#god willing i’ll have them done by the end of the week

[starbuck]

if my brain could decide whether i am “fine” or “having a nervous breakdown,” that would be great

[its-time-to-write]

i think we could do it if we tried

So I misread a prompt, and didn’t realize until halfway through the fic. This was the result and it ended up being weirdly personal? If you hate it or think it’s unrealistic, I know, it’s just wishful thinking, ok?😭

i think we could do it if we tried

You’re sure Jamie’s expression will be burned into your mind forever. After all, you’re the one who put it there. 

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” you say, tears streaming down your face, “I’m the one who’s breaking up with you.”

Jamie just laughs wetly. “Not your fault, though, is it?”

That just makes you cry harder. 

You and Jamie had been friends for a long time, and he’d been in love with you forever. You didn’t return the feeling until you turned eighteen. It was on your birthday, actually. He had insisted on wearing a birthday hat all day, despite that fact that he was at training and you were at home, so you didn’t see each other until the end of the day. Something about seeing the sparkly cone on his head did something to your heart, and there it was; you loved him. 

You suppose the love was always there, lying dormant, but now it had arisen. It took you a week to muster up the courage to tell him, but you did and now it felt like the world made sense. 

Now, a month later, you’re breaking up with him. 

Jamie had been playing football for a while now, and he was really, really good. You were beginning your studies as an undergrad and had your life mapped out until grad school. He was moving away soon and you were leaving tomorrow, but that wasn’t the reason you were breaking up. 

It’s because your parents didn’t approve. 

“I can’t make them understand,” you tell Jamie, willing yourself not to cry. “And… I know I’m eighteen, but they’re paying for university. They said they’d pay all the way through grad school, and I can’t afford it on my own.”

Jamie nods and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“God, it’s fuckin’ shitty, ain’t it?” he says. “Me ‘n you, finally figuring it out too late.”

You can only nod and sniff. Your parents told you that Jamie was a good friend, but nothing more. 

“You’re only projecting feelings onto him because you know he likes you,” your mum had said. “And besides, he plays football. Can’t support a family on that, can you?”

Any protests you made fell on deaf ears. Your parents never explicitly said they’d pull their financial support, but it was hinted. It hung in the air, poisoning the atmosphere in the house. Your mother’s displeasure saturated the building, affecting everyone inside. 

So here you are, standing in the dim light of Jamie’s mum’s porch, breaking up with him at 10pm. 

He knew it was coming, too. 

“Y’know I’d never want you to put your life on hold for me, yeah?” he’d said two days earlier. 

You just nodded.

“I’ve been thinking about quitting football,” he continued, “Get a real job, stay closer.”

You had protested vehemently. He loved football, and he was good, like really good, and how could you ask him to give it up?

So yeah, it wasn’t a total blindside. 

Still hurt, though. 

You stood there, a long time, without speaking. You were memorizing each other’s faces and the way it felt being together for the last time. 

There’s a light on in Georgie’s room, and you wonder if she’ll still love you despite the fact you broke her baby’s heart. 

Jamie finally breaks the silence. “You should go,” he says, “before your parents figure out you’re gone.”

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so you just reach out and squeeze his hand. He pulls you in for a hug, the tightest one you’ve ever received, and you never want to let go. But you do. 

You fight the urge to say I’ll wait for you. I’ll find you when I’m done with school. We’ll make it work. But you don’t want to give him false hope. You don’t want to hurt him more than you already have. 

So instead, you whisper “I love you, Jamie Tartt,” and force yourself to walk away. 

— 

That was six years ago. You pushed yourself through school, got out with your BA in three and a half years, and scraped through your MA in two. There were times it felt a little like hell, but you persevered. 

You’re pretty sure the worst moment was during your third year, when your roommate, a football aficionado, started talking about Man City’s hotshot new player.  

“Oh my god, he’s like, so fucking sexy. The things he does on the pitch… he’s like, revolutionized the game.”

“Hm,” you say noncommittally, lost in a textbook. 

“Yeah, heard he’s a bit of a prick though. Grew up in Manchester, and he’s about our age. D’you reckon you knew him?”

“What?” you say, finally lifting your eyes from the page. “I didn’t grow up in Manchester, just lived there when I was a teenager.”

Your roommate shrugs. “Did you know a ‘Jamie Tartt?’ Dating Keeley Jones?”

And there it was. The worst moment of your whole university career. 

You turn back to your book in order to hide your face. “Doesn’t sound familiar,” you say, and your roommate doesn’t push it. She’s too busy telling you how Jamie and Keeley are the hottest, most perfect couple she’s ever seen. 

You’re past that now. It still feels like a stabbing pain every time you hear his name or see his face on a screen, but for the most part, you’ve shut down that part of your brain. 

You might have shut it down a little too successfully. 

In the last six years, you’ve been in exactly two relationships. Both short-lived, both leaving you with a sense of apathy. 

But, your parents approved of both of them. Didn’t matter that they were shallow, self-absorbed dickheads; “He’s cute and has a good job!” your mum had said, oblivious to the fact that she was replaying the exact same pitch to you from before. 

You had felt a rush of relief when the news hit that Jamie and Keeley had broken up. You hated hearing about all his escapades, and how much he hurt her. It made your heart ache, knowing he was burying himself in his prickish attitude the same way you were burying yourself in yours. 

Well, maybe that’s too harsh. You aren’t a prick per se, you’re just… cold. Emotionless. You felt very little this days, because every time you felt the tiniest bit of anything, everything threatened to overwhelm you. 

After school, you just… kept moving. No sense in going home, you loved your family but they made you feel like you were drowning. And you couldn’t make yourself go back to Manchester. 

Georgie called you from time to time, checking up on you. Turns out she didn’t hate you. She was actually rather worried. She never, ever mentioned Jamie. 

“You can’t just stop living life, love,” she had said one time. “That’s all it is: love and loss. You just keep moving forward.”

You took her advice literally, securing a good job that allowed you to work remotely. You moved to the east side of London, West Ham, but were never at your flat longer than a week. After all, you were hot and had a good job. Why not travel? You had no strings keeping you anywhere. 

Now you’re back in West Ham for two weeks, getting ready to go to Barcelona. A friend has a timeshare that she can’t make it to, so you volunteered to go. After all, it’s better to be apathetic in Barcelona than it is in West Ham, right?

Whatever the case, you’re here for much longer than you’d like to be, but you’re going to make the best of it. You have a friend from uni who lives near you, so you’re going out tonight. She wants to go to some upscale restaurant a couple minutes from your flat with a few other girls, and you decide that you’d rather not be alone tonight.

You don’t mention that it’s your birthday. You stopped celebrating them at nineteen.

Your hair and makeup are done, you’ve put together an appropriate fancy-dinner outfit, and you’d say you’re looking classy. You grab your bag and head out the door.

It’s only a ten-minute walk, and there are all kinds of people out. You wonder why, then remember it’s Saturday. That explains it. 

There’s an especially rowdy bunch of guys up ahead, seemingly corralled by a middle-aged man with a mustache. As you draw closer, you hear his accent. American, specifically mid-Western. You breeze by them, catching snatches of their conversations and a mix of accents.

Your ear tunes into someone saying, “…not what really happened,” with an accent that reminds you so much of Jamie’s, you find yourself rooted to your spot in the sidewalk, turning around to confirm that it is not, in fact, him.

You make eye contact with the middle-aged mustached man, who smiles at you and shrugs. “Footballers. What a rowdy bunch,” he says, “Wonder where their coach’s at?”

You surmise by his jocular tone that he’s their coach.

You give him a small smile and he comes over to you. Your feet still won’t move, because you haven’t confirmed that the voice was not Jamie. Or maybe because this man is a gaffer, and you want him to say something, anything about possibly knowing Jamie Tartt.

“I’m Ted,” he says, sticking out his hand.

You shake it and give him your name. At this point, his team have noticed that their coach is talking to someone new, and they descend like a flock of curious children.

There’s a chorus of hellos and one hola, but it’s all a little lost because all you can hear is one soft, “hey.”

“Hi,” you breathe. 

One look into Jamie Tartt’s blue eyes and you’re a goner, even after six years.

Ted looks from you to Jamie. “Oh, do y’all know each other? Jamie, why didn’t you say something?”

“Dunno,” Jamie says, keeping his eyes on you.

Ted, great man that he is, assesses the situation with alarming perception.

“Alright boys, why don’t we let Jamie catch up with his lady-friend, and we’ll just text him where we end up, sound good?” 

It does not sound good to them, because they can tell something interesting is about to happen, but Ted and another bearded American herd them away and down the street, leaving you and Jamie alone on the sidewalk.

“How you been?” he asks, looking awkward as you feel.

“I’ve been…” what word is there to describe how you’ve been? You settle for a shrug.

He nods and huffs out a single chuckle. “Yeah, that about sums it up, don’t it?”

“What about you?” you ask, reaching out to lightly tap his arm. “Heard you were some hotshot footballer.”

Jamie imitates your shrug. “Heard you were some hotshot something or the other.”

You crack a small smile at that. “Georgie tell you?”

“Yeah,” Jamie says, “Felt the need to keep me updated. Don’t fuckin’ know why though.”

That hurts a little bit. This is a mistake, you think. You begin to realize, perhaps for the first time, that your pining after him was pointless. And one-sided.

That is, until Jamie says so softly you almost miss it, “Happy birthday, by the way.”

There it is. 

You open your mouth to say, I love you, but what comes out instead is, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Jamie asks in surprise.

“I’m just… sorry. For everything. For walking away. I don’t know, I feel like I should have fought it or something… I think about you all the time. I wish that I would’ve done something different, I guess. I know I can’t change it, but…” you shrug helplessly. 

Jamie just looks at you, head tilted. 

You huff out an awkward laugh. “Anyway. I should probably go. Meeting a bunch of girls for drinks and dinner.”

“You hate that shit,” Jamie says, and it comes out the exact same way he would have said it six years ago. Like he’s comfortable with you, like he knows every single tick in your brain.

“I do,” you agree ruefully. “Just couldn’t get out of it, I guess. Didn’t have a good excuse.”

“Go out with me,” Jamie suggests, impulsively. But then, he was never one for forethought. 

Your mouth opens to decline, then shuts.

“You’re done with school, yeah?” Jamie continues, “Mum said you haven’t been home in ages. Said she knows more about you than your parents. What if… what if we gave it another go? We’re fuckin’ adults, ain’t we? Let’s just fucking try.”

He’s looking at you, so full of anxious hope that it makes you want to cry. You can feel a few tears fighting their way forward.

“Jamie,” you say, “Jamie I don’t know. I mean- I hurt you. I knew what I was doing would hurt you and I did it anyway. I could hurt you again.”

Jamie replies, “Weren’t your fault though, was it?” and you’re taken back so vividly to that front porch.

You look at him, really look at him for the first time in six years. He’s older, you realize, and you think that he must think something similar about you. He’s calmer, almost- gentler? Still the same Jamie though, with the blonde highlights and the slit in his eyebrow. Outrageous sense of fashion, one that is no longer dulled by the ominous presence of his father. He’s more sure of himself, you think, and you realize you’re more sure too.

There isn’t anything hanging over your head threatening to take your livelihood away.

It’s poetic, really. You, him, in the dim streetlight. Deciding to begin again exactly six years after it ended.

“Jamie,” you say again, because you love the way his name feels on your lips, “I didn’t ever stop loving you. I don’t ever want to stop loving you.”

He’s taken a step closer, and there’s mere centimeters between you. 

“Y’know I’d never want you to put your life on hold for me, right?” you whisper, “Been thinking about stopping traveling. Maybe settle down closer, focus on my job more.”

Jamie smiles. “Go out with me,” he says. “Skip your dinner. You’d have a shit time, anyway.”

You smile back and reach out for his hand. It still fits perfectly in yours. Maybe even better.

“I would love to.”

[separatist-apologist]

Meanwhile, Nesta has problems:

Cassian advanced, unconcerned with the gun in her hand. She supposed he was used to seeing them, used to having them pointed directly at him. He was The Lord of Bloodshed, after all. That didn’t stop Nesta, who’d been going to the gun range long before feds ever dumped her in this swampy nowhere town. 

Kill him and be done with it.

“Then why were you on your knees last night, Nes?” Cassian whispered, those hazel eyes glittering with amusement. “You had my cock in your mouth. I didn’t even have to ask.” “What happens in the bedroom and what happens out here are two separate things, Cass,” was all Nesta could think to say in response. She really was sorry, in that regard. She knew he didn’t see it that way. 

