazuha x reader - 29 posts

#[wren <;3] - 23 posts

Longest Tag: 88 characters

#also dw your works are hilarious i was in the process of rbing one when i saw this notif

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

slightly massive hallway crush—

genre: romantic fluff

relationships: heizou x shy!reader

synopsis: you have a small hallway crush on this attractive boy you see around the hallways, and you screw up the first opportunity you get to talk to him

cw: reader says a curse word

See the full post

135 notes - Posted September 4, 2022

#4

for your mutual requests !!!!! could you do like those military homecomings but its kazuha coming back after the vision hunt decree ? thank you so much for tagging me and for the request <3

ZEE !! hey oh my GOSH i’m so sorry this took forever. i was burnt out for a long time after i wrote my last fic, considering it lowkey flopped 😭😭 (this isn’t self advertisement SHKSH) also UGH WORK- but yeah you said you really liked this idea so i tried making it nice. i hope there’s no mistakes omg. IM SO SORRY IF THERE IS. again sorry for how long it took :((. i really hope you like it !! i might expand on this idea later too hehe. anyway love you so much dear. take care of yourself <33 enjoy!!

the vision hunt decree. the disease that plagued inzuma, hidden under the guise of law and order. it overtook all of inazuma, taking peoples treasures away from them.

for you, it took away your love.

ever since the decree started, kazuha fled from inazuma, from you, from the home and space you both ever so carefully constructed with love. in the process only leaving a small note on your bedside drawer.

the note carried with it small star shaped tear stains and heavy deep folds that signified the opening and refolding of the note countless times. that’s all you had of him. as you read about your lover going on the run to save his life, something pulled at your heart, pride for your lover and what he was doing but a deep grief for all you both had lost. each other. and more.

for a year, you would sneak out of the city to catch a glimpse of your lover, a soft touch on the cheek, a glimmer in your eyes as they met. but nothing more. you forgot how it felt to hear his voice and to melt into it, or to feel his lips pressing into your skin in the softest degree of affection. and you never knew if the day would come where you would once again feel his touch.

everyday without him made the yawning hole in your heart so much deeper, as if each day that passed, the grief that followed burrowed itself into that hole.

but the day did come. the vision hunt decree was lifted. kazuha never explicitly told you he’d be coming home, but you knew. you knew your kazuha would come to you as soon as he could, bringing the smell of sweet maple leaves and home.

he was your home.

a note appeared the next day. your eyes darted over neat elegant lettering, a soft smile coming to your lips.

“i’ll be home tomorrow. 8 am.”

at 7:50 am, you stepped out of your house, your heart bursting with excitement.

at 7:55 am, anxiety filled you as the clock slowly ticked forward, inching closer to the moment you were eagerly awaiting.

at 8:00, you looked around, a smile coming unbidden to your face, your heart feeling like it was going to burst.

at 8:05, a slight uneasiness filled you, as you shifted from one foot to another, shifting your weight as if you could shift your sorrow around.

at 8:30, you blinked away the tears in your eyes, willing your the hole in your heart not to grow larger.

at 10:00 am, you turned around, taking the first step back to your home, the first step back to a definite future without kazuha. soft tears slipped down your cheeks, leaving thin streams of sorrow down your face.

at 10:02 am, two warm arms wrapped around your torso, an out of breath voice hovering above your ear.

“i am so so sorry my dove. i was trying to get home but the ship hit a really rocky patch of sea and it was so horrible you cannot imagine-”

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148 notes - Posted October 26, 2022

#3

three am apologies—

genre ⤍ hurt/ comfort

relationships ⤍ heizou x gn!reader

warnings ⤍ neglect, crying, arguments

a/n ⤍ hi hi everyone!! okay first off the header T^T i couldn’t find a better one that fit. anyway this was a fic request from yuki (@seveninchesfrominsanity hii!!) that can be found here. its not completely what you asked so i’m so sorry but i still hope you like it. :((. anyway hope you enjoy!!

See the full post

360 notes - Posted September 24, 2022

#2

BESTIE??? ILYSM pls do xiao and scaramouche cafe au plsplspls idek why CUTE CAFE BARISTA??? GETTING STUCK NEXT TO THEM IN RUSH HOUR COS ALL OTHER SEATS ARE TAKEN??? YES!!!

BESTIE??? ILYT

so okay half your ask confused me so here’s what i did, i made it two parts. scaramouche is getting stuck next to him in rush hour and xiao xiao is cute cafe barista. is that okay hekdjdj?? also i did hcs and small drabble so :D i hope you like yes yes also shout out to hori cause i has no idea what a barista was. i’m not too proud of this so pls pls tell me if you like it :(( take care!!

scaramouche; getting stuck next to him in rush hour

- will stare at you in like discontent if you sit next to him

- but he’ll deal with it

- kind of,,,

- LOWKEY PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE LIKE

- “you couldn’t find any other seat?”

- LOUD. SIGHS.

- but you don’t give up talking to him cause you find him interesting

- he kind of is offhandish at first but gives in cause you say something interesting and he’s invested now

-ˋˏ———

a loud sigh interrupted the clacking of your keys, and your fingers stilled as you looked back up at the perpetrator.

“listen i don’t want to be stuck with you either okay?” you mumbled under your breath, half hoping he heard you.

he did.

“nobody asked you to sit here.” his words sliced through the thin air of tension between you two.

you merely scoffed, not willing to put up with his antics and were about to go back to your work when your name was called for your order.

giddy, you got up and retrieved your favorite item from the menu, carefully balancing it in your hands so you didn’t topple and spill it everywhere. it was too precious. you tried to ignore the curious glances your table mate sent you as you settled back into your seat, letting out a decisive hum when everything was set.

“is that,, is that what i think it is?” your eyes flicked to his, a wave of surprise hitting you as you saw the absence of malice in his eyes. before you could answer his question, he continued,

“yeah it is. huh.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, a frown slowly starting on your face.

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377 notes - Posted October 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

hello quinn :)))

i saw your little ask game and i wanted to join in!! may i request a fic where scara accidentally admits that reader is pretty? and like he gets super flustered? :]

also i know you're doing this because you're worried about your moots' mental health, but make sure you take care of yourself when you're doing all these requests as well! i don't want you to feel pressured so take as long as you need :))

thank you! <3

short a/n;

evie!! hihi!! i’m so happy to see you requesting &lt;33.

unfortunately, this was a prompt i couldn’t expand a ton upon because it’s super simple so i made a drabble kind of thing about it, i hope that’s totally okay!! i hope this makes you happy!! feel free to request sm else if this is too short :p but flustered scara!! shodhdjd he was fun to write i hope it’s in character :3 and thank you so much!! doing this for y’all means so much to me!! your request was simple and so fun to write shkshd THANK YOU!! have fun reading &lt;3

a soft sigh left your chest as your boyfriends arms pulled you closer. gentle warmth blossomed inside you, manifesting in the form of a lazy smile as you looked up at your lover.

a hand came up to your cheek, tucking a short strand of hair behind your ear.

“you’re so pretty.”

you blinked vapidly, convinced your ears weren’t working correctly. then, you questioned if your eyes were working correctly when you saw a bright red blush bloomed on your lovers cheek, putting even the reddest rose to shame.

“huh?” a teasing lilt colored your voice and you drank in your boyfriends reaction, opening a small piece of your heart for it.

he stammered, words tripping each other and cutting each other off. his stream of words was abruptly cut off when he closed his mouth, slowly blinking. his eyes ran from you, looking at everything except for back into your eyes. you watched as his dark blue eyes flicked to the wall as of the beige coloring was now the most fascinating thing he’d ever laid eyes upon.

still not taking his eyes off the wall, he softly mumbled to you, the words slotting themselves into that part of your heart you had opened for this moment.

“i- i don’t take it back. you’re, uh. um. you’re really pretty. beautiful even.”

there’s so many words that could have come out of your mouth at that moment, that could have made the unbearably sweet moment even sweeter, tinging the air with the love that surrounded you two.

instead-

“i think this is the first time you’ve ever said um. or stammered. this is so funn-”

“GET OFF OF ME.”

