#i also feel like jenny needs someone she can push down a flight of stairs without worrying about hurting them

[theajaheira]

Do you have any feelings on Jenny x Wesley?

i have seen the ship in at least one fic but i don’t think it works for me! wesley is very close to jenny’s type, but the critical thing that giles has and wesley lacks is a fundamental deep seated desire to destroy things — a desire that goes well beyond just hating a fucked up system. giles is also extremely selfish and self centered and i think jenny resonates with that SOOOO HARD. wesley is certainly capable of those impulses but i think at his core he is still very driven by determined (if exhausted) hope!!! he is a very sad man in the later seasons but he is not actively fucking other people over. giles dipped for england because it felt more comfortable for him.

like wesley most of the time is trying to be a dick to drive people away or because he’s a little socially clueless, which is very different from when giles is a dick; he will say just the most out of pocket hurtful and dismissive things with complete conviction and without particularly caring that they hurt people. jenny i think is so very very into the latter, not so much the former. (she likes when her partner draws blood.)

[desperationandgin]

Deep as the Road is Long (Part II, Chapter 13)

Rating: General Audiences, pain and sadness.

Also Read on: AO3

Previous Chapter

A/N: I'll give you a head's up right now - part two is short, but it's not easy. You've let me bring you this far, trust me to get Jamie and Claire through this, too ❤ New mood board made by @smashing-teacups; thank you love!

April 2016 (Part 2)

He never asks the question so much as Claire makes a decision on her own. She’s going to Scotland; she’s taking the time off from work and going with him. It pretty much ‘outs’ the nature of their relationship to anyone paying attention but what could it possibly matter now? If there are ethics brought up when she returns, she’ll deal with it then. Not now, not while she’s abroad. Later. Truth be told, she isn’t even sure he wants her there, but he hadn’t told her not to come when she’d said she wanted to be there for him. She took care of everything, getting the authorization to transport Faith back to Scotland, registering her death, gathering all of the paperwork needed. What Jamie needed to sign, she asked him to after explaining what each thing was. She isn’t sure he listened, just signed.

It doesn’t bother her; the weight of it, being too numb to make any decisions. She understands it. On their plane now from Newark to Scotland, she looks at him, too tall for the seat, looking as though he’s trying not to throw up but whether he’s airsick or just grieving and nauseous, she isn’t sure. His entire world has fallen apart; it was supposed to be his daughter here with him on the flight back, excited to go home, to see family, to be well and happy and greet all of her cousins cheerfully. Claire is a poor substitute.

When they land, it’s a long taxi ride to his childhood home, but when Lallybroch comes into view it takes her breath away. It’s large but not obnoxiously so, and just from the outside where their bags are being taken from the boot of the car, she can feel the warmth of family. When they come to greet him, Claire stands out of the way, an observer only. She assumes the tiny ball of dark hair and energy is his sister by the way she wraps her arms around him and he wraps his around her in return. His movements are stiffer but he reciprocates, dropping his head so that his lips simply press to the crown of her head. His brother in law is next, a hug with claps on the shoulder before Ian makes his way with his cane back toward the house, stopping when he sees Claire.

“Ye must be the lass that cared so for Faith.”

When she’s acknowledged, Jenny and Jamie both look at her and the crushing weight of failed promises makes her want to shrink at the scrutiny. She can’t find her voice and once she does she can’t find the right words so she only nods, wetting her lips. “I’m Claire.”

She doesn’t expect the hug that comes, her eyes closing tightly against a wave of emotion. This isn’t hers to share, this grief, not when she couldn’t bring Faith back to them healthy, not when she hasn’t known years of loving such a special little girl. Still, Ian is kind to her, leads her indoors with Jamie and Jenny bringing up the rear. Inside, curious children, three of them, peek around a corner, but when they see their uncle there’s no stopping the little girls even when Jenny yells out for the kids to go upstairs.

Jamie shakes his head and sits to accept all three children into his arms; wee Jamie, Maggie and Katherine as they’re introduced to Claire later. He doesn’t speak, just holds them all for a few long moments before kissing each of their foreheads in a clear signal that he’s done for now. Jenny pulls them back and sends them upstairs while Claire stands and watches. She can see two infants swaddled and currently sleeping in a bassinet that can be carried easily from room to room. So much new life surrounding Jamie could be good, but for now, she imagines it must feel like a hot dagger to his heart. She watches as he gets up slowly and begins heading for the stairs, each step looking heavy for him to take. For a moment she wants to follow him, but there’s a realization that she needs to fill his family in on how far she’s gotten, of what things need to be taken care of next. So, she stays and sits with them in a large sitting room in front of a fire. It’s so antiquated but it feels like home, and Claire speaks quietly; of those final moments, the things she was sure of (Faith being buried next to Ellen Fraser) and things she felt she couldn’t be the one to decide (what Faith should be wearing). By the time she’s done she’s emotionally exhausted, spent, and makes her way upstairs, following the directions to Jamie’s room. Pushing the door open quietly, she can see him sitting on the edge of the bed and enters, closing the door behind her again as she moves to sit beside him.

“I know how overwhelming this all must be,” she begins, reaching out with one hand and covering his.

He doesn’t speak, but he doesn’t reject her touch, either.

“There are some things you have to decide, Jamie. I can’t.”

Claire can feel him tense beside her, but she has no choice but to press on. “Do you want...a viewing?”

Heartbeats go by before he finally nods. “Aye.”

“What about a gathering, after, Jamie?”

He hangs his head, jaw working as he tries to process his assorted thoughts. “I dinna care to entertain when all I want is to…”

She knows and reaches out, rubbing his back softly with her hand. “We don’t have to do that. Or, you don’t have to be there. Either way, Jamie, nothing has to happen that you aren’t ready for.” He’s tense beneath her hand and she drops it, feeling useless. “You should try to get some sleep.”

