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hqprotectionsquad · 4 years

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Life’s Best Part (Daichi x Reader)

Title: Life’s Best Part Ship: Dad!Daichi x Reader Word Count: 1900 Summary: Daichi is trying his best to be the dad you need him to be. tw: hospital, sickness a/n: this has been in my drafts for maybe a month and some now!! happy to finally bring it to the light.

(Y/N) = your name (D/N) = your daughter’s name

"Daddy, where is mommy going?" Daichi's eyes are so tired and broken, but hearing that, he pinches his nose together. He has to be strong for his daughter, there's no doubt about that, but she's so innocent. She doesn't deserve this.

"Ah, sweetheart," Daichi pulls her into his lap. "Mommy is sick so she needs to become better. They're going to fix her the best they can."

Her appearance threatens pinpricks in the corners of his eye. Whenever Daichi and you go to family gatherings, all you guys ever hear is "Wow, she looks just like (Y/N) when she was younger!" And it's absolutely true. Down to the hair and the cheeks and the brightest smile ever to grace the world. She's picked up a lot from you too. Even from her young age, your daughter wants to save the world by being a kind and sweet little lady. Under her care, the lonely animals find solace in her tiny hands.

The pads of her fingers poke Daichi’s cheek as he bounces her on his leg. This waiting room is more than dismal. You’d think that if they want to cheer up families with news that could go either way, they’d brighten up the place. But nope, they’ve got rough chairs and dim lighting that makes Daichi want to leave the building.

“Sweetheart, would you like to get out of here for a bit?” Daichi’s lungs hurt in this space that just guarantees disaster. This was the hospital where one of his teammates revived after a rough collision and their team lied in wait. This was the hospital where his friend arrived with a cold and only returned to be placed in a final resting place. This hospital only knows how to take people away from him, but he’s determined to get you back, no matter the consequence.

"Are you sure, Daddy? Mommy will be scared if we leave!" Oh, the innocence of toddlers perpetuates Daichi's lifespan, but not so much that he’ll willingly stay here.

“Mommy is okay, she’s in the safe hands of some really powerful people. They’re going to make her even better.” Daichi holds himself back from making any promises. Those bonds are too strong to break so if you ended up passing away, he wouldn’t know how to make his daughter feel better, let alone himself.

“Okay, let’s go out!” She swings out her arms and legs like a general. Already at a young age acting up a storm. Daichi didn’t know if this special talent should be cultivated or something to be monitored closely. Being outside is much better for him anyway. The trees sway in the wind and the process of life reminds him that the world goes on whether he likes it or not. He doesn’t want to move on at the moment. The only answer he’ll take is you’re better and back at home with him and your daughter.

Daichi takes solace on a park bench, watching his daughter hang on playground installments. She's just like you. If you were here right now, you would be trying your best to fit in the slide or grip the monkey bars with your feet half a foot close to the ground. His phone is out because pure moments unravel right before his eyes. His heart is happy. He'll be happier when he gets to show this video to you.

After a while, Daichi's eyes open up to his daughter climbing on him. "Daddy, we should go back to Mommy now. I'm done playing."

Turning his fist toward himself, Daichi notes the time. "You're right. Let's go, baby."

Even at this age, she drags you and your husband around. "She's a boss if I've ever seen one," you say to Daichi one day as she places her dolls in a neat line. "Must've gotten it from you." Daichi chuckles as you hip bump him. That was only a few months ago. Life has been changing since then.

Daichi believes that his daughter is starting to pick up on all of the cues. All of the hospital papers are spread on the dining room table, the usual bus trips to and from "mommy's building," and most of all, she loves the lady at the reception desk because she receives lollipops. That's what she looks forward to, but his daughter has a few lessons of sympathy and understanding under her belt when she enters the room where her mother resides, only for the moment, God willing.

They say hello to the woman at the desk. Without a beat, she sticks out a lollipop grasped in her hand. "Thank you!"

Your daughter is more than excited to receive such simple gifts. The process of you becoming sick has been a long time going. "These are to keep her strong," you told Daichi when you went to the supermarket before the first ever checkup you had concerning your illness two years ago. Little toys and sweet squares of chocolate scattered in the basket while you two lined the aisles.

"I think buying these are to keep you strong, love. Our baby is strong, she just needs to see her mom strong too." Daichi squeezed your hand.

“You’re right, but you’ve got to stop talking before you make me cry,” you laughed shakily as the words slipped through your lips. It’s hard to utter such depressing words as a young woman. Your baby was nearing the age of two and it’s not fair for her to live in an egg-shelled world. When she was born, you two could have definitely earned the award for being the world’s proudest parents. “We did that, Daichi. We did that.” The first year went swimmingly — as in you were swimming in baby items and baby responsibilities, but everyday you prayed thanksgiving for the family you’ve created.

Now, your arms and legs ache for the slightest movements in this itchy hospital bed. You always thought that this kind of thing would never happen to you, and look where you are now: bedridden. You're back where you started, from your beginning and your baby's beginning. Somehow, you always land back here. And it's unfair. You've grown up with vegetables on your plate, jogging every other day with your dad, and you knew Daichi was the one when you saw him play in a championship match. You were surrounded by healthy, up until all you were was unhealthy.

“Sweetheart!”

“Hi, mommy!” You’ve never been so grateful for the fact that your daughter isn’t deterred by the tubes running up and down your body, taking the place of your veins. She sees you all the same.

“Hi, honey.” Daichi presses his lips to your forehead and sinks into the chair they provided in the room. He doesn’t look necessarily out of it, but you know the circles under his eyes haven’t been forgiving lately. "Some friends are coming by soon, they'll pick her up and bring her out."

It's hard on your daughter to undertake a portion of a burden that isn't even hers, but is it better that she doesn't fully know the situation? Would it be worse if she was ten or twelve? What about fourteen, fifteen, sixteen? How would she have reacted to her mother not being able to care for her only daughter?

It's easy to drop into pitfalls when you allow your mind to run anywhere. Your inner self isn't looking down at her feet, just lifting each sole when it is ready to move. When you drop, it is difficult to get out because sometimes, there is no outside stimulation. When Daichi leaves for work or after visiting hours are over, you turn to the television for entertainment. You soon learn that the programs are repeated and you'll be watching the same one that was on three hours ago.

"(D/N), uncles Koushi and Asahi are here for you," Daichi says as he gets up to greet his friends at the sliding door. They enter the room and lead themselves toward you. It's no shock by now; they've picked up (D/N) so that she has her cousins to play with every few days. However, the raised eyebrows and slightly parted lips on Asahi's face tell you otherwise.

Suga is the first person to speak up. "How are you feeling right now, (Y/N)?" After the surgery two days ago, your body is running on pure medication. Despite that, you feel like you've gotten hit by a truck.

"Feeling better." You have to feel better soon. When you can return to your home and start heading back to work, that is when you'll feel more at ease. But for now, another second in the hospital is another second wasted.

The skin on your bones looks translucent, and if you shift the hospital gown to one side, you can see the bruising that accompanies the stitches on your oblique. You are a shell of a human with a soul on a loose tether. Daichi can see it too. He is trying to bring you back, but nothing will feel normal until you return to your old routines.

Nothing will be the same after you can sleep in your bed at home. You won't be able to flop onto the mattress, forcing creases into the duvet. Every sleep will need to be on your back because if you roll to your side, you'll be pressing on the stitches. You won't be able to sleep intimately with your husband and this probably means the next generation of your family tree will end with your daughter.

"You okay, (Y/N)? Koushi and Asahi left with (D/N), and she tried saying bye but you seemed a little far." As Daichi pulls on the chair to scoot closer to you, it scratches on the tiles and emits a painful sound. "Sorry about that." He settles into the chair and takes your hand into both of his. His fingers are butterflies across your pierced skin, light and delicate.

"I'm scared, Daichi," you admit for the hundredth time, but each time the words come out of your mouth is a pang to your heart. "I don't know how I'm going to be if I get out of here."

"You're not dying, (Y/N). Don't say those kinds of things." His voice is stern but his eyes swim in pools of water. He hates to hear that you bring yourself down in the fragile mental state you are in.

"Your life is my life's best part," you mumble, hearing fatigue asking you to succumb to it. Nevertheless, you continue to speak to your husband. "You're the reason why I want to get better, even if I don't think I will."

“But you will, and I know you will. I know you, (Y/N). You are the strongest person I know. Your life is my life’s best part, too.” You can see him brushing his hands against his face when he lets go of your fingers. “Rest, (Y/N). You need it to be strong.”

“Yes, I have to be strong for you and our baby.” You murmur before your eyes shut and your head sinks into the pillow. The last thing you feel is your husband’s lips pressed against your forehead and you finally drift off into the first sleep where you feel lighter than your body. Everything will be okay.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuuwritersnet #haikyuu writing #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu angst #haikyuu one shot #sawamura daichi #daichi #daichi x reader #sawamura daichi x reader #haikyuu daichi #karasuno #karasuno x reader

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three-drink-amy · 5 years

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All the Shine of a Thousand Spotlights

masterlist - AO3

My entire schedule for this second arc and when it would start came down to posting this around Christmas. I hope you enjoy this and have a lovely Christmas!

Chapter Twelve: I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas

The day that John had expected me at our shared workspace, I marched in with a plan in mind. I hadn’t talked it out with Jamie because I was fairly sure he’d try to talk me out of it. He was a bit afraid that if I changed my work life for him that I’d regret it. Well, he hadn’t said as much, but I could tell.

Both of us had been a bit anxious about the changes awaiting us. The first night that Jamie went to the theater without me, he’d paused at the door, looking back at me. For all the bravado he’d had and promises that we’d be fine, he’d seemed a bit unsure. Pulling me in, he’d given me a long kiss and promised me that he’d be back after his show. I’d smiled and told him that I’d be waiting. That night had set the scene for the next week of shows before I had to start work again. John had given me til the next Monday and I planned to make use of every minute I had before I was expected to work again. When Jamie left for the theater the Saturday before I was to return to work, my plan struck me.

My bag was draped over my arm, a coffee in hand as I sat down at my desk. John, of course, had beaten me into the small loft that we shared as our workspace. Until we were attached to a show and assigned to a theater, this was where we did the nitty gritty parts. We’d made it our own as best we could. The day we’d finally upgraded ourselves to a workspace and not just working from one of our homes had been an exciting day.

It felt different today as I walked in there. John was surely going to try to convince me against my plan, but I was sure of what I wanted to do. Ultimately, it was my life. I should get to decide what I want to do with it. Having a ten year career based on never taking a break made it hard to finally take one, but I was ready. And Jamie was the reason why.

John’s head turned as he heard me enter the room. “Claire! You’re here!”

“Did you think I wouldn’t show up?”

“I wondered,” he replied with a shrug.

“Well, I’m here.” My bag sat on my desk, but I stood and watched John as I took a drink of my coffee. I needed to read his mood before I sprung my plan on him.

He glanced over as I still watched him. “Have I something on my face?” I shook my head. “Then what are you doing?”

“We need to talk,” I informed him as I walked closer to his desk. One of his brows raised suspiciously. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing serious.”

“Are you sure? Because you’ve been acting odd for the last several months.” He ignored my glare. “Fine, what’s up?”

“So, I’m here –”

“Clearly.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m here because you demanded I come. And I have come up with a plan that I think will suit us both a bit better.” His brow furrowed as he stared back at me. “I’m not coming back full time. I meant what I said about wanting a break. In ten years, I’ve really never taken one.” I took a deep breath, settling down in a chair by his desk. “So, I will be here Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Then I’m working some, but not all the damn time. If I don’t find a project that absolutely captivates me, I’m not going to commit to something. I think we both know that there have been times in the past we’ve both committed to shows because we felt we had to.”

John nodded. “Is this about Fraser?”

I sighed deeply. “No, John, it’s about me.” He encouraged me to continue. “Perhaps it was Jamie who made me realize it, but I haven’t been in a real romantic relationship since I was in college. And even then, it was half-assed because I was more focused on my studies. I’ve always, always put my career ahead of my personal life.”

“Including with him,” John added.

Nodding, I sidestepped the lie I was perpetuating. “When Uncle Lamb got sick, he didn’t have anyone there but me. He’d spent his life on his career and so when his career ended because of his illness, he had nothing to fall back on. When I’m on my deathbed, I want to have had a life outside of the theater. And I’m not going to do that if I’m always running at this speed. So, this is my solution.”

John watched me for a long moment of silence. “I suppose I understand where you’re coming from. But what are you going to do if we find a show we’re passionate about? What about your break, then?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” I said with a shrug. I didn’t really foresee it being a problem. There were more crappy plays wanting to be produced and directed that came to us than actual quality ones. I held out my hand for John to shake. He shook his head with a grin and grabbed my hand.

“If you’re not careful, I’m going to start working with another director.”

“John, you know I’d never hold you back from that. Especially not right now.”

He smiled. “You know there’s no one else I’d rather work with.”

* * *

The new schedule and system had been working. I only worked three days a week which left me plenty of time to spend with Jamie. He initially felt guilty for my idea of shortening my week, but after some convincing, he came around to my way of thinking. A few mindblowing sexual acts made it pretty easy to sway his mind.

And so that became our pattern. Only a few days a week we saw each other in passing, or at night after Jamie’s show. But the rest of the week, we worked at deepening our relationship. Both of us were already invested and really just wanted to spend time together. Jamie was always happy to regale me with stories from growing up in Scotland. I’d share stories of growing up on Broadway that he always marveled at. Our lives quickly became intertwined. It had been weeks since Jamie had been to his own apartment. After giving him a key, he took it as permission to never spend a night elsewhere. Not that I ever minded. My favorite way to wake up was in his arms.

Two months passed in the blink of an eye. Being together was now our new normal.

I was somewhere between sleeping and waking one night when I heard the door open and close. Jamie must have purposefully crept over to the couch because I didn’t hear him. The first thing that processed after the sound of the door was his lips against my forehead. Smiling, my eyes slowly opened to find him sitting on the couch next to my legs.

“Hi.”

“Good evening,” he teased.

I sat up, pulling the blanket with me. “How was the show?” Before he could answer, I leaned in to kiss him quickly.

“That depends. Were ye asking as my girlfriend or as my director?”

I squinted at him suspiciously. “Well it was as your girlfriend –”

“Then it went great!”

Grabbing him by the shirt, I brought him in closer. “Now it’s as your director. What happened?”

He shook his head, feigning ignorance. “Nothing. It went perfectly. Same as always.”

“Jamie Fraser,” I scolded.

“Fine,” he said with a sigh. “There was a jagged part of the table and Laoghaire stood too close to it. When she turned away it ripped her skirt.” I gaped at him. “But it was fine because any skin that showed was upstage and no one could have seen anything.”

“Oh my god.”

“And Louise walks off with her in that scene and she changed sides so that she could cover it up with her body,” Jamie recapped. “So, it all ended up fine. It was just a moment of shock.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“There could be far worse things, no?”

I nodded. “Of course there could.” I shook my head with a sigh. “I’m going to say something to you, my boyfriend, and not to you, the lead of the show.”

He got an eager grin on his face. “Okay.”

“Of course it was bloody Laoghaire that messed it up.”

Jamie laid against the back of the couch as he laughed. “I appreciate your candor. What other dark secrets about the cast have ye been keeping from me all these months?”

I rolled my eyes. “I would have thought you already knew I didn’t like Laoghaire.”

He shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I had an inkling.”

“What, from that night at the bar?”

Jamie scooted closer to me, pulling my legs across his lap. “Perhaps even a bit before then.”

I tried to think back to a time that I’d been more obvious about my dislike of Laoghaire. “When?”

He grinned as he played with one of my hands. “Do ye recall that night that we stayed late at the theater, just the two of us?” I covered my face with the hand he wasn’t holding. “When you yelled at her to leave me alone, I had to wonder.”