See the full post

819 notes - Posted September 28, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[paperpocalypse]

on the way to nothing.

50 Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You”: 37. Making sure to be quiet while they’re taking a nap.

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 1,198 words

Warning: Mild swearing

Every evening, the sunset reminds Five that the world has ended.

It’s a strange thing to watch in the aftermath of an apocalypse; even after three years, he still hasn’t gotten used to the sight. Maybe he’s just surprised that the Earth’s still turning – round and round and round, a carousel with only two riders. Behind the veil of dust and smoke, the sun glows red as it sinks, staining the sky in a haunting rust of grayish-yellows and blood orange.

Dragging his supply wagon behind him, Five squints forward into the garish horizon and frowns. “It’ll be dark soon,” he says, pulling his scarf over his mouth and nose as a gust of wind picks up dust.

Beside him, you nod. Your own wagon clanks and rattles behind you, less filled with food and water than it had been this morning. “I still don’t see the town.”

He looks down at the faded roadmap in his hands. “We have about thirteen miles to go. Our best bet is to keep walking until we reach it, while it’s getting cooler.” As he speaks, the sun dips lower and lower. No matter. Both your eyes and his will adjust. “It’ll be easier than walking in one-hundred-degree weather tomorrow.”

“… Yeah, that’s a good idea,” you agree.

Your tone, however, makes Five stop and look over at you. You stop in return but don’t meet his gaze, staring instead at the dry emptiness ahead.

“Something wrong?” he prompts.

As if snapped out of a trance, you shake your head quickly. “No. I’m fine, I just –” you jerk your wagon forward again – “I’m just a little tired, that’s all. Let’s go.”

Eyes narrowing, Five quickly catches up and grabs your shoulder. You don’t shake him off. “Hey. If you need a break, we can take one right now and still get there before sunrise.”

You shake your head again. “No,” you insist, “I can keep going until –”

“No, you can’t. Cut the crap,” he retorts. You have a habit of sugarcoating your complaints – something he learned the hard way a few days after meeting you – and he isn’t having any of that today. “Look, take a nap or something and I’ll wake you up when it’s time to go. Deal?”

You grow quiet. Then, finally meeting his eyes, you sigh and nod. “Deal. Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me.”

“Then I take it back,” you reply dryly. Five rolls his eyes.

Your shoulder slips out from under his hand as you retrieve a tattered blanket and spare jacket from your wagon, then begin clearing out a space on the ground to lay down on. There’s nothing very meticulous about your work; over time, Five has learned that you can fall asleep quickly and nearly anywhere – convenient for the post-apocalyptic life. It’s like your body takes any chance it can to escape this hell.

Soon enough, you’re satisfied with the arrangement and lie down, hands tucked behind your head. There’s a chunk of space left on one side and Five is surprised when you say his name, reaching down to pat the vacant spot.

“You can sit,” you say, voice soft. The sun is now gone, leaving the darkening sky a chalky, brownish gray that deepens the shadows on your face. (Soon he won’t be able to read your eyes.)

Five obliges silently and sits at the edge next to your legs. Only then does the fatigue from a day’s worth of walking hit him, his sore feet suddenly relieved of work. Neither of you had really taken a break since this afternoon, too focused on finding another place with food and water. It makes him wonder how tired you actually are.

“[Y/n] –” he starts, but closes his mouth when he glances down and sees that your eyes are closed. When he listens, he hears the slowness of your breaths. Yeah, you’ve passed out already. That’s good.

Crossing his legs, Five takes a small sip of water from his canteen while he watches you sleep. Something about this moment, sitting so close to you for no discernable reason other than the fact that you had requested it, fills him with a strange sense of peace. A sense of normalcy.

It’s ridiculous, but it’s also not. You’re the most normal person he’s ever met – no powers, no special talents. Just an ordinary person who didn’t die along with literally everything else on the planet.

He had found that oddly comforting.

He wonders what it would have been like if your aunt hadn’t happened to have powers. You definitely wouldn’t have survived, and he would have landed in the apocalypse completely and utterly alone – nobody to tell him what had happened, nobody to scavenge and travel with. Nobody to talk to. Despite never being very social, Five knows that the solitude would have messed with his head. Running into you was the one good thing that came out of this hellhole.

Out of the blue, he notices how cool the air has gotten. As quietly as he can, Five stands up and goes over to his wagon, taking out his own blanket. He unfurls it carefully, then slinks back over to where you’re dozing. You’re a bit of a light sleeper, so he takes extra care not to be too hasty as he lays the blanket over you, pulling it up to your shoulders.

Suddenly, you shift. Five freezes as you curl up, burrowing under his blanket as you turn onto your side. Only when your breaths even out does he relax.

What the hell am I doing, he asks himself as he sits back. You could take care of yourself. He didn’t have to do that.

One of your hands peeks out past the edge of the blanket. After a moment of hesitation, Five reaches over and grasps your fingers gently, nudging them back under the cover. Your hand is very warm. He pushes that thought away much more quickly.

He’s not sure what he’ll do once he figures out how to get back. Logically, the best thing to do is to leave you here. Bringing you back to a time before you’re born, or even worse, when you have been born already, could complicate the timeline even more, so it’d be best to go alone.

But then you’d be alone.

Five continues to stare at you, trying to make out the minute details of your face in the darkness. He’s gotten attached to you. And sure, that’s fine for now – maybe even good – but farther down the line, it’s going to bite him in the ass. He’d never forgive himself for leaving you to die.

You probably would. You’re that much of an optimist.

“… Five? Should we go now?”

Your voice, hoarse and sleepy, causes him to shake his head and clear it enough to respond. “Ten more minutes. Go back to sleep,” he murmurs, patting your shoulder once.

“Oh, thank goodness.”

Within seconds of saying that, you drowse off again. Five shuts his eyes and releases an inaudible sigh, then opens them again to look up at the black, starless sky. Goddammit.

He hopes you’ll understand when he goes.

[joezworld]

I loved your fic "Mind Reading, Soul Stealing, Red Eyed, Diesel Electric Monsters!".

It got me wondering, how would Oliver react to meeting Rusty, Mavis and Salty. This would preferably take place either before or quite after your fic.

It would certainly be interesting interactions, especially with sweet little Rusty.

Mavis/Daisy

“Did you hear?” Daisy asked Mavis one morning as she brought the workers to the mine. “The Fat Controller’s found another engine - and a steamer at that!” 

“Really?” Mavis said as she lined up trucks to take down to Ffarquhar. “I didn’t think there were many left?”

“Mmhmm. This one’s been ‘on the run’ from BR. Made it all the way up from the West Country - apparently it took him all year, hiding in sidings and whatnot.” 

Mavis looked ill. “And I don’t suppose he met any nice diesels during his trip?”

Daisy side-eyed her. “He called me a 'coach possessed by Satan' and hid behind Donald until I left.” 

“I see.” Mavis didn’t look any less uncomfortable. “Maybe I’ll let him get settled in before I make myself known.”

“Too late for that.” Daisy chuckled fatalistically. “The Fat Controller wants him to do some general traffic work while they reopen a branch for him and Duck. He’s coming here tomorrow. For a week.”

Mavis’ eyes widened. “Oh no.”

-

Three days later, Mavis trundled down the tramway to Ffarquhar, a long line of trucks behind her. She was feeling poorly - the quarry company had received a batch of diesel that was sub-standard, and her motor was blowing thick clouds of sooty exhaust everywhere she went. The heavy train wasn’t helping matters, and she looked like a steam engine as she left a thick black cloud in her wake. 

As she approached the station, the sound of arguing could be heard. 

“- and I will not!” Bellowed an unfamiliar voice belonging to an unfamiliar green tank engine. “She is going to replace us! Just you wait and see!” 

Various unprintable statements followed this - it seemed like Percy had either woken up on the wrong side of the shed this morning, or he’d fully accepted Daisy as his friend and was defending her as such. 

Speaking of Daisy... “She has already been here for seven years, darling.” The railcar said in a voice so smooth it was practically dripping oil. “And if she has done nothing yet, then why would she do something at all?”  