Cassian shook his head, the loose ends of his wavy, dark hair brushing those muscular shoulders. “I’ll find you.” “You’ll be dead,” she replied, willing the words to be true.

“You can’t kill me and we both know it,” Cassian told her. She hated that he was right, just like she knew that if she didn’t, he would hunt her down. This was personal, now—beyond the lies she’d told on her sister's behalf.

It didn’t matter. Rhysand had found them and Nesta needed to get to Elain before something horrible happened. Then they’d find Feyre and pray Rhysand hadn’t gotten to her first.

“I’m sorry,” Nesta whispered before she pulled the trigger. Cassian howled, crumpling to the ground. He wasn’t dead—just wounded. She’d shot him in the leg. 

Nesta turned, knowing she only had minutes to put distance between them before Cassian rallied, caught her, and did god knows what to her. He looked enraged as she made her way toward the front door.

“This isn’t over between us, Nesta! I’ll have you back by the end of the week!” 

She grabbed the keys to his jeep and made her way outside, fingers shaking. Nesta tossed the gun to the passenger seat before pulling her phone from her pocket. She had the car out of the gravel drive before she pulled out her phone, texting people she knew better than to drag into this mess.

Gwyn and Emerie were waiting for her when she pulled up to Emerie’s place.

“Start from the beginning,” Emerie ordered the moment Nesta swung from the blue vehicle while Gwyn held a shotgun in both hands, eyes pinned on Nesta. It was an odd moment, telling her friends—who were like sisters in a different sort of way—everything that had transpired half a decade before.

Gwyn and Emerie wouldn’t turn on her, though. Nesta didn’t know how she knew that, only that it was true. 

And in the end, Nesta was right.

[angeltreasure]

I recognize that I may never find a husband, be blessed with a family, get to fulfil my hearts desire of being a mother, a wife, and a helpful hand to the church. I tell God every day that I understand that in the end, I only have him, and I try to feel his love throughout my days, count my blessings and find joy in solitude. Jesus is my only friend, and I try to talk to him like he’s beside me but I’m left feeling alone and useless. I’m pursuing a career while working full time. Every day I’m studying all night after work. I am deeply unhappy with the direction I’m headed in and I do not want to be a woman with a career, it goes against my heart. I don’t believe women should even work in the field that I’m going into but I can’t stop now, I became an adult so quickly and suddenly I’m running out of time and money to spend on school. I just wish God had planned something different for me- But how can I even say that? I don’t know if it’s selfish to ask for a prayer for some kind of consolation when I am truly so blessed and lucky to be so privileged. I don’t know what’s wrong with me and I just want to forget my ego and be able to dedicate all my energy to honouring God and inspiring others to do the same.

I’ll pray for you.

Today is the perfect day to ask for prayers like this, to say ‘Jesus, I need Your help’. Our human heart desires natural things as you have said, know that there is nothing wrong with those desires. Sometimes our peers our own age or others around us make it seem so simple (especially if we follow blogs we love on social media which depict the exact dream life we want), so easy, that we wonder, ‘why am I not a mother yet? Why am I down this path? Doesn’t God care for me or even hear me? What am I doing wrong, what is wrong with me?’ There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. God isn’t just tolerating you because you are working hard and searching for things. He loves you, even when your sins nailed Him to the cross. There is nothing that will stop God from loving you, even if you were the worst sinner. God has a plan for you. It may not be tonight, or tomorrow, or next week, maybe not for years, but we have to be like Jesus and say God not my will but Your will be done. In the mean time, recognize in the present moment you already are a spiritual mother when you care for your family, friends, coworkers, people you pray for, the homeless, the abandoned. You are a wife because you are a child of God, the bride is the Church, you are fearfully and wonderfully made, knit by God when you were in your mother’s womb. You can be a helping hand to your church and surrounding churches when you are present at Mass, when you give your time and volunteer, when you make sacrifices to help other church members and clergy to lead them to God. You can do the smallest of smallest jobs, right down to cleaning the altar cloths and fixing the pews after Mass, and all that helping you can offer up for souls in Purgatory. All that studying and working too, offer it up for Purgatory and, God willing, your future spouse modeled after the best of all: St. Joseph. The Divine Mercy Chaplet is the perfect prayer for you to try and remember this sentence: “Jesus, I trust in You”. Pray that sentence as many times as you need it. Even when you don’t understand what will happen tomorrow, Jesus I trust in You. When your heart is full of loneliness, open the door to Jesus who always knocks at the door to your heart, Jesus I trust in you. When you feel unworthy, banish that thought away saying Jesus, I trust in you. You are not selfish to ask for prayer. You are a child of God and our prayers move mountains. Don’t be so afraid that you cast your eyes on the storm and raging waves. Step out of the boat and keep your eyes on Jesus.

[volklana]

I’m Falling Again (Part II)

Title comes from this song:

Masterlist: can be found here:

Summary: You watched the love of your life turn into a pile of ash before your eyes. Finding comfort in the only other person who understands your pain turns into so much more than either of you could ever imagine.

Warnings: Bucky x Reader. Steve x Reader

Read Part One Here: I’m Falling Again

“Baby, it’s me,” he said softly and you gasped out a sob, “When can I come see you?” 

You were pacing the steps of your cabin, the air was cold and you watched your breath rise into the air.

Bucky would be here any time now, you wrung your hands nervously. Five years of mourning, of crying yourself to sleep and missing him were coming down to these next few moments.

You twirled his dog tags in your fingers, willing your heart to settle. 

You could see the headlights in the distance winding up the driveway and Bucky hadn’t even stepped out of the car when you launched yourself into his arms, revelling in the familiarity of his scent that you genuinely had thought you would never smell again.

His arms locked around you and he buried his nose in your hair “I’m here, sweetheart, I’m here.”

You hadn’t even realised you were crying, until he freed his dog tags from the confines of your knitted sweater, “You’re still wearing these?” he was teary eyed and looking at you in disbelief.

“In five years I never took them off. Not once- not even” you trailed off, catching yourself but it didn’t matter because he pulled you flush against him again. 

You hadn’t even noticed Steve until he stepped out of the car and began to gather his and Bucky’s bags from the car, a curt nod all you received before he made his way up the steps into the cabin.

“I can’t believe you live all the way out here y/n,” Bucky mused warming himself by the fire, “when Steve told me about this place I thought he was having me on,” 

“I have chickens out the back,” you laughed and Bucky joined in freely. You  had once owned a goldfish that you won in a fair that had lasted exactly two weeks before you accidentally killed it by overfeeding it, Bucky joked you should never be allowed to keep pets ever again.

 “A lot has changed since you’ve been gone Buck,” you added sadly.

“Not you,” he told you truthfully “You’re as beautiful as ever. Stronger I can see that you’ve had to fight, but you are still my beautiful girl.”

Your eyes welled and Steve stood from where he was sitting on the end of the sofa.

“I’m going to get some sleep, it’s been a long day. Night pal,” he patted Bucky on the back “It’s so great to have you back,” he swooped down to give you a gentle hug “Night y/n, I’ll see you in the morning,” he made his way into the tiny spare room, and you watched him go, your heart followed him down the corridor until he closed the door, shutting it out and it retreated back to the living room. 

“I’m proud of you,” Bucky said breaking the silence “I’m proud of the life you’ve managed to build for yourself.”

“I couldn’t have done it without Steve,” you told him honestly “He quite literally held me together, Buck. I would have given up completely without him, I was a mess.”

“That’s funny,” Bucky said scratching his chin, “He literally said the same thing about you.”

“I’m glad you had each other,” he added “If I couldn’t be here I’m glad Steve was.”

You couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning. Bucky’s gentle snores filling your room, as silent tears slipped down your cheeks. 

You were afraid to close your eyes, afraid that this had all been a dream, that when you woke Bucky would be gone, never having returned and all that would be left was your messed up, confused feelings for Steve. 

God, Steve who had literally held you together all them years. Steve who had made love to you in this very bed merely months ago, who had been your light in the darkest, darkest of days. 

You crept downstairs, not wanting to wake a peaceful Bucky, but startled at the sight of Steve rucksack on his back attempting to pull his boots on.

“Steve?” you whispered and he had the decency to look ashamed.

“I can’t do this y/n,” he whispered “I can’t be here where it all happened and watch you be with him.”

You reached out for him and he let you take his hand “This is hard for me too Steve. I’m so confused.” 

“I love Bucky, he will always be my best friend, but I can’t look him in the face while I feel this way for you y/n. What we did was awful. I can’t forgive myself.” 

You pulled him to you in a bone crushing hug “I’m so sorry Steve. I never meant for any of this to happen. But it did and I love Bucky, I will always love Bucky but I am in love with you too.”

You had never said it out loud before but he knew, surely he knew? 

He grasped the material at the back of your shirt to steady himself “I love you too, y/n.” He admitted into your hair.

“Don’t go,” you pleaded.

“I have to,” he cried “Bucky doesn’t deserve this y/n. We’re only going to end up hurting him and he doesn’t deserve it.” 

A creak from the top of the stairs had you and Steve snapping your necks to follow the sound and a wide eyed Bucky stood watching you expressionless as you and Steve broke apart.

“Bucky,” you cried feeling your legs go weak and crumple from under you.

He was down in an instant hoisting you up and carrying you over to the couch, while Steve fetched you a glass of water, which you sipped gladly.

Bucky paced the floor in front of you, Steve stood at the other end of the room completely.

“When did this begin?” he demanded.

“A few months ago,” you responded, “We never meant for it to happen Bucky.”

“A few months ago?” he repeated “And there was nothing before then?”

“Nothing!” Steve replied his tone was begging, eyes glassy and watching Bucky in a panic, “You know I love you Buck.” 

Bucky examined him for a moment “But you love her too?” Steve wanted to lie, all he had to do was say he didn’t, but he locked eyes with you, so small and terrified looking, vulnerable in the way you wrapped your arms around yourself and he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t lie to you or Bucky and simply nodded, tears finally spilling from his eyes.

“But I will not stand in your way, I told you y/n, I promised you I would not get in the way,” your face softened as you examined him.

“Seems the only person in the way here is me,” Bucky concluded softly.

It was Steve who moved first,”Bucky I’ll leave. Please I’ll do anything you need me to do I’ll never contact either of you again,” he was on his knees in front of Bucky begging.

“She doesn’t want that Steve,” Bucky cried, “I don’t want that,” he confessed.

“We just got you back, I can’t lose you again,” there was a tenderness in the way Steve was reaching for Bucky, a confliction in Bucky’s face as he reached for Steve and pulled him up, “I’m not going anywhere,” he told him so gently you almost missed it.

They were having a silent conversation between their eyes, Bucky’s face contorted into something you couldn’t read before he pulled Steve into a hug, and the way Steve sank into the embrace like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. 

You had always suspected there had maybe at one point been something..else between Steve and Bucky but neither of them had ever confided that to you and you had never pried. Steve was grasping at the fabric of Bucky’s shirt to hold him upright and your heart was pounding in your chest with the need to comfort him.

You were rooted to your spot on the couch, biting the inside of your cheek, you wanted to cry, you wanted Bucky to hold you too, to tell you he wouldn’t leave you either, you clasped his dog tags in your hand, an action not missed on him as he broke apart from Steve. 

“I need time,” he announced looking between you both, “I feel like my whole world has been turned upside down. You’ve had five years. I’ve had a day,” he made his way to the coat rack and pulled on his jacket and began fumbling with his boots, “I need some air,” he told you and descended down the steps of your cottage and into the night air. 

Steve stood rooted to the spot watching the spot where Bucky had disappeared.

“Steve,” you tried lip wobbling and he rushed to you pulling you into an all encompassing hug.

“Have we lost him Steve?” you cried into his shoulder, he stroked your hair so tenderly you wanted to melt into him.

“Listen to me,” he soothed “When he comes back, he’s going to ask you to choose between me or him, sweet girl you have to choose him.”

“What if I can’t do that Steve?” you cried.

“You have to y/n, you have to pick him.”

“But I love you Steve. Does that mean nothing to you?” 

He broke away from the hug but kept his hands on your face, you could see the tears in his eyes “It means everything. Everything, to me. But I refuse to be the reason you lose him again.”

You couldn’t meet his eye “But what if I don’t want to lose you?” 

He closed the distance meeting your lips and you pulled him closer. If this was the last time you got to kiss these lips, hold this precious man in your arms you wanted to remember it forever.