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ. I didn’t realize I was so bloody obvious.”

Jamie laughed, taking my other hand as well. “Ye werena, I promise. It just made me wonder if you were annoyed by her in general or just because of me.”

I was silent for a moment. “It was you,” I admitted. “God, I didn’t want it to be because of you, but it just was.”

He leaned toward me and I met him the rest of the way. “I’m fine wi’ yer reasoning.” His lips pressed to mine and I cupped his face in my hands.

When we broke apart, he sighed like he had something on his mind. All it took was one raised eyebrow for him to talk. “I had something I wanted to run by ye.”

“Well, go ahead.”

“Usually at Christmas, I go home to Scotland. But since I only have the 24th and 25th off, I wanted to invite my family to come to New York this year.”

I nodded. “Okay. That’s not surprising. But you do realize that Christmas is a month away. I mean, tomorrow is Thanksgiving.”

“Aye, I realize. But I wanted to ask you before I asked them because...well, I’d like ye to celebrate Christmas wi’ my family,” Jamie told me. He almost seemed nervous.

I laid my hand against his cheek as a smile spread across my face. “You want me to spend Christmas with your family?” He nodded insistently. I leaned in and kissed him again. “Jamie, I would love that.”

“Really?”

“Yes!” I looked around the room. “In fact, you should have them come here. You know it’s a lot better than yours.” I grimaced until he agreed. “There’s more space at least.”

“Are you sure?” His eyes held mine.

I nodded happily to him. “I’m positive. It sounds lovely. Besides, Lamb has never been much of a Christmas person so I’ve spent many Christmases basically by myself or invited to someone’s open house. It will be a really nice change to spend it with your family.”

Jamie surged forward and kissed me into the arm of the couch. “I love you,” he sighed.

I laughed. “I love you too.”

* * *

Another month passed just as quickly and I was preoccupied by Christmas plans for a family I really only knew through stories.

I sat at my desk, not doing any work, but instead, focusing on Christmas decorations. I loved Christmas, but spending it alone made it seem sad to decorate. It was for no one but me. So this year, I was trying to do more.

I held up a paper link chain for John. “How does this look?”

John swiveled in his chair, glancing over at me. His brow furrowed. “Is that a chain made from scraps of wrapping paper?” I nodded with a smile. “Have you given up on attempting to work?”

I shrugged. “Answer the question first.”

He eyed the chain critically. “It’s cute.”

“Thanks. I haven’t given up totally on work. I’m just trying to do more for Christmas this year and I wanted to run with the idea I had.”

“Don’t you usually spend Christmas alone?” John asked.

With a sigh, I tried to come up with a plausible explanation. “Yes, I do.”

“So then, why do all this?”

I tilted my head thoughtfully. “I guess it just fits in with the whole ‘doing more for myself’ kick I’ve been on.”

“Well good for you, I suppose.” John turned to go back to work while I eyed my creation. “That would look charming over the window seat just past your office.”

I smiled as I looked over at him. “Thanks for the suggestion. I think you’re right.”

Later that morning, I called it a day, heading home to decorate some before Jamie brought his family back from the airport. He was on his way out as I ran in, my hands full of bags. Glancing down, he frowned. “What’s this?”

I shrugged, deciding to surprise him too. “Oh, just some stuff I picked up on the way back from work.” I set them down before turning to him. “Shouldn’t you be heading to the airport?” I asked as my arms wrapped around his neck.

His hands found my waist and squeezed. “Probably,” he admitted before kissing me softly. “Are ye still sure about this?”

I laughed. “No, I decided just now to tell you that I changed my mind. I thought an hour and a half out would be a good time to do so.”

He shook his head. “That would be rather terrible timing.”

I leaned up on my toes and pressed my lips to his. “Go get your family. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Jamie left and I quickly ran around stringing up lights and making my home as festive as possible. He’d tried reassuring me repeatedly that I didn’t have to decorate or do anything special. But the fact was, I was excited about spending Christmas with the Frasers. I was looking forward to a Christmas I wasn’t spending alone. And that was all because of Jamie.

Twenty minutes before I expected them back, I threw some cookies in the oven, trying to make the apartment smell nice. Perhaps I was doing a bit much — throwing around decorations and baking — but I wanted to make a good impression on Jamie’s family. I’d met them before, but not as his girlfriend. Not as the woman who was keeping her relationship with their son and brother a secret. It was to his benefit, but I worried that they’d hold it against me.

I’d never really met someone’s family before. The last time I’d dated someone seriously enough to warrant meeting the person’s family had been college. He never asked and neither did I. Lamb was a natural intimidator. There was a reason Jamie had yet to meet him as well.

No matter how many times Jamie reassured me, it was a big deal to me. I’d liked them when I’d briefly met them on Opening Night. I only hoped they’d return that feeling once they really got to know me.

I texted Jamie, hoping he’d tell me how far away they were. Walking from my phone, I went to my room to change clothes quickly. A green jumper seemed festive enough without being too on the nose. I paired it with a pair of black and white checked pants. Maybe a bit overdressed for my own apartment, but I was nervous. I’d rather be overdressed than underdressed. Suddenly, I wished Jamie had sent a car for them. He’d be able to wrangle in my nerves better than I could on my own. I wondered belatedly if Jamie insisted on picking them up so he could prepare them for meeting me. What if there was something about me he had to prepare them for?

I was getting away from myself. The oven beeped, reminding me about the cookies. I shook my head, trying to get away from my previous train of thought. I loved Jamie and Jamie loved me. Hopefully, that would be enough for his family.

A sound from the hallway grabbed my attention. I could hear Jamie’s laugh carrying down the corridor. The sound alone warmed me. I finished putting the cookies on a plate and straightened my sweater a bit. I heard the sound of the key in the door as I fluffed my hair slightly.

Jamie had a happy look on his face as he walked in. His expression quickly turned to surprise as he took in the decorations I’d hung in his absence. He’d stopped in his tracks, making his family linger behind him. His eyes glanced to me before looking back around again. “I was here an hour ago,” he commented as he walked toward me. “Ye didna have to do this, Sassenach.”

I shrugged. “It was fun.”

He shook his head at me before his arm came around my shoulder. Gesturing to his family, he said, “Welcome! As you all might remember, this is Claire.”

I waved timidly to them, wishing I had some of my professional confidence to get me through this moment.

Really, I shouldn’t have been worried. Same as when she met me, Ellen Fraser ran over to me and wrapped me in a big hug. “Claire, it’s so lovely to see ye again!”

“And you,” I agreed, returning the hug. “Welcome!”

After Ellen, the rest of the Frasers followed suit and hugged me. It was the reaction I should have expected. They were all so warm and friendly, just like Jamie. We stood in a small circle in my kitchen, Jamie’s arm around my shoulders.

“I’m so glad you could all make it for Christmas,” I said, unsure of what else to say.

“Well Jamie usually comes home, but I suppose he has a good reason not to,” Jenny remarked. “Besides, Jamie’s never brought a lass home for Christmas, so we had to jump at the opportunity.”

I started to chuckle, feeling Jamie tense next to me. Squeezing his waist, I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Janet,” he said.

She shrugged, a grin on her face. “Facts are facts, James,” she replied, pointedly saying his full name as he’d said hers.

“Thank ye for having us to yer home, Claire,” Brian said, gesturing to my home. “Tis a nice place ye have here.”

I started to feel a bit shy again. Jamie must have been able to sense it, holding me slightly closer. “Thank you,” I replied in a small voice. “I, uh, I like it here.” I shot an uncertain look at Jamie and he grinned down at me before kissing my temple.

We congregated towards the other room, sitting down and letting the pressure of the moment dissipate. Ian started talking about the flight to New York and cracked a joke about a loud child onboard. Jamie joined in, sharing a story about a rude theatergoer and the conversation shifted as Ellen pressed Jamie to tell stories from the show. I sat back, listening to stories he’d told me each night as he came home. But there was a comfortability there as he told them to me and his family together.

After a few hours, it was time for Jamie to get ready to go to the theater. It was his last show before his short break for Christmas. Ellen stood up and went to grab her jacket. “Well if Jamie has to go, I suppose we should be off to our hotel.”

“You don’t have to!” I offered. They all looked at me. “Just because Jamie’s leaving doesn’t mean you have to retire for the evening. You’re welcome to stay. If you’d like.”

“Claire, ye dinna have to do that just to impress us or something,” Ian assured me.

I laughed, shaking my head. “I really meant it. You’re welcome to stay.”

They shared looks before Jenny and Ian plopped back down on the couch. “Okay then.”

Brian sat back down too but Ellen looked unsure. “I dinna want to offend ye, Claire. I rather thought that when Jamie left, we would too.” I nodded in understanding. “And so I planned a surprise for Brian and me for this evening.” Brian’s eyebrows rose as he looked at his wife.

“And what is this surprise?” Jenny asked.

“Well it’s still a surprise,” Ellen said pointedly.

“And ye were just going to leave Ian and me to our own devices?” Jenny pressed.

Ellen shrugged. “Ye’re both adults. I figured ye could find something that sounded fun to ye. I didna think we had to babysit ye both.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Jenny clucked her tongue loudly. “Well, I see. I suppose we’ll just stay here and hang out wi’ Claire, then.” She glanced over at me. “If that’s still alright wi’ ye, of course.”

I nodded to her with a smile. “Fine by me.”

Jamie walked back into the room, throwing on his coat. “Ye ken the hotel I made ye a reservation at, right?” he asked.

“We do,” Jenny informed him. “But Claire invited us to stay.”

Jamie looked over at me, a confused expression crossing his face. He walked back toward my office, nodding his head for me to follow. I walked after him. When I entered the office, he brought me into his embrace. “I ken ye wanted to make a good impression wi’ my family, but you don’t have to entertain them this evening.”

I looked up at him. “Well I think it’s really just going to be Jenny and Ian. Apparently your mother made plans for her and your father. And I’m happy to spend time with them, Jamie. I want to get to know your family and this is my opportunity.”

He raised one brow at me. “Are ye sure?”

I leaned up and kissed him softly. “I’m sure. Besides, it’ll be nice be nice to spend time with someone who actually knows about our relationship.”

Jamie laughed, kissing my forehead. “I can understand that. Just ken that if they start to annoy ye, ye’re more than welcome to send them back to their hotel.”

I rolled my eyes. “I doubt they’ll annoy me. But if they do, I know plenty of tricks to put up with annoying people. I did work with Laoghaire for several months.”

He chuckled. “Alright. Tis yer decision. Have a good time. Dinna let them lie about me.”

It was my turn to laugh. “Oh, my biggest motivation to spend time with them is to hear all the best stories about you. I’m sure your sister and best friend have the best ones.”

Jamie shook his head, narrowing his eyes at me. “You canna believe everything they tell ye.”

“Sure, Darling.” I kissed him before walking from the office.

Jamie said goodbye to his family and shot me a look before he left the apartment. Ellen and Brian lingered for a bit, not needing to leave just yet. We sat around my living room as we had been earlier. It was surprising to me how comfortable I still felt with them, even without Jamie there.

Ian stood up and wandered over to my bookcase. “So, this is yer Tony, huh?” he asked, touching one finger to the award.

“Yep.” I watched as he stared at it. “Jamie will have one too.”

“Ye think so?” Ellen asked.

I looked over at her with a smile. “Oh yes. Even if it’s not for this show, he will. He’s a brilliant actor. I mean, you know. You’ve seen him.”

She smiled fondly. “We used to go to his performances in school. Or in the community theater shows that he was cast in. And we always thought he was wonderful. We could see how much joy it brought him.” I could see the memories playing across her face. “When he told us he wanted to move to New York, none of us were exactly surprised. He’d tried to find success in Edinburgh, but the opportunities just weren’t there. We hated to see him go, but it makes it all worth it now.”

I tilted my head as I watched her. It was a story I’d heard before — actors moving to New York to find success. All too many times it didn’t end up that way. Families were unsupportive and roles didn’t happen. It made my heart so happy that it wasn’t the case for Jamie. He’d found the part, and even if he hadn’t, his family was there for him.

“Of course, we ken he flubbed the truth a bit,” Brian added. “When he actually called us with news of a real show he was in, it was obvious that he’d stretched things a bit.”

I chuckled to myself. “He told me that. It was part of why I wouldn’t let him pass on the part. I mean, obviously, he was perfect for it. But I knew he deserved his shot. His big break.”

“I havena read any reviews, I’ll admit. Jamie said it got good reviews,” Jenny pressed. “I wanted to read something but I didn’t want to come across someone saying Jamie was shite. I knew I’d just get angry.”

Shaking my head, I laughed. “I read a ton of them. More than I should have. But I never came across one who said that. Thankfully. Having a terrible lead rather tanks a show.”

There was a silence that hung in the room. “It’s nice to hear it from a professional,” Ian said, interrupting the quiet. “We always thought he was good, but to hear it from someone wi’ experience in this line of work is nice.”

“There’s a strong chance I’m a bit biased,” I admitted. “But I wasn’t the only one who wanted him for this role. It was all of us.”

“Well, I am glad you did,” Ellen said. “I’ll say this now while Jamie’s no’ around. I’ve never seen him so happy. And tis no’ just the show.” I smiled, my hand resting over my heart.

“Thank you,” I replied, almost a bit choked up.

“He calls us a lot, usually when he’s heading to the theater,” Jenny told me. I knew he did that. “And you can tell, even over the phone, that he’s just happy.”

“I appreciate that.” I took a breath. “I know I am. And realistically, I know he is. But that observation from the people who know him best...well, it’s nice to hear.”

“Ye’re good for him,” Ian said as he walked back over and sat on the couch. I nodded to him with a smile of thanks.

“We better get going,” Ellen announced, standing up to get her coat. “But Claire, thank ye for having us. And I believe we’ll be back here tomorrow, as well?”

“I think that’s the plan.” I stood up, accepting another hug from both of Jamie’s parents. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

They bid goodbye to Jenny and Ian, setting up a time for the morning before departing. Ian sat down with his hands behind his head. “Okay, now that the old people are gone, what are we going to get up to?”

Jenny shook her head at him, but I laughed. “Claire, what do ye think we should do?” Jenny asked.

“Well you’re the ones who don’t live here. What do you want to do?”

“We went to most of the tourist spots when we came back in September. So as a New Yorker, what would give us a good New York experience?” Jenny continued.

I bit my lip, trying to think of the best ideas. “We can always start with dinner and see what we feel like doing after that.”

Ian threw his hands up. “Sounds good to me.” He jumped up, holding a hand out to pull Jenny off the couch. “You pick the restaurant.” I groaned. I hated having to pick places to eat for everyone. It made it even worse that I barely knew them.

We ended up at a restaurant in Little Italy that I was fond of. They seemed alright with Italian. As we chatted over dinner, I could see how Ian and Jamie had been best friends for so long. They had remarkably similar senses of humor. Jenny and Ian regaled me with plenty of entertaining stories about growing up with Jamie. I loved hearing each story. The one that amused me the most was Jamie dressing up and putting on an elaborate one man show for the children of the small village they lived in. It seemed to certainly be in line with the man I knew now.

I laughed hysterically as I told them about the time that I came home from work on Halloween and found Jamie dressed as the Phantom.

“Christ, please tell me he didna try to sing for ye,” Jenny said as she laughed with me.

“That was my mistake. I asked him to sing “Music of the Night” to me and I shut that down after about five notes,” I informed them through my laughter.

“Why the Phantom?” Ian asked. “Did he bring ye an elaborate dress to be Christine?”

“He did actually find me a dress. It was ridiculous and rather hilarious.” Grabbing my phone, I pulled up the picture of the two of us from Halloween and showed it to them. We hadn’t gone anywhere, but it had been fun. I took a sip of my drink before answering his original question. “He dressed as the Phantom because one time, before we were even dating, I’d told him that when I first saw that show, I was attracted to the Phantom.”