“I don’t know! But I’m not going to sit here and do nothing while you enact your evil scheme!”

“What evil scheme?” Thomas shouted above the din. He’d arrived with a train of empties for Mavis to take back to the quarry, and was not happy about how Daisy was being slandered. 

“Evidently I have one.” Daisy muttered dryly while the tank engine sputtered about her “admitting it!”

It took a few more minutes for Thomas to bring the situation mostly under control. Mavis, having stayed mostly out of sight in the goods yard, was quietly shoving her train into a siding when Thomas mentioned her name. 

“- and look at Mavis over there. She’s been here for just as long as Daisy has and she’s not evil!”

Trying to be helpful, Mavis gave a toot of her horn as he pushed the brake van out of the way. 

This was evidently the wrong thing to do. The tank engine’s eyes almost popped out of his smoke box as he stared at Mavis and the cloud of black smoke pouring from her stack. 

“IT’S POSSESSED A STEAM ENGINE! I TOLD YOU THEY WERE EVIL!!!” He shrieked, and fled the yard so quickly it seemed like magic.

The yard was silent for a moment. Everyone stared at each other as they tried to process what had just happened. The tank engine had definitely just run through a red signal and left all his wagons in the yard as well, so they were going to have to deal with that in due time. 

“Well,” Daisy said as calmly as one could in this situation, her eyes never leaving the trail of black smoke that trailed in the runaway tank engine’s wake. “At least he didn’t explode.”

Rusty

Peter Sam watched the big railway with some degree of wariness. They’d just acquired a new steam locomotive from the mainland, and he didn’t seem to be a fan of diesels, no matter their size. Sir Handel had spoken at length about how this engine had spoken ill of Rusty even when the little diesel wasn’t there to stand up for himself. 

Skarloey had looked especially aggrieved, and had swapped trains with Rheneas that morning to see if he could give the big engine a piece of his mind. 

Of course, that was easier said than done, and midday heat had lulled both engines into a mild doze. 

The clatter of an engine approaching caused Peter Sam to lazily open his eyes. The new standard gauge engine was sitting nearby, looking at them quizzically. 

“You don’t look like the ones I met last night.” He said. 

“No.” Said Skarloey, who was evidently awake even though his eyes were shut. “There’s more of us than that.”

“Oh!” The other engine said brightly. “In that case, I’m-”

“I don’t care who you are.” Skarloey said with much more bite to his tone than Peter Sam had ever heard before. 

“I beg your pardon?”

“You won’t get any, but you can try.” Skarloey said without opening his eyes. “I heard what you said about my friend Rusty. Now, I don’t care what your actual thoughts about diesels are - I understand that you’ve had a bad experience with them, but Rusty is too innocent to hear your hurtful remarks.”

The old engine paused, and Peter Sam tried to not look like he was staring in shock - he’d never seen Skarloey speak to anyone like this.

Skarloey continued. “If I ever hear you speak to Rusty like that,” 

His eyes opened, and both Peter Sam and the big engine lurched back from the deep-seated malice in his gaze. 

“The difference in gauges will not save you. Understand?”

Salty

(I’d like to point out that I’m really not sure if Salty would fit into an Awdry-style universe, so this may or may not be canon)

“So then the Ghost Ship rose out of the deep! Lighting flashed, and ice crackled - the two tugboats were scared out o’ their minds by images of King Neptune that they saw in the fog!” 

Salty’s story was in full swing, and the dockside machinery were enjoying themselves, but the visiting diesel was having none of it. 

“Oh come on, that’s not scary!” He protested. “I’ve seen worse than that with my own eyes!”

Salty grinned. “Oh-kay then! What have ye got? Some buffer-tingling story is just what I need!”

“Oh. Well, it’s not a story really.” The Class 37 said. “It’s just - I’ve been doing the scrap trains recently, and let me tell you, going through the lines of dead steamers is scary even in the day - and I’ve had to go out there at night!”

That kind of took the air out of shed. Salty, the cranes, and a tramp steamer within earshot all looked dejected. 

“What?” The 37 asked. “It is scary!”

“Aye, lad, it is, but this be Sodor,” Salty said slowly. “And we don’t like that ‘round these parts. It’s too depressing, especially for the steamers.”

As if to illustrate his point, a steam whistle sounded in the distance - a small green tank engine trundled around the side of a building and appeared in the distance. 

With a barely audible “YIPE!”, he took one look at the pair of diesels, screeched to a halt, and went steaming backwards as fast as he could. 

“Y’see?” Salty said after a moment. “We don’t do that here.”

[midas-or-khaos]

The Ones Above Us, Chapter 2

Date:- November 5th, 2008, 37 days after initial discovery.

Time:- 18:42pm

Location:- London, Victoria And Albert Museum

“It’s nearly 7, Fatima. Can we please call it a night?”

“Siobhan, you were the one that explicitly said you wanted to stay longer so you’d be ahead for tomorrow when the coroner visits. If you wanna gawk at the celebration of some medieval king-“

“-Jacobean-“ Siobhan interrupted.

“-Jacobean king not dying, then be my guest. I have stuff to do.”

Thank god for the Cast Courts room. Yes, the air was so musty you could taste the varnish eroding from the planked floor, and yes the room was cold enough to freeze your nipples off, but it was huge AND tall. The undertaking it must’ve been to remove some 200 plaster statues ranging from simple busts to replicas of temple columns must’ve triggered at least a couple of premature deaths. Or at least a heart attack at the mere prospect. What probably finished off the rest of the crew and budget manager for the museum along with the mayor of London was the fact that a whole wall had to come down. 

A whole wall.

This building has 5 separate floors and is well over 100 years old, and somehow the manager (Mrs Stevens, lovely woman) leading our excavation had managed to convince who knows how many people to tear apart one of the most historic buildings in all of England. Maybe the world. Just for me and the autopsy team to have easier access to research facilities for this behemoth. 

Worth every penny and hurdle.

Currently the body was in a ninety degree sitting position, back to the fire exits and feet to the pillared entrance across the ballroom floor. Scaffolding was up to the head, high enough you could touch the textured ceiling with your own hands, and went round in a full three-sixty degrees. Parts that weren’t being worked on were covered by opaque, plastic sheets (mostly for the visitors tomorrow, though I suspect the cleaning staff were much appreciative of them too). Fatima and Siobhan were by the right eye, pinned open by clamps, taking photos through the keyhole pupil under beams of awful white, overhead lighting. After this visit tomorrow she was going to sit down the staff running this museum and ask them what made them think an overhead beam was a great idea in any situation, and if any of them had ever held a camera before.

Siobhan huffed, water vapour steaming the air. As an add on, maybe asking for some heating would do some good as well, old buildings really weren’t designed with insulation in mind. 

“Well, weren’t you the one who said to me this was all a hoax? You change your mind that quick? I get that I’m not actually in the autopsy department like your high and mightiness,  but even I can see that’s some piss poor work you’re doing here if you can’t make a definite decision on what that thing actually is. Take a break otherwise you’ll be scraping the bottom of the barrel tomorrow.”

“I’ll be fine for tomorrow, that’s not your problem.”

Siobhan didn’t forget that Fatima wasn’t challenging her former accusation, just avoiding it poorly. The older historian wanted to say something, but their relationship was still on the cusp of blooming from colleagues to friends. Any form of open defiance at this stage would kill it at the roots. Electing a less powerful show of disappointment, the ginger instead leaned back on her leg and crossed her arms. The universal judgment pose.

“Do what you want, Fatima, but you need to make up your mind if this thing is legitimate or not by tomorrow, ‘cause they’re gonna be unimpressed if you can’t give a definitive answer. And not to rain on your parade of hyperfixiation, cause from here it looks shit, but some of us want to see our family.” And with that Mike drop, the ample woman took her leave.

 Fatima didn’t look up from the back aching crouch she was in, too focused on her subject as kitten heels clinked against metal metal steps, and a nasty mutter about wearing ‘the wrong fucking shoes to work’ whispered out into the cavernous room.

