#WELL this took so much time and energy and it is now past 1:30am and i need to like. eat or sleep. lmao
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happyk44 · 2 years ago
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My take has always been Nyx births them in Tartarus but sends them away to the upper world when they're old enough because she has seen the world below from the night sky and thinks it is beautiful and lovable, compared to the dark monstrous and screaming expanse of Tartarus, a chamber, a prison, a place of torture. She loves her children as much as the night sky, a boundless entity can. She would like them to experience the world the way she sees the mortals do, how other gods and spirits do. Running across cool grass as the sun dips and day fades into midnight blue and wine-dark purple. Laughing around a warm fire. Comfortable and safe from the monsters that lurk.
The eldest two are as boundless as she is, as boundless as their father. They take to mortal form more frequently than their parents but were not truly born of it. She remembers the strange sensation of creating a sunrise. Heat and daybreak rising over the murky ocean. The world was dark in the beginning. Then the sun came, Helios and his silly chariot, and so followed the bright of day to truly illuminate the world. The twins had been born hand in hand so entwined in one another she had not realized right away there were two of them. Even in their choice of differentiation, they were so similar - day and the bright upper sky. Hemera and Aether. Glowing light blue air and soft clouds with the sun shimmering nearby.
Then long after Charon came - the oldest of her personified children. Born with skin and bones and a quiet sullen demeanour. Like Hades who lives above. But Hades is reclusive and seems picky about who joins him. He is followed only by the dead. He is far too busy, nonetheless, to handle a child by his side - establishing his kingdom and building his home from the scraps left behind.
Yes, the Underworld is beautiful, cooler than Tartarus, more comforting to those with flesh, but less so than the upper world. That was created for those who breathe with lungs and have beating hearts, so when Charon is spry enough that he walks and runs and snaps at monsters that encroach upon his space, she guides him up and out into the wake of the night.
Shadows lick at his feet. His ever present father will keep watch when the sunrises and Nyx must set. Erebus agrees with her. Charon seems brighter, better up on top than far down below where only the most reviled of persons are chained and burned. The only screams he hears are from the birds chattering. He was born of night and darkness, so he says good night to his sister and his brother, and greets his mother with a cool good morning. He hunts sleeping animals with his father to guide his way. He prefers to fish from the nearby river, sit in the shallow, slower end of the rushing stream. He speaks aloud, knowing his family listens. He expects little response in return.
After him, Moros arrives. Dark and brooding. Where Charon is sullen and withdrawn, Moros is brash and engaging. He dips away from his older brother to bother nearby towns. He tips the scales, adjusts the poles. The way of the world swells and shifts around him. Knives miss the meat to be butchered and sever fingers. Bows slip free of knots and spill collected materials to the ground. The sickly sob. Children recoil in fear.
He is unbothered. He enjoys their detachment, their worries. As he grows, Charon finds him work with the elderly. It's important, he says, that you understand mortals. It is cruel to befit fear upon them all because you have no empathy. Nyx listens closely, Erebus at her side as their son speaks quiet. His monotone voice echoes across the open air. I have no empathy, but I have lived long enough to know that mortals desire compassion. And I have lived long enough to know that being feared becomes tiring in the end.
Moros adjusts. Still he brings doom, but the old are unworried. They know what is to come. The finality of breath. The stop of their hearts. The ceasing of their brains. They know that they will close their eyes and reawaken with Hades' hand outstretched for theirs. Without terror, they tell him stories of their lives. They spill their secrets as he cleans their laundry and cuts their food. He holds their arms as they take feeble steps around the home they wish to die in.
Sometimes he knows they will not and through him they know they will not, but he promises to carry them back and lay them to rest in the ground they own, the earth they cultivated. He is not capable of empathy. He barely understands sympathy. But compassion is there, in faintest amounts, and it is enough.
Thanatos and Hypnos bear witness to the night skies in the months that follow. It is almost amusing the difference between her boundless children and their fleshed out siblings. Daylight and bright skies versus the boy child who digs graves and the boy who bears doom, the boy who finds the dead as easily as he breathes and the boy who sleeps like a cat. the girl who watches battles with hunger and feasts upon the death the daughter who knows only misery and the boy who can only assign blame. She loves them all the same. She sees how mortals exile those who do not fit, who are dark but not cruel, and does not understand. Perhaps it is because she was not born into the world with a beating heart.
Only glittering stars and a spot for the bright moon.
It is quiet with the twins. Instead of bothering mortals, Hypnos spends most of his time attached to his twin's back, dozing off onto strong shoulders. Thanatos carries him like it is his job. Lifts him off from the ground without a word. He follows Charon into the woods each day. The dead come easy to him. More frequently that he had before, Charon carries bodies home to their new graves.
I can feel them, Thanatos says. When they're gone.
Do you hurt? Charon asks. Mangled bodies are not unfamiliar to them. Torn animals picked apart and rotting are commonplace. The state of their corpses indicate pain though. Charon worries.
But Thanatos simply lowers his sleeping brother to the soft grass below and says, No. It's strange. I don't notice them until they're gone. It’s like a call in my head. They could be near me and I would not notice until their end. He turns to his older brother digging another grave. Their souls. Their ghost. Do you see them?
Sometimes, Charon says. But not usually.
Thanatos is comforted by that. Sometimes is better than never. Hypnos never sees ghosts. But he sees other things in the moments he's awake. When they enter mortal towns, he'll gaze with half-lidded eyes upon the mortals that pass by and murmur into Thanatos' ear about their secrets. Their fears. Their days.
Their dreams.
Within the wisps of sleep, Hypnos descends. He coaxes the tired to rest, coaxes babies to calm, settle the elderly and sick down for their final night. Sometimes Oizys reaches out and so he settles inside the soft world of a mortal mind, slipping through their cloud-like subconscious and drawing out what they hold back.
Processing fears is important to living life, he realizes. In waking moments, he speaks with his brother about nightmares. In sleeping dreams, he slips them along. Most dreams are simple days. He likes to watch from the side, a hidden audience. Even the most mundane is entertaining.
Then Ker comes along soon after. She is sharp-toothed and mean. Violent death and bitter disease. There is nothing mundane with her. Only seeking the vicious and cruel. She feasts on the flesh of the dead, hovering near Thanatos as he counts down the seconds to the last beat of a heart.
But she does not join them at meals. Her bloodied mouth is hidden away. The bits of skin dug under her nails are scrubbed after every meal. She knows her nature is unlike the others. That she is worse. She crowds around battles with a hunger for the flesh that will be slain. She brings plague with a single touch.
Maybe she would feel better if she was not looking at her counterpart in all things dying. Thanatos is calm and unbothered. He does not itch for blood. He does not split at the seams and feast on the dead. He is calm and collected, almost a mimicry of Charon's sturdiness. She is only a girl hungering for anguish and devastation. She cannot end a life with her own hands. But she can encourage it, and so thoroughly she does.
Charon settles beside her. Water spills over their feet. Why do you split?
Feels better, she says. There is so much inside me. I need to be more to let it out. Her reflection in the river flickers in twain. Mortals think that there are more of her than there are. The Keres, they call her. But she is just Ker. She separates into many, sloughing off her other selves like old skin, and encircles the bloodied crowd. Is it bad?
No, Charon says. Just new.
I like myself, she says. But others don't. It's annoying. She grimaces. I wish I could be better.
You are what you are. With his nail, he scrapes away a fried bloodied mark across her cheek. Do not be disappointed that others cannot handle you. The ones who can are the ones who matter. We all like you. Why do you think we don’t?
Their bodies do not sever in two, in fourths, in tens, in thousands. They do not drag corpses back home to devour because the food on the table is barely edible to them. They do not force disease on those trying to recover from painful wounds, encouraging them to fail, to suffer, to die. Mortals do not recoil with a terrified immediacy they do not understand when her siblings walk by. Even Moros has more to him than the doom he spreads.
She does not.
Maybe I don’t like myself, she considers. It’s hard being this way. There is no one else.
Charon’s arm is comfortable around her shoulders. Affection always feels so fleeting. Though she recognizes that she pulls away. It feels foreign to her as it is given. Out of step with who she is. But she does not pull away. Instead she leans into him and feels the water rush around her feet. It is cool and forgiving. She is hot and merciless.
It’s true. We will not understand you or the viciousness in your heart, Charon tells her. But we are not unsettled by you. You are why battles end. Without pain, without struggle, there would be no need to speak for peace. If all deaths were as calm as falling asleep, then people would keep fighting. But blood spilled, mortals hacked apart, watching your friends suffer beside you, delivering the dead in pieces back to their homes - that is what forces peace.
She tilts her head up and considers his words. I didn’t think of that.
Nobody does, he says. But it is true. Without death, fighting would never end. And without violence, peace would never be wrung. Whether by compromise or submission. He splashes her ankles with water. Eat with us, Ker. We miss you at the table.
The twins and Ker grow and venture far and wide. They sit beside battles and watch quietly. They walk through towns and villages. Hypnos murmurs sleepy words about dreams of freedom in the beaten and belittled. Ker manufactures suffering and bloody ends, horrible spouses and egregious people falling down stairs. Thanatos brings calm to the old and sick.
Charon disappears in the days they are gone. Months go by in search. Eventually, they find him, guided by their mother and father. He is beneath the earth, beneath their feet. They fly over raging waters and approach the god who has employed him.
He is working, Hades says. So, no, he cannot go free right now. But you are welcome to stay.
Oizys and Momus are born next. Erebus coddles them more than she does. But he is in every nook and cranny. He sees distress trapped in locked closets, follows bare feet as they run from screams and swords. The two fight with bitter words. When they come of age, Charon returns to the upper world. The family home welcomes him with a familiar coolness and wisping darkness.
He is a sharp-tongued mediator for the fighting twins and forces them apart with calloused hands and snarling eyes. They always silence themselves when he snaps. They become accommodating to their brother who drags fallen bodies out from the trees and buries them in plots around the home. When he appears, Momus holds back his bitter blaming screams and Oizys keeps tight her welling eyes and breaking heart.
It is under him that they learn to shift. It is not perfect. Momus is reviled by god and mortals alike for his sharp-tongue. He complains about poorly chosen words, critiques every appearance, laughs at sloppy form. It is helpful to some - those who wish to change. Who are unbothered by his mocking tone. But people are more emotional than he cares for. There are several lives lost to his cruel words. Like the two before him, he has no capacity for empathy. He is unable to learn sympathy and compassion is out of reach.
Who cares, is his most common phrase, spoken every time his sister asks him to become softer, gentler.
Oizys is still pain, she is still distress. Her heart still breaks easy and she cries more often than most. But she becomes kinder to herself for her limited emotional range. It is not her fault that this is how she must be. It is not her fault that this is what she has been chosen to represent in the world. Her tears do not make her weak.
Pain is necessary, she says as she wraps the broken bone of a sobbing child. It teaches us not to jump from trees, and where to draw the line with others.
She finds broken men with battles still screaming in their minds. Their bodies are automated. Every movement is meant to survive, to carry on, but their minds hold memories that keep them from being alive. She finds broken women, broken mothers, broken children. She finds those who hold back the tears and smile as though nothing is wrong. Those who need to let go and breathe. Those who need to cry. Who need to admit to the pain they are in, the anguish they have witnessed, the distress coming from the things they have experienced.
When the emotions release, when the pain flows, she crafts suggestions from the wisp of shadows. Run. Confront. Kill. Talk. Change.
Live.
I believe we are trapped in our natures, Charon had said in the bright of day as he dug a deep hole and she held a shattered girl's hand.
Her body was bloodied, slowly creeping towards utter cold. Her eyes had been glassy, unfocused. The world slowly slid from her view. Oizys held her hand to take the pain because certain things should never have been experienced. Not in anyone, but especially not in children this young.
But that doesn't mean we cannot change what our nature means, her wise older brother had said. I take the dead. I don't know why. I just always have. But I chose to do different than just steal them away from their homes. There are dead out there that will never be claimed. I will claim them. I do not need to claim that which dies at home or in a lover's arms. I will claim the left behind, the slaughtered hunter, the forgotten traveler, and I will give them a grave to rest.
Momus had scowled back rude words but Oizys held tighter the young girl's hand and listened hard.
You both can be better. You do not have to be perfect. You do not have to be nice. Moros certainly is not. Ker as well. But you can be and do more than you think of yourselves right now. He laid his shovel to rest on the ground and reached for the slackened girl. There was no life left in her. It had bled all over Oizys lap. There is more to the world than your base instincts, little ones. Yelling that others are at fault and crying from the distress of being screamed at isn't all you have to do. Look inwards. Think. He laid the girl to rest in the grave he dug. I believe in you.
Charon speaks these words to all his siblings. When Nemesis arrives in a flurry of wild black hair, she tracks across the plains of Tartarus, even in her pudgy youth, and declares pain of those she discovers in chains. She leaves the wasteland far later than any of her other siblings, both older and younger. She is endlessly embittered by the faults of mortals. Reluctance to leave their home cloaks her.
Find your order, Charon says. He has lived long, seen and met many. Dike could help. She loves justice, as much as you crave punishment.
Dike is a beauty on earth. Like her father, the crowned king of sky, she embodies order and justice. Humanity is as far as her range extends. But Nemesis can work with that. Social norms become her focus. Convention and custom are her loves. Remaining steady in tradition is gripped tight in her hand. She offers suggestions with a ruthlessness that Dike sighs through each time. Some are accepted easily. Many mortals need to be struck down by their own hubris. But others are argued about between the two.
Humanity and what it entails holds closer to Dike's heart than Nemesis'. She is capable of seeing what her father, her mother, and what Nemesis cannot. A mortal who kills to be free from pain defies convention, but does not deserve the ruthless retribution Nemesis would befit upon a mortal who kills for enjoyment.
Nemesis is always befuddled by her love's explanations. The logic is sound, she understands the point. But it never quite clicks the way it should. But she remembers Charon holding her hands and telling her that she is bound to what the world had decreed upon her, as are the others.
Hemera and Aether do not understand why their siblings prefer the dark. Moros cannot perceive how it is cruel to tell people of the vicious way they will one day die, nor does he understand why it is not appropriate to bury them in so much doom they drown themselves to escape. Ker does not comprehend that others do not feel overwhelming rage. How calm for mortals in the rest of death and sleep is unwanted by their siblings befuddles Thanatos and Hypnos.  Why people repress their pain is something Oizys will never comprehend. And Momus will never understand why Olympus banished him from their golden floors for his various criticisms.
None of them ever understood why Charon chose to bury strangers either. They followed when he ventured out and helped him carry back bodies he found. Animals too rotten to eat, people no one came for. They watched as he dug holes. As he wrapped them in clean cloth and buried them. They did not understand why. But they understood that he had to, and so he did.
You punish because you must. People fear punishment because they fear our sister. If she can continue on despite the pain that being feared brings her, I know that you can. They will never understand why you choose the retribution you choose. And you will never understand why they beg for something smaller. But you do not have to. You just assess their point of view. He laughed quietly and squeezed her hands. Or ask Dike to explain it to you.
In the years that follow Nemesis's final departure from the family home, Apate and Dolos spring out from the shadows with mischievous grins. They spread lies and tall tales in their youth. They find villages and scam, decrying potions and balms in replace of medicine. Death abounds. So Charon settles them into the dirt and tells them they can do more than harm.
There is no demand to stop being cruel. After all, Nemesis still jumps to ruthless violence in her ideas for retribution. Momus does not know how to be kind with his words. By nature, Oizys is cruel to mortals. Moros still approaches strangers with a bitter grin and watches them cry in grief and terror from their ensuing fates. But cruel is not all they must be.
The twins sidle alongside Ares, who knows Charon well. Apate guides spies into enemy lines. Acting becomes a passion of hers. After all, what are elaborate performances if not deceit of the audience? Dolos sits on friendly territory and pushes whispered suggestions from the shadows. Make it seem like you are retreating, he sighs into a general's ears. Draw them out into the open with a subtle trap. Surround them. Destroy them.
It is more enjoyable to them than scamming the masses, than telling them silly lies with elaborate words that make them believe in things that don't exist. There is a sense of accomplishment when their side wins the battle, wins the war. There is a sense of pride when Ares pats their heads with his heavy warm hand. They do not follow him everywhere. They want more than war. So they dabble in politics, in petty family squabbles. They still sell scams and spread rumors. But often they draw back to Ares' side with mischievous grins and help his chosen heroes win wars.
Geras is born with wrinkles and frail bones. His skin sags off the muscles that never truly grow. Youth annoys him. Hebe is his sworn enemy long before they ever meet. But Charon holds him as he breathes hard and reminds him of the genius in age.
I was stupid when I was young. I'm older now. Wiser. More mature. He holds his little brother's wizened frame gently. Listen to the stories of the people. Sit with your brother when he visits his dying friends. There is no permanence or perfection in being young. You are a reminder of change, of inevitability, of maturity. I would not be able to tell you this without having lived and grown through so much before me.
Immortals don't age, Geras huffs bitterly. His voice is cracked and gruff, like an older blacksmith who has breathed in too much acrid smoke.
Everyone ages. We simply are not bound by it. Shapeless. Formless. If we want to look young, we can do so. If we want to look strong, we can do so. It is a blessing. He strokes Geras's thin hair. And much like curses, blessings can be taken away.
Geras sighs and sinks into his brother's stable hold. I don't know how to make myself look different.
Then don't, Charon says. You know how, little brother. We all do. But you do not want to look young. It is not who you are.
Then who am I? What am I? Geras cries. I want to be a child, not an ugly old man. I do nothing for the mortals like the others. I don't bring the day, I don't let them know that the end is near and they should prepare. I do not allow them to feel their hurt. I do not enact punishment and I do not win wars. I am just old and tired.
As I said, you are change. People become different over time. They learn and change, they age and grow. And you are inevitable, even to the gods. You are the reason Moros has friends. You are the reason Oizys creates mourning. You are stories told to grandchildren, you are the head of the household, you are the matriarch, you are history. You are a reminder of the end, and you are a goal for the sickly, for the soldiers in battle, for couples so deeply in love. Charon presses his lips dryly to his brother's wrinkled temple. And you are my brother. You have purpose in that alone.
Eris is hardened to the world when she leaves Tartarus. As always, Charon takes leave of the Underworld and guides her hand-in-hand through darkness and grass to the family home. She is a bitter thing. She finds fault in all things. Constant conflict is demanded of her. When he does not fall to her huffing ways, she grows louder and rougher. But Charon has been steady and stable since birth. Her need to sow problems over nothing does not rile him.