Ian burst out laughing. “Oh, Jamie.”

“I will say,” I continued, “he worked that half mask quite well.”

“It looks very becoming on him,” Jenny joked.

After dinner, I let Jenny and Ian decide what we would do next. Jenny apologized, but dragged me to Rockefeller Center to go ice skating. I assured them it would be an insanely long line, but they had already made up their minds. I didn’t even try to keep track of how long we waited. We kept up conversation as we made our way through the line. Once we were allowed in, it was crowded, but admittedly, kind of fun.

Ian gathered us together with the tree in the background. He pulled out his phone and took a picture of all of us. Showing it to us, we all commented that it was a good picture before Jenny and I skated off again. He caught up to us after a moment. “I sent it to Jamie,” he commented. “Thought he’d want a picture of all his favorite people.”

I slowed unconsciously as I skated. It felt like an honor to be considered one of Jamie’s favorite people. Especially considering who the others were.

That night, I had only been home for ten minutes when Jamie walked in the door. I turned around and he wrapped me in his arms, kissing me soundly. “Hi,” I greeted.

“Hi,” he said, kissing me again. “How was yer evening?”

I laid my head against his chest, wrapping my arms around him tighter. “It was really fun! I had a great time with Jenny and Ian.”

He planted a kiss in my hair. “Good, I’m glad.” Standing back, he gave me a look. “So, I heard ye went ice skating at Rockefeller Center.”

“I did.”

“Isn’t that a bit touristy?” I rolled my eyes, knowing where this was going. “I once told ye that we should go to the top of the Empire State Building and you told me you wouldna be caught dead doing something so touristy.”

“And I stand by that. We are both New Yorkers and don’t need to do that. But Jenny and Ian wanted to go ice skating, so we went. It wasn’t my decision,” I defended. “Also, I was with two tourists.”

He shook his head, but I saw a small smile on his lips. “Whatever.” Jamie walked over to get a glass of water. “But ye had a nice time?”

I nodded happily. “They’re great.”

A broad smile crossed Jamie’s face. “I’m glad ye think so.”

I walked over to where he was standing, tucking into his side. “Did they have anything to say?”

His arm came around my waist. “Ian might have texted me to tell me how much fun they were having wi’ ye.” I glanced up at him and could tell by the look on his face how much it meant that we all got along.

“So, how was the show?” I asked, changing the subject. Jamie started telling me, walking into our room as he changed clothes. I sat on the bed and listened. Once he was finished changing, he stood in front of me. Starting with a kiss, he laid me back on the bed and we were done talking about our evenings.

* * *

I woke on Christmas morning to the feeling of lips against my cheek. Turning my head, I saw Jamie smiling next to me. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him in close. His arms came around me, holding me to him.

The day before we’d spent with his family. It had been a fun day where the Frasers shared their Christmas traditions with me. There had been several times I’d glanced over at Jamie and saw the touched look on his face. If it meant a lot to me that his family was making me so welcome, it meant more to him.

“What time is your family coming over today?” I asked as he started to kiss a trail down my neck.

“Eleven.”

“That’s rather late.”

“Not to me,” he remarked. I peeled open one eye and looked at him. He met my gaze before moving his lips to my chest. “I wanted to have time to do what I wanted this morning.”

“And what’s that?”

His head lifted and he shot me a confused look. “If ye dinna ken the answer to that, then ye’re no’ really paying attention, are ye?” He pulled my pajama top up and brought his mouth down again. A groan escaped my lips before I could stop it. “There ye go.” I pulled my top up the rest of the way and threw it to the floor. His hand was at my other breast as he moved his way down my torso.

He placed a kiss at my belly button when my hand went to his hair. “You realize you haven’t even kissed me yet this morning.”

“What do ye consider this?” he asked, pointedly placing a kiss to my hip.

I tugged at his hair, pulling him up toward me. “You know what I mean,” I said before crushing my mouth to his. He responded happily, chuckling against my lips. I held him to me as we shared a long, deep kiss. His body settled between my legs and I could tell he was ready for more. I was fine taking our time.

He started pushing at my pajama pants and I shimmied them off with his help. We got him out of his and he returned to me with a heated kiss. Taking our time was out of the question now. His hands roved across my body, stoking the fire building within me. I shot my hips up to his and he ground against me. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I reached down and grabbed him. He groaned into my neck but took my hint. We moved together, paying attention to the other’s tells that we’d grown so familiar with in the last few months. It was a dance and we followed each other, finding our mutual pleasure in the other. Today, it was a slow dance, as we climbed higher and higher til we reached the crest together.

Jamie laid next to me, my hand in his. Once I had enough energy, I rolled onto my side, facing him. “Can I say something in full sincerity?” He nodded. “This is probably the best Christmas morning I’ve ever had.” Jamie laughed and pulled me closer, kissing me soundly.

A couple hours and a second round in the shower later, Jamie’s family arrived to celebrate Christmas with us. We opened presents and drank eggnog, told stories, and generally enjoyed everyone’s company.

In the early afternoon, Ellen started making some Christmas cookies from scratch. She had a recipe she knew by heart — passed down from her mother and her grandmother before that. I felt overly emotional when she called me in to help her. As I stood in the kitchen with her, following her instructions and creating something with her, I started to miss my own mother. It had been years since I’d felt it so strongly. I’d been so young when she and my father passed, that often, I just didn’t recognize what I was missing. But as I stood there with Ellen Fraser, acting nearly like mother and daughter, I was overcome with emotion. Tears stung my eyes and I helped form the cookies and put them on the pan. She put them in the oven and I excused myself to my bedroom.

Jamie followed me into the room, not saying anything, but wrapping me in a tight hug. He’d given me a family again — one that was more than just an orphaned girl and an overworked uncle. It was a strange sensation, but I knew I didn’t want to lose it.

I pulled myself together and the rest of the day was spent working on the typical Fraser Christmas dinner. Jamie and I were far from experienced cooks, but we helped where we could. In the end, we all crammed around my small kitchen table and shared a lovely home cooked meal together. They told me stories of Scotland and made me yearn to go there someday. Jamie echoed his promise that he’d take me to see his home.

When they were leaving, we all shared long goodbyes. Jamie was going to see them off tomorrow, but I wasn’t able to. In the few days they’d been here, they’d made me feel like part of the family. Like they were my family. I hugged them all tightly and told them, honestly, that I hoped I’d get to see them again soon.

The next day when Jamie got back from taking them to the airport, I’d finished up a call with John that we’d scheduled. Neither of us had wanted to go into the office, but had things to discuss. I was walking out of my home office when he walked in. We met in the middle and shared a quick kiss.

Jamie had a fond smile on his face. “They loved you, mo nighean donn.”

“Really?”

“Oh aye. It was all Mam could talk about. She kept saying that someday when I have more time, I have to bring ye to Scotland,” he informed me with a shake of his head.

“Well, you know I’d like that.”

He kissed my forehead. “Me too.”

I took a deep breath, thinking on the conclusion I’d come to as he left to take his family back to the airport. I’d treasured the time with his family and how it had made me feel. They’d made me a part of their family in the few days that they’d been here and I loved it.

But it only reminded me of how I’d never introduced Jamie to Uncle Lamb. He knew why I hadn’t and assured me it was fine. I was always worried about how Uncle Lamb would react. The odds of him approving of me dating an actor were slim to none. Still, when Ian had mentioned “Jamie’s favorite people” it made me feel bad that my favorite people had yet to meet. And they lived in the same city. Our relationship was a secret for a reason, but it didn’t need to be a secret from Lamb any longer.

I held Jamie close and pressed my forehead to his. “So, I came to a conclusion.”

His eyes opened and looked back at me. “Oh?”

Taking a deep breath, I stood back and grabbed his hands. His eyebrows lifted as he watched me.

“I want you to meet Lamb.”

Next chapter

#outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #my writing #all the shine of a thousand spotlights

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romanceismycallingcard · 4 years

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50 questions tag!

I got tagged by @bl-crossingtheline! Hello darling! Sorry I’m so late on this. Needed a good block of time and then I just kept forgetting. 😜😂

Questions:

what color is your hairbrush? Aqua/Teal

name a food you never eat: Brussel sprouts. And fish.

are you typically too warm or too cold? Um... in winter I’m just perpetually cold. I prefer to be on the warmer side. But as I’ve gotten older that’s changed a little bit. But I don’t know if I’m like always cold or whatever.

what were you doing 45 minutes ago? lol eating fresh home made sour dough bread with my family.

what’s your favorite candy bar? 100 grand bars

have you ever been to a professional sports game? yes. a hockey game with my family and brothers’ hockey teams.

what’s the last thing you said out loud?: My brother was leaving so I yelled BYEEEEE HAVE A NICE DAY from my room and he said NO~! YOU HAVE A NICE DAY! so then I said FINE IF YOU’RE FORCING ME TO. lol. That was one of our nicer interactions 😂

what’s your favorite ice cream?: anything with caramel or maybe moosetracks. Or just plain vanilla cuz it’s classic, yummy, and underappreciated.

what was the last thing you had to drink? milk

do you like your wallet?: Yes! I do! I found it years ago at a thrift store and it was just perfect for me. It’s black with a pretty metal thing with engraved flowers on it. It zips closed AND there’s a coin pouch inside. And it’s the kind that folds in half rather than the kind that looks like a clutch purse which I’m really glad about because the clutch purse shaped ones seem to almost never be quite the right size - either too big or too small and sometimes the latch breaks so then it just flops open. :P

what’s the last thing you ate? sour dough bread

did you buy any new clothes last weekend? um.... no. But i did this last Friday cuz I had to pick up some things from Walmart and I impulse bought a $10 dress that looked comfy and light weight and casual and I can wear it on days when I don’t want to wear pants. I didn’t have a good dress for days like that before.

what’s the last sporting event you watched? uh...... i don’t. Unless my friend showing me a two minute compilation clip of the danish (i think?) sport of jumping over rivers with a pole counts. or unless watching super junior perform counts.

what is your favorite flavor of popcorn? butter + salt or white cheddar

who’s the last person you sent a text to? real texting it was a mom I babysit for. But more recently than that I was messaging blue (musicdramalove) on tumblr.

ever go camping? my family used to go camping a lot - like at least once a year. But we haven’t for several years now since all my siblings and I are adults now. I think I might’ve gone with friends a couple years ago though. idk.

do you take vitamins? nope. If I get sick, I drink a looooooot of orange juice.

do you go to church every sunday? yeah

do you have a tan? not right now. hopefully I will by the end of summer (if not June)

do you prefer chinese or pizza? chinese (but pizza’s good too)

do you drink soda through a straw? not unless I order it at a restaurant and it’s in a glass. But that’s rare. I usually order water or sometimes a cocktail.

what color socks do you usually wear? I have a set that’s cream, a couple greys, and white, and I have a set that’s cream, grey and light pink.

do you ever drive above the speed limit? heck yeah. Usually I keep it to about 5-10 above. But it also depends on what streets I’m on.

what terrifies you? Failing at working a career job or living a miserable life or being alone forever with no one to take care of me when I’m sick.

look to your left, what do you see? my purse on the floor next to my dresser

what chore do you hate the most? scrubbing my shower/bathtub.

what do you think of when you hear an australian accent? steve the animal guy or liam and chris hemsworth or KJ Apa or Rebel Wilson. Or the other day when I was talking to my nanny kiddos about accents and the girl and I could do decent-ish british accents but absolutely failed at an Aussie accent

what’s your favorite soda? root beer

do you go in fast food places or just hit the drive thru? depends on the day or sometimes the line of cars in the drive thru

what’s your favorite number? 4. idky but I’ve always thought of it as my lucky number. Plus I just like it. It’s even. It’s small. 2 + 2 = 4 and 2 x 2 = 4.

who’s the last person you talked to? my brother when I was yelling bye to him.

favorite cut of beef? yeah i really don’t know or care

last song you listened to? We by Yesung

last book you read? honestly can’t even tell you.

can you say the alphabet backwards? YES I CAN AND I’M VERY PROUD ABOUT THIS

favorite day of the week? mmm..... saturday because I usually see my friends on saturday and also refuse to do homework on saturdays.

how do you like your coffee? with a big scoop of hot chocolate powder and quite a bit of half and half. sometimes I forego the chocolate powder but my preference is to have it.

favorite pair of shoes? oooh..... I love my shoes. I have so many that I like. um... okay I’m gonna say it’s this one pair of brown heels I have. They look kinda like leather, orangey-brown, 4in tall heel, and they’re almost like ankle boots because the material goes to just below my ankle. They look amazing with skinny jeans.

time you normally get up? mm..... somewhere between 8 and 9 I guess if I wake up naturally. But I have to get up at 6:15 for work and 7am on days when I have church bc I’m head of nursery (but church is at 10am and online cuz quarantine)

sunrise or sunsets? hm.... I guess sunset bc it sets behind the mountains and it’s gorgeous.

how many blankets on your bed? rn 1 really light one cuz summer’s basically here.

describe your kitchen plates? white with a red and grey design on them with a red border on the edge

describe your kitchen at the moment? currently a mess bc things are being moved around and sorted and everything is everywhere. Other than that, it’s got a sink, fridge, oven, dishwasher, you know, the uszh.

do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? mm.... right now I guess my go to is a moscato wine. I think that’s my favorite thing right now. You can call me a wimp but hey it’s a step up from Mike’s hard mango punch. I also really like mules.

do you play cards? yes.

what color is your car? silver. and it annoys me bc it looks like every other unimpressionable unremarkable unmemorable car out there :p

can you change a tire? .............................................no.

your favorite state/province/county/etc.? MINE

favorite job you’ve had? my babysitting job for a neighborhood family. I’ve been babysitting them for about 7 years now and I have been with them for two of their kids’ births and I’ve gotten to watch them grow up and develop personalities and learn about life and it has been such a fun experience and blessing to me.

how did you get your biggest scar? okay so I don’t know about biggest, but the one that I’ve probably had the longest and is still clearly visible is one that’s on my foot. It’s about a cm long and is about an inch or so in from the base of my second toe on my right foot. I got it when I was... I think a sophomore in high school when my family visited my bro and sis-in-law out of state for Thanksgiving. I went to grab a bottle of sparkling apple cider out of the fridge but, in the process of grabbing it or moving something aside or something, the bottle of sparkling cider fell out of the fridge onto the tile floor right next to my foot and SHATTERED. I was frozen in shock. Didn’t know what to do. Felt embarrassed and felt bad about the broken bottle and mess. I didn’t even realize until my mom and sis-in-law were cleaning up the floor around me that there was a small shard of glass somewhat embedded in my foot. I don’t remember feeling any pain from it. I think I was probably still in shock. But I still have the scar.

Tagging: I don’t really know and I’m tired so ANYONE WHO WANTS TO 😊

#tag game #50 questions #fun times

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thimbleswrites · 5 years

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with the lights out, it’s less dangerous | the last time

Pairing: Frankie Dalton x Original Female Character

Genre: Angst / Drama

Word count: 4k

Warnings: love/hate relationship, implied smut, suicidal thoughts

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3884773/chapters/8685547

Author’s note: I wrote this a long time ago but I’m posting all my fics on my writing blog. I explain more about the Blood Donors concept in the a/n on A03 if anyone’s interested, click the link above.

Summary:

Anita, a human that Edward has been harboring in his house for years, struggles with the isolation of living as a fugitive in a world full of vampires. With the threat of being reduced to nothing but a Blood Donor looming just outside the walls of Edward's house, she must decide whether it is time to end it all or find a way to deal with the desolation.

But is the dangerous game she finds herself playing with Frankie Dalton, Edward's human-hunting brother, the best solution to her loneliness?

Set pre-Daybreakers.

Next: honesty hour

"Goddamn it, Frankie, I have until sundown to get some sleep before a shit load of work tomorrow – I'm not having this conversation again; it's done!"