“Whatever.” She muttered to herself.

Standing up straight, the sharp stab of wincing aches creaking along her spine. Note to self, don’t lean over unsupported for more that twenty seconds. The shots from this angle must’ve at least revealed something: the two lenses (one for blocking reflective uv light, the other a microscope) were the best in the business. But what was she looking for inside the pupil you may ask?

“Now THAT’S interesting.”

The retina, exposed to light, came alive under the camera. Cone cells, rod cells, pigment epithelium. But what were those? Bolts of neon blue, flashing like those firefly squid from that Attenborough episode last week. Veins? No too reflective for that, they’d blind you at the right angle. A specialised system for night vision? Sure it wasn’t human by ratio and lacking organs, but the body held all the cells necessary for coloured vision as we know it, meaning that it probably lacked good night vision naturally, and these unusual veins were a cure for that. No. That can’t be, even under the microscope there was no signs indicating that the structure was made of any kind of cells. Was this thing a huge cell? 

“Maybe we should see if we can cut one end so that it’s still attached to the body and try to put it under a much stronger microscope tomorrow.”  

RRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

RRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

RRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Shite. What’s it this time?

Pulling her Nokia out her back pocket, flipping over the top, a resounding “FATIMA!” Called out. Crap. Family.

“Hello Mum-”

“WHERE ARE YOU?! IT’S LATE, YOU SHOULD BE HERE WITH THE FAMILY! DO YOU NOT LOVE US?!”

Why could she say that? “Of course I love you, I just have so much work-“

“NO! NO MORE WORK! COME HOME NOW, YOU NEED REST!” That’s the final straw that will break the camel’s back. Even an utterance more will turn the fine balance into madness.

“... I’ll pack up now.”

“GOOD, SEE YOU SOON FATIMA!”

Click.

The process of packing up on a usual evening would stretch to around thirty minutes. Putting away equipment, locking up, turning off the lights and signing out. She did it in fifteen. You don’t argue with mum.

Walking with purpose to the fire exit corridor leading out, the last light overhead her work shone like a halo over that much more grim sight now that she had a chance to sit back and examine the scene. He looked like a prop from a Saw film set, eyes pinned wide and shocked, completely opposed to the frowning mouth and waxy skin. Even in the heat of rushing round, Fatima couldn’t help but be drawn back to her work. What would those cells look like in full darkness? The switch sat taunting to her left, just calling to her. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to see? 

Slowly reaching over, almost as if she felt she was being judged for her actions by some unknown force past or present, the raised edge stood stiff against her shaking fingertip. Why was she shaking, there’s no one here to judge her! If anything, the universe should be thankful for her contribution to the pursuit of scientific advancement and the first unveiling of a fact long dead. This was just one step closer to understanding.

CLICK

...Sigh.

“Stupid, getting excited over nothing.”

The back entrance slammed with a resounding slam onto a ratty backstreet lit by LED lampposts. Bloody waste of time.

Time 19:07pm. The doors would be reopened in precisely nine hours and fifty three minutes. Nothing should be moving from this point onwards.

All this fuss over something that she should’ve just taken as a hoax all along.

Time 21:30pm. The doors will be reopened in precisely Six hours and thirty minutes. Nothing should be moving at this point.

She’d told that arsey detective so herself, now look at her going back on her own words.

Time 23:47pm. The doors will be reopened in precisely Five hours and thirteen minutes. Night vision cameras 674 and 676 activated for one minute and five seconds on west wing on the outside building. Movement: minor. Decision: ignore. Nothing should be moving at this point. 

This thing was clearly not real, not in any way. The cube law theory explained that.

Time 01:08am. The doors will be reopened in precisely Three hours and fifty two minutes. Night vision cameras 43, 45, 41 and 40 activated for two minutes in Cast Courts Hall. Movement: minor. Decision: ignore. Nothing should be moving at this point. 

Nothing humanoid COULD get that big.

Time 01:59am. The doors will be reopened in precisely Three hours and one minute. Night vision cameras 43, 45, 41 and 40 activated for five minutes in Cast Courts Hall. Movement: major. Decision: call security. Something is moving at this point.

Looking out the windows of the family bungalow, cheering echoing outside at the neon lit sky, everything makes sense here. Everything can be explained by science. So this thing couldn’t have ever been alive.

Right?

ERROR: CAMERAS COMPROMISED.

[spaciousreasoning]

No Napping Today

We awoke to another blue sky morning, headed for a high of 75 degrees after an overnight low of 36.

My blood sugar level rose even higher today, to 189. Nancy suggested it might have something to do with the stress I was feeling yesterday, which was mostly about how high the damned glucose level was. Great! I guess it’s just going to continue to rise?

After we had enjoyed coffee and played the brain games (most of which were easy, because it’s Monday) we had oatmeal for breakfast.

Nancy called and made several PT appointments. They are scheduled from now through June. She also called for a Dermatology appointment, but the first one is not available until October. She went ahead and made the appointment, but she’s also sending a note through the Portal to her PCP about the lengthy delay, in case there’s something the PCP can do about it.

I scanned our IDs and some of the paperwork that we filed with our taxes in order to complete the online submission of that information requested by the Oregon Department of Revenue in order to process our $75 tax refund. I hope it’s worth it.

About 11:30 a.m., Nancy headed out to Kalen’s to help with some gardening and beekeeping. She also picked up some eggs from grandson Kyle’s chickens.

I spent much of the afternoon working on the Third Step for today’s 5 p.m. Zoom study group.

About 1 p.m. I went out for a walk, starting with Old Crow, where I got a mocha. I took one of my regular routes, that went for 1.66 miles in just under 37 minutes. Of course, that included the couple of minutes I waited for my mocha. The steps totaled 3,600.

When I got home, I ate a couple of cheese strings and had some potato chips. That was my lunch for today. I did also have a dark chocolate peanut butter cup.

After “lunch,” I continued working on the Third Step. I finished up shortly before 4 p.m., just about the time Nancy texted that she was coming home. Once we were done with the Zoom meeting and made preparations for our next session—about Tradition Three—in two weeks, we signed off.

Then I helped Nancy put dinner together. I heated up the leftover slices of pizza from the Drift Inn on Saturday, while Nancy made a small salad.

Once we cleaned up, we sat down to enjoy an evening of streaming. We started with another episode of “The Chelsea Detective,” a good 90-minute mystery involving a number of possible suspects and motives for a murder. Then we finished with the last episode of the current series of “Recipes for Love and Murder.” This murder was solved without any more recipes, but the identity of the killer was a surprise. So was Hattie’s election as mayor of the town. Everything was tied up quite nicely, so there’s no telling whether there will be another series of this good show or not.

Tomorrow promises to be another sunny day, with a high near 70 degrees once again, after an overnight low of 46. The day starts early for me at a local lab where they will be checking a variety of measurements to see where my health stands. I will wait on my coffee and morning meds until I get home.

It’s also tax day, but Nancy and I have already taken care of that, and we don’t have anything more to worry about in that regard. Except what the government might do to our Social Security. But Nancy’s already received her check for this month, and mine should be showing up later this week.

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (38/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series. 

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.  

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: Thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke​ for being my beta, @imagnifika​ for the cover art, and all of you for being awesome, whether you read this story or not ❤️

AO3: Beginning | Current

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-/-

The thing about being a starting pitcher is that Killian rarely plays. It’s every five days usually, and Killian is too competitive to simply be able to sit and watch while everyone else gets to be out there on the field. If it wasn’t absolute murder on his shoulder, he’d be in Al’s office every damn day asking why he can’t be out there.

Understandably, having to watch his teammates play without being able to help has been killing him more in this past week than it did while he was out on injury, and that was actual hell.

Rob did a fantastic job that first night clinching the first game for them by making it nearly impossible for the Dodgers to get on base, and Killian, while he didn’t play his best, pitched a good enough game and had help from Eric’s three-run homerun for them to win the second. It’s simply that everything after that has been a bit of a nightmare.

They lost two incredibly close games in a row in California to tie things up, won the next one, and now they could clinch the entire Series at home in New York.