Without acknowledging her words he rises, beginning to undress. She stays frozen in her spot as she watches him strip down to briefs and a shirt before going to lean against the hearth, staring into an empty void.

“Do you want me to go?” she asks him quietly, slowly standing. “There’s a hotel, not far off.”

Jamie turns to her and shakes his head. “No, Sassenach. I dinna want ye to go. I’m sorry, I’m no’...”

Claire shakes her head, standing at his side now, reaching to take his hand in hers. “You don’t need to be sorry for anything, Jamie.” Only her. She’s the one who needs to plead with his entire family to forgive her.

The evening of the viewing, she isn’t sure what to expect. Something quite Catholic, she assumes, but the sheer abundance of people overwhelms her. She doesn’t know five people who would come to her funeral with such genuine connection to her, let alone the hundreds that pour through the doors of the funeral home. Nursery school workers, those nurses who’d first taken care of Faith when she was born prematurely, Sunday school teachers, all of her mother’s family. They fill the small sanctuary and from the back, she watches as they walk one by one down to where the open coffin lays.

In the end, Jenny had to go shopping. All of Faith’s clothes were too big for the size she’d become. But now, as it’s Claire’s turn to view the little girl she can’t help but know she’d love the pink dress with gold trim. It’s perfect, her vision blurring when she realizes someone (Jenny?) tucked a photo of Jamie and Faith into the corner of the lid of the coffin. She won’t be all alone in the dark after all, and a tear makes its way over the apple of Claire’s cheek. Reaching out, one hand lightly presses to Faith’s forehead one more time, the cold expected but still startling.

“I’m so sorry, Faith,” she whispers. “I’m sorry.” There’s more she wants to say but the words are stuck in her throat. Bending, she presses her lips now where her fingers were. There’s no hint of baby shampoo to the red curls on her head. The essence of her is gone and it isn’t fair; Claire wants to scream but the sound is choked and instead, she moves so that Jamie can have his turn. There’s nowhere for Claire to go but to her seat, the one beside her open for him. She can’t hear him, but she can see the way his shoulders move and shake, watches as he leans over and she knows he’s kissing her cheek one more time. Jamie reaches into his pocket and pulls out something red, allowing Claire to catch sight of a gold heart sticker. The Valentine’s Day card, the one from him to his daughter. She’s seen it; she packed up Faith’s hospital room. She’s seen what he wrote inside and remembers it now as though imprinted on her heart.

Roses are red Violets are blue You make the world better Just by being you.

There isn’t a bonnier lass than you in any country a leannan. You will always be the most important Valentine in my heart.

Love,

Da

Jamie finally sits next to her, eyes red, cheeks wet, and for the first time he leans into Claire, seeking her arms which she gives freely. Her arms wrap around him the best they can with how they’re sitting until a priest begins to lead the Rosary. That’s when Jamie sinks back into himself and she can’t be sure if he finds solace or more pain in the repetitive prayer.

When the day of the funeral arrives, Claire stands right beside Jamie at the front of a beautiful church, haunting in its grandness, heavy with the confessions and burdens each old stone has heard over a century or two. She watches as Jamie’s family and close friends carry the tiniest of coffins to the front of the church, feels Jamie’s hand seeking hers. If she’s honest, she doesn’t remember much. The priest speaks about Faith, how precocious she was, how beautiful in spirit, how witty and kind. Claire’s aware of Jamie sitting there, still as a statue, is aware of Jenny in the pew behind them, crying. It feels as though she’s intruding on a moment that isn’t hers to witness, but she’s steadfast, holds his hand, stares ahead, sits when the rest of the family goes up for Communion. By the time they get to the cemetery, she expects it to be a typical Scottish day, gray and drizzling. It’s the exact opposite. The sky is wide and blue, the sun shining down on the graves of all Jamie’s family gone too soon.

The one time she breaks, it comes as the coffin is lowered into the ground slowly while everyone, including Jamie, participates in reciting the Lord’s prayer. She means to, but when her mouth opens nothing comes out but a quiet breath, captured by the memory of Faith laughing so hard at something Jamie’d done that tears of joy poured over her cheeks. The mere idea that the world has been robbed of such a sound forever makes her own tears fall, silently, as a hand covers her mouth. She tries to stop, tries to swallow it down, but it pours out of her now until the woman beside her, Mrs. Crook, reaches out to rub her back. Claire can feel how thin her fingers are, and as she begins to calm she wonders how much life and death the elderly woman has seen in her years of working for the Fraser family. All of the people buried in this specific plot, to be sure. Once calm, Claire clears her throat and lets out a breath, nodding that she’s fine, and the rest of the day, truly, is a blur.

She only feels as though she’s aware of it again when she’s alone with Jamie in his room. Undressing in the bathroom and slipping into a shirt to sleep in, they move around one another, his family having assumed their relationship was so much more than it is. When she’s in bed he uses the bathroom, moving on autopilot before getting into bed beside her, lying flat on his back. What she wants is to hold him again, to wrap him in her arms and protect what’s left of his heart. He’s been through so much, lost so many people. She wants to love him and guard him while at the same time scream that she’s the reason he’s hurting. Maybe he already knows it, and that’s why he won’t reach out to her now.

Silence stretches on until Claire reaches out, pushing a curl out of his face. “I’m here with you, Jamie,” she whispers.

He doesn’t move away but he doesn’t speak, and it’s enough for her to drop her hand.

“I’ll be with you until you don’t need me.”

She has no idea how long it is before sleep pulls her under. She only knows she’s waiting for the moment the penny drops and she’ll no longer be welcome in his bed.

Next Chapter

[gotgifsandmusings]

A Wedding in Sunspear: Dany IV gifcap

Tumblr filters think they can censor this work of art?! Welllll it’s back, along with my original intro from 2018, starting below!