A beat of silence follows the words as the dismissal rings heavy in the air and a resounding snarl tears through the tension. Anita grimaces at the sound of footsteps up the stairs and tries to press herself back against the hinged door, into nonexistence – a thin hand clawing at the threshold as she waits with bated breath.

No matter how many arguments she heedfully witnesses, how many times Edward tells her that she is safe after Frankie blows in and out of their lives over and over again, how many times she manages to make it just one more day without being caught and forced as a Blood Donor: the dread that makes her stomach clench in an almost paralyzing sort of fear is a constant reminder that she is never safe.

The comfort of safety is not a luxury she can afford – not anymore.

The years spent hiding with a decreasing amount of fellow human who had refused vampirism had not been wasted with pointless dreams of a secure future. Those days were harsh, dirty, and cruel – but in each other there was at least a small repose of normalcy. Humans living (well surviving, because what they had been doing was not actually living) with other humans.

A human living with one (sometimes two, she remembers with a tingle up her spine) vampires, though.

She wants to laugh at the thought of such an illusion as safety for someone in her position, but seeing as it's the one thing standing between her and becoming a daily juice box, she refrains. That is if she could remember how to laugh; the muscles surrounding her mouth are usually only ever exercised into a frown and she imagines that the act of straining them upwards might be foreign and difficult.

Her attempt at becoming a chameleon is at once deemed futile under the fierce gaze of Frankie Dalton as he passes in the hall. He's only just gotten back from his most recent tour of duty and as per usual he is staying at Edward's during his break, unable to afford an apartment he would scarcely ever use.

The first few days of his return are always the worst; Edward almost never remembers the day of Frankie's arrival and the latter's mood turns sour the moment he comes home to see his welcome party consists of one: a somewhat interested (and punctual; she doesn't have much to look forward to these days and even his return on the calendar is something) Anita holding a propped open book in one hand and the world's tiniest banner reading Welcome home, asshole! in her other as she lounges comfortably on a sofa in the office room, ready to leap to her crawl space at a moment's notice.

Just as she thinks that maybe, just maybe this time he will continue to his seldom-occupied bedroom and ignore her, he stops walking and looks her down as if she is a lower species; a turkey attending the Thanksgiving dinner. There is distaste clear in his eyes, rage too, and something even darker that she recognizes somewhere in the back of her mind but does not want to dwell upon.

Anita glowers bitterly up at him, willing him to feel her disgust at him, too, for him to know that this isn't exactly the ideal living situation for her either. A small part of her feels ashamed for those sort of thoughts – the last thing she wants Edward to think she is is ungrateful. She owes him her life, however useless it may be now.

Once, a couple years back, when on a supply raid with her group she had been wounded by a lone poor, starving vampire who had found them and attacked. Her party had left her there, assuming her to be dead, so it was not abandonment – not really, she would have done the same.

Self-hatred burns her insides with the knowledge that this new world – one with the rule of vampires and the hunt of humans like livestock – has charred her soul black to the core, a sense of meaningless survival (what is the point to her life?) taking control on instinct so that she has to fight every day to remember what humanity truly means.

But with an abundance of luck and patience on Edward's part, he had found her bleeding out (thankfully not infected; she'd rather die) and managed to get them both back to his place to nurse her back to health. Her constant attempts at his life or escaping had slowed things down considerably, but she eventually healed and came to the hard realization that her pack was gone. She knew by then they would be cities away and that she was alone. It was with little hesitance that Anita had accepted Edward's offer of shelter and food. Protection, too, but that was taken lightly.

She's never been one to depend on others; she likes to pull her own weight, and her current title of hidden house guest makes her restless. When she had first began living with Edward, she had offered him her blood – not straight from her veins, obviously, but with the proper equipment she would have given him enough, regularly but not nearly as much as she'd have to if she became a Blood Donor, to cushion the blow of his blood-bill. But he had refused; said he didn't drink human, and it would have been a lie to say she was too disappointed. The same offer was never given to Frankie – probably because she knows now, and knew then, that he would not have refused.

"Well, if it isn't the root of the problem." Frankie grinds out, his jaw clenched as he takes a step towards her. "Tell me – do you think Ed sees your face on the humans at his company or just dollar signs?"

She blinks indifferently, keeping her silence. They've danced to this song before, and honestly, she's grown too phlegmatic to be baited so easily.

"Probably not the money." He adds, his voice hard. "He pities you humans too much for his own good. And you in particular, doesn't he?" He chuckles darkly and points at her with his index finger. "No, you're his favorite little stray kitten – here to stay."

At his sneering words she looks back at the small opening across the small office that leads to the crawl space she spends her time in when the sun falls and darkness resumes – a pathetic excuse for living quarters but she is none the wiser, having been in worse conditions while on the streets. At least she has the sleeping bag to herself now.

She is allowed out during the day or when Edward is home and does not have company, but rarely downstairs and always, always she must be quiet (so quiet it is like she is not even there) in case the neighbors can hear. He cooks her food mostly (something she wishes she could do for herself; Edward is an appallingly bad chef) and she is permitted to have a shower every few days even though she has to use his toiletries. She does not mind much, though – things like that have not been a problem for her in a good long while.

It is not that Edward wants to keep her on a short leash so much as he is very meticulous in ensuring that she remains hidden, for his sake and hers. Every single thing is planned and routine; if he is to buy too much extra food or household necessities or if his guest notice that he seems to be housing three occupants, it might raise unwanted suspicion that would be better to avoid entirely. Paranoid, maybe, but it works. And although she will never dare to complain, living in such circumstances is taking the wear and tear out of her.

While food comes easier now than what she has been used to (having been malnourished since she was barely a teen) she is still unhealthy; her skin too pale from the lack of sunlight and the natural growth of her body stinted by the crawl space, making her appear pinched, and so much smaller than she should, too emaciated and frail to the point where she wants to avoid mirrors at all cost on some days. The perpetual dark rims under her grey eyes from many sleepless nights give her the appearance of a ghost, and her hair is almost always in a wild tangle of mousy blonde strands, but sometimes on her more vain days, she manages to run her fingers through it enough to tame the mess. Throughout every thing that has been lost to the war of vampires against humans, vanity seems to trail behind her in a race to catch up; not quite there but never too far behind either.

She looks hollow, dead in the eyes, and it's only fitting, really – she feels the same way.

Anita wishes that she could take pride in her quiet strength – she yearns to think of herself as one of the heroines from the books she reads to assuage her boredom (Edward has books everywhere, scattered in piles in all the nooks and crannies of the house and then some), biding her time before she can join the Revolution with her fellow humans, but honestly, the fear and cowardice that is still present, hidden beneath the bitter sorrow and ferocious contempt, only makes her feel weak. Weak from the tears that wet her pillow at night when she is by herself in the crawl space, holding her arms around her middle as if it will help the sickness, left with nothing but thoughts of death and blood and the unfairness of life.

She misses her family more than she ever thought she would, and it's unbearable because it leaves a gaping, festering hole in her chest that makes her want to lie still until she just stops breathing. At those times, more than usual, it stumps her how anybody could want to live forever. It's a consuming, mindless sort of grief that leaves her breathless and exhausted, hating herself for dwelling on the past when her current standing in the food chain demands all the focus she has.

Anita hates weakness.

And Frankie makes her feel weak.

Especially when he is this close to her, his head tilted down so he can meet her wide eyes, and his body so near her that she can feel the coolness of him. She hates the terror it instills in her at the thought that he can infect her with a smile on his face and her flesh in his teeth if he so desires. And he does desire it – he's told her so, after the two brother's verbal throw down matches over Edward's aiding and abetting a human criminal in his own house, a house that Frankie inhabits ("By knowing and not saying anything it makes me an accomplice, Ed!"). Edward thinks his threats of turning them in are empty ("He won't say anything . . . he owes me." Ed told her once when she had voiced her concerns) and he hasn't yet, however, Anita wouldn't put it past him. She can't turn a corner in a house that Frankie's in without having a threat to turn her thrown in her face.

Even more than that, though, she absolutely despises the other feelings he sparks in her too. The ones that make her flush with heat in her veins and an ache between her thighs from the longing to be close to someone again. Anita despises him for being a selfish monster and she despises him even more when he's not. She despises the salacious want he infixes in her when he glances up with sharp, trained eyes from whatever he is doing to watch her walk back to the office after a shower when she is in only a towel. But more than anything, anything else she despises herself for having allowed him to toy with those feelings periodically over the last four months.

As Frankie stares at her, something akin to understanding glints in his eyes and he takes a quick step in her direction, making her fall back two. After a moment she has enough sense to worry he might have recognized the look in her eyes as more than offense at his words. There is a familiar sort of triumph in his voice as he sneers, "Something bothering you, pet?"

The sound of the taunting sobriquet he had long ago christened her coming from his lips is far too palatable for her to handle so she imagines what the screams of the humans he has hunted and forced into the Blood Revenue Agents hands would sound like instead, so loud and terrible that it can banish those bad, bad feelings that surround her off to another place where things that are wrong go to.

For the moment, it works.

"Yes – you are standing too close," Anita finally murmurs, and something frightening in her roars at the covetous flash in his eyes as they narrow at her, but she silences it by biting her tongue, unable to resist the opportunity to wipe the smirk off of his face. "And I can still smell the blood of my people marring your precious honor, sir."

The corners of his mouth twist down at her mockery and he raises his chin, trying to intimidate her with his authority, but the vampire soldier card no longer makes her shrink in fear as it once did. She has had quite a bit of time in the weeks of Frankie's absence to prepare herself for his overwhelming presence that has always had a different effect on her than Edward's. She will no longer permit herself to be a distraction for him to amuse himself with whenever he likes purely because he can. She is more than his filthy little secret, and certainly better than him.

Her lips thin and she brings herself to full height, which is only a wee few inches shorter than him, but still her neck cranes up slightly to meet his gaze. She has pushed off from the door and he moves backwards to avoid physical contact. The fact that he is the one who falls back weighs heavy on him and his frown deepens in anger.

His relentless harassment over the years has been all too entertaining for him because of the easy prey she has always presented him with. His ability to read her like an open book is almost congenital – Frankie knows Anita to her very core; her thoughts, her fears, her dreams, he knows exactly what to do to provoke her. He can send her into a furious rage with a few casual words or tear her apart by a single deliberate look. But now the game has changed. She has surprised him with this sign of defiance; this charge of offensive play, and he does not know how to react to it.

A small thrill shoots through her from his falter, and the courage it gives her comes out in the smooth words she spits into his face, "Something bothering you, Frankie?"

She can almost taste victory in her mouth when his ochroid eyes flash and he quickly leans into her, a smirk curling onto his face, making her stumble back away from him and warily glance at the protruding fangs that press into his pale lower lip. He smiles widely to show her his teeth more clearly; a wolf's grin, and watches her clenched jaw tremble beneath the unspoken threat, eyes dancing and alight with the prospect of a challenge.

"Careful now, pet, wouldn't want to cross lines you can't come back from, would you?" He cautions.

The air feels weighted with the tension, as if electricity is crackling against her skin, sending sparks through her nervous system but she holds her ground and straightens. The warning is obvious in his voice; he wants her to know that he is in control. She hates that.

He is so close she can feel his breath fanning her face, and although it makes hers come in faster than she would care to admit, Anita resists the urge to swivel her head to the side. "Fuck your lines."

The curse word feels strange on her tongue, although she is pleasantly surprised at the evenness of her tone, and she enjoys his confounded look at her having taken a page from his book – he frequently uses the crude terms, and at least one adolescent innocent tendency has always made her wince when he casually refers to them – but it had sounded sharp and primitive and she is impressed by herself. She instantly realizes that she likes how fierce it makes her feel.

"Ooh, such language, Nita. Wouldn't expect it from you." He grins at her, his tongue grazing briefly over one fang, so quickly that she barely notices it with a sweeping sensation sent straight to her toes, and continues, "And while I appreciate that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, maybe you should mind your manners for now. After all, pets who misbehave must be . . . castigated."

Her knees quake, nearly giving out at his tone: almost a teasing threat, and that realization makes her stomach flutter in equal parts fright and excitement. She inhales deeply, pulling down the frayed sleeves of her sweater past her fingers.

Frankie's smile fades as his mouth contorts into a thoughtful expression and his eyes size her up. The hairs on the back of her neck stand up, but she is not sure if it is because of the dread in her stomach or the heat that flames in her cheeks and along her ears when he steps forward with his arms extended out on either side of her head, efficiently trapping her between the door and his body. He pushes a strand of hair from her darting eyes with a gentle motion; a mocked sign of affection, and lets the tip of his finger rest on her temple.

He is pushing her, stretching their interaction like a rubber band, testing to see how far he can go before she breaks. He doesn't have to push far this time – a simple movement; he bites gently and deliberately into his lower lip and his eyes drop to her mouth – and then she is shoving his arms away scathingly, hitting him with her fist as she turns to her crawl space.

Frankie catches her readily around her waist and flings her back against a wall, grabbing her wrists in his hands when she tries to struggle and pinning them above her head. His face is close enough to hers that she can clearly see the smile lines in his right cheek when the corner of his lip quirks up in that crooked grin that makes her loathe these moments with him as much as she secretly looks forward to them, although, she will never admit the hold he has on her; a strong fist around her rotting heart, forcing it to pulsate when the beats begin to degenerate.

Sometimes she wishes he would just let her die.

He thrusts a knee between her legs, pressing his body onto hers, and she can't breathe – she can't even muster the energy to ignore the way her body responds to the familiar feeling of him against her; the way her hips cant upwards into him, all but unwillingly.

And sometimes she wants nothing more than this.

"Fuck you." Anita seethes, because he looks so smug, like such a smug bastard that her blood practically boils and she feels alive.

"Hm, fuck me?" Frankie muses. "You're being rather straightforward today."

"Well, you know what they say." She returns with a sharp grin on her face that she saves just for him. "Bold is beautif – oh!"

He had ducked down into her neck, his mouth opened wide, and for only a moment she considers that he is finally making good on his threat to tear into her jugular vein, but it's not his teeth. It's his tongue, and she thinks that might be worse. He's kissing the base of her throat, ravaging the skin there (because Anita will shit a brick if she ever sees Frankie being tentative in his actions), and it almost hurts; she knows there will be a bruise there in a few hours.

There always is.

"Wait." She protests wearily, her heart beating a tattoo of his name onto her rib cage. "You said it was the last time. We agreed – we agreed the last time was it."

"I changed my mind." He says easily, his mouth trailing up to her jaw. "God, you're so fucking warm."

And the low, guttural sound of his voice makes her knees actually give out this time. He only tightens his fingers around her wrists, though, and his thigh between her legs keeps her upright, but oh – his thigh between her legs. She trembles.

Her eyes fall closed with a pleased, drawn out sigh and he lets out a breathy laugh.

"You want this just as much as I do, don't you, pet?" He taunts, scraping his fangs lightly over her skin.

Anita growls but before she can retort he presses his lips to hers and kisses her in a way that only he's ever done; hard, deep, angry. He releases her right hand and she presses her palm to the nape of his neck, holding him in place as she responds to his jabbing remark by nipping at his bottom lip. She makes a noise at the back of her throat when his tongue invades her mouth.

He's cold – all vampires are. But Anita doesn't see it like they do in the old YA novels about the then-mythical vampire, it is not just some side effect of being a dashing creature of the night like the young heroines think it is; it's one of the things she hates the most when she's with Frankie like this, because it reminds her that he is dead. He has no pulse, no heartbeat. Frankie is cold like a corpse, a walking disease.

This thought gives her resolve a burst of renewed strength and she tugs her other hand free from his grasp, holding tightly to his shirt as she pants, "We can't keep doing this." But even as the words leave her, she allows her hand to drift down towards his stomach, feeling the taut muscles of his abdomen beneath her exploring fingers.

Jesus, help me, Anita thinks desperately, he's my Kryptonite.