Calm down, he says when she slaps food off the table for being too cold, or shouts that he mended her clothes incorrectly. She cannot calm. It is beyond her. Still he holds her shaking hands and guides her down to a seat on the floor. Relax your breathing. Search for what settles you and utilize that.
Like many of the others, Charon brings her to Ares’ side. War does not settle her, not fully. Still, she finds solace in Ares and in Enyo, her preferred companion. Enyo enjoys the bitter sensation of discord, the craft of competition that awakens in Eris’ presence. Eris is no stranger to being cared for despite how she is, but it is odd to see it reflected in the face of someone who is not her family.
They bicker and argue over anything. Eris is always the instigator, but Enyo happily throws the first blow. Hands beat against faces. Blood bleeds into spit on the ground. Bruises bloom against skin. When the fight is done, they grin and breathe and move along. They are often joined by Ker, bringing horror to the soldiers who spot her flying above right before the final blow.
She spreads trouble outside of battle. Apate and Dolos pull her into their lies and trickery. Arguments follow her subtle instigating words. The twins pull strings behind yelling backs. Momus brings blame and she pushes hostility. The ensuing breakdowns are always so fun to watch. Harmony and peace, a sense of calm, does not befit her. But in carefully placed antagonism she finds a settlement, what Charon spoke of with gentle words, and it is enough.
The last to find life on the outside is young Philotes. Her siblings think she is strange. Even from birth, she is unlike any of them. In Tartarus, she befriends monsters, even the cruelest of punished souls. She hugs with abandon, and smiles wider than any of them thought was possible for their faces. She is not sharp-toothed, and she is not mean. She is not relaxed with sturdy sullenness. She is bright and joyful.
Charon does not bury forgotten bodies around her, nor does he hunt creatures as they sleep. Death upsets her. Violence is rejected. Ker and Thanatos find no fault in her eschew of their nature. She does not fault them for being as they are. It is harder with Eris, but only on her side. Trouble and conflict slides off Philotes’ shoulders like rain. It does not make her angry, or have her spit bitter words. Eris finds that vastly annoying. But despite their stark differences, Philotes loves her family without question. 
Darkness does not suit her, though she walks through shadows as is her birthright, and does not shy away from the depths below as her companions in the clouds of Olympus do. Making friends is easy for her. She finds her way to the mountaintop from smile to smile, and hug to hug. The Graces adore her joyful nature. Pasithea finds amusement in their traded places - her born of Olympus to descend to the depths, and Philotes born of Tartarus to ascend to the golden skies. She does not join their numbers, but attends to their needs. It is a contented life filled with love, with friends, with good sex.
Charon waits for the call of his mother to let him know that another has joined their ranks but it does not come. He does miss, sometimes, the family home when it was filled with the life of another. He will settle there in his free time. The beds are clean, the pantry clear, cobwebs nonexistent. The passage of time does not encroach upon the home he built for his siblings. It does not rot the stone, nor the cloth. The house remains steady, stable, as he is.
Sometimes he walks down to the river. He will sit in the slow and shallow end under the night sky, feeling shadows wisp at his arms. There is no preference between his old and new homes. The Underworld suits him. Macaria who took him down to the depths and gave him his boat is there, his best friend. Styx rushes by as he floats. They speak casually amongst each other. The world is forever dark in the Underworld. It is cool. It is calm.
While only a few of his siblings live with him among the poplar trees and obsidian stone, the others do visit with annoyed huffs from Hades but nothing else in complaint. They join their mother and father in the heated wasteland of Tartarus. They visit the family home. They did not live there all at once, and they never will. He raised them to be independent, decisive. To be better and do more than they thought they could. Their home was a place to grow, and they have. It is no longer necessary for them. For him.
But it is always nice to walk through familiar doors and find his siblings talking amongst themselves. Lounging on cushions they used to sit on when they were much smaller, much younger. Eating at the table, sneaking bites of each other’s food. Playing the games still left behind on shelves and tables.
He never worried about what it meant to be the oldest made of flesh and bone. When he had followed Macaria down below, he did not mean to leave the three behind. They had ventured out, as Moros did. When days pattered by with no return, he thought they had found their own place in the world. Seeing them standing strong and hard-headed in front of Hades and demanding his return was more than amusing. Warmth cut through his heart.
Ferrying souls is his purpose. Watching the entrance when the Underworld is open is his purpose. It is what he has done from the beginning, carrying corpses home and laying them to rest, finding internal settlement in river water rushing beneath him. He is the ferryman and the gatekeeper. Carrying souls across the rushing river. Keeping eye on the doorway and forcing out those who try to push in without reason.
But as he always said, there is more to them than the base instinct of their nature. Like holding hands with little siblings as he walks them to their home, and guarding them from mortals and monsters and gods who do not understand what beauty exists in the dark.
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bwbatta · 5 years ago
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blush
Abstract: Aaron Hotchner makes you blush. You just so happen to have the same reaction on him. 
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader (gender neutral)
Warnings: some swearing, some teasing from the BAU, mentions of sexy times, death by fluff, get ready for some blushing red cheeks gang
Word count: 2455
A/N: the super cute dividers are by @firefly-graphics!
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You’d never thought you’d be dating someone from your team let alone it being Aaron, aka, your boss.
The two of you gave into your feelings for each other after one angsty night when a case went wrong and you ending up in the hospital. 
Admissions of love were shared between the two of you and by any definition you were now together, however deciding to keep it to yourselves for now.
Though hiding your new relationship from a team of profilers was difficult, especially as Aaron thought it funny to use it to his advantage.
“Delivery for Y/N” a voice was heard through the office as your head shot up and mouth fell open slightly at the display of red and white roses held by the delivery man.
“Over here!” Garcia’s excitable voice was heard and you can tell she was just brimming with questions along with Emily and JJ who had also caught sight of the amass of flowers heading your way.
The man popped the vase down on your desk and held out a keypad for you to sign for them. 
Scribbling your signature down, you were half in slight shock and half in awe of the floral arrangement in front of you.
“Who are these from?!” Penelope gushed “you never said you were seeing anyone!”
Plucking the small note from the top of the bunch, you flipped open the small envelope and pulled out the card.
“Just to see if I can make you blush. I love you -A “
Immediately your face flushed.
Damn you, Aaron.
“You’ve been holding out on us” JJ grinned at hot cheeks as you resisted the urge to look up at the window of Aaron’s office, knowing he was already probably watching.
“They’re just from someone” you said offhandedly like it wasn’t a big deal 
“Just someone?!” Derek’s voice was heard from behind you now “I’m guessing it was a guy who sent you these and he’s ‘just someone’ to you?!”
The gathering of the girls around your desk now had caught the attention of the rest of your team, all eager to find out who the flowers were from.
“So, who’s the lucky guy?” Emily grinned leaning against your desk as she admired the flowers “you’ve got to tell us something about him”
“He’s just a guy I’ve been seeing” you could help the smile which appeared across your face 
“A guy who likes to send our Y/N flowers” Derek teased 
It was slow day in the office and the arrival of your delivery was enough to make the team grasp the excuse of a break. Rossi had wandered down from his office and so had Hotch, the latter concealing the smile he wanted to show. 
“Who’s sent Y/N flowers?!” Rossi’s teasing tone was heard as everyone was now gathered 
“A mysterious boyfriend” JJ answered as you bit the inside of your cheek 
“He’s kind of a dick to be honest” you shrugged catching Aaron’s eye “sending me flowers knowing all of you will bombard me with questions”
“So he knows about us?” Emily’s eyebrow shot up 
“Mmm, told him everything about you lot” you mused “it’s almost as if he already knows you guys” 
You held back the chuckle that desperately wanted to escape your lips. 
“Seems like he obviously cares about you. The red roses are typical signs to show romance and love as well as commitment where as the white is traditionally about a new beginning or loyalty” Reid rambled off about the roses to the team as Hotch had raised an eyebrow at you as if to tease you.
Not trusting yourself to not expose the both of you, you dropped your eyes to the roses again as you felt the slight grin on your lips.
“So this guy loves you?!” Derek teased wiggling his eyebrows 
“Alright that’s it” you rolled your eyes with a smile “you all know too much now, I’m not saying anything else”
“You should know better than lying to a bunch of profilers, Y/N” Aaron’s voice was heard humorously 
“Exactly” Penelope grinned “Now of you could just tell me his first and last name along with his date of birth and blood type that would be great”
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“I can’t believe you” was the first thing to come out of your mouth as Aaron opened the door to his apartment that night. 
A grin sat on his face as he took in your exasperated look
“I don’t know what you mean” 
“Don’t know what I mean?! I mean you delivering flowers to me which was obviously going to cause an avalanche of questions”
“Ohh, that”
With a look through narrowed eyes you passed him, walking further into the room, expression changing as soon as you and Jack both spotted each other.
“Y/N!” 
“Jack buddy! Hi!” 
Leaping off the seat he was on, his little legs sprinted over to you as you caught him and lifted him onto your hip with arms right around him in a hug. 
“Are we having another sleepover tonight?!” He asked excited 
“I don’t know, you’ll have to ask your dad” you said as immediately you both turned to Aaron with matching puppy eyes 
“Please, Daddy!” Jack asked as he wrapped his arms around your neck tighter “can Y/N stay over?”
“Yes please, Daddy” you smiled at your boyfriend who’s neck has grown a little redder at your teasing tone, knowing exactly what you did to him
“If Y/N wants to stay over, then yes” he grinned, face falling into a genuine smile as his son’s eyes lit up, though he remembered your teasing tone and stored it in his mind for later.
The evening consisted of building with Lego’s, followed by a meal made by Aaron who had happily watched on with genuine heart eyes as his two favourite people bounced off each other’s energy.
Before long a large yawn escaped the boy’s lips as he was snuggled in between you both, his head just dropping onto your shoulder, a key sign he was growing tired. 
Picking up his son, Jack waved a sleepy goodnight to you before Aaron placed him in bed and the boy was out like a light. 
“All the excitement of creating a huge Lego truck must’ve knocked him out” you chuckled as Aaron settled beside you, pulling you into his chest. 
Tugging your legs over his own, you cuddled into his chest as you both relaxed into each other.
“He adores you” Aaron kissed the crown of your head “as do I” 
“He’s my favourite Hotchner man” you shrugged with a slight smile on your face acutely aware of the narrowed eyes you now had staring down at you
“So, it’s not your wonderful boyfriend who sent you flowers at work today?” 
“He’s a close second” 
“Not even when you call him, Daddy?”
“You little-“
Feeling Aaron’s fingers immediately tickle your side your whole body blushed and convulsed trying to get away from the offending action of his hands.
With a bubble of laughter escaping your lips, Aaron immediately covered your lips with his own as you laughed into his mouth still. 
His hand wound through your hair pulling you ever closer as if he couldn’t get enough of you as his other hand wrapped firmly around your waist pulling you into his lap. 
His assault on your mouth lessened slightly until small sweet kisses were shared and you pulled back slightly to just take him in.
“I love you” he whispered leaning downward to find your lips again 
“I love you too” you smiled running your thumb over the bridge of his nose “more than you know”
No other words were said as Aaron lifted you up, you wrapping you legs around his waist in second nature as he wandered down the hallway to the master bedroom, closing the door behind you as you went.
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“Holy hell, you obviously had a good night” came Dereks teasing tone as he took the seat next to you on the jet.
“What?”
“Well, as much as I can tell you’ve tried to hide the immense hickey on your neck, it’s still pretty obvious” he snickered 
A hand immediately went to your neck as you narrowed your eyes at him as he just continued to laugh 
“Hey, Em, check this out” he called as you slapped his arm, cheeks flushing 
“Nope, no, nothing to see” you shook your head trying to downplay your colleagues teasing 
“See what?” Emily grinned taking the seat opposite the two of you 
“Take a good look at our Y/N’s neck and tell me a good night was not had by this one?”
“Oh wow” the girl opposite grinned at you “is that from your boyfriend who you’ve told us absolutely nothing about?”
“...might be”
“What about Y/N’s boyfriend?” JJ took the other seat in the pod
“Well considering the damage done to Y/N’s neck...” Emily snickered 
“Oh my god you guys, stop it” you rolled your eyes as you could see Aaron trying to hide a smile as he took the couple seats opposite with Rossi
“Come on, tell us something else about this guy?” Rossi grinned “When are we going to meet him? Invite him to pasta night!”
“It’s still very new and as much as I love you guys, if you were to find out who he was, you’re guaranteed to overload the poor man”
“Overload the- are you kidding?” Derek shot you a look “when would we ever do that?!”
“Greetings my fine furry friends!” The bubbly voice of Garcia popped up “what are we talking about?”
“Y/N’s man” JJ snickered as you shot her a look
“Ooh has anything else been mentioned?”
“Not yet!” 
“As much as I love talking about my love life could we, I don’t know, focus on the case?”
The snickers came from the two females opposite you as everyone began to settle in as the briefing begun. 
“If you need to borrow some concealer, let me know” Emily whispered as you shot her an unamused look 
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The gentle knock was heard on your hotel door at around 1:30am. Knowing exactly who it was, you didn’t bother to grab a jumper or anything as you opened the door in just your underwear.
“Well, hello” 
“Hello to you too” you grinned at his slightly stunned expression 
“Want some company?” 
Holding the door open further as an invitation for him to enter, Aaron slipped past you into your room, stealing a kiss from you in the process.
The door shut behind you as the two of you made your way over to the bed you had just come from.
Making yourselves comfortable, you curled into his chest, your favourite place, as he ran his hands up and down your sides.
“As funny as it is seeing the team joke about your neck, I didn’t mean for it to be that bruised” he said running his fingers over the large hickey he had created only the night before.
“I’m not complaining, the others are just joking anyway, though you leaving me out to dry isn’t so much fun”
He snickered into your hair, completely unapologetic 
“Would you want me to intervene?”
“I’d want you to stop egging them on!”
Aaron grinned at the thought of the teasing throughout the day which he had unashamedly taken apart in. 
“Even when they asked about our sex life?”
You groaned remembering Emily cornering you to ask about the mystery man who was currently in your bed. You didn’t give her any answers until JJ showed up and the two started pressuring you with more questions. 
When Aaron had entered the room you were never more grateful, thinking the two would stop interrogating you but when JJ had asked about where he ranked in regards to how good he was in bed, the man couldn’t help but involve himself in this interrogation.
“He’s the best you’ve ever had?” He questioned eyebrows raising “he must be smug about that? I know I would be”
Aaron had supplied the two women with even more questions after that, leaving the room shortly after with a fiery glare from you.
“You just threw me to the lions” you rolled you eyes at the memory 
“But how could I not after knowing I’m the best you’ve ever had?” He grinned 
Your cheeks flushed again wishing you’d never said anything with him being in hearing distance. 
“Smug bastard” you muttered burying yourself into his chest further 
“Aw, come on Sweetheart” he lifted your chin with two fingers to meet your eyes “don’t you want some of the best sex you’ve ever had?”
Your remaining underwear hit the floor not to long after that.
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“I swear I didn’t get any sleep last night” Derek complained to Reid at breakfast the next morning as you joined the two along with Aaron and JJ.
“What do you mean?” Spencer asked eyebrows furrowing together 
“I mean there was a couple on our floor last night who were going at it like animals” the man rolled his eyes “Weren’t quiet about it either. Didn’t you hear them Y/N, your room was only a few down from mine”
You just held back the snicker that threatened to escape your lips as you nodded in agreement.
“Yeah I heard them, it was so loud, almost like they were in the same room as me” you shrugged
“You guys just got unlucky with your rooms this time then. On our last case, there was a couple a few doors down from me with the same thing. What is it with hotels and people acting like rabbits?” JJ questioned
That time you were both definitely in Aaron’s room which was near JJ’s.
“Anyway, hopefully you’ll be able to go wild with your man when we land Y/N?” JJ teased “Add a few more hickeys to the collection?”
Aaron thought you’d blush and shoot her teasing questions down but was surprised when you just laughed and shot her a smirk.
“Oh definitely” you grinned “to be honest though I bought this little red number I can’t wait to try out, hopefully he’ll be the one with a couple hickeys next time”
The man next to you nearly choked on his coffee at the thought of you in a red number.
Trying to flush the idea from his mind, it did nothing as the red blush grew on his cheeks slightly not being able to think of anything else other than what he’d do to you when you got home. 
Seeing the slight blush on his cheeks, you grinned slightly, thoroughly happy you had the same reaction on him as you knew he did on you.