Before I attempt to gifcap the latest beautiful, heart-stopping, breathtaking, life-changing chapter of A Wedding in Sunspear, Julia’s thematically deep and dramatically satisfying pre-canon canon-compliant ASOIAF fic Austen meets Martin in Dorne and has a culture clash baby... I need to Martell shame myself. She posted it at the end of May, and it’s a goddamn Dany Gargalen chapter! What the hell, me?? A job and adjustment in a new city is no excuse!!

However, she celebrated a birthday the other day, so between that and a very Canadian harvest celebration that occurred today, I can post this gifcap without it feeling too arbitrary! Hopefully you find it entertaining, though please be sure to read the darn thing first!

Where we last left Dany...

Yup, she and Maron in their half-fucking state were discovered by Loree, setting off a chain if events wherein Olenna ate pie, the groom threw a shit fit over not marrying a virgin, Loree had to pull rank on her husband-to-be which includes but is not limited to an order not to give him any more alcohol across all of Dorne, Maron fucked a sex worker because he was so upset about his commitment to Dany not being taken seriously, and Ormond got pocket-vetoed by his friend with benefits.

That takes us to the night before the wedding, where Dany is crammed into a bed with with six other ladies.

Shockingly, she wakes up a bit before morning. Even more shockingly, Loree is already up and staring out the window.

It’s the FREAKING TITULAR WEDDING, GUYS!

Dany wants to go talk to Loree, but freezes for a second. You see, she had spent a whole day mad at her cousin, and in 15-year-old language, that’s basically a decade.

However, cooler heads have prevailed. You know, heads belonging to Joleta and Maron of all people. And they both think as long as Dany holds her ground, Loree will give in.

So Dany decides to confront Loree, where she’ll be ~firm~ and not emotional. Loree will clearly give in.

She subtly lets Loree know she’s there

Loree tells her she should still be asleep, which is pretty rich considering she’s all:

Apparently it was quality time for herself. Dany realizes it’s a hint for her to leave, but she’s just so thrilled to have caught her alone that she’s sure this is a good time to press the Maron issue.

She tells Loree she gets why she said what she did, and Loree is pretty impressed.

Dany’s a bit miffed by that reaction, but tells her cousin eventually she’ll see how serious she and Maron are about each other, and that this wasn’t just a young flight of fancy.

But Loree’s all

Dany takes this with much aplomb.

She insists that they’re in love and she wants his babies. Loree tells her that’s not how this goes.  

So Dany’s like

And Loree’s basically, “yeah. We’re in the same boat.”

Dany really has no come back to this, so she points out how shitty Eliott’s been, and how Loree shouldn’t be fine marrying this dude.

But Loree won’t raise her hand, because duty. Instead she’s points out he has some positives...somewhere...

Dany’s like, “you’re just not into him because of HENRICK.”

Also that she was happy. Loree isn’t sold.

She calls it a mistake, and when Dany presses the matter more, Loree says that indulging her feelings was the mistake, since she knew it was a weakness from the start.

Dany tells her it would have been brave to stay with Henrick, just like Prince Duncan was.

Sadly, there’s a great counter example in the shape of Prince Daeron that’s been hanging around this whole time.

Dany maintains that they will sing songs about Jenny for years, but Loree’s just like, “yeah those aren’t the songs I want sung about me, and I hope you feel the same.” Dany’s brain is just kinda

But there’s no real comeback. So she just says Loree hates herself and is trying to bully Dany into agreeing to feel better. Which mildly breaks her cousin.

Trystana fortunately comes bursting into the room, yelling about how they didn’t sleep, and there’s tons to do, and they both need to get ready.

Dany is pushed into the fastest bath ever along with the other ladies, and barely dressed before it’s time for breakfast.

Of course Loree’s already there with her hair perfectly done, since she gets a bit of priority.

But Dany’s just fuming because she can tell Loree is faking all her wedding-day happiness.

She tries to make best of this inane chatter, though Lysanne Manwoody talks about how excited she is to see the Reachmen react to Loree’s not 100% chaste dress. All the women then talk about how nice their packages look.

Trystana kind of fakes outrage at this, and points out that she “felt the solemnity” of her wedding.

Loree immediately stops smiling, while her mom is just like, “Yeah, that’s our gregarious Loree.”

However Dany sees this as a great opportunity to push her point more, and is like, “Yeah it’s so serious and holy and should be 100% what someone wants or else they’re lying to the GODS.”

Loree just responds with, “Oh I agree and I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

She goes off to get ready with that, as does everyone else.

And of course, Loree is totally understated when all is said and done.

Though she has a moment where it looks like she’s about to cry, so Lenelle orders everyone else out.

Joleta’s just like, “yeah obviously she’s panicking..” So everyone has to sit outside the door and pretend this isn’t a very transparent thing that’s happening.

However, finally Loree calls out that she’s ready.

Elda and Genna spread the train out, and all six women need to help lift the stupid thing, like they spent hours practicing.

Though somehow Trystana still feels the need to remind Dany not to let it touch the ground.

Of course stairs are the worst bit of it all

They all pause in front of the Tower of the Sun, because of course the stupid thing needs minute adjustments, but Loree puts a stop to it after a point.

So they head through for even more stairs leading to the courtyard, where a crazy amount of people are there to catch a glimpse.

It’s very quiet, which oddly reminds Dany of her Grandma Dany’s funeral. It’s almost like giant spectacles have similar levels of stress and no actual enjoyment for those involved...

The smallfolk are into it though, chucking flowers at Loree as they all make their way down the path towards Nymeria’s Sept.

When they get there, there was so much incense that Dany can barely make out the altars.

Other great ladies are there to pray with Loree, including Olenna and Friend Besto

Eliott’s mom Serra is there, a reader favorite after her wonderful “how to make marital rape pleasant” speech!

She tells Loree she looks “As lovely as the Maid Herself.”

It’s time for everyone to pray, so Dany of course decides to pray for the most important thing she can think of:

And apparently they pray for like..an hour? Even Rhona seems restless, of all people.

After a certain point...maybe another hour...Loree even seems to be nodding off (or passing out from the overwhelming incense).