Tonight.

With Rob pitching and Killian sitting on the bench.

And as much as Killian would love to get to be an active part of it all like he was during the winning game last year, he would give absolutely everything for them to win tonight so that he doesn’t have to get up on the mound tomorrow. The pressure and desire and want  is so damn intense that it makes Killian’s heart ache, but he knows that this isn’t really about him. No part of him could be selfish enough to want to lose today so that he could have the possibility of the glory tomorrow.

That would be ridiculous, and he doesn’t know what the hell he’d do if he wakes up tomorrow morning with a stiff shoulder and he’s got to get out there and play.

Sighing, Killian stretches out his legs to the seat in front of him as a whisper of wind whirls through the stadium to bring in the late October chill. He fiddles with the sleeves of his sweatshirt, pulling them down to cover his wrists where chill bumps are rising, and he wishes that he had a hat on to protect himself from weather, his ears likely red from the cold. It’s only seven in the morning, most of the stadium completely empty except for the maintenance crew and a few people in the offices, but Killian knew that this would be his only time to take it all in with no one around him.

An empty stadium is nearly as magical as a packed one.

He’s spent his entire life building up to things like this. Sure, there were times when he had other goals. He wanted to be a teacher, wanted to get his degree and help others, but that was always the fallback goal. It was never the main one.

Baseball has been his life.

Lately, though, Killian’s been thinking about life outside of the game more than ever. It’s insane because he feels like he’s one of those obnoxious people who only lives and breathes baseball all the time, especially with what’s going on right now, but his mind has managed to find a way to wander elsewhere.

There are saved searches on his phone about going back to Vanderbilt to finish his degree and a sent message in his email to an advisor asking if it would be possible for him to finish in New York instead of having to take classes in person. He hasn’t told anyone that he’s thinking about it, not yet. Telling someone makes it real, and Killian’s not entirely sure that he wants it to be real quite yet. He’s a grown ass man, but change is still terrifying when he’s grown comfortable in his life.

Baseball isn’t forever, though, and while he may still work in the sport later on, he’s not going to be someone who goes throughout his entire life living out the glory days through memory.

Tonight, might be another big moment that defines his life, but the past six months have been pretty life changing as well. Hell, the past year has been.

Things are changing in ways that he wants and ways that he doesn’t, and that’s simply how it is.

“So, we woke up at the ass crack of dawn so that you could sit out here all by yourself?”

Killian twists his head to the side to see Emma standing a few seats over dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, scarf wrapped around her neck and Yankees cap on her head. He was so wrapped up in his own mind that he didn’t even hear her move toward him.

“Hey, love,” he smiles, reaching up and holding out his hand so that the cool tip of her fingers touch his as he intertwines their fingers while she settles down into the seat next to him and props her feet up on the seat in front of her. “I told you that you didn’t have to come with me.”

Sitting here reminds him of another time in San Francisco when he put his heart on his sleeve and willingly handed it over to Emma to crush before they decided that they would give the two of them a go and simply see how things worked out. If she had said no that day, he could have listened. But damn is he glad that she said yes.

Or, well, technically, he was the one saying yes.

Either way, everything in his life shifted.

“I know, but you get all moody and introspective, and I didn’t want you psyching yourself out.”

“I would not do that.”

“You’re a liar.”

“Just a little bit.” His hand flexes against hers, shifting his fingers the slightest bit so that he can get a more comfortable grip on Emma’s hands. “What have you been doing while I’ve been sitting here being introspective and psyching myself out?”

“I was taking some pictures. It’s kind of cool to see the calm before the storm, you know? And then David called me with some work stuff and to give me shit about us making out being all over Instagram, so I sat on a bench and talked to him for awhile.”

“He called you this early? Is he crazy?” 

“I think David forgets that not everyone wakes up this early, and he has no qualms about waking me up. Usually I’m much meaner to him.”

“I’m surprised you’re not being mean to me.”

“The coffee we had at home really works wonders.”

Killian almost opens his mouth to say something about Emma referring to his apartment as home. But only almost. They’re both aware of the living situation, have joked about it to each other and others before, and they don’t need some kind of official discussion about things. It’ll all happen naturally, and when the time comes, they’ll talk about it. For now, things are perfect just as they are.  

Life has been crazy with his injury and then Walsh and Brennan and the aftermath of them being absolute assholes. It’s gotten crazier with the World Series and how much press he’s now getting, both for the games and for his relationship with Emma, much of which is now weirdly being caught on camera. All Killian really wants is a bit of normal here.

The sun continues to rise in the sky, darkness shifting into an orange glow that will eventually turn into bright sunshine that makes it difficult to see without a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose. The grass on the field is wet with condensation, water coating the blades, and if it wasn’t freezing out there, he thinks he’d go out and sit along the edge of the back wall instead of in a stadium seat.

Bringing Emma’s hand to his lips, he presses a kiss to each of her knuckles before pulling their joined hands back down to rest on his thigh.

“I think,” he starts, not entirely sure where he’s going, “that I could stay out here forever. I don’t know…maybe I feel things too deeply compared to everyone else, but this place has always felt like home. I can’t imagine what things would be like if I’d been drafted somewhere else or if I’d never been called up at all.”

She hums next to him, and Killian looks down to see Emma’s thumb rubbing across his knuckles like she always seems to do. “What’s that thing you’re always saying? There’s no such thing as ‘what ifs.’ Not in life and not in sport. What happened, happened.”

“Doesn’t keep me from wondering.”

“It doesn’t keep anyone from wondering, twenty-nine.” Her hand squeezes his again, and Killian’s mind dares to ask once more what his life would be like had he not met Emma. It’s a question he doesn’t want an answer to. “What if my parents had kept me? What if Ruth had never decided to foster a shitty teenager with an attitude issue? What if I had never met Neal or Walsh or Ruby or anyone who has impacted my life they the way they have? What if I never met you?”

“You’d be missing out on the best sex of your life.”

Emma knocks her foot into his as he snickers at his own awful joke. “You’re full of yourself.”

He shrugs. “It happens. And I know. I’m just – my stomach has been in knots over all of this for an entire month. I’m not sure my body is going to make it ten more hours. Or hell, possibly even thirty-six. I’ve had to hype myself up for all of this, and I’m a little…fuck, Swan, I’m exhausted and excited, and I’m scared I’m going to have some kind of adrenaline crash.”

It’s Emma’s turn to bring their hands together so that she can brush her lips over his knuckles. His heart stutters at the movement.

God, he loves her. It’s actually insane how much. Truly, it shouldn’t be possible.

“For one, getting up and coming to the stadium before the sun even fully rises is not something that’s going to help with your exhaustion.”

He twists his head to look at her, and she’s got mischief in her eyes and a smirk stretched across her lips that he has to kiss away. She still tastes like coffee.

“Also,” she whispers against his lips, kissing him again, “you’re not going to crash. Not yet. I know you’re really big on not riding on what happened last year, but you’ve got to do that. You’ve been through this before, and you made it. Those butterflies in your stomach are being felt by everyone who’s involved with this team, and hanging out by yourself the entire time isn’t going to help things. Why don’t we go get breakfast together? Or maybe go back to bed?”

“How about a game of catch?”

“What?” Emma laughs as she pulls back from him with furrowed brows? “I am not playing catch with you. Are we five?”

Killian shakes his head and chuckles as he stands from the seat and begins to stretch his shoulders out, letting go of Emma’s hand and rolling his shoulders back as he laughs at himself.

“We’re twenty-eight. I know you remember your birthday last week. And come on, Swan. I play a game of really expensive catch for a living. It’s part of my job to work on my arm today, just in case, and I need a practice partner.”

“That’s what Will and Eric or August are for.”

“Yeah,” he smiles, reaching forward to tug her up only for her weight to go dead so that he can’t move her, “but they’re not here. You are.”

Emma closes her gaping mouth, and her lips move in different directions while her nose scrunches up so that little crinkles appear around her eyes under the shade of her hat. “Okay, but if there’s one misogynistic quip about me throwing like a girl, I’m breaking up with you on the spot.”