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r-ene · 4 years ago
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Hi, I came across your blog and saw that you took a gap year. College has drained me mentally and emotionally so I talked to my parents and finally decided to drop from my courses and take a gap year. I was wondering how you self studied while you had yours and how did you make the most of it? Do you have any advice or tips for people like me who want to take a gap year? Thank you 🤍🤍
hey!! sorry it's just now that I got back to you, I just had my examinations and I've been trying to type up an answer but I don't think I've been making sense😅
anyways, it's good you're taking a gap year !!
hmm, first, you're taking a gap year to rest from academics for awhile, so I feel it's alright if you don't really dive into advance/self-studying yet - give yourself some months to breathe, do things you aren't able to do while you have classes even if it's just catching up on sleep, catching up with tv series', kdramas, etc haha.
i said that ^^ but I actually started to self study after summer break, mid-August/September, with the help of my college friends who sent me lecture notes, their quizlet sets and their love and support, hahaha. with that, I study at least 2 hours a day, with a schedule of which subject to study for the day. then I did that until November, I guess then I took a break to watch most of the films/anime/kdramas/series' that I wanted to watch, started to play video games (I don't really do these unless it's a summer break so why not, right? haha), caught up on sleep and exercise, focus on myself, my family, plants and pets.
aside from those, here are 10 things I did that might be helpful with making the most of your gap year :)
make a list of things you wanted to do that you didn't have time for while there were classes ongoing (I mentioned some that I did above and with that was learning new languages - Korean and Japanese!)
this one's my favorite, I hope you'll like this too !! wake up at dawn to watch the sky change as the moon and stars go to rest and the sun gently rises up. It's difficult to wake that early, so I don't often wake up at dawn but just 10-20 minutes before the sun rises and that's the highlight of my day :) very calming, please enjoy this with a cup of coffee/tea and a book
I reset my biological clock mid-gap year, so me and my cat now usually wake at 5:30am and are both very sleepy by 11pm and this increased my overall productivity + I feel more energized throughout the day? + power naps at 1-3pm, sometimes 8-10am, haha.
adapted habits, routines I'd like to keep up even when classes are ongoing - until now I start my day really early most days, fix my bed, organize my room and our kitchen then I have a fixed schedule for cleaning and all :)
catch up with books, series' ++ as I've been saying earlier, haha (really satisfying to finally have read and watched those on my growing list from the past years)
catch up with yourself. how have you been? what do you think you need to de-stress? (for this I tried journaling but wasn't so consistent, listened to podcasts and read self-help books and often resort to de-stressing with cleaning and moving my body)
catch up with your family :) I have 3 siblings and I feel I wasn't so close to 2 and with the gap year I was able to be more open and bond more with everyone + parents and grandma (until now me and mommy (grandma) still chats about random stuff, more of dogs and Luna most times), this was really nice.
in relation to self-studying: keep a google drive with compiled notes, learning materials per subject you'll be taking once you get back to uni so during maybe the last 2-3 months before you go back, you've already read/studied at least prelims-worth of lessons or even just 2-4 lessons per subject. this one's really helpful as well with ongoing classes if your professor doesn't give their lecture presentations beforehand but you know the topic to be discussed as per syllabus, you could whip out your notes from google drive during lecture and just annotate during class instead of typing/writing lots of notes during classes (I do this with my cardiorespiratory anatomy and physiology subject, helps me focus more on the lecture)
learn skills + new recipes - I've been a very curious kid until now, so during my gap year I learned skills I would need for when I move out... how to manage a family of 6.... it lead to that, and I'm in awe of how patient and how much energy mama has to manage everything here at home. I also tried out new recipes and experimented a bit with some dishes that combined ingredients I crave for and resulted very very well 👌🏻
working out and taking care of myself better :) - I was diagnosed with folate deficiency anemia during my medical examination for college (May, 2019) as it was mandatory but I kept forgetting it and didn't take supplements, get enough sleep and eat well. so I took the time to finally start taking my iron-folate supplements religiously and with my body clock reset, I started sleeping early and cooking + eating healthier and working out - I challenged myself with planks, pilates and yoga. I've also been tagging along my parents whenever they go to get their blood tests, urinalysis ++ to monitor my health + also started monitoring my blood pressure everyday. This one's really important to do for the gap year, okay? monitor your health well, it's the most important thing for us to go on daily tasks (not limited to physiological health - mental, emotional, spiritual health is also very, very important. I'm still struggling to stabilize and keep those 3 in check but I try to keep those in check whenever possible)
this one's really lengthy, I'm sorry hehe but I hope it's of help for you and your gap year !!! Just enjoy and relax for this time, you've worked really hard, you deserve to rest as much as you've worked 🤍.
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brownhillsbob · 4 years ago
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#365daysofbiking Just this side of midnight:
26th December 2021 - I will post a fuller explanation in coming days, but I came to within two days of this journal’s ten year anniversary on March 30th, 2021, and just stopped, because I couldn’t decide what to do with it. It was a sort of creative block. At the time. But it was a bit more than that. I was very ill, but didn’t realise it at the time. It’s taken most of the year to get past those difficulties both physical and mental, and find my ease again. It’s not been a comfortable journey. Part of it will be that the nature of this journal will necessarily change.
I still cycle, every day pretty much. But documenting every day was becoming hard. I’m a decade older. I’m well into my 50s. My health has not been great. When I started all this, I would regularly not go to bed until 4am and be up for work at 6am and be fine. Now, I don’t have that energy, and it was getting harder and harder to find things to photograph, and street photography has got harder. Again, more on that later.
Way back in the spring I was quite ill with my bowel again. This was making me tired, and getting that sorted at the height of summer was such a boon - but within weeks, while my immunity was suppressed, I caught a skin infection. My leg swollen, I couldn’t ride some days - not because of any pain, but because I couldn’t get trousers on. Sorting that out properly took until the autumn. Autumn brought me a gradual, day by day recovery: Not just of my physical power, but of my sense of mischief and desire to explore things.
Then came the debate: How do I deal with 365? I don’t want it to die. It’s been a huge part of my last decade, and it’s probably the least-read but most heartfelt writing I do publicly. I don’t want to lose that, but I can’t post every day: It’s become repetitive, I’m not sure anyone’s reading it that much and It’s too rigid a format to say things I want to say now. So this journal is going to change. But also, sort of stay the same. You’ll see what I mean in coming days, weeks, months.
As I type this on Boxing Day at just my favourite side of midnight - 1:30am in a darkened house - I post a photo taken from Ogley Junction footbridge 3 hours before on one of the most unpleasant Christmas nights I’ve known - heavy rain for hours and all was sodden, but curiously, not my spirit. I was full of a great family Christmas Day, and the subsequent evening pursuit of solitude for a while, also hoping to burn off some of the digestive load. It was, at least, warm. The nights are opening out. I survived a particularly vile Autumn suck. It’s OK. All shall be well. One of the oddest features of this year is that although this journal withered, my passion for riding bikes actually grew to a level I’ve not experienced for years. Although I was sporadic for a week here or there, I’ve actually ridden far more miles this year and had many more long rides than usual. it was rediscovering that joy that helped make me well again, a fact I am certain of.
So here I am, just on the morning side of midnight, on the light side of the dark, on the well side of ill, ready to journey onward, but only documenting rides when I feel I have something to share.  Hopefully that will work for you.  But there’s something I have to do first. Stay tuned. Please. And I beg you to accept my apologies. I didn’t want to let you all down. But something had to give. I have written a huge amount on this journal. I think I’ve earned a more relaxed role. Stay tuned.
This journal is also on Wordpress, where the pictures are in higher resolution and the search box works! Click here.
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typinggently · 5 years ago
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So what do you think Feral™ Bruce’s relationship with his kids would be like? Somewhere in my bones I feel that he’d have a better relationship with all of them than in canon, but I wonder what you think! Love your blog, btw!!!
Hello Love!!! Thank you so much for your message! 🥰🧡🧡
I took some time to reflect on this and really think it through, since there are two problems: 1) I only really know about the “fandom favourites”, as in Dick (who I know most about since I used to read the 50s comics as a kid), Jason, Tim, Damian. And thus I felt a little unqualified since I know so little about the girls etc. 
2) Rob is 33, which means the Robins would all have to be VERY young. Realistically, I guess, we could assume timeline-wise Jason would’ve died not too long ago? But I’m just going to ignore realism. So, without further ado
Feral Bruce and his Robins
Dick: Bruce adopting Dick makes sense to me, since the grief over his own lost family is so fresh in his mind. He’d lay eyes on this heartbroken child and immediately jump into action. However, due to his age and personality, this wouldn’t have a TRACE of a father/son relationship. Not even close. They’re chaos siblings, with Bruce as the messy rat and Dick as the adoring golden boy. He’s super proud of his older bro and tells others about how cool he is, which everyone 100% buys because it’s Bruce Wayne, of course he’s super cool. They don’t know that Dick’s definition of cool is “he slipped on his own 3 hour old puddle of sprite and did a funny backflip”. Now - as they grow older: I say they’re rather close due to their shared history(&shared grief), and they’re in a way rather similar. Similar fighting styles (both acrobats and very graceful, while Dick is more of a show-off while Bruce is more erratic), similar sense of humour and taste in films etc. I also think they don’t have a dramatic falling out, Dick just fucks off. Bruce is definitely sad about it, but I think he respects Dick’s need for personal growth since he himself isn’t exactly an overbearing cuddly person and most likely shut himself away for a few days at a time in the past. Idk. I think they get each other really well. So yeah, their relationship is def better!!
Jason: Bruce sees a kid trying to hotwire the batmobile and recognises a kindred spirit. Jason pros - he has a lot of that chaotic energy Bruce has. Jason cons - he lacks the grace and self-control. In general, I feel like pre-Joker Jason and Bruce had a rather good relationship as well. Once again not really that father figure thing, though. But Bruce moved up from”chaotic older brother” to “cool older brother” - since he now has a bit of a grip on how to treat teenagers, even though Jason doesn’t take to his rules as well as Dick did (I see many a person interpret Bruce as kind of lenient and clueless, letting the kids run wild and free, and while I agree with the base levels of that, I’m p sure that Bruce in any version is so built on self-control, that he’d impose that on others as well. Strict meal plans, exercises, etc). Jason’s death is a thing I really don’t know how to handle, because Bruce has such a thin skin. Frankly, I don’t know how he’d survive something like that. Grief is terrible and heart-breaking, and I’m not sure how well-equipped Bruce would be. It’s a very, very dark time. Red Hood is another thing. Bruce can barely fight Harvey, so I don’t see how he’d manage to interact with Jason. I honestly think he’d completely pull back from him. I don’t know how they’d heal from that and I’m not sure how Bruce would deal with the core of Jason’s anger. Fighting him is one thing (which he absolutely cannot do), but understanding him and trying to mend what’s broken is another. Very difficult. Very heartbreaking.
Tim: that would just be a mess. There aren’t any real descriptions of Batman, because his contact with civilians/the GPD is minimal and can you trust villains? They say his fighting style is erratic, but can you trust them? Can you believe Riddler, madly gnawing on his hat, when he tells you Batman threw a comically large plush bat at him and then bonked him over the head with a “bat-knocker”?! What I’m saying: Tim figures the “I love the Ritz. I just wish they had soda-fountains. They have the room and people would love it. A fountain of sparkling-cool orange soda in the hall, catching the light and making those nice ambient sounds. That would be glam. What was the question?” - act is an act, but he’s not at all prepared for the actual Feral Bruce Experience™️. He drops himself off on Bruce’s doorstep and holds his whole “I know who you are” speech until Bruce opens the door and the guy is wearing a kilt and a “world’s #1 Bat” shirt, drinking hot beetroot juice and greets him by saying “how the fuck did you get past the sprinklers?” In short - Tim didn’t expect to be the responsible one here. In general, I feel like they’d get along well, still, considering Bruce is so enthusiastic about learning and bettering himself. However, I do feel like his erratic rat-nature would clash with Tim now and then.
Damian: Bruce’s first instinct after hearing he’s a father is to learn how to raise a baby, so he panically throws together a huge pile of Infant Care books from the library, Damian (10+) standing right next to him. That said, he’s very concerned about being a good father figure and raising Damian right. He loves the other boys, of course, but he never really saw himself as their father. This is a new situation for him and he doesn’t feel like he’s up for it. So now he tries to be a good influence, which results in him knocking on their doors at 1:30am all “remember not to drink coffee past midnight!” while holding a pitcher with Earl Grey.
Which brings me to the end note: Bruce is actually a great influence, he’s just not aware of it. He enforces healthy eating habits and a strict exercise routine. He’s got great posture and reminds his boys to sit/walk straight and stretch. He’s very cultured and studious in a very un-pretentious way, setting a great example for the boys. 
But most importantly - he’s so true to himself in such an unapologetic way that everyone else feels free and encouraged to be themselves, too. While his eccentric behaviour could be interpreted as self-centred narcissism, he makes it extremely clear that he cares greatly about each and every one of them. He’s incredibly compassionate and they all know that he loves them dearly.
They all learn a lot from him when he’s not looking, and whenever he notices some little piece of evidence for just how much he’s influencing them, he turns into a mess, eating carrot sticks in the kitchen at 2am with big teary eyes while Alfred makes him tea. (Alfred is the real father figure, of course, but he’s insanely proud of Bruce for handling his responsibilities so well and doing so good with his flock of Robins)
I’m very, very soft. Bruce deserves the world. He loves his family a lot, even though he seems to take them for granted or forget about them at times. And they love him, too, although he’s a bit strange.
(So, to make it short: they DO have a great relationship. Just a tiny bit rocky at times, but I feel like this Bruce is less emotionally repressed and thus a lot of issues would fall flat? They know he cares)
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withabackpackandcamera · 4 years ago
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March 26th, 2021
Day 3: The Long Reverse Hike at Haleakala National Park Sandwiched Between Sunrise and Sunset
Man do I dislike waking up in the wee hours of the morning before the sun is even close to rising… But it was something that I had to endure today in order to view one of the gems of Maui (a gem that supposedly only 50 private parties of people can enjoy a day (probably excluding tour company groups)): sunrise at the summit of Haleakala Crater.
Because sunrise was scheduled for 6:20am or so, we had set our alarms for 4:00am with the goal of leaving the AirBnB at 4:30am. We ended up getting out of there around 4:45amafter cleaning up and checking out. The drive out to Haleakala National Park was supposed to take about an hour given the dark, windy, switchback roads that we had to drive up but luckily, the drive was smooth and without issue, and we arrived at the national park gate entrance at around 5:45am. 
We thought we were good on time with that arrival time but little did we know that there was still quite a bit of a slow, windy drive left to get to the actual summit from the entrance gate. And that sunrise was quickly approaching with the sky slowly lighting up over us. Nervous that we might actually miss the sunrise, I charged up the mountain to the summit, zooming through curves while racing down the straight parts of the road. Eventually, I had to make a decision on where to view the sunrise since I was presented with two options along the route: the Visitors Center or Red Hill (or Pu'u'ula'ula). Not knowing which one provided the best vantage point and view of the sunrise (since I didn’t do my research ahead of time), I decided to drive up to the very top of the summit at Red Hill, located at 10,023 feet above sea level, to view the sunrise and got to the parking lot about ten minutes or so before the spectacle was scheduled to happen. 
I jumped out of the car after parking and ran up to a spot on the hill where I saw some others standing and planted my tripod on the ground and set up for the sunrise shot I was hoping to capture. The scene around us was beautiful. A red-colored rocky landscape with a road winding down the slopes in front of us. Haleakala Crater with its jagged rim backlit by the ever-brightening sky behind it underneath which sat a rug of clouds blanketing the ocean views beneath it. Soon enough, Cynthia and I and the rest of the crowd around us spotted the bright orange ball of a sun rising past the horizon of clouds and peeking at us from a distance. As the sun slowly rose in the sky, it created a gorgeous scene of warm lights and shadows that didn’t last as long as I wished it had. 
After enjoying the sunrise views from the summit, we quickly drove down to the Visitors Center below to enjoy what was left of sunrise. The view down there wasn’t great by the time we made it to the rim of the crater and before long, the sun was high in the sky and the sunrise event was over. It was time to pack up the camera and get ready for the long hike ahead. We headed back to the car to prepare for the Sliding Sands Trail we were going to hike today. We quickly ate some leftovers we had for breakfast and changed and packed everything we needed for the long day ahead of us. Once comfortable and ready to go, we started our hike around 7:30am. 
The Sliding Sands Trail, also known as Keonehe’ehe’e) is an 11 mile out-and-back hike that starts (instead of ends) at an altitude of 9,802 feet and descends into the Haleakala Crater to a nadir of 7,225 feet before you turn back around to hike back to where you started. Our goal for the day was to make it all the way to the bottom and complete the entire trail, which would eventually lead us to Mapalaoa Cabin, a rest cabin located about 2 miles past the slopes we were to hike down. 
Though the sun was out, the day started off a bit windy and cool. We slowly snaked our way down on the rusty red-brown, sandy and rocky path, taking time to appreciate the very unique and colorful scenery around us. We observed the beautiful and threatened species of Haleakala silverswords as we climbed down the slopes and saw, from a distance, the dark black cinder cones rising from the ground of the crater below. 
As we climbed further and further into the crater, the wind died down and the temperatures progressively warmed. Once we hit level ground, we walked another 1.7 miles on a sandy trail into the middle of the crater where we would be greeted by the Mapalaoa Cabin. By this time, we hadn’t run into too many people, just two other parties that had already made their way down to this area. And we were the third party as far as we knew. Because of all the beautiful scenes I had to stop at and photograph, it took us about 3h20m to get to Mapalaoa Cabin, and, by that point, Cynthia was spent and completely over it. I was hoping that we would have enough energy for both of us to hike a loop around the cinder cones in the crater back toward the slopes we descended earlier but because of the hotter weather conditions and how tired Cynthia was from the climb down (and because of the altitude we were hiking at), we decided to forego the loop and just do an out-and-back. 
We stuck around the cabin area for a bit and took our lunch/snack break there at a picnic table outside for about 40 minutes to rest our legs and our lungs before getting right back at it. Usually, the hike back to the beginning is downhill (usually down a mountain) and much easier than the hike in. However, this hike was completely reversed and the hardest part was definitely the hike back at altitude. So, step by step, Cynthia and I hiked back through the desert-like crater and up the side of the crater to where we started. And it was a long hike up, because of both my heavy camera bag and my weary legs. At some point on the ascent, I started feeling discomfort at the top of my right calf muscle that slowly got worse as I climbed. A calf strain at the worst possible time. But I trudged on at my own pace and Cynthia did the same at her own pace as well. We passed people but many parties passed us as well. But it was fine because hiking up slowly was the best thing we could do for ourselves to get back to the top and to avoid any altitude sickness that might hit us as a result of hiking uphill to 10,000 feet. We took frequent breaks, drank a lot of fluids, and ate a lot of snacks, which helped energize us on our slow march to the top. I personally made a ton of stops on the way up because by this point in the early afternoon, the sun’s position in the sky had changed for the better, and the colorful center of the crater was perfectly lit for photos. And I took a ton of them (and probably too many) on the way up!
Eventually, Cynthia and I made it back to the top! For a roundtrip total of 8h45m! What a champ Cynthia was! The hardest hike she’s ever done and she did it with only some exhaustion but otherwise crushed it! With our legs feeling like jelly, we took a little break and just sat in the warm car and chilled. After a few minutes, we moved the car to the summit parking lot where we hung out until sunset. Originally, we weren’t sure we were going to stick around for sunset due to our exhaustion but we ultimately decided that we might as well stay to see the sun’s descent. 
After finding some data in the area to use, I found that the best spot to view sunset at Haleakala was actually where we were situated. So we stuck around Red Hill and checked out the surrounding views of the crater and the observatory below. With an hour until sunset, I grabbed my photography equipment and scouted out a spot along the western side of the hill where others were starting to camp out and made myself comfortable. From my seat on the rocky volcanic ground, I could see not only the Maui landscape far below as the sun was setting on it but also the mountains in the distance and the blanket-like cloud cover all around. 
Shortly after setting up, Cynthia joined me for sunset and after waiting an hour, we enjoyed a beautiful view of the sun as it dipped below the blanket of clouds at 6:38pm. I stayed around in the cool evening weather taking photos until the colors of the sunset were essentially gone. Because it was going to take a little more than an hour to drive to West Maui, I didn’t stay to take photos for long and returned to the car to start our drive as the darkness began to fall.  We eventually made it to Ka’anapali Beach in West Maui where we picked up takeout dinner (Kalua Pork Tacos, Coconut Shrimp, and a Cheeseburger with Fries) from the very popular Leilani’s on the Beach restaurant to bring back to the Royal Lahaina Resort and Spa, our home for the next three days. 