So Lenelle calls over a septon, who proclaims a blessing, mercifully putting a stop to it all. They all get up, with everyone’s legs having lost circulation.

What a romantic affair!

They head out of the sept to the courtyard again, though most smallfolk left to line the streets. However here comes the real hurtle: get Loree and her giant dress into the litter. So Elda and Genna just scrunch it up and throw it in.

Everyone else has to cram in as well.

Trystana tries to get Loree to eat, but she just gives it all to Dany.

Aaand they move, and are soon on the streets where, you guessed it: even more people are waiting to call Loree’s name and greet her. So she pulls back the curtain so everyone can see how happy she is.

NOW IT’S OVER!

[svelte-wip]

chapter 1

If there was one thing I could change about myself, it was my terrible, terrible habit of falling in love. It was a curse; I fell in love so often I couldn’t even count all the occasions over the years. And I was only seventeen, to boot. But that wasn’t so bad, not really. It was certainly exciting. No, the curse was that none of them, not one, had ever been interested in me back. I was too weird, too boring, too loud, too quiet, too excitable, too smart, too oblivious...the list went on and on. 

I always looked forward to Thursdays though. Why? Because our schedules lined up and I could talk to my current crush. He was dreamy: inky black hair, bright green eyes with freckles splattered across his nose. Lithe, quiet and smart, he was sweet and cute and seemed to find me endearing. I was happy that he even acknowledged me, considering it to be a sign. Surely, if he gave me the time of day, there was a chance. That he liked me well enough, that, over time, it could blossom into something more.

Nodding to myself, I pushed the door open to my history class. All I wanted was to talk to him and have everything go smoothly. Hang out, laugh, chill, and be ready to get through the rest of the week until I could see him again.

Sitting my bag down, I smiled at him sweetly.

“Hey, whazzup?” He nodded.

“Not much. You?” I replied.

He shrugged, and turned back to his friend. A little hurt, I brushed it off and pulled out my thick textbook. Maybe I had just interrupted him.

“So yeah, my girlfriend was pretty irritated at me.” He said with a weak laugh.

...Oh.

The feeling left my hands as my heart stopped. My book clattered to the table, and I mumbled an “oops” as I hurriedly caught it from falling off the table.

“You okay, Kamila?” Jenny asked.

Her bright eyes watched me with worry. I smiled at her, my throat so tight I was surprised I could get the words out. They still sounded choked, like I had tried to swallow a tissue and was trying to speak around it. It felt like I had, like my mouth was full of cotton. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

Ethan glanced at me curiously as I sat down, but otherwise paid me no mind.

My heart was stinging as I thumbed through my homework.

No. No no no no, this couldn’t be happening. Surely I must have heard him wrong.

The idea of him kissing another girl, grinning from ear to ear when she texted him, hugging her tight, made my eyes burn and heart constrict.

I swallowed hard and thumbed through my book, ignoring the looks she shot me. This wasn’t how I wanted my day to go. This wasn’t what I had been looking forward to.

Why me? Why not me?

“Ah, you have a girlfriend? Since when?” Noah asked with surprise.

“Since, eh, last Thursday? I asked her out after classes.” Ethan shrugged. “You might know her.”

He mentioned her name, but I wasn’t fully comprehending. My mind was buzzing and yet empty at the same time. The name echoed in my mind, and I conjured up her face.

I knew her. We had a class together. She was cute and quiet and bubbly and brilliant. Pretty, curly hair, petite and stylish. Good at speaking, holding a conversation and talented at everything she touched.

The exact opposite of everything I was and was everything I expected him to look for. 

Miserable, I listened in utter silence to the lecture. I didn’t feel like saying anything or answering any of the questions. What was even the point? I was only taking this class because he was in it. I didn’t need any history credits.

I just wanted to go home and bury myself under the covers.

Why did this always happen to me?

--------- 

Walking down the hallway to the last and final class, I barely noticed when my heavy bag caught someone’s arm, making them jerk in surprise and annoyance.

“Sorry.” I mumbled, briefly looking up.

His irritation fading, Xavier shrugged, pausing for a moment. “You okay?”

The image of him walking with his own girl down the hall made me clam up to anything I would have spilled to him normally. “Yeah. S’all good.”

I felt like throwing up. All the guys I had ever liked I ended up watching them get their own girlfriends. If not, they blatantly turned me down in front of a lot of people. One had even turned me down because someone told him to.

I didn’t want to mess with boys anymore. It just never worked out in my favor and I wanted to give up. I had the worst luck and I was learning to accept that I just shouldn’t even try anymore. There simply wasn’t any point.

Walking up the stairs to the main foyer, I barely noticed when someone fell into step with me. “I went to a concert yesterday and it was lit.” A familiar, deep voice said.

He hadn’t left. Probably because he was too brash to notice when I didn’t want him around. I tightened my grip on my bag handle, annoyed that I was feeling better already. “Oh?”

“Yeah, and I actually got you something.”

I looked up in disbelief. “You what? You didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, I know. I wanted to though.” Xavier dug out something from his bag and handed it to me.

I paused on the landing, and he turned to watch me. The material was soft in my fingers as I held it up.

“It should fit you, it’s too tight on me but you’re a lot smaller than me.” Xavier watched me with concern.

The words Fighter written in bold font suddenly brought tears to my eyes. The sincerity of the gift coupled with the timing made me hide my face in the shirt as I desperately tried to get my act together.

“Kamila? Are you okay? Do you not like it?” He stepped closer to me.

My first friend, the one who had given me courage to actually come back and get out of bed in the morning, gently nudged my shoulder. His hand was warm through my shirt, a comforting gesture that made me hiccup.

“I love it. Thank you.” I lowered the shirt, suddenly unafraid to show him that my mascara was probably running and the tears glittering in my eyes. “I’m sure I’ll wear this shirt until all the seams come out and the ink fades.” I smiled at him, carefully folding the shirt and tucking it into my bag.