“There’s nothing wrong with throwing like a girl, Swan. It’s pretty badass. But there’s something wrong with throwing like shit.”

“I’m not going to throw like shit.” Killian starts walking over the chairs, easily maneuvering through the stands with Emma following behind him. “But I ask you to remember that while I pride myself in my fitness, it’s in things like Pilates and running or boxing. It’s not in baseball. You, meanwhile, do this for a living.”

“These sound like a hell of a lot of excuses.”

“That’s because they are.”

“There’s no excuses in baseball.”

“I thought it was crying.”

“Fuck no,” Killian scoffs. “There’s a lot of crying in baseball, and anyone who tells you something different is a liar.”

“I can’t believe you just called Tom Hanks, America’s sweetheart, a liar.”

They have to go back through the tunnels to get a bucket of balls and some gloves as well as a few towels to wipe the grass in the bullpen down since it’s wet and neither of them are wearing the right shoes for this, but they do eventually get to the point where he can lightly toss the ball back and forth between the two of them. He’s not going to pitch at full speed, not until he has Will later, but it’s soothing to simply be out here getting a little movement in. He’s been back for two weeks, practicing for four, but it’s still all brand new again to him and shaded under a light that wasn’t there before.

Emma isn’t bad at all. She’s actually rather good, a natural some might say, and he jokes with her that if sports broadcasting doesn’t work out for her, she might take up a career in this. Naturally that gets him an eye roll or two, but she keeps on throwing until the sun is high in the sky and the day has truly begun.

Killian’s ready for it.

Everything seems to pass quickly then. The entirety of the Dodgers team walks out onto the field for their scheduled practice while he and Emma are still messing around in the bullpen, somewhere between still doing a bit of practice and Killian backing Emma up against the wall to make out with her. No one sees them, though, the loud blaring of music startling the two of them away from each other, and Killian presses Emma a little further into the wall while he buries his face in her neck so that he can muffle the sound of his laughter.

He’s not entirely sure that works, especially when Emma is doing the same, but they eventually manage to grab their things and slip inside so that an entire professional team isn’t aware of the fact that he was using the early morning stadium to kiss his girlfriend.

That would certainly have been something.

There is an actual practice that Killian has to attend today, an hour of which needs to be spent with him running on the treadmill and then getting massaged by Archie to work out any knots and kinks in his shoulder and to make sure that it’s not inflamed. Killian is always terrified that he’s going to be told that his shoulder is inflamed again and that he won’t be able to play on a day where he thinks he’s going to be able to. That would completely screw up the lineup, and…No, now isn’t the time to think about that.

Killian tells Emma that he’ll see her later, that he’ll probably come bother her wherever the network has her sitting even though he’s splitting the time in the game between the dugout, the clubhouse, and the suite where his family is going to be sitting. She has to go home and get ready for the day, and even if she didn’t, he very much doubts that she’d like to stick around and watch him run.

And then they’re both off.

Let the game begin.

-/-

“Are you guys going to win today?”

Now, that’s the question of the day, isn’t it?

Killian looks down at Roland who is dressed in head to toe Yankees gear, all his dad’s of course, and there’s a nervous smile on the kid’s face. Roland is almost never nervous. He has that childlike faith in everything even with all of the tragedy in his life of having lost his mom, and he nearly always believes that things are going to work out. There’s no good or bad, just the belief that things will work out the way you want them to simply by the power of wanting them to.

If only it were that simple.

“I don’t know, lad,” Killian answers honestly as he reaches down to pick Roland up, easily putting him on his shoulders as Killian walks him down the hallways to the suite he’s staying in for the game. Roland was in the clubhouse for all of the pre-game celebrations, and the kid heard and saw things that he probably didn’t need to hear for several more years.

A decade, really. Maybe two.

Yeah, definitely two decades. There was some creative swearing.

“Why not?”

“Well, because we can’t predict the future, and the other team is really good too.”

“But I want to win.”

“Me too,” he sighs as he pushes open the doors to lead to the suites. “And everyone is going to try their best. But you know what?” “What?”

“I think if you cheer extra hard, it might help your dad out, okay? He might lose because the other team is good, but you’ve got to cheer him on no matter what.”

Roland’s ankles hit against Killian’s collarbone, and Killian pretends that the bony lad doesn’t hurt like hell when he hits him. “I can cheer really  loud. Like, Grandma says that it makes her ears hurt.”

“If you’re not making Grandma’s ears hurt, you’re not cheering loud enough.”

That sentence pretty much sums up why he’s the best uncle in the world, Killian thinks. It’s basically the equivalent of giving kids a pint of ice cream right before they go back to their parents.

Killian pushes open the suite doors and ducks down underneath them so that he doesn’t knock Roland out. Everyone is situated on the couches and around the tables in front of the TV, and no one pays him any mind as he puts Roland down so that he can run to where Addy, Lucy, and Leo are. He imagines that between the four of them, they’re going to make everyone’s ears hurt from their screaming.

Maybe Killian will go spend time sitting in the dugout instead of in here, but it’s a long game. He’s got time to move around as long as he does make time to study Robin’s throwing patterns against each batter.

“Hey,” he murmurs to Elsa in the kitchen area while she pops a chip into her mouth. “I don’t know that it’s good that you’re playing hooky from work and letting the girls do the same with school.”

“Shut up,” she says in between crunchy bites of food, her hand covering her mouth. “You think that joke is funny every time, but it’s not.”

“It is.” Killian dips his head down and presses a kiss to Elsa’s cheek. “But I fully approve of the skipping work thing, especially when your husband’s lazy ass took the entire week off.”

“He’s supporting his baby brother.” 

“Younger, Els. Younger. I don’t need you encouraging that.”

Her bottom lip sticks out. “But it’s so fun to see your ears get all red with embarrassment.” 

“Every single thing I’ve ever said about me being glad to have an older sister in you and Anna? Yeah, I’m taking all of those back.”

“You can’t.” She swipes another chip through the dip. “They’ve been said, and I keep them all in my heart right next to where Addy told me that even if she got to choose her mom, she’d still choose me.”

“Classy.”

“I know,” Elsa laughs. “Where’s your better half?”

“She’s working.” Killian pinches his brows together. “So we’re not even going to pretend that I could possibly be the better half?”

“Nope. Just like Liam isn’t the better half either. And don’t make some quip about being equals. Just let me have this. I’m already stress eating chips.” He laughs while reaching forward to drag the bowl away from Elsa so that she can’t eat anymore, but she doesn’t let him, grabbing onto it and pulling it back. “I didn’t say to stop me. World Series week is like the holidays. The calories don’t count until my jeans feel a little snug next week.”

“Ahh,” Killian sighs in understanding. “That’s likely a good thing for how many baked goods I’ve sent your way.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the dugout?” Ariel questions as she steps up to them with her glass of water in her hand. “It’s kind of a big game.”

“It’s also kind of the top of the first inning, and I’m not playing.”

“Excuses.”

“A legitimate one. How’re you holding up, A?”

She waves him away and reaches for the pitcher of water. “I’m fine. Eric is the nervous wreck. I have enough confidence in you guys that I won’t worry until, you know, we’re losing.”

“Only worrying when we’re losing? What kind of method is that? You have to worry all the damn time.”

“That’s how you have a heart attack, and I have not suffered eating healthily and exercising so much to have a heart attack this young.”

“This is where Liam would tell you that it can happen to anyone in any age.”

“Where is Liam?” Killian questions as he looks around the suite for his brother only to have him nowhere to be seen.

“He and David are sitting in David’s regular seats because David was complaining about Mary Margaret and Leo not wanting to use them. I imagine he’ll be up here soon when he realizes how expensive food is to buy.”

“They’re such old men.”

“Says the man who was wearing a sweater while drinking a cup of tea and reading in his apartment last night instead of coming out to dinner with all of us.”

Killian sputters a bit as he narrows his eyes at Ariel. “First of all, there is nothing wrong with doing any of that. Second of all, how could you possibly know that?”