After checking in to our resort, we moved up to our room and finished our dinner in the room after cleaning up and reorganizing ourselves. Because of how tired we were from the long day (and how sore my strained gastrocnemius was from the hike), we called it a night relatively early without doing much else after dinner. Now begins the chill part of the vacation! Looking forward to a chiller day tomorrow! 
5 Things I Learned/Observed Today:
1. Beware of how you time your drive up to Haleakala Summit for sunrise. There is a significant drive, around 20 minutes, that your GPS does not account for from the national park entrance to the summit itself. So plan accordingly or you’ll be late and miss the sunrise. 
2. Haleakala is a shield volcano that created about 75% of Maui. Crazy! 
3. The endangered Haleakala silverswords are pretty cool and pretty weird! Based on what I observed from the plants, it looks like the silversword has various stages of life that it evolves through. By looking around the crater landscape, you might be able to hypothesize the life cycle of the silversword and make a guess as to which form leads to which other form and how it all ties together. A fun biology thought experiment. Also, interestingly enough, the silversword has a dense covering of silvery hairs that help the plant to conserve moisture and protect the plant from high-elevation sun.
4. Even though sunrise is pretty cool to see at Haleakala summit, the beauty of the crater itself is difficult to appreciate at that time due to the harsh shadows created by the morning sun’s backlight. However, as the sun moves across the morning and afternoon sky, the lighting gets better and better. By the mid to late afternoon, you get a much better view of the beautifully colorful Haleakala Crater that is now well- and evenly-lit.  
5. The highest point on Maui, Haleakala Summit, was the perfect place to build an observatory because the area is situated above the clouds, leaving a clear and dry atmosphere, as well as minimal air and light pollution. The observatory’s position provides perfect conditions for viewing the stars and the heavens. Based on what I read, the site provides the fourth-best viewing conditions on the planet! 
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mrswagangel · 5 years ago
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Not Sorry
This is a @soulbounty fan fiction. The story universe and all characters except Brian belong to @whatthehaxx​. Check out their art blog: @haxxydraws!
Beatboxxx was having the time of her life. Her hips swayed to the club music. The beat was so loud it felt like it was clutching her heart and compelling her body to dance. She could feel Suxxubus grinding on her front and someone she most likely didn’t know grazing her back, but Beatboxxx didn’t care as long as they didn’t get in the way of her dancing. She had so much emotion and frustration to let loose with no time but now to release them.
Beatboxxx had a job to complete tonight. Yesterday she flirted her way across some intel of where she and Clwn could find their next target. Brian Cyan sold his soul 10 years ago to make his wife and kid “go away” in order to marry into wealth. It was time for him to pay his debt, but he managed to slip away. Beatboxxx found out he had a bit of a gambling addiction landing him to a gamblers club meeting at midnight a few blocks from where she was dancing.
There was nothing to do until the meeting, so there was nothing standing in her way of accepting Suxxubus’ invite to the club... as long as she met up with Clwn on time.
She started to run low on energy and thought it was a great time to get another drink, so Beatboxxx pulled Suxxubus towards the bar. The person who was dancing too close behind Beatboxxx grabbed her arm. She tried bruising some pink strands attached to her forehead via sweat from her face with a hand still on her arm. She finally looked and knew for a fact she didn’t know this person.
“You’re not leaving without me, are you?” The man asked. “I thought we were having so much fun.”
“I need a drink!” Beatboxxx yelled over the music.
“I can’t let a pretty girl like you get away! Let me buy you and your friend a drink!”
“No, thanks,” Beatboxxx said while removing his hand from her arm and immediately grabbing Suxxubus again. “My boyfriend is waiting at the bar for me!”
She quickly lost him in the crowd and made it to the bar.
“Let me get the fruitiest drink you got and a vodka cranberry!” Beatboxxx yelled at the bartender.
“Men!” Suxxubus complained.
“I know, right!” Like I let you grind on me a bit while I dance! That should be enough!”
“This is why I don’t let them even talk to me!” Suxxubus pointed out.
“That and you’re in no way attracted to them!” Beatboxxx tried to get out while laughing.
The bartender gave them their drinks and Suxxubus paid while Beatboxxx checked her phone.
“Shit!” Suxxubus looked over Beatboxxx’s shoulder at her phone screen to see 3 missed calls and 4 texts from Clwn. “It’s 2:22! I missed the job and Clwn is pissed.”
“Well at least you don’t need to watch the time anymore!”
“I’m gonna go,” Beatboxxx said after she drowned her drink. “Clwn might go on a murder spree and I gotta make sure he collected the soul. Sometimes he just kills the target and leaves the soul when he’s in one of his moods.”
“Alright! See ya, girly!”
Suxxubus turned toward the bar looking down for someone to hang with for the night as Beatboxxx grabbed her bag and left.
Beatboxxx found the gamblers club riddled with ambulances and cops. All the members looked confused and terrified letting Beatboxxx know Clwn used his reality warping on them. He at least didn’t go on a murder spree here. The lifeless body being hauled had no soul, so Clwn has the soul or already delivered it. All his text said was that he “handled” it.
There was nothing else for Beatboxxx to see, so she made her way to one more pitstop before heading home.
                                                            : : :
Just as Beatboxxx suspected Bootsman was hanging by his harness from the living room ceiling. Because Bootsman had no arms, Clown put him in a jacket that he sew weights inside the sleeves to keep the harness in place.
Bootsman stopped angrily squirming once he noticed Beatboxxx looking at him. She heard a faint whine echo in her head she probably wouldn’t have heard if she wasn’t focused on the gachapon imp.
Beatboxxx put down the pig she caught and roasted with her electrokinesis before helping Bootsman.
Clown had a tendency of fucking with Bootsman when he was upset with Beatboxxx. She’s the one who wanted him as a pet and yet he was the one who took care of Bootsman the most (not that Clwn would let Bootsman know this). Beatboxxx just never thought about the responsibilities or consequences that came with her decisions and actions. Beatboxxx could buy and show off all her gachapon imp merchandise, but couldn’t feed or walk Bootsman half of the time unless she knew Clwn was royally pissed with her (hence the roasted pig).
Once Beatboxxx got Bootsman down, he beelined to Clwn’s door to kick it repeatedly. It raddled with each kick. Beatboxxx ignored this in favor of ripping the pig apart with her bare hands for her and Bootsman to share.
After Beatboxxx finished dividing up the pig, she called Bootsman to come eat. He left Clwn’s bedroom door to fill his stomach. He stopped in front of Beatboxxx who now sat at the kitchen island with pig parts all over the surface. She picked up one piece while Bootsman almost split himself in half vertically revealing sharp teeth. Beatboxxx dropped the pork and Bootsman closed himself over it. Beatboxxx ate and occasionally dropped a piece in Bootsman’s awaiting mouth whenever he split himself.
Beatboxxx made no attempt to clean off the counter after they finished eating. Instead she gagged at the smell left on her clothes and hands from carrying and splitting the pork. 
She stripped on the way to the bathroom leaving a clothes trail in her wake. After she finished washing up and removed her make-up, she sat on the living room couch scrolling through Instagram. Suxxubus already posted pictures and videos of them, so she shared those on her story adding stickers and such. Bootsman surprisingly jumped on the couch to snuggle her side waiting for scratches. Really Beatboxxx was avoiding Clwn. His last text just said the words “Fuck you” with no emoji.
Beatboxxx knew she probably shouldn’t have gone to the club or at least kept a better track of time, but the last thing she wanted to do was tell Clwn that or anyone for that matter. Clwn was just always right and he was never nice about it either. It didn’t help that Bootsman kicked Clwn’s door as soon as she let him down. There’s no way Bootsman could’ve got down on his own meaning Clwn had to know Beatboxxx was back. If she goes straight to her room, there will be a bigger fight in the morning.
She looked back at Clwn’s texts:
   12:16am Where are you? You should’ve been here 15 minutes ago. 😡
   12:30am Forget it. I handed it. 😒
   1:30am I made turkey wings for dinner... you know, whatever you get back 😑
   2:13am Fuck you
Actually Beatboxxx couldn’t do this. She got up and headed to her room. As soon as she opened her door, Clwn opened his which was directly across from Beatboxxx’s. Beatboxxx reluctantly let go of her door knob and faced Clwn. Bootsman, sensing the tension, ran past Beatboxxx into her room and kicked the door closed behind him.
“Look. I-”
“You should’ve been there. We had a plan,” Clwn interrupted. “Do you think I like this job?”
“Yes?” Clwn didn’t move. The poncho didn’t reveal any hand movement and his mask stayed as the cynical clown face. Beatboxxx, however, did notice the slight leak of black matter from under his mask. “I mean you can legally— or at least legal-ish— kill. You love killing!”
“I prefer picking my own targets and not having to create sneaky plans, so humans don’t see me,” Clwn retorted.
“I swear I was keeping track of time.”
“No, you were too busy with Suxxubus to do your damn job!”
Beatboxxx covered her mouth to giggle.
“Are you seriously jealous? Is that why you cursed at me over text? Because I wouldn’t eat a romantic, homemade dinner with you?”
“No,” Clwn said while holding himself back from telling her off. “I want you to do your job PROPERLY for once.”
“It got done, didn’t it?”
“No. Thanks. To you.” Some of Clwn dripped on the floor from behind his mask. Beatboxxx couldn’t say she wasn’t a bit scared. Usually Clwn could hold his form together. Not now clearly.
“I was the one who found out where he would be!”
“You also need to follow through! You can plan all you want, but, if you don’t do the damn deed, what’s the fucking point?!”
The two just glared at each other. Beatboxxx clenched her fists causing nail dents in her palms while Clwn dripped a small puddle of black matter over his poncho and onto the floor.
He was right. He was always right and it pissed off Beatboxxx to no end. She just had to be patterned up with him of the all Soul Bounty demons.
“Fine,” she exhaled. “I’ll handle the next job by myself. Will that make us even?”
All the matter on the floor creeped up Clwn’s legs disappearing under his poncho only to reappear briefly at his neck to go back under his mask.
“That’s what I like to hear.” One of Clwn’s detached hands came from under his poncho to re-open his door. As she turned around to retreat into his room, he warned, “Don’t let this happen again.” The hand followed him into the room to close it behind him.
“Don’t let it happen again,” Beatboxx mocked as she finally went into her own room. Beatboxxx found Bootsman comfy in his bed. Clwn got him a dog bed as a joke. Although Bootsman was initially upset about it, all it took was a soft blanket for him to reluctantly sleep in it.
Beatboxxx decided to call it a night if you could call 3:45am bedtime. She crawled into her bed and layed down, not looking forward to handling the next mission. Clwn was usually the strategist, but she knew he wouldn’t offer any insight. She supposed she got herself into this one. She would figure it out somehow.
Just as Beatboxxx closed her eyes she heard her door open. This confirmed her suspicion. Clwn was seeking her attention today. He was more mad about her not showing up for dinner than he was about the job.
Nevertheless, she allowed him to get into bed with her. Once he settled, she rolled over to cuddle him. Beatboxxx was the only one of them that had arms, so Clwn reluctantly let her be the big spoon. It had nothing to do with the fact he was 1 foot shorter than her with his heels.
The 2 of them— 3 if you count Bootsman— had a lot to work on relationship-wise, but, for now, they were all tired.
“You smell like a pig.”
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mothmansfriend · 6 years ago
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when i’m sad oh god i’m sad (pt. 2)
link to pt. 1
follows a very similar timeline to @tearxofink‘s fic Rules for a Functioning Alcoholic but will prob have differences (such as no established relationships) and takes place in @illogicallyinclined‘s hockey au after the mention of Remus possibly having undiagnosed bipolar disorder
update: i think its important to acknowledge roughly where this takes place in the big timeline bc D doesn’t really drink past freshman yr in this AU because of self preservation and trauma, alcoholism was more an issue before then in high school (when remus and d were Rowdy Boys) but the stress of Logan’s concussion lead to some heavy drinking that was caught quickly by Virgil because Remus Cannot Keep Secrets.
summary: Remus has undiagnosed Bipolar Disorder and is dealing with a severe depressive episode in the aftermath of realizing that binge drinking with D wasn’t just his own search to Feel Something, but was also D’s relapse into alcoholism. Remus comes to the realization of lost time during manic episodes and refuses help.
tw: graphic descriptions of a depressive episode, self harm (burning),  suicidal thoughts, and suicidal intent (but not attempt). unhealthy coping mechanisms, alcohol abuse, mentioned alcoholism, undiagnosed mental illness, miscommunications on shared trauma, ask to tag if i missed any.
There are a number of places that are simply uncomfortable to sleep. Barely sitting up and using the chairs provided by the previous tenants as a pillow is certainly one of them. It takes Remus a moment to identify what woke him up as there's another round of knocking on his door and he doesn’t want to respond. It’s bright out,the sun is blocked from his figure by the curtains covering most of the windows. He hears Roman’s muffled voice as the locked doorknob jiggles, “See? I told you he’s not here, Virge. There’s nothing to be worried about, if he doesn’t show up by tomorrow I’ll go look for him. You know how he is”.
Their footsteps move away and Virgil speaks, “Can you text him? I’m just worried, Thomas said that-” his voice fades as they enter the kitchen.
Remus can barely pick himself off the floor before his phone lit up with a notification.
the shittier twin: You good? LMK when you’re coming home, Virgil is lowkey freaking out  (received: 10:14)
He stares at the words willing his brain to focus as he decides, maybe he should reply.
He sends a photo of a fat pigeon he took outside a club him and D got kicked out of a few weeks ago. It would be clear that the picture was taken at a different time, but does get message of ‘I’m alive’ across. Which is about as much as Remus is willing to communicate to people that haven’t even tried to contact him before now. How sad is it that his twin brother didn’t even check on him until six days later. Or maybe he should be asking if it’s sad that after four days Roman still hasn’t noticed that he’s home, or that it took Roman six to even ask? Remus spends all this time in the theatre and in the arts studio, and still Roman was the only one to ask, though at the request of someone who wants to get mad at him. He considers if maybe that he is a bad person, and that isn’t something he normally would care about, but if he weren’t then people might have checked on him. He usually hangs out with D almost everyday and he swears he’s never been gone more than maybe four days. But no one else seems concerned at all.
He considers reasons why this might be and gets stuck on Roman’s comment that he hasn’t been gone that long, and the implications then of him being gone longer. Things that don’t really make sense, but he knows losing your train of thought and getting distracted is a part of ADHD, but maybe, this is much more concerning. How does he know that he’s only ever been gone so long, maybe those lapses are more than a few minutes of zoning out. Which leads to, does Remus know who he is during these lapses? The contrast between the two prince twins have always been clear in their behaviour, Roman who follows every word their parents whisper in his ear. The boy grew up to be an actor after years of who takes any command without thought at that chance to be on top, and revelled in praise. It’s the cowards way of survival, are you really living if you’re not you? He knows Roman wasn’t quite loving that, but he still complied. Remus has always known exactly who he is and who he always will be. But the uncertainty of who he is in those spaces that seem to be taking up more and more space, maybe he;s been following someones script too?
He’s constantly changing his mind and forgetting where he is, are his feelings his? If everything the thought he knew about himself is slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass than how does he make it stop?
Virgil slides into the recently empty chair next to Roman the second Patton gets up to ask the waitress for another round of coffee, he steals one of Roman’s sausages and speaks, “By the way, I’m catching a ride to your place with you and D”.
Roman squawks at the sausage thief, “Why? I already told you Remus isn’t home!”
Virgil rolls his eyes, “Yeah I know, just humour me. I went to talk to Joan before we left and Thomas said Remus texted to apologize for missing practice, he’s never done that before! I just wanna come check, you can make fun of me later or whatever.”
“Fine, whatever, I know you’d just show up anyway. I don’t think him texting Thomas means anything though, even if it is weird.”
“Well we can agree to disagree then.”
The entry to the apartment the Prince twins share with D was just as full of banter as expected. D and Roman irritating Virgil without effort but Virgil matching that with his own comebacks and determination to check on Remus. “Alright, Emo Knightmare, let’s go knock on his cave door so I can know you again, that he isn’t home” Roman drops his bag next to the couch and heads down the shared hallway of D, Remus, and the storage closet. D walks past him with comments of a essay due tomorrow and disappears. Roman walks down and knocks on the door sternly once maintaining eye contact with Virgil knowing there will not be a response. Virgil follows him and he knocks again after a moment and jiggles the knocked door handle. “See? I told you he’s not here, Virge. There’s nothing to be worried about, if he doesn’t show up by tomorrow I’ll go look for him. You know how he is.” Roman turns and leads them back out into the living room towards the kitchen.
Virgil pauses for a moment watching the door before he follows, “Can you text him? I’m just worried, Thomas said that he actually texted to apologize for not showing up today. You know when Remus is out he never remembers to charge his phone, it just seems weird.”
Roman exhales and wordlessly pulls out his phone shooting off a text to his twin before pulling some leftovers out of the fridge to offer to Virgil despite the fact they had eaten not long ago. Virgil accepts and he puts it on two plates for the microwave. Roman’s phone vibrates on the counter with a text. The emo leans over to read and snorts, “Wait, is Remus’s name actually ‘the shittier twin’ in your phone? He just send a picture of  what appears to be an obese pigeon, that doesn’t answer my question at all!”
Roman shrugs, “Of course it is, and yeah that sounds about right, it’s like he’s trying to communicate through hieroglyphics, he’s just telling us he’s fine.”
Virgil’s dark eyes examine Roman’s face for any reflection that he’s just trying to make him stop bothering him with his concern, but when he sees nothing he drops his defensiveness, “Yeah, okay, he’s your brother, he’s kind of like a cat I guess. He always comes home right?”
The microwave beeps and Roman slides the extra plate in front of Virgil, “Exactly, he’s just like this, I’ll text you when he comes back. You don’t need to worry about it, Virge.”
Virgil shoots him a small smile before taking his plate to the couch closely followed by the oldest Prince twin as they settle down with Netflix until they need to leave for their respective classes.
Roman blearily wipes his eyes as he wakes up in his dark room and rolls over to check the time. 2:34am wake up and bathroom break time. He briefly considers just rolling over and waiting four or five hours until he needs to get up for class, but decides there’s just a higher chance of getting a restless sleep the rest of the night. The hockey captain rolls out of bed standing in his room shirtless and only wearing a random pair of soft sleep pants and stumbles out of his room, crossing the living room and entry way he’s about to try the handle of the dark bathroom door when it opens to reveal a tall dark figure.