He placed a hand over his heart. “I’m touched. I’m glad you like it. Do you have to cry about it though?”

“Today has just been rough. You have good timing.” I started up the next flight of stairs.

He easily caught up with me, his long legs covering twice as much ground as mine could. “How so?”

I let out a shuddery sigh. “Y’know, it’s just unpleasant to learn your crush just got somebody, and if you had been just slightly quicker, slightly more, the story would be different, but also knowing that you aren’t enough and won’t ever be what they want.”

Xavier hummed thoughtfully. “Deep. But hey, you can’t fight fate.”

“Yeah. I know.”

He slung an arm over my shoulder, and the weight was comforting. “I’ll message you some sad songs on Spotify and you can wallow in your misery for the week.”

I laughed. “Thanks, Xavier.”

He grinned at me, that beautiful, slightly lopsided grin that made his dark eyes crinkle. “Sure thing. Hey, I’m sure you’ll find someone. Knowing you, they’ll probably crash into you on some crowded street and you’ll both hit the concrete and instantly fall in love or some such shit.”

I had to laugh. “That’s ridiculous and I hope it happens that way.”

He winked, his arm sliding off my shoulder as he lifted an earbud to his ear. “Let me know how your week goes.”

“Of course.” I replied.

I glanced up at him, my heart aching. I had loved him once, before it had come rudely crashing down around me.

“Hey, text me if you need anything. I’m always down to facetime, okay? Never too busy for a friend.”

Ouch.

“Sure. Of course. See you next week.” We parted ways at the main entrance, and I turned to my phone to check notifications.

Another unrequited love that I had buried in the name of friendship. Honestly, why did my heart have to be so soft? So easily attracted and broken?

Something brushed against my arm. Ethan walked by, not even taking notice of me. That was normal for him. He was often in his own little world. 

I envied him. It was hard to get hurt when you had your own little bubble.

--------- 

Running my fingers through my hair, I texted my best friend to say I was leaving school and asked if we could call that evening. She lived halfway around the world, and it was sometimes hard to hangout for more than a moment. I left the building, my feet somehow finding where I had parked that morning. Everything felt robotic and empty as I climbed into the driver’s seat, buckled my seatbelt and put it into gear.

“Things are fine. They will be fine. You’ll crash into someone.” I whispered to myself as I cranked the music louder.

--------- 

“He doesn’t!!!” Maria gasped dramatically when I told her what had gone down that day.

“Yeah, he does.” I traced my finger along the soft fabric of the new shirt. “Boys are losers, you need another dog.” She advised.

I smiled. “You right.”

I told her about the gift, and she sighed. “Sucks that he too, is taken. You guys would be cute. Xavier’s such goals. He’s hot and thoughtful and good with kids and honestly? Wow.”

I laughed bitterly. “I know. All perfection has flaws, though.”

Maria hummed. “Welp, maybe your mister right just hasn’t come onto the scene yet. Maybe you’re still supposed to wait.”

Sitting lower in my desk chair, I drew my legs to my chest and hugged them tight. “I hate waiting and suffering in the meantime.” I said, voice cracking.

Just from her tone, I knew she wanted to hug me. “I know, I know. It’s okay, Kamila.”

[bikingb1tches]

DAY 32

Midway City, CA to San Diego, CA

Hours: 10 hrs

Miles: 95 mi

Elevation gain: 2,490 ft

Elevation loss: 2,451 ft

Clip-in falls: 3

Flat tires: 1

Well, the trip is finished. It’s surreal. It was really hard. It was really amazing. But it’s finished.

I woke up this morning at the Sains’ place, suited up for the day, and packed up my bike one last time. I said my goodbyes to all four of them at around 8:30am and then hopped on my bike for my very last morning. It was a sort of bittersweet moment--I was really excited to get on the road and have my last day because I couldn’t wait to be home, but it also was my last day on the tour; today was my 32nd day on my bike and I can’t imagine being back in San Diego and life just settling into the same old routines again. I’ve been in the saddle pedaling, eating, sleeping, site-seeing, experiencing new places, and pushing for the last month and all of a sudden I will just back in my house, going to work, working out, meeting up with friends, and doing simple things like cleaning my house or feeding Mr. P. It really was a 50/50 split of happy and sad.

It was NOT a 50/50 split of happy and sad to leave RJ, Taryn, Brooklyn, and Moose--it was just sad. While I’ve lived away from California in North Carolina, Indiana, and Chicago, I missed out on about three years of seeing them. Now that I’m back on the west coast, I feel so privileged and motivated to see those from college that I love hanging out with and taking advantage of the fact that we are now only a few hours from each other, rather than a long flight and time off. They were such great hosts and I am so happy I was able to meet Brooklyn when she is so fresh out the womb.

The first quarter of the day contained most of the elevation, which I was happy to get out of the way in the morning. The only other elevation I would have is the big hill coming out of Torrey Pines, which was pretty close to home and I was not looking forward to it. The first half of the day wasn’t too bad in general, though it really started getting warmer in the afternoon.

About 5 miles north of Camp Pendleton, a military base, I stopped in San Onofre State Beach to sit on a picnic table in the shade to eat lunch. The bike route took me straight through the state beach, which was great because there was no traffic and it eventually turned into a bike path; I saw almost no bikes on the path as well.

Unfortunately, you have to have a military ID to go through Camp Pendleton; I thought I read online that you just needed to have an ID of any kind. So I rode up to the entrance and was kindly turned away......which meant that I was going to have to ride on the 5. Riding your bike on the 5 is illegal, except for this 8-mile stretch around Camp Pendleton.

It wasn’t scary riding on the shoulder of the 5, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable; the shoulder is the same size of a lane, so cars weren’t an issue, but I was constantly on-edge as I looked ahead to see if there was any broken glass, shredded tires, nails, etc. It was also extremely loud, as there were about four lanes of traffic on each side, so I was altogether very happy when I finally exited for Oceanside.