Steve was pacing the floor waiting for Bucky, you turned his dog tags in your hands as you watched out the window for him. It had been two hours, dawn was breaking and he still hadn’t returned. What if he had decided to just keep walking and never came back. You thought about his words, “Seems the only person in the way here is me,” your heart ached. Bucky had been through so much and you had swore you would never add a single ounce of hurt to him, you had broken the one promise you ever made him. Even though you had thought he was gone forever, you hadn’t looked at a single soul in those five years, not one soul except Steve. Would that even mean a thing to him? Surely that had to count for something?

You had been a good girlfriend to Bucky, you were there for every setback, every nightmare, every moment he didn’t feel good enough. Even when you thought he was dead, you mourned him, all consumed in grief.

But yet it was selfish to want him and want Steve too. They had lost so much time, you refused to be the reason they lost anymore. In that moment your mind was made up. If Bucky was going to make you choose you would and neither of them would like the outcome, because you were going to choose neither one over the other. You had been alone before and it hadn’t killed you, you were almost certain you could do it again.  

“I’m going to look for him,” Steve announced breaking your thought. 

“You can’t,” you countered and Steve looked frantic.

“He’s out there hurting, because of us! I can’t sit here and do nothing!” he snapped.

“You think this is easy for me Steve?” you argued back, “I feel like the most disgusting person on the planet. He was the love of my life.”

“Why couldn’t you just let me leave?” he shouted “Why couldn’t you just choose him like I told you to?”

The look of hurt that flashed across your face had Steve wishing he could immediately take it back as you shouted “Fuck you Steve!” but Bucky’s voice rang out across the room “Stop it guys.”

You wanted to run to him but you were afraid he would reject you.

“Come here,” he said softly and you ran to him, wrapping your arms around him, he smelled of pine and damp leaves, his hair slightly damp from the morning dew. 

“You love me?” he asked softly, stubble against your cheek.

“Always,” you cried “Always.”

“But you love Steve too, right?” you didn’t answer so he continued “I’m not angry sweetheart but I need to hear you say it.” 

“Yeah Buck,” you choked “I love him too.” 

“Come here,” Bucky beckoned with his eyes to Steve and he moved over, Bucky clasped his hand in his, “I don’t know how, but we’ll figure this out. I’m not prepared to lose either one of you.” 

Him and Steve shared a look that said a thousand more than words ever could. 

The next afternoon Steve chopped wood in the garden and you made a pot of coffee. Bucky was still sleeping in the bedroom. He’d pulled you as close as physically possible when he finally climbed into bed, peppering kisses to you and gasping when he pinned you beneath him and lowered himself into you. You cried out as you came, running your nails down his back, there would be all the time to figure out everything with Steve but in that moment you had been consumed with the feel of Bucky in your arms.

“I’m going to take a walk,” you told Steve as you passed him, “Bucky’s still sleeping but I made coffee.” 

He was awkward but he acknowledged what you said.

“You’ll be here when I get back, won’t you?” you asked uncertain and his face softened.

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

That was all the confirmation you needed and you began the descent down your driveway.

“She’s gone for a walk,” Steve said shyly, placing a log in the burner.

Bucky looked peaceful. Hair tossed from sleep and Steve’s heart hammered in his chest. 

“I didn’t know Steve,” Bucky told him honestly, “I didn’t know you still felt this way.”

“It wasn’t the right time when you first came back, and then you fell for y/n, and I wasn’t going to get in the way of that,” Steve rolled his eyes, the irony of that sentence not being wasted on him now after everything that had taken place. 

“How did this happen Steve?” Bucky asked reaching out for him.

“We had nothing, Buck,nothing except each other. You were gone, and we were so lonely. You didn’t see her, she absolutely fell apart and she thought she needed me, but it was the other way around Buck, it was me who needed her.” 

“I know how that feels,” Bucky mused “I’ve always needed her too.” 

“I promise I didn’t mean to fall in love with her Buck, I wanted her to forget me, to forget I ever touched her and choose you. But she was too stubborn to listen.”

Bucky huffed out a laugh because you were nothing if not stubborn, “She’s brought us back together though,” he hummed, brushing a stray piece of hair away from Steve’s face, Steve smiled in agreement, eyes flickering to Bucky’s lips and closing the distance to place a soft kiss on them. 

You came home to a strangely domestic setting in your cabin, the radio was on in the kitchen, Bucky was peeling potatoes and Steve was tending to the fire as usual.

You shrugged off your coat and shoes and made your way into the living room unsure of what to do. Steve smiled your way and your heart fluttered in your chest, as you passed by into the kitchen. Bucky dried his hands and beckoned for you to come for a hug.

“Everything is going to be okay,” he whispered, and you melted into his embrace “We’re going to look after you. No one is going anywhere.” 

Bucky was having a nightmare, screaming out in his sleep. You had been here before many times, all you could do was try to call his name calmly until he woke. You had startled him once and had suffered the consequence of a nearly broken wrist, and the shame of Bucky not being able to meet your eye for days, despite how much you reassured him it wasn’t his fault. 

Steve burst through the door frantic Bucky’s name dying on his lips when you flew up from bed holding your hand out to stop him.

“Steve, we have to give him space to wake up,” you whispered in an attempt to hold him in place, if Bucky hurt him he would never forgive himself.

“Steve!” Bucky screamed in his sleep and Steve made to sidestep you, only to be met with your palms against his bare chest, “Please Steve, please trust me,” you begged.

But Bucky’s trashing continued, screaming into the night. Steve pushed passed you grasping Bucky, begging him to wake up. You watched it happen in slow motion, Bucky’s metal arm shot out clasping Steve by the neck, and Steve wrestled to free himself.

“Bucky,” you called trying to pry his hand open, “Bucky it’s me. You’re safe. Let him go.” 

Steve struggled to pry the hand off his neck, struggling for air, face turning purple. You grasped Bucky’s face in your hands willing him to snap out of it before Steve lost consciousness. 

You didn’t register the sting of the backhand across your face until you were scrambling to your feet to make sure Steve was alright, he was kneeling on the ground hand resting on his neck, gulping in air, but he was free. Bucky was sitting upright in the bed his face a combination of horror and fear, sweat gleaming on his brow, his chest rising and falling rapidly trying to regulate his breathing and pounding heart. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” you reassured him “Breathe just breathe love.” 

You helped Steve to his feet, and Bucky backed away from you both, that same look of horror etched across his face. 

“I’m so sorry,” he was repeating backing further away until his back hit the wall. 

“We’re okay, Buck, it’s okay,” Steve tried to soothe taking a step towards him but Bucky held his arm out. 

“I hurt you,” he shot “No don’t Steve, don’t come any closer.” 

Steve ignored him and bound over to him anyway, pulling him flush against him, Bucky sagged against him, Steve holding his weight up.

You rubbed your hand across your face, you were bleeding, Bucky hadn’t noticed, maybe you could make it to the bathroom before he noticed. 

“Y/n, you’re bleeding,” he cried and both he and Steve spun to face you.

“It’s nothing Bucky, it’s nothing,” you reassured but he was breaking free from Steve’s arms and pounding across the room to you, he reached for you gingerly and tentatively wiped his thumb across your cheek, retreating in horror as if he had been burned with the trail of blood across his thumb, while Steve gently cupped your face to examine you.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you cried reaching for him but he shook out of your touch.

“Please don’t do this,” you begged “Bucky, look at me!”

His eyes gently rose to meet yours and you surged forward, pulling him to you and kissing him with everything you had, he responded melting into the kiss, breaking your kiss with Bucky you reached for Steve, and he encircled you and Bucky with his huge body, he met your lips gently, carding his fingers through your hair, and when you pulled away he did the same to Bucky, you felt him visibly relax into the kiss and when they pulled apart his eyes landed on you, the look of horror replaced with a blown out look of lust. 

They were gentle at first, taking turns and making sure you were okay. But gentleness was soon replaced with need and you were panting as you came undone again, body sore and sweat dripping from every pore, Bucky was pounding into you while Steve was collapsed on the bed spent, he bit down hard on the place where your neck met your shoulder and you cried out as he came, collapsing on top of you as he did. You were physically exhausted, your body ached but couldn’t help the whine that left your lips when he pulled out. 

You scooted in the bed to make room for him to lay down beside you, Steve opened his arms for you to climb in and Bucky spooned you from behind. You knew you couldn’t lie here for long, you needed to shower but for the moment you relished in the feel of four strong arms holding you in place.

Tagging:  @spookyparadisesheep  @jbbarnesgirl  @salvatoreitmeanssaviour 

  @princesscornbread  @loki-laufeyson-1054 @firstcashheroathlete @missvelvetsstuff   nana1000night   sapphire-rogers   @sarahrogersevans   @steverogerssimpp @spudinthemud   @mrsragnarlodbrok @buckgasms @miss-patriciah-maximoff   @hellomissmabel  @knittingknerdy @shamvictoria11 @buckysberrie @assembletheimagines @dearthofequanimity @wellthatsrandomkek @mitra-k-w @nikkitia7 @fantasticimpaladoctor @feelmyroarrrr @sebseyesandbuckysthighs @andhiseyesweregreen @frickin-bats @buckyywiththegoodhair @iiharu-kunii @bellenuit45-blog @james-bionic-barnes @avengerofyourheart @jaegers-and-kaijus   princess76179  

[searenbound]

You were saying bimbo and himbo solidarity. So how bout this

Bakugou is sat on his bed cross legged a textbook next to him he's studying writing up in the book in his lap. Kiri was in his dorm already just watching him study he had just go back from a workout sweat dripping down his chest. He stands up joining him on the bed before long you enter you had just been down the hall changing in your dorm cause you wanted some nice fresh clothes.

You lay down next to him Kiri's hand already on his thigh while he talks your hand trailing his abs. He whines pulling away from the both of you "Awe come on you look so pretty when studying such a good boy don't you think you deserve a nice break a little reward"

You wrap your arms around and Kiri takes away his supplies.

The arguement ends with Bakugou laying on the bed whining and moaning overstimulated as you bounce on his dick Kiri fucking him stood towering behind you as he watches you his eyes fall shut with a moan he cries out "Oh my god I'm cumming again please it's enough please I'll take more breaks with you"

After your done he curls up on you chest after you all get cleaned up faces buried in your chest as he tries to claim that he's not a baby to Kiri who pulls him back into his lap hugging his waist "You're our baby and we don't care we love babying you" he slept that night faced buried in your chest arms around you Kiri's arms around him mumbling and muttering about how he loves you

/sorry it got a bit long

First don’t apologize I love long ones like this

Second I’m giggling like the menace I am at the thought of tag teaming and over stimulating Bakugou with Kirishima.

I’ll try to write a proper piece for this later because I haven’t seen a lot of fics like this around and it sounds like fun.

I’m thinking of him just wanting a quiet night with his partners. Maybe it’s been a long week of hero work and training on top of trying to maintain his grades so he can graduate at the top of his class, but that doesn’t give him much room for himself or them so of course they get a little handsy.

He’s so pretty and handsome and his reactions are always the best and the just can’t help it if their hands start to wonder. Or if his little whimper he definitely tried to hide reminded of how long it’s been since the last heard his pretty sounds and fills both their heads with dirty thoughts and memories.

It also can’t be helped, nor is he the weak willed one here at least he’d insist on that being true, that they have the hardest to say no to pouts and it’s practically impossible when both are looking at him like that and telling him how attractive he is and how much they want to make him feel good and he knows he should get back to studying and probably get them to study too.

It has been a while though, and it’s not like he can’t study later. Plus his girlfriend and boyfriend would look like kicked puppies for the rest of the night and probably won’t study much anyways at that point.

Fuck it, it’s the weekend anyways.

So what if he ends up under both of them not being sure who he should be focused on because he’s getting it from both ends and everything is blurring together and he’s pretty sure this one is like the third or fourth, maybe fifth? Who knows, he’s lost count of how many times he’s cum now, but he doesn’t have it in him to keep up his usual bratty attitude and just wants to be spoiled and pampered a little bit after such an overwhelming experience.

And of course they’re happy to cater to him. Anything for their grumpy boyfriend who loves them so much and accepts how much love they both have to give and never gets tired of it even if he tries to act like it’s an annoyance to him.

[themournwatcher]

I mean @demandthedoodles I’ll talk about it even more [twirling my hair]

For anyone curious, we’re referencing this post!

Mahanon’s intensity is probably the driving force of his own narrative! From the second his wedding is ruined, he doesn’t do anything in half-measures. The Grey Wardens, to Mahanon, are the chance to live the life he’s always wanted. The Blight is the one thing that stands in the way of what he wants, so he’ll do what he has to do to stop it—with only one caveat. He won’t give up his own life for it. Or else, what have all his efforts been for?

