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sadaboutniall · 3 years

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Without Fear

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hiya! since tomorrow is thanksgiving I thought it would be better for everyone if I posted this week’s chapter today! hope you like!

Chapter Two. February

give me moonlight, and a smile from you that I can // that I can barely believe — dancing under red skies, dermot kennedy

It comes on slow, the way waves lap up against the shore late at night, when there aren’t many boats out to disrupt them. Over and over, bit by bit, it settles in. The first wave of it bites at Lu’s ankles when her toilet overflows at 6am, leaving her standing in her socks in the bathroom, soaking wet, worrying about the water leaking into the shop below, while Ruairí meows in concern from his spot atop the sink. Frantic, Lu calls her dad, and it goes to voicemail twice before she remembers it’s 1am in New York.

Accompanied only by a YouTube tutorial and the rising sun, Lu manages to fix the mess, shower, and start the day all on her own. Her dad calls back five hours later, and Lu feels like she’s lived a whole lifetime between then and now.

The second wave of it has more venom. She sleeps in on a Sunday—the only day the shop is closed—stirring around 10 because Ruairí is relentless, screeching in her ear, kneading at her belly, desperate for something to eat. Mindless, she feeds him, freshens up his water, makes herself a cup of coffee, pulls out a pastry leftover from Siobhan’s bake the day before, and settles into a spot by the window of her flat, overlooking the sea, all before thinking to take a look at her phone.

Even if she goes 12 hours without looking at her phone, Lu finds she doesn’t miss much these days—she left home on a whim, without a ton of fanfare, and knows full well that she isn’t putting in the effort she should to keep in touch with friends from home. She also knows that’s why she left.

So, most mornings, she wakes up to a few messages in the family group chat, a message or two from her best friend Georgia, and not much else. This morning, it’s different.

208 texts. 12 missed calls.

Lu’s stomach sinks like a stone. Her whole body heats up at once. Her hands start shaking and her heart starts hammering, all before she even manages to swipe open a single notification.

She doesn’t even have the wherewithal to cycle through possibilities. Her brain, hitting overdrive from the start, has no question that it’s bad.

In WhatsApp, Lu finds that her family group chat has 206 messages. She has one separate text from her dad, and a final separate text from her brother. Nothing from her mom.

Shaking, she swipes open her dad’s first. On the counter, Ruairí is sniffing at a banana.

Hi, love, his message says. Figured the number of messages in the group chat is overwhelming. We’re at the hospital with Sam now. All is well, the appendix is out and he’s resting. Mary’s with us, she got back from Honduras yesterday. Good timing. Give us a call when you get a chance.

From her brother, Lu finds a selfie. He’s in a hospital bed, gown around his shoulders. He looks pale, dark circles around his eyes, but he’s okay—he’s smiling, giving the camera a thumbs up. Underneath, the message says I lived, bitch.

Relief coursing through her, Lu lets out a shaky laugh. It’s scarily on-brand for Sam to pull out a meme at a moment like this.

Slowly but surely, Lu’s heartbeat slows to its normal rate. As it does, she scrolls back through the messages from the night before: her brother raising the alarm that he had a pesky pain in his side, their mother, a doctor herself, urging him to get it checked out. There’s a moment where Sam says the doctor is sending him home, and another where their mom urges him to demand an ultrasound, just in case. He does, and they find the appendicitis. Lu shudders to think what would’ve happened had her mother been the one sleeping soundlessly an ocean away.

It’s five am in New York. Lu figures they’re all shattered. Rather than call and risk waking everyone up after what was surely a late, long night, Lu shoots off a text to her dad, asking him to call her when they wake up and sending lots of love. She turns her ringer up all the way so she won’t miss anything else. She feels a million miles away.

####

On February first, Lu wakes up in a cold sweat. It’s still dark outside, but that doesn’t mean much in a place where the sun doesn’t rise until nearly 9am. Still, Lu doesn’t even need to look at a clock to know it must be early: perched on the pillow next to her head, Ruairí is snoring gently, dead to the world, not yet ready to demand breakfast.