Ariel shrugs, mischief in all of her features. “Emma sent it in the group text.”

Of course she did. A man can’t even relax in his own home without being called out for it.

“Who is in this group text exactly?”

“Oh, just me, Elsa, Anna, and Belle. Don’t worry. Not everyone gets to see the embarrassing pictures of you drooling in your sleep.”

He’s going to kill Emma.

Or get his revenge. Somewhere in between those two.

There’s a loud groan from everyone watching the game, and that’s when Killian is reminded that there’s a game going on. He didn’t know that he could possibly forget, but apparently being teased about how he spends his nights will let him do that. When he sees what’s happening out on the field, though, Killian wishes that he’d been able to completely and totally forget about the game.

There are three men on base for the Dodgers, only one out, and one of their best hitters is up to bat.

Fuck.

This is not a good start.

This is a long game, but bad starts can change the momentum of absolutely everything. It gets in everyone’s head. The losing team is convinced that they’re going to lose, that they can’t come back from this, and the team that’s ahead gets all the belief in the world with their abilities.

Momentum shifts are everything, and it’s not time for the momentum to shift. Not yet.

And yet it does.

Robin throws what Killian knows is a good fastball and Rob’s specialty, but Stewart hits a sharp line drive down past third base that Arthur doesn’t get to. By the time that he does, the Dodgers already have two runs, Stewart is on second, and Ferguson is sliding into home before the ball can get there.

0-3 for the Dodgers eleven minutes in.

Shit.

Now it’s time for Ariel and everyone else to get nervous.

And it never gets better. Not really. There are times and chances and shots that have Killian grabbing onto his hair in frustration, but nothing comes of it. Nothing at all. Every single time there’s a real chance, something happens: the Dodgers have an unbelievable get, someone fumbles when the Yankees should have an easy chance at a double play, or every single person somehow forgets how to hit.

Until they don’t.  

Because now it’s the bottom of the ninth, and after an absolutely incredible eighth inning, it’s now 7-9.

They’re only down by two runs.

(Two runs.)

Killian is pacing back and forth in the dugout now exhausting every bit of emotional energy he has left in him. He left the suite the moment that first inning was over, texting Emma and Liam that there’d been a change of plans and he wouldn’t be meeting up with them after all. There was no way that he was going to be anywhere other than with his team when things were going to hell.

Being two runs behind is both nothing and everything.

There have been plenty of times when they’ve come back from a deficit like this. There have been plenty more when they’ve blown a two-run lead. And yet, like fifty-five thousand people in this stadium know, this isn’t any other game. This is The Game, and they’re closing in on the golden hour of chances.

It’s win now or come back tomorrow for one last chance of glory or crushing defeat.

Best of seven means nothing when there’s the possibility of there only being one game left.

“You’re going to exhaust yourself if you don’t sit down,” Robin tells him from his seat behind him on the bench.

Will has just stepped up to home plate, his bat in hand and feet in position, and Killian can’t breathe. His lungs have stopped taking in air.

“How could you possibly be sitting down for this? Is your blood not on fire?”

“I just pitched five innings, mate. My adrenaline high is gonedown. I’m exhausted.”

The ball is launched through the air toward Will, and Killian immediately knows that he shouldn’t take a swing at it.

He does.

Strike one.

“Shit,” Killian murmurs, kicking his foot at a water cup on the ground. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“You’re going to give yourself a heart attack.”

“Funny, Fisher, I told your wife the same thing. Aren’t you supposed to be warming up?”

Killian doesn’t even have to look to know that Eric is rolling his eyes. “I’m grabbing my stuff to do just that.” There’s a warm hand on Killian’s back, and he turns to look at it just as a “ball” is called. “Take some deep breaths, man. We’ve got this.”

“Aye,” Killian sighs, “we’ve got this.”

Strike two.

“Shit.”

Ball two.

Ball three.

Foul ball.

Killian’s phone buzzes in his back pocket, and he opens it up to see Emma’s name.

Emma: They’re having to censor you on television right now.

Emma: Just thought you might want to know that. Literally every time they show the dugout, you’re cursing. Ruby is getting a kick out of it.

Killian moves to text her back, to say something witty in response, but then the wood of Will’s bat is making contact with the ball and it’s flying gone, gone, gone…

Until it’s caught in the outfield.

Out one.

“Fuck.”

They’ve still got a shot. They have to. And as much as Killian hates cheering for Arthur King and hates that he only got a monetary fine for what he said to Emma and about her, he’s exactly who Killian has to cheer for now as Arthur hits a line drive that enables him to get on first base.

That’s progress.

It’s even more progress when Eric hits a triple sending Arthur into home.

8-9.

Holy fuck.

They might do this. They just might.

Killian still can’t breathe, but this is obviously his natural state now. This is how he’s going to have to live out the rest of his life.

Emma: Okay, now I understand all of the cursing. I’m freaking out.

Killian: Me too. We make quite the pair.

Emma: The best pair. It’s all going to be okay, twenty-nine.

He smiles down at his phone, his lungs taking in a bit of air at that.

Killian: It will be. I love you.

Killian: A frankly ridiculous amount.

“Out,” the umpire yells, and Killian immediately rests his head against the dugout railing, his nails digging into the hem of his sweatshirt as sweat drips down his back even with the late October chill whipping through the stadium as the night fully comes into effect, the sun long since gone.

Out two.

“For fuck’s sake,” Al yells, throwing his hat to the ground and slapping his hand against the railing. “Why would you swing at that, Whale? You could have fucking walked, and then we’d have two men on base with one out. That changes everything.”

It’s not Whale’s fault. It’s not. He messed up, sure, but it’s a team effort. Killian doesn’t always believe that when he’s the one pitching. It’s hard to get that out of your head when you’re being yelled at by managers and fans and people online sending death threats, but it’s true. It’s not one person out there even when it feels like it.

Killian’s going to have to remind himself of that tomorrow.

No.

He can’t go there. They’re not going to play tomorrow. Booth is up to bat, and he’ll get Eric home. Then it’ll be tied up, and they’ll have their shot to close this out right here and right now.

Hope bubbles up in Killian’s chest, his throat closing up with excitement and anticipation, and that lack of breathing thing comes back again as his knuckles go white from the strength of his grip on the railing. When he looks to the right, he sees that Robin’s knuckles are just the same.

They might do this.

Roland and Addy have to be screaming their heads off up in the suite. Killian almost wants to text Elsa or Liam to see what’s happening, but his eyes are glued to the field as August swings his bat at the very first ball.

It’s a fucking foul.

Strike one.

“Come on Booth,” Will shouts out, clapping his hands together. “You’ve got it, man. Be smart about it.”

“I’m not entirely sure that’s helping, Scarlet.”

“It is, Professor Jones. I’m a great motivational speaker.”

Killian’s lips stretch into a smile, a bit of calm returning, until the ball flies from the mound again, whipping through the air and curving into the strike zone at the last minute.

August doesn’t swing.

Strike two.

The stadium absolutely erupts then, hands clapping together and feet hitting against the floor while thousands of people scream, a mix of cheers and boos for August. If anyone can handle this kind of pressure, can handle the weight of world on his shoulders and the pressure, it’s August.

Pressure is a privilege.

He’s likely not feeling too privileged right now.

And as suddenly as the noise started, it calms down. While there are still people talking and cheering and making all kinds of noise, Killian can’t focus on any of it. All he can focus on is what’s right in front of him.

One. Two. Three.

Foul.

One. Two. Three.

Foul.

Killian’s stomach flips, his entire hand going white, and Will is grabbing onto Killian’s forearm so tightly that he could break the bone there.

One.

Two.

Three.

There’s a thwack of ball against Booth’s back, and it absolutely flies into the air. It’s flying, and Killian nearly jumps out of the dugout to get a better view of where it’s going. It’s got to be a home run. It’s got to be. That’s where it’s headed, and Killian’s arms break out in gooseflesh beneath the thick material of his sweatshirt.

They’re about to win the fucking World Series for the second time in a row.

Holy shit.

But then the ball dips.

It dips, right at the line of the back fence, and the ball is caught.