To quote K.A. Applegate, Mahanon becomes ruthless; all he can see is that bright clear line from beginning to end, and he doesn’t care about anything but the solution. He makes tough calls that the rest of the group REFUSE to make. He kills Connor, he kills the werewolves, he defiles the Ashes. Everything he does is him making a decision that he deems necessary.

What does this have to do with how he feels about Alistair (or any of the others)? Put simply, Mahanon feels, to an extent, that he’s owed their loyalty. They weren’t the ones to make the calls, they shunted the decisions onto him. If they didn’t like what he did, they should’ve done something about it themselves.

Despite his resentments, he does CARE about the people he travels with (in my canon the Blight takes about a year to a year and a half to settle in full). He wouldn’t have stuck with them so long if he didn’t care about them. He falls in love with Morrigan, and in each other they find mutual healing from their pasts. He grows close to Zevran and Shale and Wynne; Leliana is almost an annoying little sister, and Alistair is like the brother he never had.

Mahanon and Alistair were (to quote Lingua Ignota) “brothers in arms / brothers in each others’ arms”. Alistair was one of very few men that Mahanon could trust and even grew to love (platonically, but there was a little homoeroticism in there). But when the Landsmeet came, when all that time had passed, when Mahanon’s ruthlessness had alienated some (such as when he took the Reaver blood, such as his double crossing spirits at Soldier’s Peak and drinking more blood, such as his cutthroat way of handling their foes the closer they get to the end of their quest) Mahanon could ONLY focus on that bright, blinding solution.

He couldn’t see anything else. Sparing Loghain and recruiting him into the Wardens would force a powerful general onto their side! This is a brilliant political move! And Alistair can have his vengeance, Loghain will be their sacrifice to the Archdemon! Everything works out!

Mahanon can only see the solution.

Alistair can only see Mahanon’s betrayal; after everything, after being willing to even kill Morrigan’s mother for her, Mahanon would refuse to do this one simple thing? How could he?!

Mahanon can now only see Alistair’s betrayal of the cause. He’d leave because he can’t get his pound of flesh?! He’s a traitor, too! I could have him executed!

Mahanon still loves him. He rejects Morrigan’s offer (he has to) and refuses to let her bring it up to Alistair or Loghain. Morrigan leaves, and Mahanon is left with only the solution. He finds another. It won’t be him and Alistair at the End of All Things, but it WILL be him. Loghain, in some ways, knows this. The ruthlessness of a brave young man not yet ready to die.

Alistair’s arrival at the last second—his sacrifice, the attempt at reclaiming the responsibilities he abdicated, undermining what Mahanon had to do once he was gone and what he had to prepare himself to do—it’s a final betrayal. It’s selfish. It’s sacrifice. Mahanon rages for weeks. He can’t even yell at his god because Alistair has been wholly consumed; there is nowhere within the Fade that his rage can reach that Alistair would be able to know it.

Mahanon’s final betrayal, his final selfishness, is by abandoning the Wardens immediately once Vigil’s Keep has been arranged for him. He goes to find Morrigan, and leaves Loghain to clean up the mess. Loghain is sent to Orlais; Elyon is brought from Orlais. They cross paths with each other at the border—both older men, both whose families have been lost to ruin, both who have been exiled from their homelands, and both who know their hearts best to the death-march.

May the Dread Wolf take me.

May Andraste light your path.

[crestfallercanyon]

WEEKLY TAG WEDNESDAY

Thank you Evie!! These are always delightful to do (even if I am usually late/forget — oops) @energievie ❤️❤️

—

name: crest

age: mid-to-late-20s

star sign: Pisces

your first language: English

second language: I used to be conversational in Spanish, now I get by.

favourite lip product: medicated chapstick and a mauve lipstick I’ve had for forever

the best food dish you can make without a recipe:Jambalaya, probably. Or chicken and green bean casserole.

If you drink tea, what kind? Tea both iced and hot are my drinks of choice, I drink black tea, and I mainly stick to earl greys, bergamots, kind of floral ish (I do not like fruit flavored for hot teas at all).

If you drink coffee, what roast do you usually get? Medium roast. I put half and half in my coffee and I like the richness — if I get light it tastes too much like milk.

favourite thing to watch on youtube right now: I’ve been watching Fantasy High Dimension 20 and I’m dying over it (you’ve probably been seeing me reblog fandom stuff from it if you follow me lmao) — and I’d be remiss not to talk about the video I watch probably once a week, which is a very specific games done quick of a nostalgic Nintendo game. It’s my cozy comfort video.

favourite thing to watch on youtube in 2012: oh god — I was a nerd-fighter for sure (vlogbrothers), I also watched Meekakitty (Tessa Violet) and Charlieissocoollike (that may have even pre-dated 2012, that might have been like 08 lmao) and likely many more.

favourite item of clothing right now: a brown and gray plaid short coat.

favourite item of clothing in 2012: i had a pair of corduroy rocket dog sneakers that I still own because I do love them, they’ve just been stitched back together so many times lol

fandom

three movies you recommend: Steel Magnolias, Life as a House, The Birdcage

your favourite concert: oh so many good ones, but watching Kevin Garrett respond to a fan who asked “do you have any happy songs?” with, “you walked into the wrong concert, brother, but I’ll try — this one’s kind of happy” and proceed to play a song about desperate heartache and heartbreak and fragility of youth was the funniest thing I’d ever seen and was also beautiful.

have you ever unfollowed someone over a fandom opinion? Not really — I’ve only really unfollowed people for a) being rude to other people’s fandom preferences and b) being endlessly and needlessly negative.

have you ever left a fandom because of the fans? No, but I do kind of stick to smaller fandoms.

the best tv show you watched last year: The Bear. It was phenomenal and I’m scared and excited for S3.

do you have a fancasting you just can’t let go of? Not really the same but I want Will Poulter to take over Armie Hammer’s role in The Man From UNCLE because that movie was great and I wish it had a sequel but it never will because AH is a fucking creep, but, unlike Armie Hammer, Will Poulter seems like a great guy and he’d do the role so fucking well, I just want it.

a ship you’ve abandoned: I’m sure I have one? But I can’t think of it.

on a scale of 1-10 how willing are you to share your ao3 history? Maybe a 5? I don’t actually read much these days, I’ve been kind of busy. If you ask me what I’ve liked though I’m not shy about telling you.

do you have a fandom tattoo? (do you want one?) no and the only one I would consider getting is from a book I know I will always love, like Piranesi or This is How You Lose the Time War, and I have no idea what I’d get from those.

what fandom do you wish was bigger? I actually kind of like my fandoms small, the video game Transistor by Supergiant Games is beautiful and I want to talk about it with people dammit.

has a finale ever ruined a show for you? Yes. Game of Thrones for sure. Dexter (though I don’t think I could rewatch it anyway). I agree with you Evie, That 70s Show’s ending was horrid! How I Met Your Mother, as well.

have you…

swam in an ocean? Yes, got absolutely wrecked once.

ever been vegan/vegetarian? no

gone skinny dipping? Nope.

gone skiing? Yes! Both water and snow.

been to a convention? Yes, in high school I was vice president of my library’s teen reading club (I was also in band and a theater kid so nice to meetcha I am a super nerd) and because of this our club got to go with my librarians to the fanciest hotel I’ve ever stayed in which hosted the most amazing convention ever of Indie Booksellers and I met Maggie Stiefvater and got Rainbow Rowell’s advanced reader’s copy of Eleanor and Park (think I’m dating myself here lol) and a couple of other amazing authors and talked poets and librarians and publishers and booksellers and I don’t think any convention will EVER surpass that experience.

—

Tagging: @mybrainismelted , @callivich , @gallawitchxx , @michellemisfit , @whatthebodygraspsnot , @sam-loves-seb , and ANYONE else who’d like to play!!!

[angelofthequeers]

Tangled in You

My @mlsecretsanta giftee this year is @madchattery! I really hope you like your gift! ❤️💚 And a massive thank you to @faunusroman for beta reading this for me! I really appreciate your help 💙

AO3 link here and spoilers up to Transmission!

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

This is set in some vaguely nebulous post-Transmission time where Marinette’s acknowledged that she’s still in love with Adrien as in canon but they’re still not together because, you know…the fact that Marinette and Adrien are still Ladybug and Chat Noir in Protection and Emotion, which canonically come after the Kwami’s Choice episodes.

“Not one word,” Marinette hisses. 

Alya pastes a smile on her face, the epitome of innocence, except that she’s a lying liar who lies, and Marinette knows better than to trust the former wielder of the Fox Miraculous.

(Her heart jolts in her chest at that. It’s gotten a little better over the last few weeks but she’s not sure she’ll ever be rid of the pain. Not until she’s rescued the kwamis she let down.)

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Alya sings, shifting her bag on her shoulder. Marinette narrows her eyes.

“I mean it! You know I can’t be with him! Not as I am!”

Alya sighs. Her smile fades. “I’m sorry, Marinette. I took on being Scarabella so that you and Adrien could be together, and I couldn’t even do that right.”

“Don’t apologise,” Marinette says firmly. “What you did for me – what you were willing to take on…it means the world to me, and I’ll never forget that. We’ll figure out how Monarch found out you and Kitty Noire, and we’ll kick his butt!”

“Are we having a rebellion meeting?” says a bright voice. Marinette yelps and somehow manages to jump backward and forward at the same time, resulting in sprawling over Alya in a tangle of limbs, while her best friend tries desperately to keep her somewhat vertical.

“Adrien!” she complains. “Don’t do that!” When she manages to right herself – with great help from Alya – and turns around, she’s punched in the face by Adrien’s wide sunshine smile, and it takes everything she’s got to keep herself upright.

Why is this so hard? Adrien knows she’s in love with him. He knows that she wants to be with him, even if there’s some mysterious reason she can’t that starts with M and ends in onarch. Why is she still a complete mess around him?

“Sorry,” Adrien says, not looking sorry at all, like the evil person he is.

“I swear, one of these days, I’m gonna get you a bell so you stop doing that to me,” Marinette grumbles. Adrien’s face flushes bright red in response to that, so Marinette allows herself a triumphant grin. There. See how he likes it.

“Are we done with whatever we’re doing?” Nino drawls from behind Adrien. “And no, this isn’t a rebellion meeting, dude. I’m not letting Monarch take our Christmas.”

“Perfectly said, babe,” Alya says, crossing over to peck him on the lips. Marinette’s eyes flick to Adrien’s own peach pink lips. He notices – of course he does, because the universe hates Marinette Dupain-Cheng – and those lips curve into a smile that almost brings Marinette to her knees.

“Can we just get on with it?” she whines. “The tree won’t decorate itself.”

“How did you even get it up here?” Adrien says, as the four of them head up the stairs to the apartment above the bakery.

“Dude,” Nino says. “How d’you think? Her dad’s a beast.”

“I helped,” Marinette huffs and flexes her arms. There’s an immediate clatter as Adrien trips on the second-last step. He would’ve face-planted into the front door, if not for Marinette reflexively grabbing him by the back of the shirt and yanking him back, just like she’s done to her kitty many a time with his tail.

“Th-Thanks,” Adrien stammers, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re strong. Muscles! Strong girl!”

“Oh my god,” Alya mutters but her words barely pierce the blood rushing through Marinette’s ears. Why does this have to be so hard? Why can’t she just Lucky Charm up Monarch’s ugly face, go kick him in said ugly face, then ride off into the sunset with the boy she loves?

(“One of two boys,” says a little, nasty voice. Marinette staunchly ignores it. Chat Noir made his choice and she has to live with it.)

“Anyway!” Marinette almost shrieks and points at the tree that towers over them, dispersing the fresh scent of pine needles throughout the room. “Tree! Decorations! Put on them!”

“Have you ever decorated a Christmas tree, Adrien?” Alya says loudly, steering Marinette away from the haphazardly stacked boxes of decorations. Marinette wants to be offended but…no, it’s probably for the best. Balance is a challenge at the best of times, without her current state of near hysteria.

“No,” Adrien says. The melancholy in his voice immediately snaps Marinette out of Stupid Mode and into Cheer Adrien Up Mode. “My father always hired people to decorate the tree. He said it was too big, and he didn’t want me or my mother to get hurt.”

“Or he could just stop overcompensating and buy a normal tree like normal people,” Nino scoffs. Marinette bites down on her bottom lip to keep her laughter at bay, while Alya lets out a strange cough. “Oh. Sorry, dude. Forgot he’s trying and all now, and I can’t talk smack about him anymore.”

“No, it’s okay,” Adrien says with a small smile. “I never said how much I appreciated all the times you stood up to my father for me, before he started trying. You’re a really good friend, Nino.”