He's undeterred – his mouth hovering over hers, golden eyes watching her intently as his hands go to her hips and he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of her pants. "Why not?" He asks, softly, the words drifting over her lips.

She pauses, distracted by the way his fingers stroke circles onto her skin.

He smiles at her hesitancy, touching his lips lightly to hers.

The tenderness throws her into momentary surprise, but he suddenly grips the back of her thighs and lifts her up, propping her against the wall as her legs lock instinctively around his waist, and there's nothing tender about what's digging into the inside of her thigh. She gasps when his hands slide up her sweater, one at the small of her back and the other on her breast.

She kisses him fervidly, nearly slicing open her tongue on his fang, and cradles his jaw in her hands – he grins into her mouth, apparently satisfied by her response, and her body screams this is the last time, just once more.

"I'm not into necrophilia – you son of a bitch," Anita murmurs, short of breath, but even she hears the fond way the words are spoken.

"Shut up," Frankie groans as his mouth goes to her collarbone, his hand tugging one of her legs higher over his hip while his groin steadily rocks into the apex of her thighs as if to prove his next words, "D'you think I want to want this? I've taken playing with my food to an all new level."

And she doesn't even try to stop the morbid laugh that leaves her as he carries her to his bedroom.

It's the last time, after all.

#daybreakers #frankie dalton #edward dalton #daybreakers fanfiction #frankie x original charcter #michael dorman #thimbles fics

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sailoryue · 6 years

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Food coma

Random plot bunny inspired by a conversation had on the symbrock discord server I'm on between myself, Monster Teeth and flower. Venom learns what food coma is after a Thanksgiving dinner.

............

Eddie leaned back on the couch feeling fuller than he's ever been since joining lives with an alien symbiote with a perpetual hunger. He let out a relaxed sigh. "Thanks for letting me enjoy the meal V. And thanks for the invite Anne. As always, compliments to the chef!"

He was worried he wouldn't be able to enjoy everything, given the turkey was made of 'dead meat' which Venom usually hated.

Anne let out chuckle. "Actually, I only made the mashed potatoes. Dan made the rest. "

"Well Dan if this doctor thing ever falls out, you've got the makings of a five star chef. " Eddie felt truely satisfied. His body-buddy was strangely quiet. "You ok there bud? "

YES, EDDIE. BUT WE ARE CONFUSED. HOW DID THE DEAD FOOD SATISFY OUR HUNGER SO WELL?

Eddie gave a slight shrug. He looked over at Anne noting her confusion. "Dunno. When we ate chicken we got sick to our stomach, which is why we were unsure if we could even eat the turkey. Luckily it seems to have settled real well. Might need to wait a bit before heading home."

Anne couldn't help but smile. "That's fine. If need be you can spend the night on the couch. The turkey coma can be pretty strong. "

She headed to the kitchen to help Dan with the clean up.

TURKEY COMA?

Eddie felt quite sleepy like, the grips of sleep grabbing at him. "There's something in turkey that adds to the full feeling, and a lot of times can make someone sleepy. How are you feeling in a this? "

The symbiote was silent, unsure of how to answer.

WE DO NOT KNOW, EDDIE. WE DO NOT KNOW HOW TO DESCRIBE THIS FEELING. IT IS CONFUSING.

"Give it a try. "

WE KNOW WHAT HAPPY IS... AND IT IS LIKE THAT, BUT DIFFERENT. WE FEEL WE COULD SLEEP TO, THO WE DO NOT NESSESARILY NEED SLEEP LIKE YOU DO. IT IS A SAFE FEELING, BEING HERE WITH YOU, EDDIE, AND ANNIE.

Eddie thought for a moment trying to interpret the feelings he was getting from the alien. "Ah. I think you're feeling content."

CONTENT?

Eddie lightly shook his head at the incorrect pronunciation. "Content. It's similar to happy, but I guess quieter. Safe. Warm. You know the purring sound Mr Belvedere makes when Anne or Dan scratches it?"

YES. IT IS A LOW GROWLING SOUND.

"MHM. Cats make that when they're content. I definitely feel content now. And very sleepy. " Eddie felt his eyes grow heavy.

Before Venom found Eddie he did not know what these strange emotions were. Happy. Content. Safe. Warm. Safe to him was not being found for caring about his host. The closest thing to happy was the Glee of victory in a battle. On Earth he was free to love his host. To BE loved by his host. He learned so many positive emotions here on Earth. He was... Content.

He pulled himself out in a more noodle like form and rested on top of Eddie's chest. Eddie peeked a sleepy eye open at him

"S'up V?" He mumbled.

THE FOOD TAKES UP TOO MUCH SPACE. WE FEEL CONTENT ENOUGH TO REST OUT HERE WITH EDDIE.

Eddie reached up to run his hand on Venom, enjoying the softness of his form. "M'kay."

Eddie soon fell back asleep, and Venom for the first time in his life, truely felt... Content.

#symbrock #veddie #venom #fic #fluff

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alexandrite-62 · 3 years

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Log: November 28

This past week marked the start of Thanksgiving break, which apparently only means that we are given more work to fill the extra time that we have. I spent most of Thanksgiving morning studying for an upcoming programming exam, but for some reason I’ve found myself less able to focus than usual. My mind keeps wandering… I ended up deciding that I would go seek out the girl to see if she wanted to do any training or work since we had the day off. Don’t ask me why. Maybe I just needed a sparring partner… maybe I was feeling the emptiness of campus a little bit too much… God, I’m going soft, aren’t I? Ugh.

Anyways, I went to see the girl’s base of operations, where Caspar usually hangs out, seeing as I don’t actually have the intel on where the girl lives on campus. Figured either she would be there or he would be able to tell me where to go. Turns out she went home for the weekend to see her family... Sure enough, though, Caspar was there. He looked at me and asked if I wanted to do anything to celebrate the holiday, but I just scoffed and reminded him that holidays are always busy times for crime. Especially around Black Friday. Obviously I had work to do.

I wonder if the girl- Polymetis, Caspar finally told me her alias- has any siblings back home. If she was excited to be seeing her family. She didn’t even tell me she was leaving, so… I’m guessing it wasn’t anything too stressful for her. She’s not one to be quiet about her feelings- never shut up the entire time she was practically living in my room to find Caspar, after all. It doesn’t matter, though. I was right and I was busier than I often am on Thanksgiving. What is it about holidays that make people want to hurt each other more? The amount of blood I’m going to have to wash out of my clothes now…

That sounds worse than it really was. Don’t worry about it.

It’s infuriating, though! The way some people think they have the right to hurt innocents, just for their own personal gain. Toying with them, corrupting them, in a way, perpetuating a cycle of sick injury, and for what reason? No matter how much I try, I can’t make sense of it. … I guess this is how the universe operates, huh? That’s what I was told growing up, that this was “just how things are.” Whatever. As though such a hollow reason could ever be enough to satisfy me.

It’s fine. I do my best work when I’m angry. I’ve been told it makes me more efficient.

Maybe Polymetis will be back next week.

#tw blood #writing #writeblr #fiction #oc #vigilante series

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lokifiction · 7 years

Text

Relationship Status

It’s really no secret that the Avengers and Loki aren’t fans of each other, but when a seemingly invincible common enemy looms ahead, it is necessary that they learn to get along. However, it soon becomes quite clear that this will be no simple task.

Category: Fanfic

Rating: Teen

Notes: ...I know, it’s been forever since I’ve updated anything. I’m so sorry, guys. I feel absolutely terrible. My schedule is very busy, but for some reason this year it got away from me and days flew by without me even really realizing what was happening and this page kind of got put on the backburner. I’m really so sorry. I sincerely hope that this chapter makes up for the tardiness and that I do better in the future.

Warnings: None for this chapter.

Masterlist

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

Chapter Seventeen: The Test Run

“What do you think a better theme for the dinner party would be? ‘A Night out in Paris’ or mythology?”

Loki raised a brow at me from where he was chopping vegetables for our lunch, giving me a vision of domesticity that surprisingly suited him well. “Where did mythology come from?”

I shrugged, absentmindedly stroking Henry where he laid on the counter in front of me. “It’s springtime. Every year when that time comes around, I always delve into my Persephone aesthetic. Besides, I’m kind of craving Greek food.”

“Alright, then.” Loki nodded agreeably. “Go with mythology. I admire Hades and wouldn’t mind portraying him for a night.”

I squirmed on my stool, halfway laying on the countertop, staring at Loki sideways. “Yeah, but I feel like the Paris theme is more formal and appropriate. And French food is good, too.”

“Then do that one.” Loki reached for a sweet potato, not looking up from his perfectly even slices.

“I can’t decide!” I whined. “Tell me which one you would genuinely prefer.”

“Both sound equally as wonderful, or as wonderful as a night with the Avengers can be.”

“You’re no help.” I slumped out of my seat and came around the counter to embrace him from behind, burying my face between his shoulder blades. “Please tell me.”

“Well, actually, I had an idea for a theme, myself.” Loki put his knife aside and turned to face me, resting his clasped hands at the small of my back.

“Really?” I bounced in his arms. “Tell me!”

“How about ‘An Asgardian Feast’?” He smiled with a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “We could have Thor help us a bit, and give the Avengers a taste of the culture in Asgard so they understand us and our ways better.”

“Oh my god, Loki!” I squealed and reached up to kiss him in excitement. “That’s great! We have to do that one.”

“I’m glad you like it.” I may have been mistaken, but I thought I noticed a flush creep up on his cheeks. “It might be a bit difficult to procure all of the ingredients, and we may have to make some substitutions, but I already know of a few dishes that we could serve, as well as some ceremonial decorations we could make.”

“Oh, that’s genius!” I kissed him once more. “What would I do without you?”

“Your life certainly wouldn’t be as interesting, that’s for sure.” Loki playfully tapped my nose. I scrunched it in response and giggled before slithering out of his grasp and bounding towards the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” he called after me, opening his arms as if commanding me to run right back into them.

“I’ve got a wonderful idea for the invitations,” I replied over my shoulder. “I need to get it down on paper somewhere before I forget. What’s the proper Asgardian address format again?”

***

“I hope that the wardrobe guide I sent with the invitations didn’t seem rude or snobby or anything,” I fretted, securing the final braid of my traditional hairstyle. “I just wanted them to really experience the atmosphere, and dinner parties usually have some sort of dress code, so…”

“I’m sure you came off just fine. Stop worrying yourself sick.” Loki came up behind me, zipping my dress and placing a tender kiss on my shoulder. “Do you want to go take a last-minute look at the decor?”

I heaved a sigh that was a mix of anxiety and relief. “Yes, please.”

Before we made our way into the hallway, I paused in front of the mirror, straightening my skirt and checking my appearance for any fixable flaws. I had chosen to wear a golden evening gown with a wide halter neckline, and I accessorized with heavy gold jewelry, including arm cuffs and golden rings that Loki helped me braid into my hair. Altogether, my outfit was an Earthly version of what was commonly worn to banquets in Asgard, and Loki had donned a simpler version of his armor for the occasion.

In the wardrobe guide I sent with the invitations, I advised our guests to dress similarly, and to place emphasis on a lot of leather, metal, and flowing fabrics, and sent Thor out with the task of helping them achieve that. Praying that everyone wouldn’t just show up in suits and make me and Loki look like fools in our otherworldly garb, I made my way to the kitchen, the smell of what I considered to be home filling my nostrils.

It had taken nearly an entire day for me, Loki, and Thor to put together a menu that would reflect traditional cuisine on Asgard with foodstuffs found on Midgard, and another several hours running around New York to collect all of the supplies. The spiced wine mulling on the stove fragranced the whole house and gave it the feel of autumn despite the fact that it was the middle of April, and the pork we substituted for boar had my mouth watering. The menu also included an array of baked fruits, a pumpkin soup, an apple cake, along with numerous other things, and I was glad that our guests would have no idea if the recipes were accurate, so I only had to worry about the dishes being delicious.

After fiddling with some settings on the stove and putting a loaf of bread in the oven to be warmed, I followed Loki into the dining room to perfect the setup one last time. Again, our decor for the night was a task that required hours in our storage room and another full day of shopping to gather everything we needed.

Our house had many places to dine in, but Loki and I usually ate in the breakfast nook or at a small, intimate table next to a window in the sitting room. However, for the event we had utilized our largest dining room, which boasted a table that sat eighteen with plenty of room to spare. All around the walls we had hung golden draperies to give the illusion of the inside of the palace of Asgard, and a similarly colored fabric was draped over the dining table, for the Victorian-styled piece didn’t reflect the boxy furniture found on Asgard.

From directly above the table we had removed our usual chandelier and replaced it with an antique one from medieval times, that when purchasing we nearly gave the curator a heart attack when we told her we were actually planning to use it. Loki went to light its candles and I straightened the ornate bowls of fat, red grapes and gourds that made up the table decorations. It turned out that it was nearly impossible to find gourds in the middle of spring, so instead of adding that to the list of our wild goose chase shopping trip, Loki merely conjured some, and made them particularly beautiful, with swirling vines that draped all the way over the sides of the table and curled onto the floor.

“This dinner party has me in trouble,” I murmured as Loki passed me to light the candles that sectioned off the table. “It’s got me in such an autumn mood.”

“I’m feeling that effect, as well,” Loki agreed, admiring at our handiwork and wrapping his arm around my waist. “Though I’d hardly call it trouble. You know that if we had our wish, it would be perpetually autumn.”

“Just with slightly warmer temperatures for me,” I teased, brushing imaginary dust off of one of the napkins resting atop the plates in their engraved holders. “Loki, are you sure I arranged the place settings correctly?”

“They’re perfect,” he assured, kissing my temple before breezing to the other side of the room. “Stop fretting and come sit down for a bit before the guests arrive and you get all fluttery again. You’re going to exhaust yourself if you don’t.”

“Oh, alright.” I frowned in compliance, but still had to approach the table to push one last plate a millimeter more into place. We had originally planned on using our Thanksgiving china for the event to match the decor, but after remembering that we wanted to replicate an Asgardian feast and not have an autumn fest, Loki and I decided to go out hunting for new dishes for the night. After even more searching and a hefty sum, we had gold-colored china and brassy flatware, as close to what could be found on Asgard as possible. I took one last critical glance at our little portal to another world before joining Loki in the sitting room, where we barely settled down into chairs before the doorbell rang.

My stomach dropped as I jumped to my feet, dashing to the landing to let the guests in, but they turned out to only be Stellan and his two younger brothers, Luca and Teo. Since Stellan was the only one outside of my family briefed on Loki’s true identity, and since his family owned a high-class restaurant in town that all three brothers had worked for at one point or another, Loki and I figured that they would be the best candidates to come and be our waiters for the night.

“Hello, Camryn!” he greeted with a wide grin, bending down to hug me. “The place looks really spectacular.”

“Thanks, Stellan.” I patted his back and waved to Teo and Luca. “Thanks for doing this on your night off.”

“Oh, it’s my pleasure.” He reached down to pick up Bellatrix from where she was languidly rolling atop his shoes. “Bella and I go way back, so when I’m not waiting the table we can have some good catch-up time. And where’s Sir Henry?”

“He’s moping in our bedroom like he always does when we have company.” I rolled my eyes. “But if you guys’ll follow me to the guest bedroom, I have your outfits in there.”

On Asgard, servants typically wore arduous robes, but Loki and I made the express decision that even with the atmosphere we had created, the typical servant garb would look ridiculous. Instead, we procured sturdy brown pants and white tunics, along with some leather overlays that gave the effect we were aiming for.

As the boys were changing, the trio of lute players that we hired for the night arrived, and they set up in the corner of the dining room while I was briefing Stellan, Teo, and Luca on the dishes for the night and how to serve them. After one last meticulous sweep of the area of the penthouse we’d be entertaining in, Loki convinced me that there was nothing more that I could do, and urged me to sit next to him and wait for the first guests to arrive at last.