The. Ball. Is. Caught.

The ball is caught, Booth is out, and the game is over.

And just like the ball, Killian’s mood dips, every high hope crashing down around him and weighing down on his shoulders while his stomach flips before everything heavily settles in its place. This isn’t how today was supposed to end. They were supposed to come back from their bad start. They were supposed to win.

They didn’t, though. They lost, and even though Killian tries to be encouraging to everyone around him as they all finish up their post-game on-field routines, in his head he knows that they’ve only got one more shot at this.

They’ve got one more shot, and a lot of it is resting in the palm of his hands. Killian has been a screw up for this team so many times before, and he doesn’t know if he can do that again.

He can’t let everyone down again.

The mood is subdued in the clubhouse as everyone strips out of their clothes, just a constant murmuring of curses and complaints. Even Al is quiet when he’d usually be fired up yelling at everyone, a combination of disbarring comments and encouragements, and that may be the most shocking part of it all.

Reporters begin to fill the room as well as agents and wives and the occasional child, and Killian sits in his locker with his head between his legs taking several deep breaths to calm himself down. His heart is beating far too quickly. It’s thumping in between his ears, and that’s not how it’s supposed to be.

It’s simply not.

“Hey.”

The voice is soft and very much Emma’s, and Killian looks up to see her softly smiling down at him, Jeff no longer trailing behind her with his camera.

The smile that stretches across his lips is forced and half-assed, and he knows that Emma can tell. She steps in between his knees so that his head rests against her stomach while her hands brush through his sweaty hair. They don’t say anything else, simply stay there together while Killian breathes in the scent of Emma’s perfume on her sweater and shivers run down his spine at her touch.

He is undeniably a fan of every part of her, but being able to simply be, to exist, with her is one of his favorites. There’s nothing quite so soothing as knowing the person you love will always be by your side no matter what happens.

They lost. They did. It’s what happened, and there’s no changing it.

Tomorrow is the last chance.

It all comes down to the last one.

-/-

-/-

Tag list: @onepunintendid​ @authorarsinoe​ @stunningswan​ @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury​ @superchocovian​ @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog​ @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings​ @carpedzem​ @tornadoamy​

[god-save-the-keen]

Lorelai Gilmore, the best mom in the world, prompt list!

1. "Does he/she have a motorcycle? 'Cause if you're gonna throw your life away he'd better have a motorcycle!"

2. "There's plenty to do tonight that we can be mortified about tomorrow."

3. "So not only did you go to a cop-raided party, but you started the raid?" *Signing* "Then she proceeds to sing, 'Did You Ever Know That You're My Hero?'"

4. "I need caffeine. Whatever form you've got, I haven't had any all day. I'll drink it, shoot it, eat it, snort it, whatever form it's in, gimme."

5. "Seventy-five thousand dollars? Oh my God, that’s like 150 pairs of Jimmy Choos."

6. "There have been very few moments in my life where I have actually wished I had one of those enormous crème pies you can just smash in somebody's face. But this is definitely one of them."

7. "Don't let his family see you. Spiders are vindictive. And this was a really big spider. I think it had a gun."

8. "I thought I knew exactly what I wanted, where I was going, what I was doing and why I was doing. But lately, things seem hazier."

9. "It's all any of us wants, to find a nice person to hang out with until we drop dead. Not a lot to ask!"

10. "If it was physically possible to make love to a hot beverage, this would be the one."

11. "As long as everything is exactly the way I want it, I'm totally flexible."

12. "My God, I hate her." "Me too." "You have no idea who I'm talking about." "Solidarity."

13. "I don't like problems. I avoid them when I can and I don't like people pointing them out to me."

14. "Everything in my life has something to do with coffee. I believe in a former life, I was coffee."

15. "When I think of blistering thirty-degree burns, I also think of my mother."

16. "976-BITE-ME."

17. "Well, we like our Internet slow, okay? We can turn it on, walk around, dance, make a sandwich. With DSL, there’s no dancing, no walking, and we’d starve. It’d be all work and no play. Have you not seen The Shining, Mom?"

18. "I need coffee in an IV."

19. "It's Friday night, we should be out partying with the homies."

20. "You are full of hate and loathing and I gotta tell you, I love it!"

21. "It's very exciting, but so is eating a gallon of pudding."

22. "Cheeseburger, onion rings, and a list of people who killed their parents and got away with it. I’m looking for heroes."

23. "Coffee, please, and a shot of cynicism."

24. "My mother — she was here. I can feel it. Smell that? The room smells like guilt and Chanel No. 5."

25. "I'm going to go make out in the coat room. Don't eat my chicken."

26. "Get back in your pajamas, go to bed, eat nothing but gallons of ice cream and tons of pizza, don't take a shower or shave your legs or put on any kind of makeup at all and just sit in the dark and watch a really sad movie and have a good long cry and just wallow. You need to wallow."

27. "You have so many years of screw-ups ahead of you."

28. "I hate when I'm an idiot and don't know it. I like to be aware of my idiocy."

29. "I don't like ultimatums." "I don't like Mondays, but unfortunately they come around eventually."

30. "I'm the Oracle. I carry all the knowledge."

31. "Because my brain is a wild jungle full of scary gibberish."

32. "I'm fine. I'm just being dramatic. It's what I do."

33. "You're very cruel." "Yes, it keeps me young."

34. "Sorry, I see we entered the no-humor zone."

35. "You should identify yourself when you answer the phone." "Sorry, Independence Inn. Major Disappointment speaking. Better?"

36. "Come here. You have some dirt on your forehead. I'm sorry. It's the sign of devil. My mistake."

37. "I love it when I talk and no one listens. Make me think like home."

38. "Repeat after me: I'm completely hopeless."

39. "You are drawing me into your druken world." "It's not a bad place to be, my friend."

40. "He/She's so sexy, smart, funny, and he/she likes coffee."

41. "It's from my mother." "What is it?" "It's heavy. Must be her hopes and dreams for me."

42. "Don't judge what you don't understand."

43. "Do you like coffee?" "Only with my oxygen."

44. "Cats came to my house today. Cause they know I'm a loser and I'm destinated to be alone."

45. "I had a dream about him/her the other night." "Really? Dirty?" "No... Absolutely not. And when you're 21 I'll tell you the real answer."

46. "I think you are acting a little immature." "I'm not acting."

47. "That Lothario there has wormed his way into my daughter's heart and mouth... And for that he must die."

48. "This is bad." "I know. I wish we had popcorn."

49. "You know what the worst part of it was? When you weren't there, part of me wasn't surprise."

50. "You are the man/woman I want to want."

51. "A mistake? A mistake? That is what you call it, a mistake?" "Well, I tried to call it 'Al', but it would only answer to 'mistake'"

52. "Don't you understand that I can't talk to you because it hurts? Don't you understand that?"

53. "It's too much food." "It's not. That's is what we been training for. This is our destiny. This is our finest hour."

54. "Who cares if I'm pretty if I fail my finals." "Okay, you have got this so completely backwards."

55. *One phone on each ear* "Who are you talking to?" "My other two personalities."

56. "He/she kissed you and you say thank you?" "Yes!" "Well, that was very polite."

57. "Decaf." "Never."

58. "I don't think I ever really loved anyone until Name."

59. "I smell snow."

60. "Reality has absolutely no place in our world."

61. "No? No lecture about kissing a boy/girl?" "No. Why, did you do it wrong?"

62. "The drinks fortify us. The drinks give us strength. The drinks get us drunk."

63. "I'm a young, desirable woman/men." *Talking to two cats in the porch.*

64. "Really? You are gonna kiss me now? You are so incredibly predictable."

65. "You threw a frying pan at Name's head without me there? I hate you."

66. "I hate my life."

67. "I have no memory of this whatsoever."

68. "She's very aggressive today." "I think the passive part of her personality is playing hooky."

69. *Reading* "Man, she/he sure used a lot of exclamations points."

70. "I love that you have my eyes and my coffee addiction, my taste in music and movies."

Used them, shared, make a request, have fun with them! ❣️