“Aw, shucks, dude.” Nino’s whole face flushes. “Just what friends do, y’know?”

“Right!” Alya claps her hands. “If we’re done with the sappy Hallmark moments, I have just what we need for decorating the tree!”

“The decorations?” Marinette says dryly, pointing at the boxes. Alya rolls her eyes.

“Nope,” she says as she unslings her bag and rummages around inside. As soon as she emerges with a handful of eye-watering fabric, Marinette immediately starts looking around for the nearest window from which to defenestrate herself.

“No,” Nino says immediately because he’s the only other person in the world who currently has a brain cell. Marinette would kiss him for that if a) Adrien wasn’t here and b) Alya wouldn’t be Extremely Unhappy at her for it. “No way, babe. Nuh uh.”

“We promised to show Adrien the joys of a normal Christmas!” Alya insists, shoving an absolutely hideous orange sweater at him. “And that involves wearing ugly Christmas sweaters!”

“I might have sunk to some lows, but I’m not going that far,” Marinette says.

“Thank you,” Nino says.

“But Alya says it’s a Christmas tradition!” Adrien proves that he’s even eviller than Monarch by turning on the puppy dog eyes and pouting with the careful precision of the model he used to be. Alya beams and tosses him a scarlet sweater.

“And we want to honour the hard work of the superheroes in the room, don’t we?” Alya grins, gesturing to herself and Nino. She dumps a black and green sweater on Marinette’s head and, while Marinette splutters and bats the offending garment away, shrugs into the emerald sweater that she’s left with. “After all, I appreciate Carapace very much.”

“And Ladybug does so much to keep us safe,” Adrien agrees, now in his ugly spotted sweater and with messy hair so eerily reminiscent of Chat Noir that Marinette’s heart almost vacates her chest through her mouth. “It’s really the least we can do.”

“And it’d make Adrien happy,” Alya sing-songs. Marinette looks between her evil best friend and evil crush and lets out the most pained groan of her life.

“Fine,” she grumbles, pulling the Chat Noir sweater over her head. “I hate you both.”

“Seriously?” Nino complains. “Marinette, we were s’posed to stand together! Now they’re gonna bully me into it!”

“Pleeeeease?” Alya adopts the same puppy eyes and pout as Adrien, as they conspire to psychically destroy Nino’s will. Nino groans even louder than Marinette had.

“Okay, okay, fine!” He awkwardly slips into his Rena Rouge sweater, knocking off his hat and glasses in the process. “Not like I could be the only one not doing it. Thanks, Marinette.”

“Hey, blame Adrien!” Marinette huffs. “He insisted on it and he did those stupid eyes and everything!”

“It’s not my fault!” Adrien says. “I just wanted to have a normal Christmas!”

“Speaking of, let’s decorate the tree!” Alya grabs the first battered box and pulls a clump of lights. She gives the clump a shake and grimaces. “Seriously, Marinette?”

“I didn’t put them away!” Marinette protests. “It happens every year!”

Alya sighs and lowers herself to the ground. “Okay. Adrien, you’re about to learn the sacred Christmas tradition of spending ten hours untangling the damn lights.”

“If it’s tradition,” Adrien says with a cheeky smile. Marinette resists the urge to punch him for being so damn beautiful.

“Hey, if Ladybug and Chat Noir can take down an akuma with, like, a piece of paper, we can untangle the lights,” Nino says, dropping down to sit next to Alya cross-legged.

“Our lives depend on it, with the way Alya’s going,” Marinette says under her breath as she kneels and hunts for the end of the string. Adrien joins her, and when his hand brushes hers as they navigate the clump of lights, Marinette’s soul is almost evicted from her body.

“You know,” Alya says, “after everything I’ve done for you, you’d think I’d get more respect around here.”

“Just because you know my deepest secrets doesn’t mean you’re not a tyrant,” Marinette retorts.

“Don’t make me throw a bauble at you,” Alya says.

“Please. I’d tie you up with the tinsel before you could even blink.”

It’s not Marinette’s fault. It’s really not. How is it on her that the lights are this bad? She hadn’t put them away! After ten minutes of cursing and putting on a better show than a professional ballet performance, the lights are still matted together and Nino’s throwing a mini tantrum and cursing the name of Marinette Dupain-Cheng, which is totally uncool of him after everything they’d been through with their ugly sweaters.

“I’m done!” Nino throws down the length of lights that had been half-tying his hands together. “I signed up to show my bro a sweet Christmas, not get strangled by a bunch of lights!”

“Careful, you’ll give Monarch ideas,” Alya drawls, kicking her way out of her multicoloured prison. “I’d kill for a croissant right now.”

“You know where everything is downstairs, make yourself at home,” Marinette says absently, trying not to look too hard at Adrien, and how he’s somehow managed to get his head tangled in a makeshift light cocoon, like the beautiful dork he is.

Dork. Marinette from just a year ago would’ve pitched a fit at the mere thought that Adrien Agreste could be anything less than perfection. But after that game he’d played to help her confess her feelings? And the stupid jokes he tells that she can now listen to, since she can actually hold a conversation and not run away in lovestruck terror? Adrien Agreste is a certified dork, and Marinette’s no longer afraid to face the truth.

“Nino, come help me get us some pastries,” Alya says loudly, piercing through Marinette’s trance. Marinette jumps and somehow gets herself even more entangled in the lights from this one action.

“How do you need help to get pastries?” she splutters. “You already know where –”

“Nino’s tall,” Alya says with a smile so innocent that it’s completely devoid of innocence. “What if I need him to grab me something from a cupboard?”

“But the pastries aren’t –”

“Couple bonding activity!” Alya yanks Nino to his feet. “Besides, do you really want him here when he’s ready to set those lights on fire?”

“I’ll do it,” Nino says immediately. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Thank you, babe,” Alya says, patting him on the arm. “Besides, the more of us there are doing the lights, the more we’re just tangling them up even worse. You and Adrien have this!”

“Alyaaaaa,” Marinette whines.

“Marineeeette,” Alya whines back.

You know I can’t! Marinette pushes at her best friend psychically. Thankfully, because Alya is the best friend ever, she’s tuned in to Marinette Air and immediately picks up on the waves coming her way. She whips out her phone, types furiously while Nino raises his eyebrows and Adrien looks adorably confused, then nods and tucks her phone away.

“C’mon,” she says, grabbing Nino’s hand as Marinette’s phone buzzes twice. “Pastries! You and me!” She disappears with Nino before Marinette can so much as blink.

“…Marinette?” Adrien says carefully when Marinette remains frozen where she is in the wake of Alya’s departure. “Aren’t you gonna –”

“Yes! Right! Message!” Marinette fumbles for her phone and somehow manages to get herself even more ensnared in the evil fairy lights from the simple action of reaching into her pocket. She hugs her knees to her chest, takes a deep breath, then swipes open her phone and clicks on Alya’s message.

>> Look I get it girl. I get you’ve got this massive thing on your shoulders & I’m so sorry I can’t do more to help. But you deserve to be happy and you shouldn’t have to commit to being sad just bc of everything you do for all of us. You didn’t mess up bc of love you messed up bc of a jerk who took advantage of you and it wasn’t even the first time he did it to you.

>> You help us all bc you love us. You’re strong bc of it not weak. Pls let yourself be happy Mari I hate seeing you like this bc of big bad douchebag and hey I think Adrien gets the secret thing more than most ppl and you know I wouldn’t be pushing if I thought it’d turn out like Luka. Ily ❤️

Marinette blinks. Why do her eyes hurt so much? It’s not until something splatters on her phone screen that she realises she’s crying, and she lets out an ugly sob and hugs her phone to her chest.

“Marinette?” Adrien’s by her side in a heartbeat, throwing an arm around her without a care for how this wraps a thread of lights around her neck. “What’s wrong? What did Alya say?”

“N-Nothing,” Marinette sniffles. She lowers her phone with trembling hands and reads the message again, which sends a fresh wave of some massive, unnameable thing crashing over her, forcing her back under and filling her lungs. She gasps, accidentally dropping her phone in her attempt to bury her face in her hands.

“Marinette. Hey. It’s okay.” Something warm meets her face; warm and soft and smelling of pure radiance, and she instinctively takes it in as she gulps in oxygen. When she cracks an eye open, the few brain cells still functioning inform her that Adrien’s pulled her into a hug, and her face is half-buried in his ugly sweater, before they cease to work, and all she can do is sob into the scarlet fabric and lose any awareness of time as she drowns. Adrien just rocks her and squeezes her and grounds her in the hurricane, and she clutches to him like a life raft, praying that he doesn’t let go.

“S-Sorry,” she finally manages to say, her voice thick, cringing at how pathetic she sounds. “Messed up your sweater.”

“Marinette, I don’t care about the sweater,” Adrien says. “I care about you. What’s wrong? I know Alya wouldn’t make you cry to be mean or something.”

“She’s not – she didn’t –” Marinette wipes her streaming eyes and snotty nose with her sleeve. “She just –” After another few moments of trying in vain to explain, she gives up and shakily fishes for her phone to offer to Adrien. He doesn’t take it.

“Are you sure?” he says. “Whatever’s between you and Alya’s none of my business.”

“Just take it. Before I change my mind.”

Adrien hesitates for another moment before the phone is finally gently prised from Marinette’s fingers. She reburies her face in his sweater, tensing, praying that she hasn’t just absolutely messed everything up, even though Adrien clearly likes her, and she clearly likes him, and the only thing stopping them at this point is her and her messed-up brain.

“What happened?” Adrien eventually says. His voice is low and sharp, and Marinette pities anyone who ever ends up on the other side of this voice, because it’s a side of Adrien she’s never seen before. “Who took advantage of you? How? Do I need to punch someone?”

“I don’t think your father would appreciate having to bail you out,” Marinette says with a weak hiccup of laughter.

“I’d do it for you,” Adrien says. Blood rushes to Marinette’s face and pools in her cheeks until she could probably melt the polar icecaps with just her skin.

“Just…some guy,” she says vaguely. “Lied to me and made me think he was someone else. So…I trusted him. And I messed up big time. Big, big time.”

“I’ll kill him,” Adrien says straight away, his arms tightening around her. “No one gets to take advantage of Marinette Dupain-Cheng. No one. Not when you’re so sweet and kind and smart and brave and – and loving – Alya was right, you know, you love so easily and so much and it’s why I…you know…fell for you.”

“Stooooop,” Marinette whines. “Shush.”

“Nope. Look…you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but what exactly happened?”

“I –” For a long moment, Marinette wavers. But she steels herself. She can’t give in. She has to stay strong. “I can’t tell you. Not without giving away my big…big secret.”

“The one that got between you and Luka?”

Marinette nods jerkily. Adrien sighs and squeezes her.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

“R-Really?”

“Of course. Alya was right, you know. I get the secrets thing. And…I’ve got a big one of my own. One that I can’t tell anyone. So I’d be a real hypocrite if I tried to make you tell me yours.”

“What a pair,” Marinette mumbles, sagging against Adrien as the energy drains out of her and leaves her loose and limp and jelly limbed. Adrien laughs.

“I don’t know what happened,” he says, “but Alya’s right. Whatever happened, it didn’t go wrong because of love. It went wrong because this guy took advantage of your trust and kindness and love.”

“But I messed up!” Marinette jerks away but can’t go far, thanks to the lights that have somehow managed to glue them together like limpets. “Big, big time! My mistake could get people killed! It’s caused so much pain already!”

“So you’ll fix it,” Adrien says. His smile is so kind, so warm, and Marinette can hardly stand to look at it, but she also can’t stand to tear her eyes away from its radiance. “You always have the solution to any problem, Marinette. You’ll fix it.” His face falls and he looks away. “I messed up, too. I hurt someone really bad. Two people, actually. The second one almost died if she wasn’t a – look, I didn’t get to fix my mistake but I know you’ll fix yours, because that’s the person you are, Marinette.”

“But it’s because I love you!” Marinette blurts out. “It’s because I love you that I messed up! I should’ve known, I should’ve known it wasn’t you, but he looked just like you and I was an idiot and let my heart rule me and I trusted him – I trusted him – and he took everything from me!” She squeezes her eyes shut and hides back in Adrien’s sweater.

“M-Marinette…?” Adrien whispers.

“I just make mistake after mistake because of how much I love you,” Marinette sniffles. “And then I fell for Chat Noir and I almost got akumatised. I even got my father akumatised the first time! And I got Luka akumatised because I couldn’t be honest with him and I don’t want that to happen to you and I just keep messing up again and again every time I try to love someone and –”

“Shh. Breathe,” Adrien says soothingly as a fresh wave of sobs racks Marinette’s body.