Roman jumps back with an admittedly embarrassing squawk before recognizing the dark figure to be a freshly showered, exhausted, and almost weak looking Remus. The two stood in silence for a moment, Remus not even reacting to the sight of his brother. Roman awkwardly laughed for a moment, “Holy shit, Remus! I didn't even realize you were home.”
Remus stares emptily, moving to walk away without replying, Roman stops him with a hand on his shoulder, “Are you like, uh, okay? You kind of look like shit”
That was clearly the wrong thing to say as suddenly Remus’s face hardens into a snarl, “Oh fuck you, Roman.” His voice cracks halfway through but it doesn’t do anything to diminish the venom in his voice, “Don’t fucking touch me.”
“Christ! If you’re going to be an asshole then nevermind, I just wanted to check up on you. You know, like a concerned brother just might do?” Roman fires back suddenly feeling defensive. The tone of voice Remus uses almost sounds scared to him but he doesn’t have the energy to pry at Remus in the hallway less than 6 feet from D’s door at 2:30am.
“You don’t get to play any kind of concerned brother role right now! You don’t just get to decide to be concerned one day, it’s all about appearances with you, I dont fuck with that!” Remus’s voice raises as he gets more and more riled up, his voice sounds like shit as if he hasn’t used it in days, “Tell me when you think I got home, Princey, huh? You don't know shit about me and it’s time you stopped asking like you do.” He steps towards Roman edging back down the hallway to the living room.
“Why am I supposed to know when you got home?” Roman fires back, “You’re an adult! You’ve taken care of yourself fine for years, I’m not your parent I don’t need to know where you are twenty-four-fucking-seven!”
Vaguely, Roman hears D’s bedroom door open and feels brief regret that was smashed by Remus shoving him backwards. “You don’t need to know! But, did you ever think to wonder? Did you ever once care enough to ask? No! I don’t remember ever being gone more than three or four days.”
Roman recoils for a second in confusion but counters standing his ground, “What does that fucking mean? You own a calendar, a phone, you should know your average in the last year has been like five to seven days, you can’t blame me that you decide to go on a bender every 6 months or less. Can’t you ever grow up?”
“It means I don’t know where I was for two to four of those days at least! You self absorbed prick! Fuck!” Remus crumples for a second, his facial expression looks so, lost. He violently grabs and tugs on his still damp hair. He stands back up face guarded once again. “I know I never go out without a plan, I have paid some fucking terrible prices for that that you never need to know about. But, you’re telling me that I was out there and I don’t remember it? And no one thought to mention anything to me? And you’re asking if I’m ‘okay’? Fuck that, fuck you. I’m going back to my room, and ideally I’ll fucking rot and die before I have to look at you again,” Remus seethes before turning and slamming his door without waiting for a response.
Roman sags at his brothers exiting remarks, making tentative eye contact with D who waits in the dark hallway. “I don’t know what to do,” Roman says quietly.
D moves towards him moving them to the couch offering a comforting touch to the remaining twin, “Roman, I cannot tell you that I have any idea about what just happened. But, it seems like he just wants you to be there for him, in his own weird displays of affection he does love you and I think maybe he’s scared sometimes that you don’t care for him, and he lashes out. But right now, you need to go back to sleep so you can go to your boring nine am lecture, and I’ll try to spend time with him tomorrow. Sound good?”
Roman examines D, letting himself feel vulnerable for a moment but trusts that D knows what to do. He’s known the twins since high school, if anyone knew it would be him. “Thank you, D” Roman whispers, leaning into the little affection for a moment before he stands up and moves them back down the hallway.
Roman goes to the bathroom as originally planned but thinks about the things his younger brother had said. How much is he missing? What does it mean for Remus to simply not remember days at a time? Is it because of drinking too much or something else?
As Roman tucks himself back into bed, preparing himself for the restless sleep he had been trying to avoid. His mind wanders, and he can’t help but think that maybe he should be questioning blood stains on Remus’s carpet a little more.
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darkpoisonouslove · 6 years ago
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For the send title Griffin Heat of the moment Long live the queen Three of my fav one shots! Took some thinking to narrow it down!
I am so sorry this took so long, but life got in the way. I had a terrible night on Saturday and really wasn’t in the state of mind to write this yesterday. Also, tumblr ate my response the other day and I’m still mad about it. So it’s been a fun couple of days. Here’s to hoping this answer will cheer us both up!
“Griffin”:
1. I wrote this when I was on vacation but it took me a while to edit it before I could post it. It was a spontaneous idea that I was so excited to start writing that I stayed up late for it (pretty sure I went to bed at, like, 3:30am because of this).
2. As I’ve mentioned before, it was inspired by “I Fell in Love with the Devil” by Avril Lavigne (damn, I love the song and the video) and my own thought process while I was listening to it. My brain just went “Hey, how cool do you think it will be if Griffin tried to summon the devil aka Valtor and then fell in love with him but it had a tragic ending bc it’s them obvs?” And I went “Yeah, I think that would be pretty cool.” So I just went with it but since I wanted it to keep the winx-verse feeling even despite it being an AU, I decided that Valtor would be known as the all-powerful Dark Dragon which is sort of an equivalent to the devil but not quite. He has all the knowledge on magic and is prone to wrecking havoc everywhere he goes, but minus the ruling hell thing. He’s not ruling anything, he was trapped. Because we needed a summoning ritual in this. Who doesn’t love summoning rituals?
3. Speaking of which, I don’t know how I made those up, but I’m really glad I did. The obsidian idea just came to me but when I did some research, what do you know? It was perfect. And I also managed to tie it in with the Obsidian dimension. I love doing AUs because it gives me so many opportunities to play around with canon details and put them in a new perspective and mold them until they fit this new universe I’ve come up with. It’s my favorite part of writing AUs. The hair thing I know from my mom, a book I read (”A Discovery of Witches”, I think) and internet confirmed. And the tears I just thought would add to the aesthetic and provide some insight into Griffin’s head.
4. I chose the title “Griffin” because this fic mainly deals with the essence of Griffin, with what makes her who she is. Also, I did some research on griffins and they are supposed to be protectors so that also fit in super nicely. I am very proud with the version of Griffin I’ve built in this fic. There is so much anger and desperation in her but that in no way changes the fact that she is actually a good person. Which is why this: “She was strong enough to be a protector. Even with her pain. Even with her rage. Even with her darkness.” is my favorite quote from the fic. I was in a dark place at the time I wrote this and it was important for me to remember that.
5. I also love how Valtor turned out in this fic. He’s mysterious and clearly dangerous but also alluring enough for Griffin to ignore the warning signs. And while it’s clear that he was using her, it isn’t clear what he feels about her. He does feel about her. Maybe not love but he certainly feels a lot about her. She was the only one who managed to summon him (aka rescue him) from Omega so he is intrigued by her powers as well as by the interaction of light and dark within her soul. That is the reason why I have considered writing a companion piece to this fic that is from Valtor’s point of view (there certainly is enough unexplored material on that timeline (I only gave the beginning and ending (is it?) of that relationship)), but I’ve discarded the idea as many times as I have entertained it (until now?). I really have other more pressing things that need taking care of rn but I might reconsider it again when I have more time (will a moment like that ever come?) since I had some new thoughts about it now.
“Heat of the Moment”:
1. This was actually the third Winx Club fanfic I wrote but I posted it as the second one since chapter one of “Warmth of Rage, Cold of Love” wasn’t edited yet at the time.
2. It was actually written at the same day as “Fire and Ice” but it took me a lot of time to get it up on FFN because I didn’t want to post it at first. It was veering on smut so I wasn’t sure how people would react to it. Which is why it makes me so happy to hear that you love that story so much, considering all the doubts I had around it (it was also the first time I was writing about them in the past and we didn’t see anything of their interactions back then on the show so it was pretty much a shot in the dark there).
3. Do you know that amazing moment when you want to write something steamy but you’re not comfortable with smut in this particular situation for whatever reason? This fic is the embodiment of that. Which is why it ended up as dry humping. That’s always my go-to thing in a situation like that. Not actual sex, but you get all the intimacy of sex in it. It’s a win-win (and also hot).
4. I probably would’ve gotten discouraged and would’ve quit writing for the Winx fandom after I posted that one because it didn’t get any attention in weeks. The thing that actually kept me going and not just motivated, but excited me to keep writing for Winx was @her-majesty-wears-jeans‘ review.
5. The whole fic is constructed the way it is because I’m convinced that Valtor loved messing with Griffin in every way possible and that it always set off a competition of wills between the two of them.
“Long Live the Queen”:
1. I was bursting with creative energy and just didn’t know what to work on (not for a lack of ideas but because none of those I already had sparked my interest (I think I had idea-fatigue for all of the wips I already had). So I just picked song lyrics and wrote a fic. How do I do this? It certainly is a mystery to me.
2. So it was all total chance there. I was listening to music on YouTube and when the song ended, the suggestions showed up. One of them was a lyric video for Halsey’s “Young God” (which is totally their story in the past, I mean, come on!) and the thumbnail had the lyric “I’m the king and you’re the queen”. So I just took that and rolled with it.
3. I didn’t think it a big deal because I honestly wasn’t planning on posting the thing. I was frustrated with myself that day and was pretty sure that it wouldn’t be good anyway. And then what do you know? It was good. It was better than good. I actually loved the result. So I decided to post it after all.
4. That last paragraph was on the line until the last moment I posted it. I only added it on the last round of edits and wasn’t really sure about it. I almost deleted it a few times, but, ultimately, I decided to leave it be.
5. I had some random thoughts about what happened after Griffin took the crown. Since it will get so out of control with the length if I try to write this (and I really don’t have the time for that), I’ll just write them out here. In short because I forgot some details that were kind of important. Also, angst alert.
Griffin and Valtor start ruling Domino and Griffin’s worries prove to be true. Valtor is… well, not that he’s not listening to her but in a situation that needs improvisation, he always makes the wrong move. He’s listening to her, he’s just not listening to common sense. He’s angry and powerful and it’s not a good combination.
On top of that, Faragonda shows up at the Domino palace to look for Griffin because she is convinced that Valtor is mind-controlling her. Griffin barely manages to convince Valtor not to hurt Faragonda. He’s suspicious of her because he thinks she’s come to gather intel, but Griffin tells him that Faragonda is there because she’s worried about her.
They form a sort of flimsy truce that allows Faragonda to come visit Griffin so that she won’t be so lonely. And if she spills anything about Valtor and Griffin (not just about their plans, but in general) to anyone at all, Valtor will make sure she regrets it. Griffin is still unhappy, though, and after overhearing (whether accidentally or not so much) one of her conversations with Faragonda, Valtor understands how much the whole thing is weighing down on her conscience.
So after one last very tender night with her, he lets her go. He can’t run away with her because that will put her in danger since the Council will want his head. So he’ll stay on Domino and limit the destruction as much as possible, but he wants her to go with Faragonda. They can tell the Council that she was under his spell and that was why she was acting the way she was. They’ve seen enough of what his mark on people can do so that won’t be hard to believe. And it was Faragonda who saved her from it with some fairy dust.
Griffin doesn’t want to leave him, but she does because she can’t take any more of what he’s doing. Faragonda hides her in Alfea where a few weeks later Griffin finds out she’s pregnant. It turns out Faragonda knew all along (Valtor told her when he called her to escort Griffin to Alfea and gave her a letter for Griffin because he knew that if Griffin knew she was pregnant with his daughter, she would never leave his side). The letter tells her under no circumstances to tell anyone that the baby is his daughter. She is supposed to pretend that that is the heiress of Domino who was born just before Valtor attacked and that he’d been keeping her hibernated (which is why she hasn’t aged and is still a newborn) until they found her. It took them months to get her out of that state which would give Griffin the time to give birth to the baby. And the real heiress of Domino is stuck on Earth with her way back to the magical dimension severed by Valtor’s spell. And it will remain so as long as the Dark Dragon Fire is burning.
So Darcy grows in Alfea, pretending that she is a fairy her whole life. And her power of illusions helps her keep up the charade with Griffin and Faragonda guiding her through the discovery of her magic and helping her understand both light and dark magic so that she can pretend to be a fairy and learn how to control her actual powers. And a little bit of glamor helps hide the family resemblance between her and Griffin. She knows the truth about herself and her father but she keeps all of that hidden like her mother insists.
When she turns sixteen, Valtor appears to tell her she is to take the throne of Domino, defeat him and “claim her birthright”. He gives them a part of the embers the Ancestral Witches used to make him and tells them that that is the evidence of his defeat they are to present to the Council. And he will disappear for he can’t stay with them, no matter how much he wants to. It will put them both at risk if anyone discovers the ruse.
Griffin sees how much of his body mass is missing and follows him to learn what he’s done and where he found the ember. Valtor tells her that he cut off his wings in demon form and made them return to their original form. However, that also had consequences for his human form and he’s dying. He’s pretty sure what he did messed with his internal organs and he doesn’t have much more to live. But he doesn’t regret anything if it means that Darcy will finally be safe and happy. And once she builds her reputation and convinces everyone she’s not a threat, she’ll be able to drop the disguise.
Griffin knows that will never be the case. She’s seen clearly all these years to differ from him. They can never drop the pretense for the Council will be after them immediately. And with Valtor dying in her arms, she’s not sure if Darcy can protect herself. She’s never used the full potential of her Dragon Fire and Griffin fears it is too late for her to do it. She fears that having to pretend to be someone else her whole life has destroyed who Darcy actually was. And she fears that it is all her fault. Because she took that crown when she shouldn’t have. When she knew it was the wrong choice.
So after Valtor is dead, Griffin sets out to find out how to bring the actual heiress of Domino back to the magical dimension in hopes that if the two kinds of fire mix and both girls learn to control them, the Council will not hunt down her daughter. A perfect mix of light and darkness is her only exit. But can she be sure that she can achieve it now when she couldn’t years ago and that was what set off the whole chain of events?
So this was longer than I expected but I like how it turned out. Except for the insane levels of angst which I’m pretty sure we’re all used to, but that still doesn’t make them any less painful. Anyway, hope this makes up for the delay!
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aliesteem · 5 years ago
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An Immensely Through Fine Dining Experience from the Brokest College Student Ever.
I’ve recently broken into my old, student email and was reunited with the dozens and dozens of papers I’ve written about dining in Culinary school. These papers scored me A’s and made me realize I possibly do have a future in writing. I’m still proud nearly two years later so I thought I’d share. Enjoy!
Introduction
I am a college student and with that, it’s practically needless to say that I am also broke, very broke. I, however, through great resilence have maintained my champagne dreams enough to actually see a fine dining experience. This is NYC, there had to be one I could afford. In my heavy search the top, three included Tocqueville, Del Posto, and Le Bernardin. These three I took into consideration because of there more affordable price range, beautiful display, and interior design I’ve seen online and (or) its popularity online. It was  Tocqueville that caught my eye. Located 1 East 15th Street in Manhattan, NYC. Tocqueville was most affordable as if they were thinking of college students like me who dreamt of a mouthful of caviar. The others came with a hefty price tag, ones that honestly made very nervous. To me, a $10 burrito Chipotle sounds like a luxury so you can imagine my reaction in finding out Le Bernardin restaurant that costs over $87 for its pri-fixe menu. It doesn’t sound like a shocking expense to some but on this side of the fence, it is.  Del Posto was a little more affordable at $50 but it still wasn’t in my price range.  Luckily, Tocqueville provided the most inexpensive pri-fixe menu only costing $36 for a three-course menu. I felt relieved. I decided this restaurant is my final choice.
Tocqueville, named after the French political sociologist and theorist is owned by husband and wife Marco Moreira and Joann Makovitzky who also own new restaurants 15th East and The Fourth in the same city. With no trouble found I found that the Chef is Jason Lawless on StarChefs.com. He has managed the kitchen since August 2011. The restaurant itself has been opened since 2000 and in seventeen years it has built its reputation of being one of the most innovative French-American restaurants in New York City. You can see from how modern chic yet classic they truly are by their restaurant design. From the photographs provided on the official website, tocquevillerestaurant.com - the look of the restaurant is a cool but clean creamy white and black color scheme. I can tell it is a place that provides excellence a traditional fine dining restaurant would hold but pulls themselves away from being boring and ordinary. I adore the minimalistic and classic take. Their dishes and plating looked absolutely sparkling as well. The picture heading the page of their menu category was the Grilled Filet of Beef. A pearly white plate of succulent meat topped with small diced tomatoes, red onion and herbs were appetizing enough for me to set a reservation for a party of two with a close friend.  
`Making the reservation was fairly easy. Once I called a person who sounded to be a young woman answered sweetly. I asked to make a reservation and she was very quick and efficient. There wasn’t any of the run around that I had anticipated. The space I wanted was open. It didn’t take any more than say four minutes. I was surprised. I expected the restaurant to be packed with reservations especially on a Friday. We talked for a short while after about what will partake once I arrived. The phone call was my first experience with Tocqueville’s true hospitality. It made me all the more comfortable with coming in and dining.  
My expectations in visiting Tocqueville are sky-high. For one, it is a fine dining restaurant. I’ve never been to one. This is exciting, I want it to be fascinating. Above all, I am looking forward to the food. Since I’m a meat and a wine lover the Red Wine Braised Short Rib sounds appetizing. I cannot wait. There is a bit of nervousness about the way the employees will treat me, however. I am visibly very young and a person of color. I sometimes feel when I enter nice places that I’m not supposed to be there. I feel like the oddball. In past experiences the waiters did nothing to eliminate that feeling, making me more unsettled with long stares and awkward treatment. Other guests dining had body language that expressed that I was ruining the atmosphere for them.  I hope that doesn’t happen this time but as always I am remaining positive. From what I know now Tocqueville is a beautiful restaurant with a kind, warm friendliness. I’m counting down the days till the visit.  
The Visit
I woke up a Friday morning with a Ferris Buller-type charisma and energy. I was going to visit a beautiful fine dining restaurant in the city! I have never been to a French restaurant before much less one that was seemingly so elegant. I had the jitters. What should I wear? How should I do my hair? Which train should I take? Is my friend going to be on time? Did I give her the right directions? A million and one questions running through my head. I thought I ought to relax my nerves before I begin my day. I snugged my feet into my orange fluffy slippers and made my way to the kitchen. I picked a Lavender Jasmine mix tea from my collection to boil. Tea always soothes the soul. I brought my mug to the window and looked out for a moment. The day was chilly, sunny but very chilly. “How am I going to dress nicely and still be warm?” I asked myself then take a short sip. I was still nervous but pushed to let it go and know everything will go well.  