“Are you sure this dinner party is a good idea?” I worried, tugging at a hangnail with my teeth and shifting on the sofa.

“It’s a bit late to go back on that decision, isn’t it?” Loki replied with a raised brow, but rubbed my back reassuringly, tugging me closer to him and holding me tight to his side. “I’ll make sure everything is just fine,” he murmured against my temple.

When the doorbell rang, I sprang out of my seat once more, but Loki jumped in front of me before I could make another move, putting his hands on my shoulders and staring deeply into my eyes as he always did when he wanted to calm me.

“I’ll get it,” he insisted, squeezing my arms gently. “It’s likely just Thor. He’s coming early, remember?”

I nodded, letting out a breath and merely trailing along behind as Loki went to let his brother in. Thor arrived dressed in a simpler version of his ceremonial armor, much like Loki was, and bore a bottle of mead for the party.

“Don’t tell me this is one of the bottles you took from Asgard’s royal stores before you came to live on Earth,” Loki declared, popping the top off and peering inside.

“It is, and I only have three of them left, excluding that one.” Thor snatched the mead back. “This party had better be good, if I’m going to be giving up one of my precious remaining bottles of the finest Asgardian mead ever tasted.”

“Hey!” I protested, coming around from behind Loki and giving Thor a playful shove that, of course, didn’t even cause him to bobble in the slightest. “Are you doubting my skills?’

“Absolutely not, Camryn. I’m merely making a jest between brothers.” Thor patted my shoulder. “If I didn’t have faith that your party would be wonderful, I wouldn’t have brought the mead in the first place. The little I’ve seen of your show for tonight is fantastic, and I can’t wait to see more.”

“Thank you for saying so, but don’t scare me like that!” I reprimanded. “I’m stressed enough as it is.”

“My deepest apologies.” Thor cradled the mead like a baby. “Where might I put this? And where are the cats?”

“I’m throwing what might be the best dinner party of my life and all anyone cares about is the cats. I would scold you, but I relate.” I nodded my head towards the hall. “I’ll take you to put the drink in the kitchen. Stellan’s in there, so at least Bellatrix should be in there, too. You’ll have a contender for her attention tonight.”

“A most honorable challenge that I humbly accept,” Thor played along, bowing his head nobly.

Once Thor dropped his mead off and got his desired greeting from Bellatrix, I sent Teo off to answer the door and had Luca follow us into the sitting room with a tray of drinks, waiting yet again for the rest of the guests to arrive.

“Thor, they are coming, right?” I inquired, bouncing my leg up and down.

“They are, and I promise they’re not planning any tricks,” he assured, selecting a goblet of wine. “Relax.”

Loki rose from the couch and approached Luca, taking a glass and passing it to me.

“Everything will be fine, love,” he assured. “Besides, is anyone but the three of us going to be able to judge the accuracy of the night?”

“It’s not the accuracy I’m worried about,” I muttered into my glass, but took a sip and pretended to be pacified, sitting back and waiting for whomever our first true arrival would turn out be.

It ended up being Steve, who knocked on the front door at the exact arrival time listed on the invitation. Teo showed him into the sitting room, and Loki and I rose to greet him.

“Thank you so much for coming.” I gave him a slightly awkward hug and Loki shook his hand stiffly. “Why don’t you take a seat, and have some wine?”

“There’s no need to be so formal,” Steve assured with a chuckle, but obeyed my instructions nonetheless. “Your penthouse is amazing. Does it always look like this?”

“In the autumn,” I replied. “The current decor is special for tonight’s event, to really give the illusion of being on Asgard.”

“I see. Well, it’s really nice.” Steve took another once-over of the room, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I feel a bit underdressed, though. Thor and Loki are in their armor and you’re in that dress...The wardrobe guide you sent mentioned leather and neutral colors…”

“What you’re wearing is perfect,” I assured, appraising his dark brown pants and beige button-down, trying my hardest to resist the possessive embrace Loki pulled me into as Steve’s eyes passed over me.

“I’m glad.” Steve glanced at the clock on the wall. “Banner was right behind me, so he should be here soon.”

The words had barely left his mouth when the doorbell rang, and Teo entered the sitting room with Bruce in tow, along with Natasha and Clint. Luca served them their drinks and, seeing as most of our guests had arrived, I sent him into the kitchen to fetch the hors d'oeuvres.

“Clint and I were already going to carpool, and we met Bruce in the lobby,” Natasha explained before I could ask how the three of them ended up arriving together, plopping down on the sofa with her drink and straightening her beige gown. “You’ve got a really gorgeous place.”

“Thank you. That seems to be the general consensus tonight.” I fidgeted awkwardly, wishing I could sit but not wanting to do so with guests around. “Did you all make it here alright?”

“It’s a really easy ride from Stark Tower,” Bruce replied. He had dressed in a plain suit, though it was brown. “There’s a Metro stop less than a block away from here.”

“If you guys are all staying at the Tower, why didn’t you all come together?” I asked, noting the staggered arrival times and methods of our guests.

“Well, we knew Thor was coming early to help get things ready,” Natasha began. “Steve was the only one that left at a normal time. Bruce wanted to stay back to finish something in the lab, and Clint and I came straight from a mission.”

“Oh my god!” I exclaimed. “If you had to work tonight, you didn’t have to come.”

“Don’t be silly.” Natasha smiled warmly and took a sip from her glass. “We wanted to.”

“I’m glad we all did, because whatever’s cooking smells delicious,” Thor remarked. “When are we going to eat?”

“We have to wait until everyone gets here,” Loki spoke up with suppressed annoyance. “Does anyone have any idea where Stark is?”

“He left around noon to oversee some construction upstate,” Bruce replied, taking a bite from his smoked salmon crouton. “He should be back by now.”

“Oh, really?” Something bumped the back of my knees and I glanced behind me to realize that Loki had pulled up a chair for me. I settled into it and took my own crouton from Luca, and held Loki’s hand where it rested on my shoulder. “What kind of construction?”

Bruce exchanged a look with Steve.

“I don’t know the clearance level for that info,” Bruce explained, brow furrowed in apology.

“Oh, Norns.” Even though Loki was behind me, I could clearly sense his eyeroll. “More about those damned clearance levels.”

“Be nice.” I patted his hand. “You have clearance levels for your important dealings on Asgard, even if they aren’t necessarily mapped out.”

“Perhaps, but I’m accustomed to being the one at the top of those unsaid levels,” Loki rebutted.

Steve cleared his throat to catch our attention and spoke up, answering Bruce’s question. “They’re consultants and will find out about it eventually, so we might as well tell them now.”

“Are you building a Death Star?” I cocked an eyebrow, and Natasha leaned across where Clint sat next to her on the couch to reach Steve.

“The Death Star is from-”

“Star Wars, I know,” Steve interrupted with a playful eye roll. “I watched them last week.”

“Just looking out for ya, buddy.” Natasha patted his arm and sank back into her cushion.

“Anyway,” Steve continued, “we’re building a new Avengers home base upstate. We’ve sort of taken over Stark Tower, even though it’s still the functioning headquarters of Stark Industries, and the location in the middle of the city, while central to a lot of action, is leaving us exposed and vulnerable, with little space to grow.

“Around the new facility, there’s hardly any civilization for miles, and the land we purchased leaves seemingly endless room for expansion. We won’t have to coordinate space and scheduling with the Avengers team and the Stark Industries team, the environment will seem a bit more homey, and some of our new members will be better protected and contained from society there.”

“Well, that sounds interesting,” I replied. “I’d love to see it someday. If it’s out in the forest like that, I bet it’s beautiful.”

“It’s quite, as the mortals say, aesthetically pleasing,” Thor put in. “I feel very calmed inside the building.”

“And I’m sure you all need that, with all the high-stress work you do,” I said. “You should get Tony to put in a spa.”

Natasha laughed aloud. “That would be the best.”

Loki cleared his throat, reminding us all of his point. “But his business should be finished, correct? It was possible for him to be on time?”

“It should have been, yes,” Bruce replied.

“Well, where is he?”

“The fun is here!” As if on cue, Tony Stark burst into the room with an irritated Pepper on his arm.

“I’m sorry,” she lamented, rolling her eyes. “I couldn’t get him here any sooner.”

“I had to make sure I was at my best for this royal soiree.” Tony pointed to the tray Luca carried. “Is that salmon? Lovely.”

“Was there trouble on your way over here, Mr. Stark?” Loki asked, his voice dangerously cordial. Tardiness was not something he dealt with well.

“No, not at all. Traffic was great, weather was great. Everything was great.” Tony went for some wine and Pepper sighed heavily, covering her reddening face with her hand.

“Then why, might I ask, are you arriving so far past the time listed on your invitation?” Loki’s voice was a mere note away from being a growl. I reached for his hand to calm him.

“Well, you know how I like to make an entrance, and I wanted to make sure I looked impeccable, and worthy of what Camryn listed on that charming wardrobe guide,” Stark replied, gesturing to his outfit straight out of Game of Thrones.

“I’m amazed you took it that seriously.” I took a closer look at his attire, marveling at the fine craftsmanship. “Did you have that made?” “Sure did.” Stark patted his chest proudly. “I wanted to make something matching for Pepper, but she said it was too much.”

I noted Pepper’s stunning rust-colored evening gown.

“You both look amazing. Everyone here does, and I’m so thrilled that you’re all embracing the theme.” I rose from my seat and gestured towards the door. “I’m sure you’re all hungry. Since everyone’s arrived, should we proceed onto dinner?”

The group erupted into murmurs of excitement and began to file towards the dining room, but Loki gently held me towards the back of the herd and bent down to whisper in my ear once we were alone.

“I know our alliance is budding, but I’m absolutely infuriated at Stark’s behavior,” he ranted.

“I know you are.” I rubbed his arm. “But this is supposed to be a test run for the wedding, remember? We need to practice being civil even if something bothers us.”

“I understand, love.” He kissed the top of my head gently but insistently. “But if he tries to ‘make an entrance’ like that at our wedding, I’ll kill him.”

“Oh, believe me.” I took Loki’s hand and pulled him towards the dining room. “If he does that at our wedding, I’ll get to him first.”

When we entered the warm, candlelit dining room, I checked that every guest had found their place card and motioned for the musicians in the corner to begin playing. Luca passed out fresh goblets and Stellan entered with the first course as Loki and I made for the opposite heads of the table to deliver the toast.

“The music is a very nice touch,” Natasha praised, raising her glass in my direction. “I like it.”

“I’m glad you do,” I replied, then cleared my throat to address the room. “Welcome, everyone. I’m so honored that you’ve taken time out of your busy and important schedules to attend this party. Now, I know I’m usually the bridge between you and Loki, but tonight is another effort to make it so that a bridge is no longer needed. So, since our party is to replicate a traditional feast on Asgard, and he’s the one that actually grew up there, I’ll turn the floor over to him.”

Loki locked eyes with me and nodded once, clearing his throat before speaking, effortlessly capturing everyone’s undivided attention.

“Feasts are incredibly common on Asgard. To me and Thor, the spread before you seems an ordinary morning, midday, or evening meal. However, since this is a special event, I wanted to have a special banquet.

“There are many reasons for special feasts to be held on Asgard. A holiday, the returning of soldiers from war, a funeral, et cetera, but I decided that Camryn and I should host a dinner party best compared to a peacemaking or ambassador banquet, for often a major point of those dinners is to show off the culture of Asgard. That was the goal of the theme for tonight, and since every meeting between me and the Aveners is a peacemaking mission, I figured that no feast template could be better.”

Loki gestured to the corner where Stellan stood in his costume, now flanked by Teo and Luca.

“That young man over there is Stellan, and I’m sure you recognize Teo and Luca from earlier this evening. They will be serving you tonight. Now, I’m sure you’re all hungry, and the food smells incredible, so I will move right along with this introduction. Banquets such as this are almost always opened with a prayer to our gods, which is as good of a representation of Asgardian culture as anything, so I’ll get on with that.”

“Excuse me.” Steve politely raised his hand, ducking his chin sheepishly. “I thought you and Thor were the gods. What gods are gods supposed to pray to?”

“Excellent question, Steve,” Pepper interjected. “I was wondering that myself.”

“We pray to our ancestors in Valhalla,” Loki replied, a slight smile creeping onto his lips. “Even divine beings need guidance sometimes.”

“As for whom we pray to once we get to Valhalla, we have no idea,” Thor put in. “And we’re not sure we’d like to know.”

“The speculations we made when we were children only frightened us,” Loki added with a conservative grin. “Now, I typically pray to my mother, so it’s been awhile since I’ve recited a formal prayer like this, so forgive me if I make any mistakes.”

I bowed my head obediently, and I was happy to see that everyone else in the room did, too. I was a bit shocked that Loki revealed such a personal tidbit as coping with Frigga’s death to the room full of people, but I was glad to see him opening up.

Despite his warning, however, he recited the prayer perfectly as I knew he would. He didn’t pray in the traditional sense very often, but I loved it when he did, for the words spilled out of his mouth like beautiful poetry. His voice became melodic, and he often came closer to singing prayers rather than speaking them. I was completely hypnotized by the time he finished and continued the toast.

“Now,” he resumed in his normal cadence, “Asgardians are typically very bawdy and love their food, so the toast is kept short. To peace and friendship. May we make it and may it last.”

“To peace and friendship,” the room echoed, and as everyone drank from their glasses and took their seats, I got the feeling that, for the first time,everyone truly meant it.

***

Once the last course was cleared away and I felt incredibly bloated in the best way, I tapped on my glass with my knife to bring everyone’s attention. The sound wasn’t entirely necessary, for the conversation of the evening had been wonderful and typically involved everyone present at the party, but the action was something I had always wanted to do. Once Loki finished explaining the differences and similarities of Viking culture and that on Asgard and everyone’s eyes turned to me, I began my short speech of the night.

“Asgardian feasts are hardly ever just feasts,” I began. “As Loki said before, Asgardians are quite bawdy, and have a lot of energy, especially after being filled with wine. Feasts are typically affairs that last well into the early hours of the morning. Once the main meal is finished, there’s often dancing and singing and merrymaking, and a lot of the younger citizens will branch out to different taverns once the older attendees have retired. We, unfortunately, did not prepare for raucous activity, but to replicate the ever-changing scenery of an Asgardian banquet, we’ve decided to serve dessert and some of Thor’s Asgardian mead on the terrace.”

“He brought that stuff?” Stark gasped, dropping his hands onto the table, already a bit inebriated from the wine served with the meal. “Sign me up. Let’s go.”

With a giggle, I took my wrap from Loki and laid my head on his shoulder, leading the way out into the slightly chilly night air and onto the terrace that we had decorated just like we had the dining room, and lit with strands of fairy lights. Just like the New Year’s Eve party what seemed like an eternity ago, I felt like I had grown incredibly close to the people around me, and felt an enormous sense of kinship with them. I was sure that, like at the party, the effect was somewhat heightened by drink, but I felt that the new feeling was one that would stick around much longer.

The group gathered into seats around the fire as Thor distributed the drinks and Stellan passed out pieces of apple cake, and the conversation, which had been mainly centered around questions about Asgard, had no trouble picking up again.

“So, Loki,” Steve began, “you said that when boar is served at feasts, it’s usually been hunted and killed that day?”

“Yes,” Loki replied. “There’s no taste like freshly butchered boar, and unless there’s a siege in place, the royal family doesn’t eat boar unless it’s been killed that day.”

“Being royalty sounds like it’s worth it.” Natasha raised her eyebrows. “Thanks for explaining the whole boat symbolism thing, by the way. I never really understood it.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Loki smiled kindly, the mead making him a bit looser with his charms.

“This actually isn’t meant to be rude for once in my life,” Stark interjected, taking a bite of cake, “but do your horns symbolize anything?”