“I c-can’t love Chat Noir or th-the world will end,” Marinette bawls. “I c-can’t love you or M-Monarch wins. I c-can’t love anyone.”

“It’s okay,” is all Adrien says. “It’s okay, Marinette, I swear, just let it out. I’ve got you.”

“I’m pathetic,” Marinette blubbers. “Weak and pathetic.” Her insides chill as her words from just before flood her senses and she groans and shakes her head. “And of course I only managed to say it now when I’m having a breakdown. Not when I actually want to say it to you. I really am pathetic.”

“No.” Adrien’s arms tighten around her. “You were wrong back then, and you’re wrong now. You’re not weak, Marinette. You’re not pathetic. You’re brilliant – strong – you’re so clever, so giving and loving, and I’m just sorry it took me this long to see what was right in front of me.”

“I d-didn’t exactly m-make it easy.”

“And I’m sorry that Félix took advantage of you. It’s my fault, I should’ve known he was up to no good when he offered to pretend to be me.”

“W-What?” Marinette’s brain record scratches, then shuts down. Slowly, barely able to breathe, she draws back and stares up at Adrien as her brain feebly struggles to comprehend the fact that two and two equal four; that Adrien knows, he knows who was having a mental breakdown on his bathroom floor. “F-Félix – but I didn’t –”

“You didn’t have to say it,” Adrien says with a small, wry smile. “I couldn’t think of anyone else who’d taken advantage of you by making you think it was me. Apart from Volpina, of course, but that was just an illusion.”

“I – but – Vol – what –” The trembling in Marinette’s limbs intensifies as the implications of Adrien’s words truly sink in. Adrien hadn’t been there. Volpina had been holding an illusion. The only other person who’d been there, who knows what happened on the Eiffel Tower… “You didn’t – you weren’t – it wasn’t –”

“I don’t know how loving me ended the world,” Adrien says while Marinette’s brain undergoes a total system reboot. “And I don’t know how our love could let Monarch win. But I swear that won’t happen, milady. I can’t let it happen. I won’t. Not now that I know you’ve loved me all this time. And not now I know that the two most amazing girls I know are the same person.”

“No!” Marinette throws herself away from him, toppling backwards. But since she’s currently tied to Adrien with the devil’s lights, he follows her right down and sprawls over her with an oof. “I didn’t – you can’t know, you can’t be him, I can’t –”

“We won’t destroy the world.”

“It happened twice! Because we knew! And now I’ve messed up again and I don’t have the Snake to fix it and Bunnyx is gonna show up and –”

“We don’t know what happened, Marinette. Milady. Please.” His green eyes are soft, crinkled, filled with love that Marinette doesn’t deserve. “Don’t shut me out. Not when you need help. I’ll be super extra careful, I swear, I won’t call you milady or do anything Chat-like in public, so long as you get to lean on me.”

“Nooo!” Marinette covers her face. “I’m so tired. I’m so sick of being miserable and not being allowed to be happy or even really be sad in case I get akumatised! And no one else can do it or they’ll be in danger! Monarch managed to figure out Scarabella!”

“Well, that’s what your dashing partner’s here for,” Chat Noir says. No, Adrien, it’s Adrien above her, except that it’s also Chat and Marinette’s about to have a mental breakdown. “You can always count on me, Marinette. And Alya – I’m guessing she knows?”

“Who do you think was Scarabella?” Marinette mumbles into her hands.

“Oh. Oh. So much makes sense now.”

“I don’t even care anymore.” Marinette lets her hands fall away from her face numbly. “I don’t care that you know. I don’t care that Monarch’s gonna win. I’m tired. I’m so tired, Adrien. I should get to worry about school and boys and fashion without having all this weight on my shoulders!”

“Exactly,” Adrien says firmly. He brushes strands of hair out of Marinette’s eyes, making her battered heart leap into her throat. “You shouldn’t have to deal with all of this. But you’ve got Alya now, and you’ve got me – you’ve always had me, ever since Stoneheart. We’re gonna win, Marinette. We’ll beat Monarch and rescue the kwamis, and you’ll finally get to be happy. And what Félix did to you doesn’t make you weak. Okay?”

“If you say so,” Marinette says. Adrien rolls his eyes.

“I do say so. And I’m your charming, dashing partner, so I’m right, and you have to listen to me.”

A weak giggle wrenches its way out of Marinette. Once the dam’s been cracked, there’s no containing everything that pours out of her in hysterical laughter as her brain meshes Adrien and Chat Noir together – the two boys she loves, the two people aside from Alya who’ve been there for her through everything – and she tries to process everything that happened in the last few minutes. Or hours. Or days. Really, what even is time?

“Why am I laughing?” she hiccups, wiping her streaming eyes while Adrien smiles like the cat who got the cream. Or rather, in this case, the ladybug. “Why? You’re not even that funny.”

“Au contraire, milady,” Adrien says, still grinning. How had she never connected the dots before? He’s so…so…Chat. It’s so obvious. “You confessed to finding me absolutely amewsing when you had to tell the truth, remember?”

“I hate you,” Marinette mutters. But Adrien’s smirk widens, because she’s just as much of a lying liar as Alya, and there’s no way on earth she could hate her kitty, no matter how obnoxious his puns are.

“Liar,” Adrien sings. Then he frowns. “Does it usually take that long to get pastries? Alya and Nino have been gone for ages.”

“They’re just making us talk about this, silly kitty. Alya’s a meanie and abandoned me in my hour of need.”

“Well, I never will.” Adrien exaggeratedly puffs out his chest and Marinette can’t help but laugh. “We should – ah, no –” He tries to sit up but only succeeds in pulling Marinette up against his chest, thanks to the lights that have somehow further entwined them. “How did this happen? How? We barely even moved!”

“The magic of Christmas,” Marinette giggles. It’s still there, deep in her chest, looming and threatening to suffocate her again…but maybe Adrien’s right. Maybe she can do this with him. And maybe whatever happened the last two times won’t happen now, and Monarch won’t be able to take advantage of their love.

She has to believe that. She just has to. What other option does she have, besides losing her mind and throwing her earrings at Monarch for a chance to have five minutes to breathe? And if this was going to lead to the end of the world, surely Bunnyx would’ve shown up by now, right? Right?

“I thought this just happened in the movies!” Adrien says. “Okay, uh – you try moving this way, I’ll put my arm here –”

“You’re making it worse!” Marinette says when Adrien’s move just plasters her face against his neck.

“Do we need to call in the cavalry?”

“No! Alya will never let me live it down!”

“No, I won’t,” says the voice of someone eviller than Monarch. Marinette groans and lets herself fall into hiding against Adrien’s throat so that she doesn’t have to see the look that’s going to be on Alya’s face.

“Alya!” Adrien says. “Our saviour! The second most amazing girl in the world!”

“Second?” Alya splutters.

“She’d better be second to you, bro!” Nino says.

“Great, they’re both here,” Marinette groans. “What do we owe you, Alya?”

“Hmm,” Alya says, clearly relishing the situation before her. “Let’s just say a favour for now. This is way too good for me to think of something on the spot.”

“Fine,” Marinette says pathetically. “Just get us out of this mess.”

“Alright, alright. Nino, try and figure out where the hell the end is.”

It takes an entire half hour. Half an hour of cursing and sweating and playing festive Twister before Alya and Nino can finally detangle the lights enough for Marinette to slip out and off Adrien. She’s craving a nice hot chocolate to drown herself in by now, so she grumbles and staggers into the kitchen to make drinks for everyone because really, there’s nothing better than a hot chocolate and a good croissant when you’ve just had a meltdown and want to feel warm inside. Once the hot chocolates are made, Adrien’s also free from his merry prison, and Alya’s untangling the lights with a deft ease that makes Marinette very, very suspicious of why Alya had escaped downstairs. And the entire half hour she and Nino had taken to untangle them.

“You could’ve done this all along!” Marinette accuses. Alya snickers.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says sweetly. Marinette narrows her eyes. “Okay, time to put them up before someone lights them on fire!”

As the two tallest people, Adrien and Nino take on the task of stringing the lights around the tree while Alya directs them, because apparently “journalistic instincts” translate into knowing the best way to decorate a Christmas tree.

Once again, Marinette thanks the universe for bringing Alya Césaire into her life. Where she’d be without her best friend on either side of the mask, she has no clue, even if said best friend deviously engineers for her to be tied to her crush with Christmas spirit and actually have a conversation about her feelings, instead of being able to escape.

“Adrien, you can have the honours,” Alya declares once the lights are strung up. Adrien beams and bends down to plug them in, and the childlike wonder on his face as the tree lights up in reds and yellows and greens and blues is enough to make every organ in Marinette’s abdominal cavity quiver and flutter. At this rate, her body’s well on the way to shutting down, and she can’t even be upset about it.

“Okay,” she whispers to Alya. “I take it back. You know what you’re doing.”

“Don’t I always?” Alya grins and tosses her hair. But then her smirk shifts into a softer smile. “I’ve never seen him so happy. Not even last Christmas.”

“He’s never decorated a tree!” Marinette waves her hands around. “How wrong is that?”

“What’s next?” Adrien says, popping up in front of Marinette out of nowhere. Marinette yelps but manages to keep her footing this time.

“Tinsel!” she blurts out. “Shiny!”

Adrien laughs and bends down to fish out the golden tinsel from one of the boxes. “It’s okay, princess, you don’t have to be scared of me. I don’t bite.”

“What the hell,” Nino says while Marinette lets out a squeal so high that every dog in Paris has probably been summoned to the bakery. “I hate it here.”

“You’re even more disgusting with Alya,” Adrien says.

“Yeah, you stayed behind when I was a zombie,” Alya teases. Nino shrugs.

“Fair. You do stupid things for love.”

“Yeah,” Adrien says, looking directly at Marinette, who flushes and looks down. “You do.”

[yeleltaan]

//Hello! I just got done with an exam that was bugging me, and I’ve been a bit quiet lately, so here’s another update on how things are going.

As I mentioned in my previous ooc post, study stress and overall difficulty concentrating has been a persistent annoyance and obstacle from writing, so I’ve been taking steps to improve my habits.

Probably my best decision, I’ve recently started going to BJJ and MMA classes! My physical activity has been sorely lacking since the covid pandemic began, so I knew that was one of the main issues to tackle. I’ve been enjoying them a lot and I think this is going to prove a very good change for my mental and physical health, the effects of which should become more noticeable in the mid-term. I kinda went from 0 to 100 with them, so last week was exhausting and rather painful, but I don’t regret it. This week was a lot more pleasant and I can already tell I’ve regained much of my discipline and reflexes.

Besides that, I’ve been trying to be more mindful of my sleeping habits and go to bed at the right hour. This is still very much a work in progress, it’s tough to beat that self-feeding cycle of “I can’t focus so studies take longer, I have less time to myself and I can’t make full use of it either so I’m reluctant to end the day, I didn’t sleep enough so I can’t focus”. I think this will be a gradual process, though I can already tell that the greater physical activity helps make me feel more tired and willing to rest.

I’m diversifying my workspace as well, since that can help your brain distinguish when it’s time to work and when it’s time to rest. But I’ve been inconsistent on which spots I use for work, which I use for (thinking-heavy) hobbies and which I use to rest, so I’ll need to correct that in order to really make this effective.

Anyways, I was hesitant to make this post until I could really show this progress as opposed to talking about it, but I figure it’s better than staying quiet for very long. I also don’t quite now how early I’ll really start to improve my pace in writing, setting goals is tempting but too many times my predictions on this blog (or Ornstein’s blog, my God) have been proven wrong so... we’ll see how that goes.

Besides working on replies, I might also do a few of those headcanon prompts I’ve been tagged in (thanks all who did! Even though I haven’t really been doing them lately, I appreciate that you still thought to mention me). Also wondering if some tweaks to the blog might also help with motivation (reviewing the rules, the about page, using more “distinct” and consistent tags... might even try making tags for each dynamic, maybe even for alternate versions of the same muse as well, but I’m still undecided and can’t promise anything yet).

Oh, and I fixed the issue that was making submissions impossible to send, so that’s a start. With that said, hope you’re all doing well, and if not, may that change soon!