My reservation was at 12pm sharp for lunch. It was already about 8am and I know how slow I can be with getting ready in the morning so I start right away. I jump into the hot shower, brush my teeth and prep my skin with scrubs and cleansers for makeup. I hop out, dry off, put most of my day’s clothes on and begin to do my makeup. This takes the longest out of getting ready. I try to see if I can get it done within 30 minutes' time. Nope! It took me almost an hour because I kept messing up but luckily I started early so I was still in good time. I decide on a long, oversized, grey sweater that flows over my black leggings. I pair it jet black heels. Next, was my hair, I have natural, kinky curly hair that usually needs lots of attention but yesterday I braided it up. All l had to do now was unravel them so they can come out fluffy and defined. Once all my clothes were on, fully moisturized, fixed my hair and makeup done and feeling confident to step outside it is 10am. I get a text from my friend, who I invited to dine with me.  “I don’t know what to wear!” she texts. She thinks she’s going to be late. I knew it but I didn’t stress. I tell her don’t think too much in it, just wear something nice but no jeans or sneakers. She tells me she’ll figure it out. I just hope she makes it on time. I make sure everything around the apartment is tidy and in order before I head out the door. I text my mother that I am leaving to go to the restaurant since she’s already at work. She texts me “Good luck!” and I’m out the door.  
I live on a very popular, main street in Brooklyn. It’s loud and lively this time of day. People are heading to work and school in droves. Walking down the block to catch the A train I run into a family friend I haven’t spoken to in a long time. So long, in fact, I can’t even remember her name but her face is vivid in my memory. She asks how I am. I tell her about school and how much I love majoring in Hospitality Management since I’ve transferred from the old school. I keep in mind the time and explain to her I’m on my way to somewhere important and have to get going. She reminds me to say hello to my mother for her and I rush into the train station. Luckily the train arrives immediately. I’m not a train girl not in the least. I know it’s the New York way but I love traveling on an empty bus as oppose to a crowded train with performers yelling “It’s Showtime!” in my ear. It’s not my cup of tea. While I’m on the train I read a Pete Wells article I’ve pointed out. I need to know his review for a class. I’m really into it because I’m a fan of sushi. It’s one of my absolute favorites. The good read distracts me from the groups of people stuffing themselves into the cart along with the street entertainers swirling on poles above my head. I’m thankful.  
My stop is a Fulton Street which I switch over to a 4 or 5 train because it gets me to Union Square under ten minutes. Once I climb out of the train station I check my phone. There’s a text from my friend she says she needs more time but is about to get on the train now! It was 11:23am and we planned to meet at 11:30am. I guessed she lost track of time. I decided to find a way. I am kind of scared to walk in so I wait right outside the restaurant to wait for my friend meanwhile taking a few pictures of my own. It’s nearly 12pm but she is nowhere in sight. 
I go inside to introduce myself to a woman who I believe is the Maître d’ of the restaurant. I tell her my reservations and how I am a student doing a report. Her face suddenly gleams in a huge smile and asks if I talked to Roger. I express I don’t know who Roger is even though I feel I should know. She tells me to sit down which she gets him for me. In a few minutes, Roger is in front of me. A short, well-suited older man with blonde white hair. I don’t recognize him but he says he’s a professor at my school. He begins to ask me questions about wine. I was taken aback a little because I wasn’t expecting it. I tell him my Wine & Beverage professor that I’m taking now, Professor Aliah. I convey how much I’m enjoying her class and all the elements in detail there is to wine-making. It turns out Professor Roger is a Master Sommelier. I wished I said more about wine to him but I was so nervous I’m not used to settings like these.  My friend still wasn’t there after the talk with Roger. I told him I’d wait a bit longer she is supposed to come any second and he told me to take all the time I need. In the meantime, I took pictures and looked around the restaurants outside and the entryway. The name of the dining establishment is printed white on a black sight like a tent over the sidewalk.  The door where the guest enter is made up of all glass. It is chic, modern and simplistic. The Maitre D’s desk in the reception appeared tall, sleek, dark wood tabletop with a shiny, brown wooden, dimmed lamp. There are also award plaques and photos framed all along the wall. Their awards included the 2016 Forbes Magazine’s Restaurant with the highest rating. Best of Award of Excellence 2016 by Wine Spectacular and a 4.8 out of 5 from Zagat 2017. The restaurant is not just popular but highly respected and celebrated, making its way to more great success is that they’ve been recently recommended by the Michelin Guide in 2016.  
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 I looked at the time on my phone and it said 12:30am. Since I was already checked in I figured I was safe from losing my reservation but I opted to seat in the dining room than to take up space in the front seating area any longer. To get to the dining room one needed to pass by the bar. The bar designed with a black and silver color scheme was the most modern section in the restaurant. On the bar top sat a huge marble vase filled with light blue, yellow and pastel green orchids that touched the ceiling. Soothing French jazz spilled gently out of the above speakers. The ambiance, graceful and contemporary. I was in awe. I actually hoped I could have my lunch there.   As soon as I sat down Roger offered me water and the front server – who name escapes me handed me a menu. I told him I wanted to wait for a friend. He was very kind and understood. Pouring the water I realize the glasses were short, open chalice glasses, still easy to hold by them small stem. It was fifteen minutes later when I heard my friend’s voice speaking to the Maitre D’ in the reception area. Seconds later she came walking in the dining area and sat down. She apologized for the lateness. I’ve been late to her events before so I could only be so upset. Seconds later the front server returned to hand us menus.
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The menus were the longest menus I’ve seen. The outside a smooth olive green, the outside a yellow and cream menu with a folder style with all its printed dishes in bold and script. The front server in his black and white uniform finished with a sharp blue tie read over some of the meals that were listed. I appreciated his attentiveness. His body language was confident, alert to where I was impressed by his time and time again throughout the service. He was very efficient when scanning the room and our table. I took the opportunity to ask him the style of the napkin fold, neither did Professor Roger. “We simply make up the style,” he told me. The back server then came up to us from a side station behind the elongated gold curtains and offered bread. I was watching his Frenching style closely. He did it so quickly, it looked easy for him. When I attempt it in class I often lose the stability of the utensils in my hand. I chose the focaccia which was scrumptious. It was dense but not overbearing with flavor. The focaccia was filled with olives, spices, herbs and was beyond incredible with the home-made butter. I asked for another.  
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My friend and I talked about our morning getting ready and caught up with each other’s lives since we haven’t talked in a month. In perfect timing, the front server came to take our orders. We picked two courses from the pri-fix menu. I ordered the Organic Potato and Baby Leeks Soup as an appetizer and a Red Wine Braised Short ribs entrée. As we waited for our meals and the back server pointed each of our tables I observed the dining area. The dining area was mildly lit from the light gold, sparkling crystal chandelier from above. The walls were a warm yellow with rich, gold curtains to match. The seats were made up of a comfortable cool silver, velvet. My attention was grabbed by the gigantic paintings on the wall that was created by an artist named Cheryl Roy Starer. The abstract art stood up on the walls so stunning with its blends of green, blue and white. It was a conversation piece definitely.  We were met with a unique hors d'oeuvres compliments of the Chef. It’s a fresh new take on the Southern-known treat. It’s a toasted golden brioche topped with the cooked yolk and whites of a quail eggs and finished with Alabama caviar.  The deviled eggs we centered on an all-white porcelain dish designed by Bernardaud Classic Silverware. This was my first time having caviar. The flavors delicate and salty reminded me of sardines in a way. The texture was cold creamy goodness. I wished I could have more. As we scrapped the crumbs from whatever was left of the exquisite deviled egg dish the back server approached us again to offer more bread. This reminded me of my Dining Room class where we service almost the same exact way, consistently offering our guest all the bread and quail eggs whites hard-boiled finished with Alabama caviar.  The deviled eggs centered on an all-white porcelain dish designed by Bernardaud Classic Silverware. This was my first time having caviar. The flavors delicate and salty, reminded me of sardines in a way. The texture was cold creamy goodness. I wished I could have more. As we scrapped the crumbs of whatever was left of the exquisite deviled egg dish the back server approached us again to offer more bread. I was waiting. 
-
This reminded me of my Dining Room class where we service almost the same exact way, consistently offering our guest all the bread they’d like. It was nice to be on the other side of the service. I chose the focaccia again. I could not get enough. This time however I was able to dip it into the Potato Leek soup which arrived moments later. When I first saw the bowl it was only filled with sautéed’ black mushroom and a miniature leek in the center of the bowl. I thought to myself there must be a mistake. Turns out the front server came prepared with a tiny creamer pitcher and poured the creamy soup into the bowl right in front of me. It was original and added a special touch. To be completely honest, I was expecting the soup to be bland. I’ve had potato soups so lackluster I pushed myself to finish a bowl. This wasn’t the case. The soup was luscious and silky, earthy with just enough seasoning. The soup was so harmonious with my pallet I was tempted to lick the bowl. I reminded myself I was in a very classy place but it was difficult not to, simply divine! When the entrée arrived I was the most enthusiastic. I am a huge meat lover. Anything meat I am a fan of. I’ll choose it over anything in the menu. I looked at the plate in front of me. The dish appeared kind of odd. My image of short-ribs wasn’t this. The dish came in a wide, circular plate. The meat of short rib formed in a rectangle, an island centered in the middle of potato puree. The short rib was glossed over with a deep brown red wine sauce that resembled chocolate. A lady sitting across from our table asked what dessert we ordered. We told her it was actually an entrée and she was surprised. On top of the short rib sat a roasted pearl onion and cylinder chunks of buttered carrots. The short rib melted on my fork as I cut through it. It was wonderfully tender, I didn’t need a knife. The flavor was robust, the sauce adding a vigorous taste of richness. Swirling a piece of the meat through the potato puree and putting it in my mouth it felt like I was eating butter. It has to be the most well-presented, heavenly dishes I’ve experienced in recent years.  Unfortunately, I was unable to order a dessert since I was on such a strict budget. Next time I’d make sure to experience the sweet parts of their cuisines. 
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It took a while before the check came and I appreciate that. Usually, the front server passes the check to me as soon as the last fork bite leaves my mouth and I find it disrespectful. It hints that the server wants you to hurry up and leave completely killing the feeling of hospitality. My friend and I were fully ready to go when the bill came. It came up to $63.15 for both of us, not too pricey. We decided to tip 20% then we were on our way out but not before I could check out the bathrooms. There were three available bathrooms in the restaurant. One upstairs, one ground level and the other downstairs. I chose the downstairs bathroom. The staircase down was dark with small, glowing gold light to lead the way. The bathroom was covered in light and dark brown marble. The look gave a beach house theme added with the beige weaved baskets and dried plants spray painted gold. The vases were filled with white seashells. The walls were a sexy, dark gold against a shiny, wide mirror. The light was too dimmed, however. I couldn’t see myself as clearly as I would like. The bathroom was also extremely clean, immaculate even. I could tell the restaurant as a whole took tidiness and organization seriously.  I enjoyed myself thoroughly at this restaurant. The ambiance and décor gave me what I wanted, fully satisfying my eyes as well as mouth with every savory dish. I’m glad I decided to come here as opposed to other establishments. It was affordable yet delivered an essence of great fine dining. I plan on going with another friend for a celebration. I’ll try everything I had my eye on the second time around. The restaurant met all expectations and taught me an extra thing or two about quality service. It ensured a tranquil sense of hospitality and an intuitive and refreshing strategy in service. I’d recommend the restaurant to absolutely anyone.  
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21 and 22 for Gruvia! (If ya wanna change the pairing you can) :)
            First off, as an after note: holy god this was amazing and I had so much freaking fun writing it. I’m dead, send help. Second, I intended to include the thigh-high stockings more but the whole tortured past thing kind of took over and I went with it. 
Anyways! Ihope you like this– it’s kind of an AUish thing I came up with based on both of these prompts. Iguess it’s kind of a modernish-urban-fantasy-ish AU. Kind of like a… dark CityHero? Ahhh… whatever it is… it happened. :P
Gruvia – #21 + # 22: Thigh-high stockings and garter belts + Neon lights at 1:30am 
    As per usual, he couldn’t sleep. Outsideit was pouring rain. He could see itthrough his wide apartment windows, coming down in sheets. Somewhere theceiling was leaking. He could hear the constant dripping. It was faster thanusual—a testament to the downpour outside. It had been a long week, he was sotired he felt like he might be hallucinating. His eyes strained to see throughthe sheet of rain, his head was pounding with a nasty headache, but every timehe fell asleep, he could see it all over again. The blood. Her shallow breathing.
           His eyes snapped open. It was stillraining. Urging himself out of bed he stumbled towards the door to grab hisboots and coat. Fine. If I can’t sleep Imight as well be doing something useful. The job they had been working onwas to track down and underground dark guild in the city. They had beenconnected to several recent murders. Gray’s team, which included himself, Lucy,Natsu, and Erza, had been put on the task. Juvia had been disappointed. But shewas still limping from their last bit of trouble with one of the dark guilds.No way in hell was he, or anyone else on the force, letting her go out on fieldlike that. He would head over to HQ and look over the files… no, better yet: he’dtake the files to a bar. The music and neon lights would keep him from driftingoff, and maybe a drink would calm his nerves.
           He moved through the dingy hallwayof his apartment building, paused at the bottom of the stairs, facing the terribledownpour outside, flipped up the collar of his coat, and stepped out into citylights. Somewhere in the distance he could hear sirens. The passing and honkingof cars invaded his senses, even about the roaring of the rain. He was out,walking for only a few moments before his shoulders were soaked, but he had neverbeen bothered by the rain.
           One quick stop at HQ. Not many of theteam was there so late at night. Mira was still there. She managed the frontdesk. She was just putting on her coat to head home.
           “Oh! Gray, what are you doing back?”
           “I’d get a taxi,” Gray warned, as hepassed by into the main office. He didn’t wait to hear Mira’s response. He wentstraight to his desk, across the room. He knew the case files were in thelowest drawer.
           “Hey, ice-brain!” Gajeel?
           “Gajeel, what are you still doinghere?” Gray narrowed his eyes. The broad-shouldered detective was leaning back inhis chair, his feet propped up on his desk, bouncing a snow globe back andforth in his big hands. He chuckled.
           “Waiting for something to happen.Took the late-night shift this week. What the hell are you doing here?”
           “Couldn’t sleep.” Gray replied,yanking open the bottom drawer of his desk and pulling out the files. “I’mgoing for a drink. Gonna mull this over.”
           “Whatever blows your skirt up,” Gajeelshrugged, returning his attention to the snow globe in the palm of his hand. Grayrolled his eyes and exited the building, holding the files close to his chestas he moved through the rain once more. He knew a late-night bar not far from HQ.He and the others had gathered there before. The owner knew them all. Maybe he’dget a discount.
           The bar was dimly lit. There were afew patrons here and there, but no large crowds. The neon sign above the barcast flickering shadows on the barstools. Gray took a seat at his usual one,and spread the files out over the counter. Alright.Where to start?
           “What can I get ya, detective?” Theowner and bartender leaned against the counter, his eyes flickering over thefiles, but he was used to it.
           “Whatever’s strongest,” Grayreplied, and then flipped over the first manila folder. Pictures. Blood. Bodies. He shut the folder. You’dthink I’d be used to it by now. A small glass filled with amber liquid and icewas set down with a light tap in front of him and he downed it in one go. Bloodmade him think of her. He hated that. He glanced back at thefiles, noting that he had grabbed one more than he should have—than he wantedto. Scribbled on the little title tab were the words: Lockser Case—shooting—Jan 21st X791.
           “I’ll have another one,” Gray said,setting his glass down with a shaking hand. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t sure he’dever be.
***
           “There you are,” A firm hand graspedGray’s shoulder, “Juvia has been worried sick! Looking everywhere for you.” Afamiliar face… blurry… Gray let out a groan. He certainly had slept, but his head hurt even worse now.It was still dark outside. Was it really that early? Above them the neon lightflickered. Juvia was dressed in her everyday clothes. It had been a while sincehe’d seen her in his uniform. Tonight, she was wearing a short light blue dress… or maybe it was light green? God, whycouldn’t he tell? The lighting was weird. And stockings. She was wearing araincoat. In one pocket he could see the handle of an umbrella sticking out. Hewondered if in her civilian clothes she still wore a pistol at her thigh. He hadseen the holster once before, and for some reason he was really itching to seeit now, just above the hem of her skirt…
           “Gray!” Juvia snapped, her grip onhis shoulder tightening. “Let’s go home.” Sheleaned over his lap to gather up the case files, and then pulled him up byhis arm. He always forgot how strong she was. Even in his somewhat-still-drunkstate, he could tell she was still limping, and supporting him as well.
           “I’m fine,” he groaned, stopping inthe middle of the rain, “I’m fine. I can walk, Juvia.”
           Juvia turned to face him, the casefiles wrapped tightly in her rain coat, “What were you doing out so late?Gajeel told me you came in after midnight.” For the first time he realized thatit wasn’t anger written in her eyes. It was concern.
           “I couldn’t sleep,” he said shortly,trying to avoid a full-on conversation. I’mnot ready.
           “Why? Did you drink coffee thisafternoon, again?”
           “Hell no,” Gray groaned, “Neverrepeating that mistake.”
           “Then what’s wrong?” a soft hand, reachedout and touched his cheek. Blood. Hejerked away, stumbling backwards and landing in an enormous puddle just on theedge of the street. “Gray!” Juvia reached out to help him up, but Gray scrambledto his feet on his own. He couldn’t do this. “Hey! Stop!” Juvia screamed, andher voice brought him to a shuddering halt. He hated that. “You’ve been acting weird since January! For a whileyou wouldn’t even look at Juvia! What’swrong?!” There were tears in hereyes, even through all the rain, even through the water dripping from his hairand into his eyes, he could see that.
           His head was still pounding. He droppedit into his hands, and groaned, and then looked up with a renewed energy. “There’sa case file in your hands, Juvia. It wouldn’t be there… it wouldn’t exist… if it wasn’t for me.” He let out a shuddering breath, andthen said the words he had been so afraid of admitting before, the volume ofhis voice rising with each syllable: “It’s myfault! You should never have beenhurt! And here we are! Everything that happened, I should have seen it coming.It never should have happened at all! It’s all…my… fault…” And then he burst into uncontrollable sobs, which he knew waspartly due to the alcohol. Juvia was staring at him, her eyes wide, her knuckleswhite from holding onto those stupid casefiles. The case files…
           The case files hit the soakingpavement with a splatter of water, and suddenly he was in her arms, sobbing againsther neck, clinging to her rain coat like it was everything. “It’s not anyone’s fault,” she whispered. “Juviajoined the force knowing that one day something like this was likely to happen.Gray, you were there when it did. For that, Juvia is so grateful.” She was shivering, soaked to the skin in the downpour.