Loki actually laughed at that, and went on to explain without a complaint. After a long-winded speech about symbolism on Asgard that everyone’s drunkenness had turned into a stream of jokes by the end, Stark piped up again.

“I know it’s the drink that’s making me say this, but I think it’s important to be said.” He inhaled sharply. “Loki, after talking with and getting to know you tonight, I’ve decided that you’re not a bad guy. You’re different, for sure, but you’re not bad. You’re actually pretty awesome when you’re not trying to take over the world. I figured that you’d have to be to get a girl like Camryn, but now I really see it.”

“Thank you, Stark.” Loki squeezed my hand, and a small but genuine smile spread across his face. “Tonight, after getting to know you outside of the context of work, I’ve learned that you’re actually quite more brilliant and creative than I originally thought you to be. I may actually grow to enjoy your company, and dare I say, admire you.”

Stark put a hand to his chest, his next joke holding the tone of truth. “I’m so very honored.”

“I’d like to say something, as well.” Clint, who was usually so quiet but had become quite chatty and a jokester over the course of the night, stood from his chair. “Loki, I still don’t trust you. But if all of the people here that I trust with my life are growing to, I respect their decision. I feel that you’re deserving of it, and I think that someday I may come around on you.”

“Thank you, Clint,” I whispered as he returned to his seat, and for a few moments the only sound was the crackling of the fire as everyone processed the words that had just been exchanged, which bore the best kind of weight.

“It’s pretty late,” Bruce eventually said, voice cracking from the awkward breaking of the silence, “and I’ve had a lot to drink. I think I should go and make sure I can get a cab.”

“Wait,” I called out as he made for the door, then looked to Loki, silently asking for approval for what I was about to do. “Why don’t you...stay here?”

Bruce furrowed his brow. “Sorry?”

“Why don’t you all stay here for tonight?” I suggested shyly. “God knows we have enough room for all of you. I’m in the theatre tomorrow night, so I don’t have to go into work until later. We could make sort of a grownup sleepover out of it, and then go for brunch in the morning.”

Pepper cracked a grin. “That sounds like fun. Let’s do it.”

After everyone’s agreement, Loki and I dismissed Stellan, Teo, and Luca, and left Thor to entertain the group while we went to make sleeping arrangements for everybody.

“So, how about it?” I asked nervously as we stood in front of the linen closet, loading my arms with sheets, still in a bit of disbelief over what I had just done.

“You know, I’m actually feeling alright about it,” Loki replied, his bright eyes gleaming. “I’m still not too fond of the Avengers, but I think I might actually like them as individuals. I’m sure that, like at the New Year’s party, some of these feelings and progress are due to drink and will regress in the morning, I feel like they won’t regress as much as they did last time.”

“I’m so glad.” I dropped the sheets in my hands and hugged him instead, burying my face in his shoulder, breathing in his scent of leather and sandalwood and snow. “I feel like so much important progress has been made, too. I’m so proud of you.”

Loki pulled me closer, resting his cheek on top of my head. “I don’t think it will be a problem to have them at our wedding, now.”

“Absolutely,” I agreed. “We won’t have to worry about any fights breaking out or any trouble being caused. We can focus on nothing but each other, just as it should be.”

“That is, if your extended family can behave,” Loki teased.

“Hey, one thing at a time,” I quipped. “My family doesn’t have access to the arsenal that the Avengers do, so the Avengers took priority in terms of peacemaking.”

“But now that problem is solved.” Loki hooked his finger under my chin and tilted it up towards him. “And I’m glad for it. Truly. For the first time in our engagement, I can be completely excited about everything that’s to come with no worries about anything else. And it’s the most wonderful feeling in all the realms.”

Next Chapter

#loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x ofc #loki x reader #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #loki laufeyson

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builder051 · 7 years

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#20 😍 love love love the idea of him getting ill at the gym because he works out too hard !!

It’s OC day today! Here’s Jason working out a little too hard and making himself sick at the gym. This is another one that lends itself to a pretty short story, so hopefully it still satisfies (Edit: It’s 1100 words. I thought it was going to be like 700.)

Additionally, I hope this doesn’t feel too anxious or ED-related. Suffice to say everyone at casa Deangeles-Carson has food/body issues even though Mike’s the only one with a diagnosis. I can own up to this one and say it’s all me working through my shit in the form of OCs.

___

Jason steps through the double doors, waving to his buddies and leaving the basketball court for the greater open space of the gym. He breathes heavily and pauses to pick up a towel from a stack on a table against the wall. He buries his face in the white terrycloth and wipes the sheen of sweat from his brow.

Jason’s already tired. An hour of casual 3 on 3 is enough of a workout most days, but the high that comes from the physical activity and moderate social interaction has him inspired. And so does his anxiety.

It’s the beginning of the holidays, the best time of the year. Which is also the worst time. School ramps up into finals, parents expect visits, shopping has to get done, and there’s not a square meal to be found because once-a-year holiday treats are around every corner.

Jason knows he’s a less-than-wholesome eater on the best of days, but he can’t help regretting the Halloween candy he’s still working through and cursing the Thanksgiving pies he knows will be shoved under his nose in a few weeks. He may be svelte and muscular now, but that doesn’t take away the memories of being the chubby kid, perpetually juxtaposed to Mike’s beanpole-ish frame.

Usually a pop tart or a burger is cancelled out with a workout and that’s that. But today Jason’s determined to balance his scales a little more in the direction of calorie burn, especially since he isn’t sure how many Reese’s cups he ate last night. He heads for the inclined sit-up bench, illogically deciding that working abs will make him feel a little better about what he’s been putting in his stomach.

Jason works through sets of 20, crossing his arms over his chest and bringing them up to brush his thighs on every rep. It’s a challenge to keep count, though. His mind continues wandering to the next visit back home and what kinds of awful challenges it’ll bring. He’s sure his parents will waste most of their criticism on Mike, which will leave him feeling safe and guilty. But a joke about him finally gaining the freshman 15 in his sophomore year is definitely an unwelcome possibility if he doesn’t keep up his fitness through the season.

When his abdominals are burning, Jason moves onto chest press, leg press, lat pulldown, and seated row. He doesn’t have a plan like arm day or leg day, he just wants to do as much as possible in the time he has before class.

His arms feel heavy and shaky when Jason finishes on the rowing machine. He stays perched on the small seat, mopping his face and the back of his neck. A slight tremor is sinking into his muscles, denoting that he’s thoroughly worked out.

Jason checks his watch. It’s almost 10 in the morning. His first class isn’t until 11:00, and since he’s already on campus, there’s still plenty of time to spend in the gym. Especially if he forgoes a shower and just opts for a dry shirt and Old Spice.

There’s a free treadmill in the bank of machines up by the gym’s large front windows. A little cardio cooldown seems like the perfect end to today’s session. Jason leaves his towel draped around his neck and hops toward it. He presses the illuminated buttons on the treadmill’s dashboard, starting at a brisk walk and working up into an easy jog.

Outside, the sprawling campus glows in the morning sunlight. Trees are beginning to molt to their naked winter forms; crunchy leaves drift to the grass while brightly colored ones still cling to finger-like branches. Jason spins through a few ideas in his head, wondering if it would be too kitschy to use something with imagery about the seasonal change in his next creative writing assignment.

He ticks up the speed on the treadmill to a quicker jog, then to a run. Just for five minutes, he tells himself. Then he’ll truly take a cooldown. A leisurely walking pace for a while to let himself really get his breath back. Just not quite yet.

Minute one is fine. Minute two brings a fresh wash of lactic acid into Jason’s legs. By minute three there’s pressure creeping into his shoulders. And it washes through his chest and throat during minute four.

Before the ascending timer shows the completion of minute five, the dashboard before Jason starts to blur. His head seems heavier on one side than the other, and the feeling that his insides are rising up within his core is pronounced. The idea that this is not good forms at the front of his foggy brain, and he fumbles for the emergency stop button.

Jason isn’t sure what he’s pressing, and it takes a few tries before the treadmill belt begins to slow under his feet. He’s already bolting before it comes to a complete stop, and the rising nausea is impossible to swallow. Dizziness makes it a challenge to track where he’s going, but luckily there’s a trash can only a few feet away.

Jason heaves hard, hoping no one is staring at him, but knowing everyone has to be. He’s so shaky he almost can’t feel his limbs or his face. The first gag brings only spit, but the second pulls up an arsenal of water and breakfast cereal and candy and dinner and god knows what else he’s eaten and not digested over the past day and a half.

“Hey, you ok, man?” The flash of a neon yellow t-shirt in Jason’s peripheral vision tells him it’s one of the gym’s staff coming to check on him.

“Ugh. Yeah,” Jason chokes, coughing a couple times. “Just probably a little much…” Vertigo swells and he feels himself swaying on his feet.

“Here, sit down for a second.” The personal trainer puts an arm around Jason’s back and lowers him to the scratchy carpet, pushing his head down between his bent legs.

A chill runs through Jason’s body, and a second later, his cheeks burn with mortified frustration. “I’m fine, really,” he says, trying to scramble back to his feet.

“Hold on, give it a minute,” the trainer says. He keeps a hand on Jason, oddly steady against Jason’s shaking body.

He does, giving in to the embarrassment and breathing in the rubbery scent of the carpet and the saltiness of his own sweat.

“Stay put while I get you a Gatorade,” the trainer instructs. “Then you can try to stand up.”

Jason nods into his knees, increasing the dizziness still swinging around his temples. God, he’s dumb. And now he’s probably going to be late for class. But at this rate, schoolwork is becoming the least of his worries.

#original fiction #ocs #my ocs #sickfic #emeto #emetophilia #mike & co #jason deangeles

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frogsandfries · 5 years

Text

Surprise!

Not sleeping is not helping me be more productive.

Of course, my asthma being perpetually aroused is not helping me sleep better and it's not helping me feel less tired. My body is treating the cold air like an actual pathogen. Thus, I'm literally sick and will remain so until either the cold weather ends, or until I get some kind of relief in the form of maybe driving myself to work or meditation. A healthcare solution seems reasonably on the horizon. But I still want to get my license. No. Fucking. Way. Am I going to survive some of the temperatures January and February can drag in and fuck missing work because of dangerous temperatures. I mean, I'm sure my friend and her mom would help.

I desperately hope the worst we've seen yet is the worst we're going to see. I don't know how much different the weather actually is over here from what I grew up with, but it feels like a really significant difference. It was insanely humid this summer, like move one step, and you're dripping like you ran a marathon.

Oh, so my dad let me drive for a while on Thanksgiving. Down a straight stretch. It'd been over a year since I'd driven, but the jeep-thing was in better condition than the ancient Dodge. Driving down a straight stretch was easy; I didn't have to negotiate any turns or traffic or anything. All I had to do was maintain speed, which was kind of difficult.

I'm exhausted. Everyone's all like, you need eight hours of sleep! And I'm over here like, good news, I'm actually, physically sick. My body thinks the cold is a horrible invader. Which, I mean, the cold is pretty shitty. 17/10 Not for me. But the only thing about the cold that's actually, really going to hurt me is that flu can travel better when it's cold, and I'm more apt to catch a cold--and the virus is about as harmful to me as the temperature level. Which is to say, overly. So being sick on top of being sick I'm gonna say 0/10 no one wants. But also just chronically being ill from mid-October until probably March or April? Who would choose that? Why??

The only, only reason I'm here is this is where I was born, where my family still lives, and where the safety net was. I thought coming back was a decent idea. It didn't feel like a good idea, certainly. I don't know why I thought I'd be able to get a decent paying job. Who knows, I've got experience, and the place I'm considering seems desperate?? But that's because I haven't actually visited to have a sandwich. Plus, the majority of my experience is front end. Making recommendations, handling cash and phones, bussing and managing the floor.

I miss being able to make decisions. I don't want to work this day, yeah I'll give you a discount on this or that, you need to leave my store.

I've been trying to figure out how I would balance two jobs given my rather limited availability, but if I get the second job, an Uber or Lyft goes from nearly two hours of wages to like an hour and a quarter of wages. Still excessive, but it's not like either place would call me in for one hour.

I also miss feeling relied upon. I miss feeling like my managers know I'm reliable and they can depend on me to be there if they need to fill an unexpected gap.

Most of all, I miss feeling like I'm actually able to afford to miss a day of work, or not work five days a week.

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veganeducation · 7 years

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Book Review: Even Vegans Die

"This book is a unique combination of myth-busting, real talk and reminders of how important it is to care for others while they are sick or dying and to prepare for our own deaths. Sounds kind of morbid but it is super refreshing and very practical – it’s a great read for all vegans as well as anyone seeking information on caregiving and grieving.

Part 1 of the book addresses myths and realities of vegan health. The authors assert than when we position veganism as something that can prevent sickness, we set it up for failure. We also alienate those who do fall ill.

If you’re curious about how to discuss veganism in relation to health in an honest and open way, I’d definitely recommend picking up this book!

Part 2 is about caregiving. The authors address the interdependency of human society and how that isn’t a bad thing. It’s OK to need the support of others. This is a welcome reminder in a culture that values independence and self-reliance. The authors discuss four components of caregiving and strategies for executing each one. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed and helpless when a loved one falls sick and the tips in this book provide tangible things we all can do to be supportive not just of those who are sick in our lives but also how to support caregivers.

Part 3 includes advice on mourning and coping with one’s own terminal illness. These are situations we rarely think about before we find ourselves in them, and I appreciate the wake-up call to how important it is to be prepared for the inevitable.

What I really loved about this book is how it approaches death and dying head-on. This book is a welcome reminder that dying is normal and we don’t need to be so afraid of it.

The advice the authors provide for preparing for your own death (such as having a will or estate drawn up and deciding what you want done with your remains) is incredibly useful – it’s certainly not something I learned in school or that my family discusses. Wills and estates are not just for parents or the elderly. The authors point out how selfish and irresponsible it is not to have your official wishes in writing as it can create legal and familial feuds that can last for years.

I really enjoyed the authors’ explanation about how non-human animals experience grief in ways similar to us (including loss of appetite and a dip in energy levels). The authors shared several stories about animals grieving and it almost brought me to tears while reading the book on my commute – not just because of the sadness of those situations but because the sentience of animals is so obvious and yet so many people choose to disregard it.

I also loved their perspective and thoughts on our cultural fear of death and dying and how this not only impacts our (lack of) preparation for such events but also how it’s possible for non-vegans to lack awareness about the death they perpetuate through eating meat and consuming animal-based products such as leather and those tested on animals (reminder: unless a personal care product explicitly states it’s not tested on animals or is cruelty-free, it’s pretty much a given that it’s been tested on animals such as rabbits, cats and monkeys). Perhaps the denial we experience related to human death we also extend to our impact on other animals. Maybe this is one reason why it’s so easy to see meat as food rather than flesh from a killed animal.

The authors include a compelling quote from philosopher James Stanescu –

“We live in the midst of a society that features the opposite of mourning rituals for animals: public rituals of celebration often center on dead animals (such as Thanksgiving and the Fourth of July). As vegans we experience a cruel, double disconnect: a society that celebrates what we grieve in a world that denies its actions and keeps grief itself at arm’s length.”

This so beautifully articulates the struggle of working toward something most others don’t care about, and in some ways, work against. It also highlights the importance of connecting with fellow vegans – beyond delicious potlucks and advocacy strategy, having relationships with other vegans can help us feel optimistic and energized about our cause.

The authors remind us that all lives must come to an end and

“as vegans, our circle of love and compassion is so huge that grieving is always with us.”

This resonates with me so much. It’s easy to get caught up in grieving the billions of animal lives taken by the hands of humans each year and I’ve been known to burst into tears driving past veal crates on a farm, seeing photos of animals imprisoned in zoos or even just thinking about calves being ripped away from their dairy cow mothers mere hours after birth. I do my best to avoid graphic videos of animal exploitation but since these realities are all around us, there are constant reminders.