Getting to Oceanside felt incredible but also somewhat daunting. I still had about 35 miles to go and I knew this last section would feel a bit torturous--so close yet so far. It’s like when you’re on a road trip and you’re 45 minutes away from your destination--it’s the longest 45 minutes of your life. This felt that way, too, though I was really trying to take myself out of that mindset and enjoy the views and ride. Oceanside to Mission Beach is a really pretty and easy-going ride, and it was the last section of my bike trip, so I did my best to look around, experience how it feels to sit in the saddle, and just be on the bike trip, one last time. I stopped in Oceanside for my last awkward late lunch/early dinner meal because there was no way I could make it the last leg without fueling up. I, of course, ate a sandwich, and then I was on my way.

The anticipation certainly started building as I went through Carlsbad, Leucadia, Cardiff-by-the-Sea, and then arrived at Torrey Pines--I’d completed this entire bike ride from Carlsbad to Torrey Pines before with my roommate, Jenny, so it was both frustrating and exciting to be doing it again. I was dreading arriving at Torrey Pines, however, because I had to complete my last climb of the trip, and it wasn’t going to necessarily be easy.

The Torrey Pines hill is steep but just manageable without needing to stop, but it takes about 15 minutes to ascend. I was definitely running low on energy, both from biking and the heat; it was becoming much like the 90-mile day I did north of San Francisco, where things were starting to feel defeated. If I didn’t have the adrenaline of almost being home and arriving at the welcome party Kate organized, it would have been much harder.

Luckily, as I started the climb, another bike rode up next to me and started asking me about my trip. At first, I was annoyed because it’s very obvious I am huffing and puffing up this hill, and he kept asking me questions, but soon I was 10 minutes up the hill and I hadn’t stopped (mostly because I would feel rude leaving Nathan on the road, who had so kindly taken an interest in the tour). I tried to ask him a lot of question so he would have to talk instead, but soon, we were nearly at the top of the hill! I was very thankful for the support and conversation because ultimately, it distracted me and got me past my last major obstacle!

Soon, I was cruising through La Jolla as quickly as I could (La Jolla felt massive--it seemed that no matter how close I felt I was getting to Pacific Beach and Mission Beach, I was still somehow in La Jolla).

Once I was on the Ocean Walk in southern PB, it started feeling super surreal--here I was, riding down a path that I had run dozens of times, seeing restaurants I had eaten at and streets I recognized. Even though I had been biking towards it all for 32 days, I felt like I was suddenly transported from far away, like I had apparated from somewhere on the California coast to just north of my house.

I started seeing streets I knew were in Mission Beach--San Jose, Nantucket, Santa Barbara--and then I was at the roller coaster a mile from my house. There were tourists everywhere because it was the 4th of July week, and I tried not to run anyone down as I maneuvered as quickly as possible around them. I saw Capistrano, Balboa, and then, finally, my sweet, sweet Avalon Court.

I rode down the sidewalk to my house, looked up at the balcony, and saw the wonderful smiling faces of Kate, Josh, Trey, Andera, Amanda, and Danny. I can’t describe the feeling of seeing my house, seeing friends’ faces and cheering, the big hug from Danny after he ran down the stairs, the relief and surrealness of walking up the steps. I have thought for a while that I might cry when I got home and saw everyone, but I was honestly so overwhelmed and happy that I couldn’t even form sentences. 

It was so good to see friends, but it was something special to see Kate. She had only left me for a week (lol) but it felt like forever, and it was so good to hug her and be reunited. We rode around 1,100 miles together and I wouldn’t even be on the trip if it wasn’t for her--this whole thing was her idea. I literally could not have done it without her; our experiences together are what made the last part of the trip alone possible.

We popped champagne, we drank beer, we snacked, I couldn’t think straight and was so happy--I know I keep saying things were surreal, but they truly were. Home felt like a far away and intangible place for so long and now I was sitting on my front porch with my friends like I was never gone, and suddenly the bike trip felt like a dream instead. Did I really just bike 1,664 miles? Was I really gone for over a month? Did I actually just do a 95-mile day? I was in a happy, dreamy state and couldn’t quite wrap my mind around anything.

I will say that I WAS able to experience how loved and supported I am--everyone was so happy for me and so happy to see me; there is nothing really like feeling like you were missed, that people are proud of you, happy for you, inspired by you, excited for you.

Maybe most importantly, at least for me, is that I was really proud of myself. I don’t toot my own horn really at all, and I generally feel too narcissistic if I like or am proud of something I did. But finishing this bike trip is something that I am purely and humbly am proud of. It’s something I actually feel like I deserve to be proud but I don’t feel self-centered about it. I am ALSO surprised by what I did.

I can’t describe how I feel about doing this bike trip. There were so many times I felt like it was impossible, especially in the beginning. On day two, I very much felt like there was absolutely no way I could do this; I felt so completely defeated and the scale of the trip was so overwhelming. 30 more days of this? 1,500 more miles of this? Hills? Weather? It was one of only a few times in my life where I felt like I was in over my head.

This trip taught me a lot but an important thing it taught me is to take life day-by-day, challenge-by-challenge. It may be a day with a lot of elevation gain and loss; it may be a day where there are a few big climbs to complete; it may be raining; it may be balls hot; I may want a bed when I only have my sleeping bag; I may not have any motivation; I might be so tired that I don’t think I can pedal one more time; I might have a flat tire while I’m alone and cycling my longest day and almost to my destination; I might have run over my water bottle and have no water left; it may be a combination of any one of these situations. But I learned (better) how to just focus on the task at hand, celebrate the small victories, and to push through when I don’t think I can do something. As someone who deals with a lot of anxiety, it’s really easy for me to obsess over how big and impossible something seems and to feel very overwhelmed. It’s really important for me to better learn how to take a deep breath and take something piece by piece rather than crumble under the weight of how big something seems. 