           “But… the nightmares…”
           “Juvia will come with you. Juviawill stay with you, until you’re asleep.” Her hand brushed against his cheek. For a moment they were frozen in time, and then Gray lunged forward,closing the distance between them at last, pulling her closer by her rain coat.Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and he practically lifted her off herfeet. Below them, on the sidewalk, the case files quickly soaked up water,turning into mush. They were ruined. He didn’t give a damn.
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burakoofsky · 7 years ago
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Drive - Tyler Seguin
Tyler’s flight was expected to land at 1:30am. While you were always more than excited for Tyler to come home from road games, something about the idea of getting up and getting on the road at 1am seemed less than enjoyable. Still, when your alarm went off at 12:40, you groaned as you rolled out of bed and got yourself ready.
Gerry and Cash had fallen asleep with you in bed, one thing Tyler hated but let slide while he was gone. You put up the argument that you needed the feeling of weight in the bed with you, seeing as you had gotten so use to Tyler’s body being next to yours while you slept. The puppy dog look you gave him was enough for him to give in. (But he was quick to ask you to keep the dogs in their crates the night he came home....which you refused to do.)
“C’mon, boys,” you sleepy whispered, coaxing the dogs into the living room. Gerry was quick to join Marshall on the couch in the living room, while Cash took a bit more persuading. But once the dogs were out of the room, you closed the door behind you and explained to them that you were leaving as if they understood where in fact you were going.
The radio was playing some top40 station, but the volume didn’t make it past 10. You blinked rapidly trying to wake yourself up as you drove, being sure to stay in the far right lane. Your phone lit up in the cup holder with a text from Tyler saying they had just landed.
At a red light, you replied, “On my way. Be there in 15.” He shot back a quick, “Okay. Be safe. See you soon.”
The airport was one of your least favorite places to be, let alone drive in. When you were there for a flight yourself, it caused less anxiety than when you were there for Tyler. With it being after 1am, you figured it wouldn’t be as hectic. But as you drove through the pickup lot to drive to the lot Tyler and the boys got off at, your assumptions were proven to be wrong.
You parked in the empty lot, a few spots away from the other cars who were there for the boys as well. Benn and Klingberg were the first ones off the plane; and Benn made sure to wave to you before getting into the passengers side of the car with Katie.
Tyler was second to last to come out of the gate and a small sigh of relief parted your lips as you got out of the driver’s seat to greet him. His duffel was swung over his back and he was holding it with his left arm, but with his right, he wrapped you up, pulling you in close for a long awaited “welcome home” kiss.
“Welcome home, stranger,” you smiled, staring up into his eyes.
“Yeah, long time no see,” he teased back. His hand rested on the small of your back as the two of you walked around he back of his truck. You opened the trunk, he tossed in his bag, then pulled you closer to him again for a proper kiss and hug.
With the trunk door still being open, he picked you up by your hips and set you down inside the trunk. One hand ran up the outside of your thigh, while the other fondled your neck and cheek. The kiss was passionate and desperate, something you didn’t realize you missed until Tyler kissed you like that.
His hand that rested on your legs, ran up to the waist of the sweats you had on before he pulled at them slightly. When his fingers traced down your hips, they fell on bare skin and bare skin only. He pulled away, his eyebrows furrowing in confusions while his lips curved into a seductive smirk.
“No undies?” His hands left you altogether and you found yourself in your own fit of desperation. Tugging at his larger hands with your smaller ones, you pulled him closer and placed them on your hips once more.
“Not when I have your sweats on,” you grinned.
“Fuck.” He kissed you then backed away slightly. “Let’s go home.”
“Okay,” you whispered against his lips. Your eyes were closed as you embraced his presence. The aroma emanating from him was a mix of airport, musk and post-hockey smell....only something you would find sexually attractive.
Tyler helped you down from the trunk and slammed the door shut, heading around to the passenger’s side. You stayed at the back and hesitated a second before following him.
Before he climbed into the truck, you sheepishly asked, “Can you drive? I really don’t have the energy.”
“And you think I do? I’ve been on a plane for four hours,” he chuckled. Then he saw the look in your eyes. It was a pleading, sad kind of look that made his heart melt for you. With a nod, he kissed your forehead then wandered around to the driver’s side.
Before he pulled out of the spot, he hooked his phone up to the radio and began playing Drake. An unintentional groan escaped while you rolled your head back in frustration.
“Hey,” he started defensively, “I’m driving home. I need to stay awake and Drake is gonna help with that. Besides,” he paused turning to look at you, “You know you like Drake.”
“Yeah only because you do. But I don’t necessarily like him as much as I tolerate his music for you.”
He smiled and began backing out as he spoke, “You don’t have to say “i love you”, to say I love you.”
On the way home, he blasted Drake, keeping the two of you awake, despite how much you wanted to close your eyes and rest. Tyler grabbed your hand minutes after leaving the airport parking lot and didn’t let go the whole way home.
He subconsciously hummed and sang along with a couple songs here and there, and rubbed your hand with his thumb in the process. It was all too comforting and nearly lulled you to sleep. Then God’s Plan started and Tyler came to life, sitting up straight and bouncing to the beat.
During the interlude he grabbed your hand, grinning wildly. “You ready?” He laughed, “Here comes our part!”
“Ty, I’m so tired,” you laughed with a sigh.
The music paused and he took a breath before blurting out, “SHE SAID DO YOU LOVE ME I TELL HER ONLY PARTLY. I ONLY LOVE MY BED AND MY MOMMA IM SORRY!” He quieted down and turned to look at you again. “You’re no fun when you’re sleepy.”
You snatched his phone and placed the song on pause while you began searching for something else to listen to. Tyler tried arguing with you about how the driver is suppose to be able to pick the music while everyone else has to go along with it. You shot back that you really didn’t care but that you weren’t finishing the ride with Drake.
A small smile crept onto your face as you hit play on one of Tyler’s favorite songs, though, if he were asked, he’d deny it. But as the music filtered through the speakers, Tyler couldn’t fight his own smile that was forming.
“Oh if all I got, is your hand in my hand, Baby I could die, a happy man,” he sang to you. For a minute you prayed the car ride wouldn’t end. While you longed for the warmth of bed and Tyler holding you while you two drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t fight the feeling that the car ride in the dark on an empty highway at 2am was just as peaceful and comforting.
The songs after that were selected at random, most not being as up beat as Tyler would have liked. But they set the mood and made for a relaxing ride home.
When Tyler stopped at a red light, he let go of your hand and gripped your chin, pulling your face to meet his. His soft lips sent chills through your body. Your lips turned up in a grin as they moved in sync with Tyler’s.
The light turned green, but Tyler didn’t pull away. There were no other cars on the road and no one behind you urging you to pull through the light. And Tyler was all too aware of what he was doing and where he was doing it.
“Babe,” your breathed out, his lips trailing over your jawline and down to your neck. They fell on your collarbone as the light flashed yellow for a second then back to red.
“I missed you,” he growled lowly, kissing up your neck again.
“Babe,” you whispered again. “Let’s make it home first.”
“I can’t...”
Then the light was green again. His eyes left yours as he accelerated through the light. The lights flashed off all the exit signs you guys passed until he reached the one that led to home.
His driving became more erratic and reckless as he rushed for home. You thought to yourself that you should have withheld the kiss and waited until you made it to the apartment. The peacefulness of the drive had ended and Tyler was more desperate than ever.
“Baby,” you spoke gently, rubbing his forearm. You longed for the quiet, calm ride you two had been enjoying; but Tyler had other things in mind.
“Almost home,” he replied bluntly. Stopping at another red light, he crashed his lips into yours sending butterflies swarming. Instead of his hand playing with your hair this time, it fell to your thigh, running along the inside of your leg.
Your stomach did flips as Tyler maneuvered his hand underneath the sweats and to the same spot he hand previously let his hand rest. Now you were in the same mindset as Tyler.
“I missed you,” you groaned, leaning over to him and kissing his jaw near his ear.
He himself released a small groan before smirking at you, “I can tell.”
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graemeruns · 6 years ago
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Manchester marathon, and the journey to a PB
I think, by now, most people I know expect that I am going to run the London marathon each year, so a fair few that I talked to were surprised when I told them that I was actually going to run the Manchester marathon first, and then London three weeks later. To be fair, their surprise was not unjustified, as I entered Manchester as a late decision; I was already three weeks into my London marathon 18 week training plan when I had this major concern that the following four months of hard work could all end in disaster if the weather turned out as hot as it was last year at the end of April. With Manchester being at the beginning of April, it also fell nicely at the beginning of the school Easter break, so it didn't take long to decide to enter it and have a week away near Manchester at the same time with the family. My wife, Yasmin, set about the task of finding us somewhere to stay, and all I now needed to do was compress by 18 week plan into 15, and we had a target set.
I had decided to be even more aggressive with my training this year, base it on the 55-70 miles/week plan from Pzitzinger and Douglas' book "Advanced Marathoning", but with all rest days being recovery runs, and tweaking it using my own experience of how I like to train. Since Abingdon marathon in October last year, I had kept my mileage ticking over at around 40 miles/week, so was hoping that this base fitness would help me as I moved into my new marathon training plan. Two weeks before the plan started I increased my mileage to 47, then the following week 50, so that 60 miles in week 1 would not seem too much of a step upwards.
Loosely, my training plan went something like this:
Monday - 3-4 mile recovery run (8:45 - 9:00/mile pace). I really needed these runs to be as-slow-as-you-can go recovery otherwise they would be counter-productive. Tuesday - intervals or tempo (6:20/mile) - around 10 miles in total with warm up and cool down. These were sometimes moved to Wednesday if I was still feeling tired from the weekend, in which case they would be an easy 9- 10 miler (7:40 - 7:55/mile pace). Wednesday - medium long run, 15 - 17 miles, usually as a double run because just finding the time to run it in one go was too difficult. Sometimes these would be a workout and a recovery run later in the day if I had moved the workout from Tuesday. Thursday - easy run - around 10 miles. This is about 7:40 - 7:55/mile pace. Friday - 3-4 mile recovery (8:45 - 9:00 pace) Saturday - parkrun, of course, as fast as possible! I think I ran to and from nearly all of them to some get extra mileage in (usually 9 - 11 miles total). Sunday - Long run - 16 - 23 miles (7:40 - 8:15/mile pace). In all honestly, I didn't run as many 20+ mile runs as I'd have liked, as two of the Sundays were used for tune-up races. But I did do seven runs over 17 miles (the longest being 26 miles which was a bit too far!). My legs were also usually tired from the previous days' parkrun too, so running on tired legs was something I got used to, and I think is crucial for the latter parts of the marathon.
Lets look at the tune-up races:
Wokingham half marathon. This fell 9 weeks into in my calendar on 24th February. I wanted to have a go at my current half marathon PB (1:23:44) in this race, so I dropped the workout that week, cut back the mileage a little and rested the day before. The day was perfect, being cool and bright with only a little breeze. After a bit of a congested start, I was able to get into my rhythm and run consistently around 6:20/mile, which would get me a time under 1:23. My 5k splits were good: 19:42, 19:42, 19:48, 19:54, but slipping just a few seconds in the last 10k meant I crossed the line just short of my goal in 1:23:09. But I'd given it everything, so was content with the result. You can see my run on Strava here.
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The Big Half. This race fell just 2 weeks after Wokingham. The previous Sunday my long run had accidentally ended up as 26 miles, and this meant I took a couple of days early in the week to recover, and what with running a steady parkrun on the Saturday as well, meant I was not that fresh for the race. The weather was cold, wet at the start, and very, very windy. Overall, it was a bit of a disaster really, as I queued so long for the loo I started too far back, which required a lot of weaving through slower runners, and while this probably didn't cost a huge chunk of time, the speeding up and slowing down was using an unnecessary amount of energy. I ended up running a negative split because of this, in 1:26:05, which was a bit disappointing, but deep down I knew I wasn't flat out and that this was closer to marathon pace than half marathon pace, so took that away as a positive. It had also given my potential marathon shoes a good outing, so the decision what to wear for the marathon had been made too. You can see my run on Strava here.
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My training plan also includes some marathon paced runs. Always run on a Sunday on tired legs, these can be tough but honest workouts. Striders had arranged for a group of us to met at Kenley aerodrome for exactly this sort of training, so the 13.1 miles I ran there at marathon pace two weeks before Manchester was my final big effort. It ended up around 1:27:30, approximately 6:40/mile pace, and I felt fairly comfortable during the run. This was a good confidence boost for me, and gave me an indication of what to aim for on the day. A big thanks to my Striders mate Martin for being my running pal for that effort.
Fast-forward two weeks and I'm at the start line. We had booked accommodation in the lovely village of Old Glossop at the base of the Peak District. Travelling to the race start had been fairly easy - a 25 minute drive to Didsbury East where I parked and boarded the tram to Trafford Bar, the nearest tram stop to the start. The whole journey was just over an hour, and quite stress-free. I didn't hang about though: this year they were expecting around 20,000 people to run in the various races, and it was quite crowded, so I quickly dropped my bag off and made my way to the start line, which being the 'A' start, was also the furthest away; even so, I was in the pen with 15 minutes to go. The weather conditions were near perfect (8 degrees, overcast with a little breeze) and I was raring to go.
When I race marathons I like to plan my pacing based on 5 mile intervals. It's easy to remember just 4 split times, and an overall average time per kilometer (at this point I should apologise for mixing miles and kilometers, but I do tend to think in both when running). My intended splits were:
5 miles in 33 minutes and 10 miles 1:06 (average 4.06/km), 15 miles in 1:39:30 (average pace now falls slightly to 4:07/km due to natural slowing), 20 miles 2:13:00 (average pace now falls to 4:08/km) Which leaves just a 6.2 mile (or 10k) sprint to the finish, which I'd hope to cover in around 42 minutes, and will mean I have run a 2:55 marathon. That was the goal, though I really thought 2:56 - 2:57 was more likely.
At 9am on the dot we were off, and being so near the front I was across the line almost immediately. There's the usual overtaking, and being overtaken, that goes on in the first few kilometers as runners find their pace. I went through the first kilometer in 4 minutes dead. "Hmm, that's a bit fast", I thought, "but it's probably just because it's the first kilometer". I went through the second kilometer in 4:03: "Hmm, that's still a bit fast". The third kilometer took 4.01, then 4.03, then 3:56, passing 5k in a little over 20 minutes. I was in a real dilemma - the pace seemed far too fast, but I just didn't seem to be able to reel it in. It didn't actually feel that fast, and my heart rate was averaging around 142bpm, which is pretty low for me.
Kilometer 6: 3:59, kilometer 7: 4:04, kilometer 8: 4:00 - I went through 5 miles in a little over 32 minutes, much faster than intended. But I couldn't slow down - somehow I was being pulled along by the runners around me. So it was at that point I did something I've never done before: I threw away my pacing plan and decided to stick it out at this faster pace and see if I could hang on at the end. I'll either crash and burn, or run a very fast time.
The Manchester marathon route is pretty flat, although there are some long gentle inclines where you unexpectedly lose time, and the first time that happened (at kilometer 17 when I ran a 4:10) I immediately worried that this was where the slowing up starts, but then I ran 3:58 in the next kilometer, so equilibrium was maintained.
I passed half way in 1:25:55, much faster than intended (and quicker than the Big Half!). The simple maths said that I just had to run a 1:30 second half (4:14/km) to achieve my 2:55 goal. But I know marathons - they aren't that easy to predict.
Between 25 - 30k I was still running well, averaging about 4:09/km pace, and 20 miles came up in 2:11:40; I was over a minute up on my time. The 20 mile (32.2km) sign is my friend: it says “you’ve now completed the 20 mile 'warm-up', and it's just 10k to the finish, which you will run as fast as you possibly can”. But in the latter stages of a marathon it is never as simple as that: I was tired, and I had a lot of pain in my right foot*, which was worse on the inside camber of the road, so I tried to run in the middle of the road. This did help ease the pain a little, but in the grand scheme of things it was not a big issue, and it wouldn’t prevent me from getting to the finish line, which I’d like to see soon, please. (* It turned out to be an enormous blood blister on my 3rd toe).
Yasmin and Chloe had made the clever decision not to get up at 6:30am and travel to Manchester with me, but instead got the train into Manchester later and were going to be just past the 25 mile sign. It's amazing how much of a boost seeing someone familiar is, and just looking forward to that point in the route gives you something to focus on. After waving frantically at them and trying to smile, with 1 mile to go I just got my head down and headed for the finish - which is quite torturous because you can see the finish line from 500m away. It looked a long way!
With 200m to go I realised that I was closer to sub 2:54 than anything around 2:55, so found a sprint from somewhere but it wasn't quite enough. I crossed the line in 2:54:02, a 4 minute 25 sec PB. I had surpassed my expectations, and, to be honest, was a little shocked to have run quite that fast! You can see my run on Strava here.
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A week later, and recovery has been slow. My racing flats did the job, but I attempted a run the Saturday after the marathon and my calves were still very tight and sore, so I will be giving them some more rest. I've enjoyed the break from running though, as it does take over my life in a big way when marathons are looming. For the 13 weeks proper training I did for the Manchester marathon (not including the 2 taper weeks), I averaged 63 miles/week, and there were 3 weeks in there where the mileage was reduced due to upcoming races and a niggle. But attaining a PB at half marathon and marathon at the age of 51, I am not complaining at all. I love running, and there were few runs or workouts I didn't enjoy. It was worth every moment I spent doing it, and you know what, I think I can go faster!
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demon-snacks · 7 years ago
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Family Secrets Ch 6
Summary: After being in the bunker for 6+ months you see how far you’ve come with the boys.
Word Count: 968
Characters: Sam, Reader, Dean, Maura (oc)
Warnings: Sleeping troubles, anxieties, mostly fluff tbh.
A/N: This chapter was written to wrap things up a bit as I put this series on hold for a bit. I will still be writing occasional surprise chapters in this series, but they won’t be regular postings. With everything that life is throwing at me I just don’t have the energy to write regularly. This series isn’t dead, it’s just sleeping. Also a shoutout to anybody who has written a comment or feedback about any of the series thus far, I appreciate every single one of you <3.  As usual, any italics that aren’t in quotes are internal thoughts. Unbeta’d, all mistakes are my own. Feedback is my life blood.