Because vegans have an awareness and connection to the vast amount of animal suffering that non-vegans disregard, it’s incredibly important we mind our own self-care.

In order to continue being positive and effective animal advocates, we must ensure our own physical, mental and emotional well-being.

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middleagedangst · 5 years

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...But Our Trucks are Naked Without It

Putting the Gadsden Flag out to sea

It’s time to retire the Gadsden flag. If you don’t know what that is, it’s the other flag flapping on the back of a pickup truck opposite a Confederate battle flag. I’m talking about the bright yellow flag with that smug-looking rattlesnake and the phrase, “Don’t tread on me.” It’s a flag meant to display passive-aggressive defiance of the government adopted by “patriotic” libertarians and other sects of the far-right political spectrum and the occasional human rights activist.

The flag itself dates back to the American Revolution, created by one Mr. Colonel Christopher Gadsden, one of the first Naval officers under George Washington, and used by Continental Marines as a statement of purpose. Throughout the flags lifetime, it has flown on battleships and other arms of the war machine hangs on walls and in windows, became emblazoned on t-shirts and beer koozies, and shown off as tattoos and Facebook profile pics. The flag has had a long and storied life without question. And now, just like an old sick dog, we need to take it to “live on a farm,” or maybe in the new American tradition, kill it with a drone strike.

The flag depicts a smug-looking rattlesnake coiled and ready to strike. Underneath, is the phrase, “DONT TREAD ON ME,” in all caps of course, because if you have to say it because some whiny liberal is oppressing you, you might as well fucking yell it at the top of your lungs to get your message across. Snakes have been used as a symbol of the American people since the early days of discontent for the crown, representing vigilance, courage, generosity, and the ability to be deadly when provoked. History has proven all of these things true without question. Snakes were a symbol of strength and liberty, the utmost qualities of a people with a desire for liberty, a positive affirmation, maybe. Nowadays, snakes are more representative of the slimy, venomous dickheads that rule over us like an alcoholic step-father that pulls his dick out at family functions.

I argue that a new emblem is in order, an update to the symbol that has been representative of our culture for hundreds of years. America isn’t that America anymore. It’s changed with the advent of social media, divisive identity politics, and economic inequality. A new United States needs a new symbol of the American zeitgeist- ladies, gents and all those in between, I present you with a new image emblematic of contemporary American culture- a symbol of vigilance, pride, and ego - the ouroboros.

I know, I know, the Ouroboros is a sign that throughout history meant perpetual rebirth according to the hippies so let me put this into a different context for you. When a snake is too stressed, the temperature of its habitat is wrong, or is blind, that dumb bastard will start eating its tail thinking it’s the enemy. See, the snake isn’t smart enough to see that what it's doing is actually harmful to the body as a whole. I mean, who gives a shit about a tail when the head is still attached, right? I can’t think of another image that describes the mentality of the people of the United States more completely and with more brevity than that.

The United States in the past few decades, especially since 9/11 has been gnawing away at its tail while the head is too filled with ego to know when to stop and lick the wounds, to let the tail be, or you know, stop treading all over the fucking thing. We’ve seen a rise in public displays of hatred (looking at you, Nazis), overbearing political correctness coupled with nonsensical censorship (looking at you, liberals), unabashed hypocrisy from those in charge as well as bending of the rules to gain political power outside the will of the people (shout out to government). Ok, so maybe the last one is more of a U.S. tradition instead of a new fad, but, now with all the world’s information at our fingertips, it is more apparent that we as a people are being trodden all over.

One example as to why our precious Gadsden flag is of no use to us anymore is the most obvious one- government. The assholes in expensive suits have forgotten what Colonel Gadsden and the founding fathers even fought for, getting out from under the boot of an oppressive regime. Sure, we’re not ruled by the crown anymore and nobody is going around collecting taxes at gunpoint, but the fact that every new Congress, every new president has absolutely not enacted any laws increasing our freedoms and right to privacy. Instead, these assholes do the opposite for only what I can assume is an effort to consolidate and strengthen their own power. Even though we can have a revolving door in all government bodies, the body itself can only exist with steadfast self-preservation. Without it, the institution would crumble and the nation would be in a constant state of chaos.

The United States government has always engaged in trampling on the rights and privacy of its citizens. In the early days, it would quash rebellions because the noisy wheel gets the grease, only in this scenario, the grease is the might of the U.S. Army. Then, of course, there is the overt oppression of the Native Americans. The government forced them from their native lands, set them up with “prime” real estate in fucking Oklahoma of all places and killed the ones that dared to stand up for themselves. As everyone witnessed in late 2016 and all of 2017 the government still wants to piss all over the right of the natives by shooting them with water cannons and send the dogs out because the indigenous wanted to protect their land from a private corporation running a messy pipeline through their sacred ground.

We can move along to the 20th century and see the imprisonment of Japanese Americans during World War II. The only thing that separated us from the Nazis is that we didn’t gas anyone. That was shortly followed by the attempts to snuff out various civil rights movements. When that didn’t work they resorted to a crusade against drug users. They figured, “Hey, it would be wrong to imprison them for exercising their right to free speech and assembly, but if we find a roach in their car’s ashtray…” All of this was done while parts of the government were working with and smuggling drugs for various cartels around the world. Guess what, it still happens.

The 21st century isn’t just continuing the practices of the preceding one but amplifying them. The prime example is the actions of the U.S. government after the events on 9/11. Whether or not you believe the attacks were an inside job isn’t important here, but the way the government responded is. Systematically, the government has been making shit harder for damn near everyone. Airport security, the militarization of the police, illegal warrantless wiretapping, continuing to fight seemingly unwinnable wars, Trump and his goddamn border wall, attempting to repeal laws making healthcare more accessible, cracking down on whistleblowers, non-investment in infrastructure, divide and conquer mentality… Do you feel as safe and secure as you did just 10 years ago? Has your life gotten easier as the size and scope of government have grown in tandem with the advancement of technology? If you’re like me, the answer is certainly, fuck no. Have you heard of the Patriot Act? Probably, but you don’t care because if you’re not doing anything wrong then you have nothing to worry about, right? The worst part is that as a society, we don’t have the balls to truly take on the established order and get out from under the boot of this oppressive regime made up of not just the government but all the oligarchs who fund it.

I would expect governments taking steps to hinder the rights of its citizens, power corrupts and all that shit. What’s upsetting though is that the people of these United States would seemingly rather spend their time arguing on Facebook than standing up for the values they preach about. The Land of the free. The home of the brave. Remember that shit, you hear it all the fucking time. Is that even the case any longer? Did we forget that’s part of our anthem, our musical mission statement? Take a look around. We’re not that free, or it least it seems we aren’t. The question is though, are we still brave? Protesting speakers at university campuses, escalating an argument when someone has a different belief, revoking friendship on social media, telling people they don’t have any right because they’re a man- or white- or both, not wanting others to do with their body as they choose, telling people where they can or can’t worship… not really brave to me. Looks like we’re just scared of words when sticks and stones are still the real threat. And behaving like this is certainly not allowing people to exercise freedom. But one thing I know about people (myself included) is that we’re all assholes.

Should we as sovereign citizens really hinder a person’s right to free speech and group’s right to peacefully assemble? Short answer, no. Long answer, hell fucking no. It shouldn’t matter if the speaker is a Nazi, they have their audiences. It shouldn’t matter if it’s a Klan rally downtown. The thing about America is that even though you may not agree with whatever bullshit they’re trying to push, everyone is allowed by the constitution to peacefully assemble and say what they want to say as long as physical violence isn’t involved.

Free speech and demonstration shouldn’t be limited to those you agree with. It’s for everybody, like oxygen and taxes. You might think you’re brave for taking a stand and fighting to get that hate monger fired from their speaking gig, but you’re not. You might think you’re brave for shutting down your asshole uncle for praising Donald Trump at Thanksgiving dinner, again, probably not. Your rage and your yelling and your stupid signs, that’s not bravery. Sure, the act of protesting can be brave and defiant, but when you use that right to get a guy fired because he said one time that affirmative action is bullshit, c’mon… That’s cowardice. You’re scared of hearing differing viewpoints. Is the big bad talker scaring you? Have their words caused you harm? Did someone’s facebook post have you instantly hitting the unfriend button? If you answered yes to any of these then I say to you, quit being scared of facts or opinions and learn to debate them in a civilized manner. Hear people out with opposing viewpoints. You might learn something of you might just see how ridiculous what they’re saying is. We can’t be considered brave when safe spaces are a thing. Be nicer to each other is all I’m saying.

We’re scared of people on the other team, willing to subvert constitutional law-given rights and be ugly to each other, and allow a government with its media mouthpieces keep us divided. And just like that crazed, blind snake eating its tail, we can’t tell of the actual harm were are doing as a nation. If we want to continue this ride we’re on we need to stop and think about how this shit should be. Have a talk about what a society is, what a community is and see if there’s a better way forward. A little more kindness and an understanding of the fact that we’re all in this together can go a long way. Elementary school history tells you that Lincoln said, “A house divided cannot stand,” before the Civil War. History might not repeat itself, but it does rhyme. So let's have a flag that closely represents what we are now. A snake that is less of a danger to others and more of a danger to ourselves.

#america #united states #constitution #us government #philosophy

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scorpioslut-blog1 · 5 years

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I want to produce

I want to produce art and create and draw and paint and build. I want things to be meaningful and thoughtful. I want to write and consider and analyze and deconstruct and think. I’m a thinker. I’m learning to like thinking, enjoying it, especially on drugs. I used to be so afraid of thinking, afraid of what I would think about, afraid of my mind, myself. I’m still afraid, and I wonder about that fear, whether it’s always been there or if it’s come back, like now i’m less afraid of death, but still, yesterday or the day before or whenever I was afraid to go in the cave at Sutro Baths, even though I’ve been in there before, but I know I was sort of scared then. But I don’t know if it’s empowering to know you’re scared and not do things because of peer pressure, or when I should just stop being a little bitch and just do shit. like at flog gnaw i didnt wanna do the boat ride, even though i've done those a thousand times, but not in a while not since before i became an Adult. i thought maybe it was empowering for me to know what i want to do and when, or what i dont want to do... but i did the ride and it was pretty petrifying because i hate the feeling of my stomach sinking but it was also sort of fun and me and bree were just holding on to each other screaming, and while i scream because i felt like i was dying, it does in theory feel good to scream. or to feel petrified. i dont know. but i'm glad i did it, so it makes me think of all the times i did things i didnt want to do. a lot i regret, like sexual experiences for experience, but then things i was nervous about and really enjoyed, like when i did acid that one time or microdosed on shrooms. but even flog gnaw, i didnt wanna go and i went for frank ocean and he didnt come, and i had a great time but also the whole thing wasnt like amazing or anything, it was definitely an experience though. and the most big group socializing i've done in months, to be honest. since my birthday maybe? which was a little more lonely than usual, which isnt a bad thing. but i did ecstasy right before fr(drake)nk came out and i was sooo glad, mostly because i've been having bad rolls for a while now, since august at special dinner, which is about as long as i've been sad in this way i think. when i started hating my body and it really started failing me and my relationships went to shit and i started trying to work through shit. which is obviously painful. but i dont know. again, this self enforced punishment or growth or isolation or prison sentence (dramatic and not comparable), i'm trying to learn something from this, i know its cyclical, my life that is, but i just want to be better. i want to be normal. i want to belong to myself. i want to know what i need and what i want and how to do that, or i wish that the things i wanted were good for me, but none of it is. i want to party and have fun and do drugs and eat good food and have lots of sex and watch tv and movies. i want my life to be a movie, but i'm learning for the first time in my life, or what feels like my second or hundredth life, that life is not supposed to be a movie. i'm not special. i mean i am, but again, life is not a movie. life is normal and i should be able to bask in the normality of it all, cherish it, which makes me think i'm depressed or bipolar or adhd or ungrateful or lazy or selfish or spoiled or entitled. i want normal. i want stability and routine and to wake up before noon and eat breakfast and shower and do my makeup and pick an outfit to wear, maybe do my hair, i want to do these things without feeling rushed, i want to enjoy doing these things. i want to not need to rush, i dont want to be living in apocalypse mode all the time, or high gear, or live fast die young, or carpe diem. thats one thing i'm also working on. not synonymizing carpe deiming with being self destructive or irresponsible. knowing that to appreciate life you dont have to live every day like its your last. but then i think that that method of life has also served me well; life is fleeting as i know! but i dont know. i'm trying to not rush things. not rush growing up or rushing to that next hit of dopamine or excitement or even recklessness. i know i'm destructive. but i dont want to destruct myself like this, hurt myself, because thats how the cycle perpetuates, how it feeds on itself. i feed it, i dont plan for my future self, i dont even think about the future, i'm living day to day which in some ways is enough but i want to change. i want to have enough faith and contentment to be able to wait for tomorrow, or the next day. i want to appreciate every day for what it is, appreciate myself, being alone, making myself a meal, cleaning my room, sewing a button onto my pants, doing my laundry. i dont want to just go through the motions, i want to be proud of the motions. i think if i keep going through the motions eventually theyll come a little more naturally or maybe even start to feel good. it does feel good to put clothes away or come home to a clean room or wake up not feeling sick to my stomach. but then it feels so good to lie in my bed and watch desperate housewives all day long and ignore my problems or responsibilities and eat goldfish high even though i know itll make me feel like shit in the morning. and thats why night life has been so great, yet awful, why i love it, i love dancing and making friends and being drunk and having fun and being young and living every day/night to the fullest. i’m trying to be a homebody i guess, for the sake of my health amongst other things, but instead i'm in this weird limbo, at this impasse where i'm neither being a productive morning/day person who does all the things i need to do, nor being a fun party girl who is always thinking about the next function and drugs and partying and fucking and all these human connections that i enjoy so much. nowadays i feel like i rarely even have any connections. i go days without talking to anyone besides my room mate sometimes, which is okay. thats another thing i'm trying to do, be kind to myself, not see every day as a failure or a success or even an attempt. i guess the attempt days are good though, like today, a failure but an attempt and perhaps even a half success sometimes. i want to be successful, i want to be functional. i want to do more harm than good, i want to enrich and spread joy the way i used to, but i want to protect myself. i dont want to give all of myself away, but now i'm being selfish and keeping to myself but i dont even know if i like myself. moments like right now i like myself, but i miss having friends and communities i guess. i also dont appreciate not meaningful conversations or interactions, i dont like anyone, which is toxic i know. i know i shouldnt not like people but when i'm talking to someone and i dont want to be talking to someone it feels so forced and uncomfortable and i’d rather be at home by myself, which i cant tell is good or bad, although i shouldnt be labeling things as “good” or “bad”. after sutro baths we went to kahlils friends for a little, and being around those people was weird. weird being around guys. i dont like mikey, hes annoying and thirsty but it was nice just being around guys and watching stupid stuff and smoking spliffs. and tylers cool to be around, and this other dude who i sort of know but dont like, so basically i'm around all these dudes i dont really like, socializing and trying to be social and chill and fun, which is just uncomfortable and feels performative. it was nice just watching stupid tv with them though, but i dont know, being around people is so weird to me now. i went to hang at a frat the night before i left for thanksgiving break and it was fun, being around people, letting myself be entertained instead of being the entertainee, existing just to exist and not for others or feeling like i have to be in a social mood or up all the time. but also not feeling the compulsion to drink during social situations i'm not enjoying. i'm trying to enjoy social situations without alcohol. well, i dont really have a choice, considering my health. i just dont want to be around anyone anymore i feel like... i dont feel like i can talk to people the way i want to, about real shit, or all serious and shit. i also feel like people think i'm always fun and funny and goofy and happy all the time but now i'm just such a downer, or a performer, or distant or guarded or exhausted or different. i feel like i'm different when i'm around people, and i wish i werent, i wish i were how i used to be but i'm trying to be different or more honest or less performative? i want to do things because i want to and not do things when i dont want to.

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