[the-saloon-2069]

A Very Merry Thank You

my friend had a shitty weekend. happens to the best of us. if you keep reading, i’ll happily tell you why this friend lands so squarely in the “best of us” category. but first i want to talk about words. for the last decade or so, i’ve struggled to imagine calling myself a writer. i love writing. i think in prose, in poems, or in scripts. it’s a constant in my life and the longest relationship i’ve ever had. but to call myself a writer feels too official, like i should have a badge of some sort before i introduce myself as such. did i mention i’m a couple weeks away from publishing my first book?

the thing’s beautiful. it’s capable of breaking a reader’s heart, then rebuilding it even stronger. and it’s my story. my experiences will be held in the hands of my loved ones who have so patiently waited for launch day. thirty-five thousand words. and for some reason one of the things that has struck me the most is that it has cost me nothing. 

paints are expensive. studio space and stages carry hefty rents. equipment and software will max out a credit card before the doubt even has time to catch up. i have had the miraculous privilege of creating, and then giving my art a physical form, for free. mostly from my kitchen table where i can watch squirrels and deer roam my backyard. 

this all started about half a year ago with an “i wonder what would happen if…” and the second i told a handful of people what i was thinking of attempting, i had a handful of cheerleaders and fans. now this process didn’t cost me dollars, but it was brutal when it comes to time, and energy, and overcoming frustration, and outrunning my doubt. these cheerleaders and friends carried me right on through the dark and the challenging. and while i could never repay them the extraordinary gift they’ve given me, their words were also free. 

i mean… how dare we ever feel completely powerless in this world if we have our words and a willing reader? my book exists because a handful of people said that they thought i could do it, that they liked the tiny samples i shared, and that they were excited to buy a copy. words that only cost a minute of time every few days, changed my life. why the hell wouldn’t we choose to use this magic incessantly? 

now back to the friend who had a shitty weekend. the weekend was shit, yes, but what turned out to be even shittier? someone who could have shown her love, instead chose to weaponize some words and cause even more pain. why? your guess is as good as mine. i ain’t repeating any of the bullshit, but i’m gonna tell you why it’s bullshit.

c has a warmth and a light so contagious, people spend their entire lives trying to curate even a fraction of it. she’ll make you feel like a beloved friend before she knows anything about you but a screen name. she’s relentlessly helpful. i shit you not, she willingly troubleshoots technology issues for people simply because she can. who the hell does that? and she’s level-headed under pressure with some god-tier frustration tolerance. one of those people who will go to her wit’s end to help other people be successful. there’s a reason that the first rule in performing arts is to always thank your crew. and we don’t even know half of what c does behind the scenes. if things suddenly go to shit, you want this girl on your team. she’s said she’s gonna fight my other loved ones to be my first book purchase, and i believe her. she’s determined and works unbelievably hard. if she says she’s gonna get something done— just watch, because she’s gonna.

thank you, my friend.

these words were also free and took approximately fifteen minutes of my evening. just for the hell of it... how bout you go see whose world you can improve with fifteen, or even two, minutes? i dare ya.

[blackadamschefter]

I don't know every now and again I just get in the mood to put my thoughts down big or small topics and this is one of them lol. I really wanna get shit down and off my chest, reflect on it then move on from it depending on whatever it is.

Earlier this week I was just so taken by such great news in my group and that one of my boys and first of the group is engaged! I was getting home from work & checking my IG..

[quick aside] I redownloaded the app just because out of nowhere and the grace of God that my computer finally let me back my phone up!? So, I got hella space back (finally!) and so I got tired of responding to messages or opening links to it via. safari or whatever and I like what I get from my reels as far as interests and whatnot so thats why I'm back on fr. I'm gonna try to post more fr.. lol not completely sure but we'll see.

Anyways, I so outta my mind to see that Femi had proposed! I don't know it was just one of those things and moments that filled my heart with so much pride and joy as if I was lol. I stopped everything and sent congratulatory messages & voice notes and it was a really wholesome and amazing moment to share with him then the convo in the group. I remember when he moved into the neighborhood, each of us grow up, go our own ways but staying in touch.. I'm just so proud of him & his future wife! Thinking about it gets me hype all over again and its nothing but love for my boy!

Solar Eclipse Day, about that... boy did that shit miss me lmaoo! Like absolutely no like thoughts. It was like another day because I didn't not care but I'd heard about it, but I had more important things I had that day. So when I got to work I was SUPER confused why it felt like I was looking at a filter then my sister reminded me that it was the Solar Eclipse doing its thing and I was happy for people who enjoyed it and took really pictures/videos of it all.. I appreciate y'all for that.

That day was also one of those days I think about in my maturation process (that remains constant). It was one of those back to the wall/do or die moments where if I don't say anything then it becomes an internal question of "am I who I act or say I am?" and in those moments throughout my life is where I find the most comfort. I'm nervous, afraid and don't wanna do it, but if I am who I say I am and want to be where I see myself then that moment right there is the moment to do it because there won't be a second chance to do it. So I did what I always do and meet people where they are, and going in.. I knew I wasn't going to change their mind but I needed them to understand why I stood opposite of them.

I'm alot of things to alot of people and I can't ever let them down by not trying or speaking on their behalf and so I went in.. shaky at first (just the nerves & resetting because what I was going to say was brought up and don't wanna repeat that message) and in these moments I have to get to my second wind... quickly to feel comfortable but it wasn't coming and I thought I was done then !boom! it was on. It was longer than I wanted because it wasn't some town hall where everyone speaks lol (just me & them) this was me getting my shit off and moving on and the moment I relented and allowed it... I was justified in my points. I challenged their personhood because my pov was to protect just that but if you won't accept that best believe you won't be becoming to me all sad and whatnot. Because I understand why they want to do that but for their own dignity and self respect they shouldn't but we'll see. At the end of it all I can hold my head up high because I was defending those who didn't have the same voice I do and they can continue to trust that I'll always do right by them no matter what and to me thats what is most important to me. I put my body on the line and sacrifice so that they can come to me and know that someone cares and willing to do whatever it takes for them to be free.

I knew what I wanted to say it but it was rough early with my notebook with points I wanted to hit with a text of notes to ref if I needed lmaoo

A day after I'm asking myself if what I do and is doing the right thing even worth it (no relation to eclipse day but overall)... because there are ways to do things and for a person to let their ego dominate them like that it makes me question who they are.. no matter how close you are to me.

This is my final point I think and its a very important thing I wanna say but careful in how I word it because its one of my biggest irks at the moment. I always try my best to understand people and in moments meet them where they are because that's how you reach people and get to the bottom of things no matter the situation. People kekeke and think I'm playing but I'm elite at that and I know who is and who isn't good at it. So when there's something wrong with me I know that I like to just do a personal reassessment like nothing big but I replay the situation or the day and ask myself questions for and against myself. So when it comes up its not a shock to my system, but when you tell me that you one of them ones and the moment presents itself and you have no clue then what does that tell me? And so with that I think its time for me to sort of move on from that issue with the understanding that it won't come up how I thought it would. Not that theres a specific way to do it but that it'd be brought up in a serious manner (at any point) but it hasn't and that sucks but what can I do? beg lmao. So its not some type of tantrum its just disappointment because I move on quickly but and makes me reset and recalibrate how I am when it comes my feelings and what people I expect what from.

All in all I think this was a productive week and after I turn somethings in then hopefully get some even greater news. That lets me be more social with my boys, more dates and all that. This week we won some and lost some, finished and started some books, watched some movies and ate some good food with good music playing. Gonna have a great Friday and let the cards fall where they may. At least I'm here to tell that tale and so we move.✌🏾.

[beforeiforgetyou]

No bad days.

We can’t afford them anymore. The day of our goodbye is nearing and I’m trying so hard to savor the seconds that I have left. No bad days. No time for attitudes, hurt feelings, stupid arguments, or misunderstandings. I love you Melineda, and I have 29 days to make sure you never forget it. Or would you remember even if I disappeared tomorrow? Perhaps. But until then, I’ll be giving you my best. 

Sometimes when I write for you, I feel like a broken record. Like I’m saying the same things over and over again, and in a way, I am. But these things feel so heavy and it seems I’m always finding new ways to put them into words.

No bad days, Mel. Please.

Yesterday work was absolutely terrible! But god, I was so happy to see you. And you were grumpy and got mad at me but I kept trying to cheer you up and joke with you because I just want us to make as many good memories as we can, while we still can. Just love me and let me love you back. Please.. 

Old times. We’ll never get them back but we can remember those feelings. Flirty, carefree, simple, loving. Just like you always wanted. Tease me, touch me, drive me crazy. Remind me of why it’s worth all the ups and downs. My favorite girl. Sweet girl. Let me be in love with you for just a while longer. Love me back, just for a bit. No more secrets, no time for things left unsaid. Tell me everything. Where it hurts, where it feels good. Let me love you in the daylight.

You used to say that you regretted ever adding a sexual aspect to our relationship. But you had it all wrong. It was never about sex. No, if it was just about sex we could’ve fucked the first time we hung out. Did it in the car or at some cheap motel room since Ashley was back home then. We could’ve done it, got it over with, and just been some random workplace hookup. It didn’t happen like that though. It was always more. If it was only sex, we could’ve let each other go a long time ago. The feelings came first. 

So now what? The ‘Other Guy’. The ‘Other Girl’. Is that what we are going to reduce each other to? Something forbidden, in the dark. A good time, but not a long one. Until when? You get married? One of us has a child? One of us doesn’t want to play anymore? Or you have another particularly intense ‘bible session’? A week? A month? A year? Why postpone the inevitable? Yesterday you said to me, “We can exist.” But can we Melineda? I don’t know. And I know that you don’t either.

I can't promise anything right now. I can't say if I will be here when you get back. And if I am, I can't tell in what capacity. But can you truly do the same? A week alone with someone can change the entire course of a relationship, Melineda. How you feel right now, is very likely going to change. That's why I'm so adamant about this finality. You can say you want both. I can give you both. I am willing to. But you have to understand that I am very much expecting that you will return and realize you want nothing to do with me anymore. Or if you do, it'll be as 'just friends.' And if I'm being honest with myself, I'm not okay with that. I can be your 'Other Guy', your sidepiece. I'll reduce myself to that for you. But I can't be just some random bestie. It's not enough for me. And I'm sorry if that sounds harsh but it's the truth and you need to know it.

So it's easier to just let it be the end. So you don't get torn or feel like you have to give me something that you don't want to. And so that I can just get hurt all at once. But I want you to write me a letter. Don’t tell me you appreciate me or that you’re thankful for our time together. I hate that. This isn’t a transaction, this wasn’t a purchase. No. Tell me all the things you keep inside as if you never had another chance to say them. That’s what I will do for you. It will be the last thing that I ever give to you. 

So no bad days. 

Even if I’m sad, even if you’re angry. We can do all that later on. We can forgive each other later on. But for now, for 29 days, I will give you only goodness. Don’t say “no” to me in case you never get a chance to say yes. Be mine, while you’re still here. There’s no time for shame, or regret. That can happen later. Maybe when you’re gone you’ll realize you resented me all along. Maybe you’ll be glad to be rid of me finally. Maybe you’ll realize I was just a bad seed after all. But come to those conclusions later. It doesn’t make sense but, miss me now before there’s something to miss.

I yearn for you every moment. When I say “I want you”, it isn’t just words. No, I’m telling you something. So you can never say I didn’t want you. Never say I didn’t love you. Never say I didn't try.

No bad days. We can save those for another time. 

[getmylife]

Update: May 2023

Completed May 21, 2023

So April went by in a blur and I don’t even know what happened. On top of that, May is almost done. I wish I had been further along in documenting the systems I think will help me live my best life. I guess if I could document them it might be easier to implement them. 

The urgency to do so grows with each passing month, but the energy hasn’t come with it yet. The past few months seem like a blur of long days and late nights and I don’t even know what I have to show for it. I don’t think I’m cut out for the grind.

I have this clear picture of who I want to be, and the truth is I don’t know if she’ll be happy or EXHAUSTED (which honestly would be nothing new). But the point of this whole process is that I end up with the life I want. #Notes

So I think some things will have to change. I’m planning to set better actual boundaries when it comes to others’ expectations and tasks that they would like me to complete for or with them. I’m going to prioritize my interests and my hobbies and my self-care, because life feels like it’s just passing me by and I’m too busy with my head down to enjoy it. We’ll see how that goes because the charity I volunteer for has this big project coming up this summer, God willing, that we’re laying all the ground work for and it will require a lot of managing my energy and others’ expectations. #Notes #Pen #Tones #Thrills #World

Another thing I’d like to try is the dual sleep cycle. I don’t know if that’s what it’s actually called, but it’s where you sleep for a specific time, wake up and then go back to sleep. My body’s been doing that naturally for the past few weeks where I’ll randomly wake up at two or four something (usually it doesn’t matter if I’ve gone to bed an hour before then). So if I get up and do some of my tasks and get some quiet me time in the wee hours of the morning and then go back to sleep, it might be a serious win (Right now I stay up to get the quiet me time and then I still have to wake up before noon so I’m sleep deprived). Also I love waking up before the sun. My day is usually a thousand times better when I do, so this method might help me get the best of both worlds: night owl and early bird; and I might get more time for learning too. #Bones #Skills #Quotes

Work has been a bit overwhelming over the past two months and my mental health has not been helping. I’ve been experiencing a sort of depressive episode, but it’s not been a BIG sad, more like an indifference, a numbness, an apathy. I know I still have to get through every day to get to the next that might be incrementally better so I’ve just been going through the motions. I don’t know if it’s been that obvious to my family, but we’re all so done with the current environment and the toll it’s been taking on our bodies. #Soul

That brings me to the final thing: my family is moving in July, God willing. It’s not one of those things where the contractor has said so (we’ve had a number of road blocks). However, it’s definitely a faith thing for me. My life will be immeasurably better when we move, so I’m claiming July 27th as our official move-in date. So I’d like to do a countdown to that where every day I do, at minimum, one small task that will help me in the moving process. #Den

[johnhardinsawyer]

“Like an itchy sweater.”