Catch up: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5
Masterlist
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"Yes, of course I will. Yup. I told you, I remember the recipe. Uh-huh. And an extra egg for-" You shake your head, a modest smile appearing on your lips as you hold the phone against your ear with your shoulder so you can continue mixing the pancake batter in front of you. As the voice on the other end of the line continued, you felt a pair of arms snake around your waist, followed by a scruffy face buried in the open side of your neck. Nuzzling the area where your neck meets your shoulder, Sam inhales deeply, taking in your scent. When he exhales he plants a few kisses on your neck as his hot breath travels across your skin. You hum in appreciation. Suddenly, the voice on the other end of the line changes tone. "She says hi" you tell Sam, who smiles into your neck before lifting his face.
"Hi Maura" he speaks loud enough for the person on the other end of the phone to hear him, just as Dean enters the kitchen.
"Is that Maura on the phone?" Dean lights up as he drops a duffel bag onto the kitchen table before making his way over to where you and Sam are standing. Motioning with his hand for you to give him the phone you quickly say goodbye before he snatches it away from your ear.
"Love you Auntie!" you shout before Dean turns to walk away.
"Maura! How's my favorite gal? You know it. Now what have I told you about.." His voice trails off as he walks out of the kitchen.
"Sometimes I wonder about those two." you say, laughing softly.
"It's because she bakes him so many pies." Sam says. You both start laughing, and you set the bowl of pancake batter down so you can turn around and face him.
Wrapping your arms around his neck, you smile up at him. It had been about six months since you had officially unpacked your things in the bunker. It was odd at first, finding your role in everything, but after a couple months (and a couple times of saving his ass) Dean began to trust you. That was when he finally agreed to let you start training him in magickal defense and even some offense. You had made up an entire room in the bunker for practice, and even occasionally joined them on hunts. Throughout all of it though, there was Sam. Caring, loving, devoted Sam. He was the one who made you feel welcome in those first few months. The one who held you when you had nightmares. The one who made you feel like you weren't complete shit because of the things you've done. Because you had both done things in your past, because you had to. Looking up into that soft, scruffy face makes your heart beat a little faster every time. Leaning down, Sam plants a soft kiss on your lips, and you immediately become lost.
1 Week Later
You let out a sigh while scrolling through Netflix, searching for something soothing to watch. A dazed look covered your face as the light from the tv flicked across the couch in the otherwise dark media room. It had been four days since Sam had left on a quick solo job up north.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Dean spoke as he entered the room, making his way over to the couch.
"Can't sleep." you groaned as he took a seat next to you.
"Something wrong?" he asked. Glancing over, the clock read 3:30am.
"Nothing out of the usual. I have trouble sleeping when Sam is gone. It's colder in bed, and my anxieties play up when I'm alone. I don't feel safe. I can smoke and try to fall asleep, but as soon as my eyes close and I settle into bed it just feels like I'm falling into this deep, black hole. And I know that once I reach the bottom something terrible is gonna happen. It always does. If I do end up falling asleep it's never for long, and I always wake up in a panicked state, covered in sweat." you explain, finally settling on a movie.
"How much sleep have you gotten since he left?"
"About three and a half hours." You reply. A soft sigh came from beside you.
"Come here." he said, getting comfortable in a half laying, half sitting position. His arms opened wide as he gestured for you to come lay with him. You shifted, settling into the small space between him and the back of the couch, too tired to object. You fit well against Dean, reaching your arm across his middle and laying your head in his chest. He snaked his arm around your shoulders, and pulled the blanket up to cover you both with his free hand. "You're safe here, (Y/N). I won't let anything happen to you."
You and Dean had grown close in the time you've been in the bunker. It was slow at first, you could tell he mainly tolerated you because his brother made it clear you were sticking around and you seemed to make him happy. Once the two of you realized just how much you had in common, you both hit it off. Dean had become your best friend, and you had become his. There were times when the two of you were inseparable (and insufferable, according to Sam). You had found the family you had been looking for all along in these boys. Laying here right now, this was what home was to you. Not the town. Not the bunker. The cozy safety of an open pair of arms. As you begin to drift off, you turn your face into Deans chest and breathe deeply. Mmm, leather and nutmeg.
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medicalmiracle · 7 years ago
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Rotation wrap-up: OB-GYN
I’m so late with this and I have to try desperately to remember things. Here goes...
I did my OB-GYN mostly at our local VA hospital. They only do GYN there, so out program gave me two days per week at our institution’s hospital so I could get some OB exposure. This meant one day in clinic there during the week and one 12-hours day a week on weekends in Labor & Delivery. I worked six days a week and I did not like this. I am weak, yes, but I was so fucking tired.
What I did:
At the VA: Came in around 8AM, picked up a printed clinic schedule from the front desk, and went into the resident’s room to read about patients on the EMR. For established patients, I would read the initial consult note and the last follow-up office visit note. For new patients, I would briefly look over the last note from their referring physician. In the VA system records are pretty accessible even if the patient is coming from another state, so that’s a good thing. Patients were scheduled from 8:30AM-4ishPM. I was usually home by 5ishPM at the latest. This was pretty fucking great.
Twuce a week was urogyn clinic with a urogyn surgeon. Know the different types if incontinence and how to manage them. I didn’t realize this was a part of OB-GYN and was pretty clueless the first week and felt stupid because of it.
The nurse would bring the patient back, take vitals, and bring me a folder with a documentation sheet and a discharge form for the patient. There were family medicine and OB-GYN residents there as well from another medical school, and a thing that upset me is that any procedure folders (IUD/implant insertions, colposcopies, biopsies, etc) were always given to them and I always got the office visit folders. Like, hello? As a PA student you can teach me to do these things too? I wasn’t sure how to change this during my rotation so I let it slide, but definitely gave feedback to the program about it.
Once the patient was in the room I pretty much did everything from then on. I took a history, presented to the attending, did the pelvic exam (with the attending present as chaperone), came up with an assessment and plan, wrote the note, and placed orders. I loved the independence I had and the way I was given full responsibility for the patient but the attending was always right there if I wasn’t sure.
At the OB-GYN clinic:
Started early, ended late, patients every 15 or occasionally every 30 minutes. Well woman, problem visits, OB checks, preop and postop, procedures of all kinds. I loved it but man it was exhausting.
ALL THE PREGNANT LADIES. This was my favorite part. I learned to tailor my history taking to pregnant lady issues, like energy levels and vomiting and eating and discharge and bleeding and all the swelling and fetal movement. I answered all their questions and loved reassuring them that everything was okay even if it didn’t feel like it at the time. If I could only do OB without the GYN I would do it in a second, but I think this is just related to my love of pediatrics. I dunno. We’ll see.
I learned how to estimate the size of a uterus from the outside of a body. So cool.
I learned to find a baby’s heartbeat with the Doppler. This was so emotional for me and the moms. I loved it.
I took all the histories, presented the patient, and was present for all exams and did maybe half of them. The attending was super busy so if she was running behind she would generally take over. I didn’t mind.
She would feel the carotid artery for regular rate and rhythm because she actually said “I don’t carry a stethoscope” by way of explanation. She never listened to lungs or bowel sounds for any reason. I found this weird, but I didn’t know how to ask her about it so I just didn’t.
At L&D:
12 hour shifts on a Friday or Saturday, after a full week of clinic. I got to follow moms from admission, through their labor, through delivery and after. I caught lots of babies and even got to stitch a couple of tears. The attendings often took the medical students with them and not me, but this was okay because I made friends with the midwives and that’s how I got to do things as a PA student. It shouldn’t be that way, but you do what you have to do to get your education and experience.
Impression/Advice:
Know your vaginal infections (including skin things like fungal skin infections and lichen simplex which commonly occur in the groin) and how to diagnose and treat them. A course of metronidazole is usually followed by 1-2 doses of Diflucan. Review microscopy of vaginal smears. Vaginal bleeding in a postmenopausal woman is always abnormal and requires further investigation.
Know how to do a good breast exam, remembering to assess the lymphatic chains which drain the breast. Pick a pattern (clock face, concentric, lawnmower), learn it, and stick with it. Don’t forget to feel all the breast tissue including up through the tail of Spence. Don’t let a large breast flop around awkwardly when you’re doing your exam. It’s okay to use your other hand to support the breast. It takes some doing, but you’ll get it.
Remember to always place downward pressure on the speculum during insertion to avoid the sensitive urethra and surrounding tissues. If you can’t find the cervix, try angling the tip of the speculum downwards, or retracting it slightly in case you went past the cervix. The most common mistake is that you’re not deep enough, but I had heard that and always went too far and was in the posterior fornix, so I would have to pull back slightly and angle upwards and the cervix would pop into view. IF YOU CAN’T FIND IT, IT MIGHT BE WEIRDLY ANGLED, SO TAKE THE SPECULUM OUT, STAND UP, AND INSERT A FINGER TO FEEL FOR WHERE IT IS. The urogyn surgeon who held urogyn clinic twice a week taught me this and it was a lifesaver. Especially if a woman has had pelvic surgery or sometimes it’s just their normal anatomy, but sometimes the cervix is just angled differently.
Vaginal swabs for BV/yeast/trich go in the posterior fornix, which is where discharge collects when a woman is lying supine. Gonorrhea/chlamydia are endocervical and are inserted in the cervical os. The smaller brush for Pap smears goes into the os and the larger broom-type brush is rotated at the outside of the os to assess the junctional zone. My attending just handed me the swabs on my first day and expected me to know what to do with them. I did not, and felt really dumb.
For the love of all that is good and holy, please know the ACOG (or whatever governing body in your country) algorithms for managing abnormalities on Pap smear. This literally came up multiple times every day. Know when to do further testing (high risk HPV, colpo, LEEP) and when to retest with Pap and when to just reassure. Many women think they have cancer when their Pap smear comes back abnormal, and it’s your job to tell them this is not always the case.
Odors and discharge are a thing. A couple of times there was discharge or blood or urine on the floor or on my shoes. Not often, but it happened. The smells are a thing, even in healthy women. Keep a straight face, because you can make a patient feel really uncomfortable or upset them if you don’t. We never had masks or anything like that. It’s just a part of being a female human, and it’s okay.
I didn’t enjoy this rotation as much as I thought I would. It was basically 3 problems: abnormal discharge, abnormal vaginal bleeding, and incontinence. Over and over and over. It was just meh and I was bored. OB clinic saved this rotation.
This is all I can remember for now. I hope you are all enjoying your clinical education, remember that it’s okay to mess up or be unsure as a student, because you’re there to learn.
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appropriate-name · 4 years ago
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Note: this is an incredibly personal journal entry. The thing about it is that, I am now realizing I am self-cognizant enough to do this type of heavy healing work. This is, maybe, like a landmark in my journey. I see some things that were not only invisible to me, but blinding. Now, these things, they want to be my friends.
I am no longer celibate. I do not think I made it to the 2 year mark of absolutely no sex, but in intention, I am way past that.
  I do not want to justify breaking it. It had been boiling up for a second. It probably means I was not properly working with that sexual energy. Transmutation was not being used right, so it manifested in this sexual desire of the flesh (which is also part of the process), but in a lustful way.
  I do not feel regret though. I remember I used to feel shitty after (or even during) sex. This time, I feel like, I really wanted this person. I did not feel that guilt that I had to actively ignore during the whole process. I just felt like kissing him more and more and more and more. I actually wanted to look at his face. In his eyes.
I saw wonder in those eyes, not just lust. I've been looked at lustfully too much, and it repels me. The way he looked at me made me want to sink into his eyes forever.
  When he touched me, he kissed me gently. I never felt like he wanted to eat me alive, as it happens so often when you have sex fueled by lust. He was not taking something from me. He was giving me something trough his lips, through his skin, through his sex.
  And how did I get there? Well, let me tell you all about this obsessive girl who texts at 1AM.
Thanksgiving night I drove home around 1-1:30AM. It was technically Friday. I got off the car, looked up at the sky, and it was gorgeous. A clear sky, with no moon, where the stars were just jumping at you. It felt beautiful. And, of course, while feeling that great, the thought of him just sneaks in there. I was thinking of beauty and thinking of him. So before bed, I just sent a text letting him know I was thinking of him, and hope he was feeling better. Whatever it was he carried.
  I did not expect a text back. He got me used to that. Or, if I did, I did not expect to be something I could make a conversation of. But I did. I just went for it and tried again—part of me terrified that I would feel "humiliation" again by not being corresponded or wanted in that area of his life. But I went for it, 'cause that's who I fucking am, damn it.
  He replied in the morning. The moment I heard the text I just knew it was him. My heart jumped (probably of excitement), and my brain calmed us all down and lowered my expectations back to zero—since he got me so used to that.
  It was him tho.
  We had a little exchange. I invited him to join me and my cousins to breakfast. He kinda said no. But then I brought it up again right before getting to the restaurant and he said yes. He fucking said yes. I got so nervous and excited. But I was really happy, dude. Happy-happy for real.
  Now, in retrospective, seeing how I am expressing myself. I fucking had (and still have) a crush on this guy. A real one. Fuck. I was just in denial and keeping so busy as to not to feel it.
So he met us up. We ate. And I just looked for an excuse to go to his place. I wanted to spend my day with him. All along, I was just waiting for him to kick me out of his space. I kept telling myself that he did not want me in his space like that, even though I got a feeling that he kinda did, but was unsure that that was the right thing to want. Anyway, he kept saying yes to me.
  So we are watching Rocky on his couch, and of course I am the one to ask if I can touch him. I wanted to caress his head. I mean, I wanted to fully just cuddle him, like every other single time I saw him. But I took baby steps. He does this thing where he makes himself available, but he won't ask. He does more of a 'if it happens, let it happen' attitude. I am always scared that I am always going to have to have the initiative to guide the interaction, to always have the responsibility to take initiative. I hate having to have initiative. It requires a kind of confidence that does not come naturally to me.
So he lays on me, I am caressing his head, playing with his hair, and even our talk just starts to get a little more personal. He eventually asks if he can ask for a back massage, he said, "does that also come with this friendship?" Ha haha, it was too cute. Of course I said yes. I felt it was daring, and odd, but dude, it was him actually communicating what he fully, honestly wanted to me and I loved every part of it.
  So he put it out there, but I had to be the one to prompt it to happen. We went to his bed. I made him take off his shirt. He has a gorgeous back and I was just excited to touch him. He has such a strong body. It was pure pleasure to feel every muscle of his back, one by one. Then his shoulders, then his arms. Ugh. I am melting thinking of him right now.
Even though I didn't want it to end, I stopped after he started to feel a little pain. I did get some of those back muscles a little tender from pressure. Then he offered to switch. I did not want to, but he insisted, and honestly I think it was just the longing to keep having physical contact that led me to say yes. I took off my shirt. He sat on me. But, you know, bras. I hesitated a little before asking whether he wanted it off (of course he did, and of course I knew; what I did not know was how far I was willing to take this, you know, being celibate and all).
He moved beyond my back though. So I took my pants off. At that point I realized he just wanted to touch me too. So I got over it. He got up, for some reason, and when he came back, I turned around and he knew, and we just leaned in to kiss. It was a very soft, slow kiss. But I was yearning for him. I couldn't help but communicate that with all of my body. Running my hand up his arm and shoulders, to place my arm around his neck and back was such a gorgeous experience to the touch. His body is soft and muscly. He's gorgeous. I got all I wanted in that instant. Everything.
He started to undress the rest of himself. Then he tried to pull on my underwear, and that's when I hesitated. Did I really want to break my celibacy now? I just said out loud "I'm not sure" and he stopped himself by just saying 'okay', and he placed me on top oh his legs. It did not take long for my body to say yes, please, have him.
  So I undressed, I don't know what I physically said, but I gave him a verbal cue to yes, please, fuck me. I then started to do a  little unskilled left-hand job on him, then he started to finger me. It was so stimulating. Nothing had happened there in so long, and the slightest touch of his fingers just made me quiver all up my spine. I think I got on top of him then, and just sat on that glorious dick of his and, wow, I won't even try to describe how fucking great sex is.
  He fucked me so good. A few times. I love being covered in cum tbh. I sat on him, he was on top, he turned me around to hit the back, we fucked in the couch, we fucked in the shower. I am very, very, very sore and yearning for him so hard. And he let me kiss him all I wanted. I kissed and bite and he didn't mind how hard I was taking him in—through my lips, my mouth, my hands, my eyes, my smell, and everything sensorial.
The ring of his voice in that dark shower was so beautiful. The touch of his skin was so, so, but so fulfilling. The fact that he wanted to kiss me, and not just to fuck me, just heightened every single feeling I already carried within me. The roughness of his hands—I don't even know what that does to me, but I so, so, so very much fucking love it. I love his hands all over me.
  Then the gently and calculated strength of him. I asked him to choke me when I was face down. Instead of using his hands, he used his entire arm. It was a literal rear naked, dude. But the way he was calculating it and tightening slowly without missing a beat on that pussy-pounding. God. I had to tap out before he actually had me pass out. I straight up tapped out of sex. New experience, I guess. "I think you're the only person who's choked me right," I said. "Damn right, I choked you right," he replied, or something like that. It just turned me on so hard, the confidence and the cockiness he said that with. I love how he knows what he's good at and uses it with all deliberate power (physical and mental power). Fucking power move.
I love how weird and odd he is. I know these words have negative associations to them, but the way I mean them is just referring to his honesty, the truth of his heart just shining through him. He sees no reason in following a herd that's going to a place he does not want to go to.  He's brave enough to make a decision to go alone. I really like him.
Claire of Lune has just been playing in my head all along. I love how he does that to my insides. I really like him.
And now I know that, if he'll have me, I'm here. I did not  know if I wanted "a relationship/romantic thing" among my working toward a career-improvement journey. I wanted those to be isolated journeys. But they are not. They are simultaneous facts of life.
  There are things I definitely need to work on. But as far as I've let myself heal alone, I cannot identify the triggers in isolation. I was scarred in a relationship, and relationships are what I am scared of now. I am "protecting" myself so I have a space to heal. But it makes no sense to heal of things that would never get triggered in isolation. That's me lying to myself.
So, in other words, "if he'll have me" means if he is willing to have a healing journey together, where he has the strength and willingness to accept I need to keep healing and he also needs to be able to foster a space for that to happen around him. I know I am willing to give that to him in as much capability as I own at this place in time and space. I'll have him and all of his pain and glory.
  I know that now.
But I also know that not everyone is there. And I'll forgive myself for falling and crying if he is not ready for that amount of work and responsibility for a stranger. It is a step to take in a minefield while blindfolded, where only love is your guide.
November 28, 2021.
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