I’ve never been so physically challenged and I’ve certainly never been so challenged by something that requires both physical and mental strength. I was shown in a very tangible way that I am capable of more than I think I am and that I can do things even when it seems impossible or unbearable. It’s made me a lot more appreciative of and inspired by myself; it’s given me the confidence and inspiration to get myself outside of my comfort zone in my normal life, whether that by physically, mentally, artistically, or at work.

It’s such a cliche thing but I’ve really experienced ‘you don’t know until you try.’ I’ve tried to live this way but I’ve been hesitant in so many realms of my life because I don’t want to fail or be embarrassed. This trip has really inspired me to keep trying.

Plus, on top of all that, I am now fit as fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck🦵🏼💪🏼and love cycling🚴🏼‍♀️

This won’t be my last tour💜

[theajaheira]

regarding honor and honesty in the workplace (32/43)

read it on ao3!

THIS SHAMEFULLY LATE UPDATE BROUGHT TO YOU BY INTERNATIONAL TIME ZONES, PAINFUL LONG FLIGHTS, AND CELIA’S COMPLETE INABILITY TO CORRECTLY ESTIMATE WHEN SHE’LL HAVE ACCESS TO WIFI. THANKS

from the personal files of Jenny Calendar:

I feel like I’m supposed to be angrier than I am at Rupert for kissing me and then trying to sweep it under the rug, but the anger is dissipating faster than I’d expected. Honestly, I just feel kind of tired, and I understand where he’s coming from; this is completely new for both of us. Personally, I don’t know how either of us can possibly broach the subject of him kissing me without—I don’t know. Having some sort of terrifying, uncomfortable conversation where he finds out I’m crazy about him and I find out he was maybe only just starting to have feelings for me.

And on the subject of Rupert possibly having feelings for me? That might be the only genuinely good thing that came out of this whole Lilah mess. I seriously cannot believe that he wanted to kiss me—and maybe that’s helping take the bitter edge off my anger. He kissed me. I didn’t kiss him—he kissed me. I like that.

Still, I do wish I wasn’t going to be sleeping on the couch tonight. Neither of us really discussed it, but I think it might be the best move for both of us.

Jenny hadn’t been having nightmares since she’d unofficially started sleeping in Rupert’s bed, and as such, when she moved back to the couch, the first night where she dreamed about Rupert getting shot came as a terrifying surprise. She hadn’t realized how careful she’d been to always keep herself close to him, always making sure she could at least hear him moving around, and her moving back to the couch after their unexpected kiss brought her unresolved issues to the forefront. Sitting up on the couch, she buried her face in her hands, trying to regulate her breathing. It felt like the darkness was swallowing her up—she needed to see for herself that Rupert was okay.

“Fuck,” she muttered, then pulled herself back up off the couch, stumbling out of the living room and up the stairs.

Rupert’s light wasn’t on, this time, but when she opened the door, he was sitting up in bed. Jenny hesitated, then flipped on the light, and he looked at her with a half-guilty expression that felt like someone had physically clenched a fist around her heart. It was oppressive, the distance between them.

Neither of them said anything, but Jenny couldn’t bring herself to turn around and go back down to the couch. She couldn’t sleep right if she wasn’t near him.

“What is it?” said Rupert finally, tentatively.

“I had another nightmare,” said Jenny, who felt that he deserved at least some honesty. “About Lilah shooting you.”

“Oh,” said Rupert, and his face relaxed. “Well—I’m here, and I’m alive, so—”

“Yeah,” said Jenny, and didn’t move.

“Jenny?”

An image, vivid and visceral, flashed in front of her eyes: blood spreading across Rupert’s best dress shirt. “I don’t know where we’re supposed to go from here,” said Jenny helplessly. “There are too many things changing, and I just—I just want things to go back to the way they were.”

Rupert looked like Jenny had punched him very hard in the chest without warning. “Oh,” he said.

“I don’t—”

“I’m sorry,” said Rupert. “Kissing you—if it affected you this drastically, it was—very clearly a mistake.”

This was exactly the last thing Jenny needed to hear. “A mistake,” she echoed, and for the first time in a long while, felt pinpricks of tears in her eyes. “Yeah, okay. I can—um, I understand that completely.”

“I just want you to be happy—” There was a strange desperation to the way Rupert said it, this time.

“Stop fucking saying that,” said Jenny a little more loudly than she’d intended. A few doors down, Buffy’s bedroom light turned on. Composing herself, Jenny tried to smile. “Prioritize yourself over me for a hot second, Rupert,” she said. “Maybe then we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.” Without waiting for a response, she shut off the light, stepping out of the room and shutting Rupert’s door behind her. Heading downstairs, she was at first considering curling up and crying on the couch, and then came up with a better alternative, walking down the hallway to the guest bedroom and opening the door.

Faith was asleep on the double bed and cuddled under a quilt that Jenny was pretty sure one of Rupert’s first clients had made for him. Tentatively, Jenny wavered at the doorway.

“Mom?” Faith’s voice was bleary.

“Yeah,” said Jenny.

“You sleepin’ in here?”

“Yeah,” said Jenny again. Jenny Calendar had nightmares, but Faith’s mom definitely didn’t. She stepped around the end table to squeeze in next to Faith, pulling the covers up and around them both. Faith rolled over and snuggled comfortably into Jenny’s side. “Sorry to wake you.”

“S’okay,” mumbled Faith, who was already falling asleep again. Jenny carded her fingers through Faith’s hair, focusing on the soft fluttery sound of her daughter’s breathing and thinking about the first time Faith had let her this close. It had been after a nightmare, five months after the adoption had been officially finalized, and Faith had clambered into Jenny’s bed and hidden under the blankets like a child much smaller than she was. Faith had always needed more attention than most in those early years.

Thinking about Faith felt comfortable and comforting in its simplicity: here was someone Jenny could love without reservations or complexities, and someone who loved Jenny without hesitation. Here was Jenny’s daughter. Here was Jenny’s darling. Jenny tried to keep those thoughts in her head as she fell asleep.