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

2 / 22 / 23 – Ash Wednesday

Isaiah 58:1-12

Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

Psalm 51

“Like an itchy sweater. . .”

Two weeks ago, today, at a chapel service at a small Christian college near Lexington, Kentucky called Asbury University, a volunteer soccer coach for the school, named Zach Meerkreebs, preached a sermon about love.  At the end of the sermon, Meerkreebs offered a simple invitation:  

If you need to hear the voice of God – the Father in Heaven. . . that is perfect in love, gentle and kind – [you] come [on] up here and experience his love. . . Don’t waste this opportunity.  I pray that this sits on you guys like an itchy sweater, and you gotta itch, you gotta take care of it.[1]

After he walked off stage, Meerkreebs was certain that he had “totally whiffed” the sermon and he texted his wife, “Latest stinker.  I’ll be home soon.”

But something strange happened.  Eighteen of the students at that chapel service stayed afterwards to pray.  Maybe they didn’t want to waste the opportunity to draw close to the love of God, as Coach Meerkreebs had said.  Maybe there was some spiritual discomfort or longing – sitting on them like an itchy sweater – and they just needed to scratch that itch.  They started praying, and singing, and. . . they haven’t stopped.  Two weeks later – day and night – they haven’t stopped.

There have been livestreams of this so-called Asbury Revival running online since early on.  People have traveled from across the country and even from other countries to be in the room where it is happening.  Of course, there have been people commenting on the revival – ranging from how it is either a blessing from the Holy Spirit or the product of a bunch of overly-emotional young people who should just go home and take a nap.  

It is not my place to raise questions about the movement of the Holy Spirit, especially in light of tonight’s scripture readings – especially in light of what we have gathered together to do this evening, namely, to worship the living God, to turn to God in repentance, to acknowledge our own sin, and to voice our trust in God’s mercy – not unlike our Christian siblings down in Kentucky at this very hour.

Ash Wednesday is one of those times that fits most of us like a spiritual itchy sweater.  It can seem like a foreign concept – declaring a fast in a culture that really is only into fasting if it is done intermittently and in the name of weight loss, acknowledging that we are dust and to dust we shall return in a world where we are willing to try just about anything to avoid acknowledging our own dusty human state much less returning to the dust from whence we came, and repenting among a people who don’t really like to acknowledge that we’ve been traveling in the wrong direction (in how we think or act).

One of the reasons these Ash Wednesday activities feel so itchy for us is that we know they are good for us to do, even if they go against what is normally expected of us – or what we normally want to do.  The scriptures are clear, though, and we are told that if we scratch the spiritual itch, it might just lead us into a deeper relationship with God, and this is good. . . right?  

As your pastor – and as a duly ordained Minister of Word and Sacrament – I can tell you, yes:  it is good to foster a deeper relationship with God.  It is very good.  That being said, tonight’s scripture readings tell us that there are some ways of fostering a deeper relationship with God that are better than others.  

In his Sermon on the Mount, Jesus tells his disciples – he tells us – “Look, don’t make a big, fake show of your devotion to God.  If you are truly devoted to God, your devotion needs to be genuine and humble.”  This is one of the marks of whatever is happening down at Asbury University.  It is a very public thing that is taking place, but it seems to be a genuine and humble thing.  As pastor and writer Nadia Bolz-Weber – who never minces her words – writes,

Noticeably absent from the front of the chapel are:  flashy praise bands, lighting systems, projectors and screens, celebrity worship leaders and people over 25.  There is such a simplicity, and dare I say, a humility to it.[2]

One question that may come out of this whole revival thing – and it’s a question that is kind of itching at the back of my mind – is, how will God work through the people who have turned to God in deep and new ways?  In the future, someone might say, “Hey, in 2023, there was this time when all of these people turned toward God.  What difference did it make in the life of the world?”  

This is where tonight’s challenging reading from the latter part of Isaiah comes into focus.  The people who first heard these words were living in the shattered land of Judah after returning from exile in Babylon.  Life was very hard and the people were trying to rebuild their homeland.  They were trying to rebuild their faith, too.  But God wanted them to know that when it came to faith, the people couldn’t just go through the motions.  

“O God, we are fasting.  Did you see us?  

We have humbled ourselves.  Did you notice?”  

To which the Lord replies, “That’s nice, but the spiritual practice that matters most to me is saving other people from oppression and satisfying their needs.”[3]  

God says,

“This is what I want from you.  

Make this your spiritual practice:  

Loose the bonds of injustice,

undo the thongs of the yoke,

let the oppressed go free,

break every yoke while you’re at it.

Share your bread with the hungry,

bring the homeless poor into your house;

When you see the naked, cover them,

and do not hide yourself away –

refusing to care for the people who need you the most.”[4]  

You should know that these verses from Isaiah were often cited by abolitionists in the 1800s who were standing up against the institution of slavery and seeking to free and shelter people who were enslaved, even if their loving actions of sheltering runaways broke the unjust fugitive slave laws of the time.[5]  

Our Presbyterian friends down the street at the Windham Presbyterian Church have a church building that was used as a stop on the Underground Railroad.  The people of that church likely read these verses and lived them.

In so many ways, these specific actions that we read in Isaiah – freedom from bondage, food for the hungry, shelter, and care – are the product of a close relationship with God.  Turning toward God is not just a private thing that happens within our hearts and souls – amidst the rubble of Jerusalem after the exile, or at a revival in Kentucky or at an Ash Wednesday service in New Hampshire.  For Isaiah, true repentance – turning toward God – is also an outward turning toward those who are in need, longing to draw close to the liberating love of Jesus.  This isn’t just about evangelism or winning souls to Christ.  No, Jesus is about winning the day with love-in-action by the power of the Holy Spirit through regular people like us.  

I do not know what you may or may have not given up for Lent, but if you were to take up one thing, I would invite you to explore what it would mean to lovingly turn outwards instead of inwards.  Who do you know that needs to know the love of God?  And, just as importantly, who do you not know that needs to know the love of God?  Who do you need to meet in the next forty days to not just tell them they are loved, but show them they are loved by the God who is all about alleviating suffering, freeing us from the things that bind us, bringing wholeness and healing to our bodies, minds, and spirits, and raising us from the dead?

I’m not going to tell you who you need to meet, but the “who” in this case might just push you out of your comfort zone.  And I’m not going to tell you, “how,” except to say that I hope your “how” is genuine and humble.  Now if this all sounds like one big uncomfortable itchy Lenten sweater, welcome to the life of faith.  Welcome to the life of discipleship.  Welcome to the life of taking up your cross and following Jesus.

Remember, we are all dust. . . all of us. . .  and to dust we shall return.  Yet while our humble human dust lives and breathes, my prayer is that God would breathe life into others through us by the power of the Holy Spirit.  

As someone said not too long ago – to end a sermon that began a revival:  “Don’t waste this opportunity.  I pray that this sits on you guys like an itchy sweater, and you gotta itch, you gotta take care of it.”

May the Spirit move you to scratch that itch. . .

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

------

[1] https://www.thefp.com/p/why-students-in-kentucky-have-been.   Edited, JHS, for clarity.

[2] https://thecorners.substack.com/p/on-longing-and-the-asbury-revival.

[3] Isaiah 58:3, 58:6-8.  Paraphrased, JHS.

[4] Isaiah 58:6-8.  Paraphrased, JHS, with help from J. Blake Couey.

[5] https://cdn.fbsbx.com/v/t59.2708-21/330716153_1191984388189747_7550595510160404322_n.pdf/g.CoueySchipper.pdf?_nc_cat=110&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=0cab14&_nc_ohc=pr2j2qW3zGQAX-geFTY&_nc_ht=cdn.fbsbx.com&oh=03_AdS44PG2vf9hE6i1p0COR9irfc_DRcbMgWSQboroFRcpGQ&oe=63F6D658&dl=1

[jwnbwnjwn]

Entry 11 (12.14.2022)

It’s been about 10 months since I’ve last posted on here. I think about it every here and there, but I never muster the energy to actually come and write about my life. I kind of want to ‘revamp’ this whole thing like, change the blog colors (which I more than likely will do), delete old entries and start fresh, but I also want to keep everything posted in here like set in stone, a one way ticket if you will? Anyways, I’ll start off reading from the last entry.

I started going to the gym again. Instead of only doing cardio, I actually step out of my bubble and do other workouts including weights in hopes of reaching my goal faster. There’s no particular diet here, just kind of trying to eat at home and eat less. I don’t want to feel like I’m depriving my body of food, but at the same time I want to work out and be healthy. Sooner or later though I hope I get a bit into calorie deficits and really just more into the whole gym life. My weight’s pretty good, last time I checked I was at about 184 but I haven’t checked since. I don’t beat myself up about weight, I focus more on how I feel considering my situation. And I’m not referring to a specific situation, I just mean like, considering what my day to day is and what is available to me. 

Because I did so shitty on my school the semester I posted the last entry, I tanked my GPA and was put into academic probation. That’s why this past fall semester that just ended, I grinded and put my mind to work. I got a planner and made sure to follow a schedule every week. I’m currently having trouble seeing my official grades, but my GPA did go from I believe a 1.7 to a 2.3 which is good! This pulls me out of academic suspension and into good standing. I’m already scheduled for my Spring semester and I’m looking into adding a victim studies minor to my degree and I should still finish on time, which is about a year from now. I’m almost done with college though, so I’m excited that this chapter is coming to an end soon. With my degree, I’m thinking of working with victims or if not, then an officer or something. I can get into border patrol or homeland security maybe. I’m thinking after I finish my bachelors in CJ, I’ll probably attend a culinary school for bakery and pastry arts or some sort. I’m doing this to get started on my dreams of owning a chocolate/candy store. However, I’m aiming to get a job once I get back in Huntsville for spring semester, this way I can save for an apartment soon and get started on well, adulting. 

I’m still on my journey of healing. I’ve been a lot happier since I last updated. It’s been mostly just focusing on myself and the energy I surround myself with. Might I include here I’ve been with Jam for 8 months now. It’s been such a great time, and I’m currently staying with him for Christmas break in his apartment. After being long distance for months, it’s great to be with each other for some time. I’ve been here since October, but my trip ends in January ): but that just means getting back on the grind and finishing faster so I can get to where I want to be. We’re looking into getting an apartment together this coming summer, here in SA. God willing, I’ll have a job here in SA and should be living with Jam and starting our life together. He’s my best friend, and it just really feels like I found my person. 

As long as friends go, I still keep my circle pretty small. I have Mac close by me and Ice, even though we don’t really talk - at this point it’s really just sending a snap a day to keep a streak alive along with a “I miss you” or “How are you” once every couple of weeks. When I came to stay with Jam I didn’t expect to get so close to his friends. I got really close with Kit and Sock, way past the point I’d consider them my own friends, especially Sock. She’s someone good I hold close. I also got into smoking the devils plant to be specific. I’ve tried blunts, bongs, edibles, pens, and it’s something I’d realistically keep doing for a couple of years. It makes me feel like a child and just, happy. Like, I believe everyone should be high, like all the time. Genuinely, I feel like it could make the world a better place. 

We plan on visiting the valley to see our family members for Christmas. I did go see my brother at his state competition last month and man, it was an experience in of itself again, but also nice because it had been some time since I had seen him. Other than that, that’s pretty much it. I think I’ll come back to update once a month, maybe even more. Life’s been going good, and I’m just spending it filled with love and people I care about. See ya soon (: 

Happy Holidays! Ended this on 12.14.2022 at 3:24 PM. 

-jen