She slept dreamlessly, if poorly, and woke up to find that Faith had already left. Jenny lay in bed for a few more minutes, came to the conclusion that she couldn’t spend the entire day in bed when she’d spent most of the day before doing much the same thing, and pulled herself ungracefully up and out of bed, heading down the stairs to make the girls a late breakfast.

The kitchen smelled like pancakes. Frowning, Jenny rounded the corner, stopping and peering through the crack in the half-open door to observe Rupert carefully flipping and plating a heart-shaped pancake before handing it off to Buffy. Faith was pouring orange juice into a champagne glass, Dawn was assembling fruit while trying to keep it away from an excitable Xena, and Buffy—was placing the pancake plate down on the dinner tray, then taking the champagne glass from Faith.

“This is kinda dramatic,” Faith was saying a little doubtfully. “You sure Mom’s gonna go for something like this?”

“Your mother,” said Rupert, “deserves something special. She’s been through a lot as of late, and I’m sure I haven’t made it easier on her—”

“Because you kissed her?” asked Dawn innocently.

Rupert turned pink and tried to smile. “Some of the worst timing I’ve managed, I’m afraid,” he said lightly.

“Did she look good?” Buffy teased, though her grin was slightly worried.

Rupert’s smile softened. “She always looks good,” he said. “Help me with the next pancake, will you, Buffy? We need to get this done before Jenny wakes up.”

Stunned, and almost smiling, Jenny hurriedly backed away from the kitchen door, tiptoeing back upstairs and into the guest room to sit carefully down on the bed. It was less than a minute later when she heard a knock on the door, and it took her another ten seconds to nervously compose herself enough to open it.

“Hey,” said Buffy, who was holding the tray. “You kinda slept through breakfast, so we all pitched in and made you—uh, pancakes, mostly, but Dawn helped with the fruit salad.”

Jenny looked first at the tray, then at Rupert, who looked first surprised and then a little nervous. She swallowed hard, then smiled at him, and it felt like something had snapped back into place. Being his friend, taking care of their girls—that she knew how to do. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again,” she said, smiling easily, “you’re the sweetest family any private eye could ask for.”

“Oh, absolutely,” said Dawn, beaming.

“We’re practically angelic,” Faith agreed.

“Now that’s pushing it,” said Jenny, and stepped aside, moving to sit down on the bed. Buffy placed the tray neatly down in front of her, and then the girls clustered comfortably around her on the bed in the way they’d become quite accustomed to doing with Rupert.

Rupert wavered, then sat down opposite Jenny, the tray in between them. “I wanted to say—” he began.

“Yeah?”

“I love you,” said Rupert, and smiled a bit self-deprecatingly. “And you’re right. It isn’t fair to both of us if I’m prioritizing you over me, but it also isn’t fair if you’re prioritizing my own health and happiness over yours. I suppose what I’m saying is that I’ll stop if you will.”

Jenny smiled too, somewhat wryly, and reached across the tray to place a hand on Rupert’s good shoulder. Rupert’s eyes darted almost nervously down to it, and she remembered belatedly that this was the same gesture she’d made before he’d kissed her. Keeping her smile even and unfazed, she said, “I’ll—do my best.”

“Fair enough,” said Rupert, whose eyes were still on Jenny’s hand.

“SO HEY,” said Buffy very loudly, making Rupert and Jenny all but jump away from each other, “IS JENNY GOING TO EAT OR ARE YOU TWO GOING TO STARE AT EACH OTHER?”

Rupert managed a nervous grin in Jenny’s direction and moved back a little, giving her some space to start in on the pancakes. Jenny looked down at the perfectly-shaped heart-shaped pancake on her plate, drizzled with syrup and dotted artfully with blueberries, and had to hesitate a moment before cutting it carefully down the middle.

“Dad,” said Dawn suddenly, in a strangely furtive tone of voice, “isn’t there that thing you should start working on while Jenny eats?”

Rupert cast a worried look at Jenny, and then, oddly, at Faith, who was glaringat him. “I—suppose so,” he said uneasily. “Jenny, you don’t mind if I go downstairs for a bit, do you?”

“Go ahead,” said Jenny, spearing a large piece of syrup-soaked pancake. Rupert always made pancakes that were a perfect mixture of fluffy and filling—Rupert made everything perfect, actually, and the ridiculous romanticism of the statement made her almost want to laugh.

“You’re sure?” Rupert sounded almost as though he wanted her to argue.

“Do you want me to not be sure?” Jenny looked up at him, smiling tiredly. “Go ahead.”

Rupert looked at Jenny, and his gaze moved very visibly to her mouth, lingering on the curve of her lips. Jenny felt her smile flicker and wobble under his scrutiny, more from nerves than from a lack of happiness; she wanted him to kiss her, very badly, and she wanted him to tell her that kissing her hadn’t been a mistake. But with an obvious effort, he looked away, then said as though nothing had happened, “Thank you, then,” and got up off the bed, walking with careful deliberation out of the guest room. Dawn cast a tentative look over her shoulder as she followed.

“He’s such a goddamn idiot,” said Faith, her voice sharp.

“Faith,” said Buffy quietly, but she didn’t dispute the statement, which took Jenny by surprise; Buffy was always the first to jump to Rupert’s defense.

“He is.”

“I would like,” said Jenny, her eyes on the pancakes, “to eat, quietly, and to not have to think about whatever the hell Rupert is doing downstairs. Okay?”

There was a grudging silence, and then Jenny felt Faith snuggle into her side in the rebelliously-angry-teenage-daughter way Faith had somehow perfected. Buffy looked at them both with a half-sad sympathy, then said, “He’s figuring it out, you know. Just like you.”

Buffy, it seemed, had significantly more optimism than Jenny regarding her relationship with Rupert. Jenny focused back in on the pancakes.