Heart hammering, Lu gropes around the bed until her hand closes around her phone, cold. She squints, then sighs, as she checks the time.

4:45am.

Lu is no stranger to waking up mid-panic attack. Sometimes, it feels like choking—like she can’t get a breath down deep enough, to pool in the bottom of her lungs. Other times, it feels like an unavoidable urge to get up, move, get as far away from the space she woke up in as physically possible. Right now, it feels like a stomach ache, period pains, itchy skin, her body trying to tell her that something, somewhere, is going terribly wrong.

Logically, she knows it’s not. She holds her breath, five, four, three, two, one, and checks her phone as her heart jackrabbits away. Nothing out of the ordinary: her mom texted a picture of her glass of wine with dinner to the family group chat, her dad reported the score of a soccer game, her brother sent that he’d managed to run a full two miles today, his furthest since the appendectomy. Everything is fine.

Except for Lu.

There’s no use trying to go back to sleep; Lu knows herself better than that. Heart still working overtime despite reassurance, she slips out of bed as gently as she can, praying that she won’t wake Ruairí. She’s silent as she gets dressed and silent as she tiptoes out of her bedroom, out of the apartment, and down the stairs. The morning is still and dark, but you can hear for miles and miles on Inis Mór, and as she begins her walk the soft, familiar sounds of tractors roaring to life, cows mooing for their breakfast, sheep and goats bleating, remind Lu that she’s not the only one—that others are here too, alive, beginning their day, pushing on. Home. And underneath it all, there is, always, the sound of the waves, constant, crashing against the shore.

####

Lu doesn’t get a chance to nap. She walks, balancing on the edge of the cliffs that overlook the Atlantic, breathing in the sea air and thinking about how the water here, crashing, violent against the cliffs below her is the same water that once lapped up on the shores of Long Island, of Coney Island, of the Rockaways, of home. Seagulls swoop, low and graceful, over her head, over the ocean, and Lu thinks that if she asked her dad to drop a floatie into the Atlantic for her it just might make it—just might wash up here, on the edge of the Earth, the way she has.

She walks and walks—you can walk all the way around Inis Mór and back in under five hours, but she doesn’t have that kind of time. She walks along the cliffs, the white, blinding, otherworldly geology of the Burren, through the grass and the mud and the cow shit, until she’s back at the cafe, windows glowing golden against the rising sun, condensation clinging to them from the inside. Siobhan is pulling pastries out of the oven when she opens the door around 6:30, and Ruairí, curled up on the counter, looks at her, bitter.

Siobhan smiles, “There you are. No worries, pet, I’ve fed him his breakfast.”

She wobbles through the day, exhausted from the panic, the walk, the lack of sleep. She messes up at least two orders—gives Mrs. Duffy whole milk instead of skim, drops Mr. Kennedy’s sandwich on the floor while she’s bringing it over to him—but, as always, no one bats an eye. They touch her arm gently, lull “oh, it’s no bother, darling, we’ll make it right, now,” and the cadence of their laughter carries as she does exactly that. There’s no venom, no rush, nothing to give Lu the adrenaline she so badly needs to make it through the day.

Somehow, she almost forgets that it’s Niall’s first day. But all of a sudden it’s twelve hours later and he’s bustling inside, bringing a rush of cold air with him. The door swings shut behind him and Lu, who had been curled up at the cushioned window seat with Ruairí on top of her in a moment of quiet, jumps. The cat’s only just forgiven her for this morning, and her movement causes him to stalk off in anger. She sighs after him.

“Oh, no,” Niall laughs a little, “sorry, did I interrupt something?” He looks soft and sweet in his dark jeans, his hat pulled low over his forehead. He’s shedding his puffer jacket to reveal a navy blue cable knit sweater and his cheeks are flushed from the cold. His eyes, bright and blue as Lu remembers them, find hers. He smiles.

“Yeah,” Lu just about manages. “He just forgave me, you totally ruined it.”

Niall barks out a laugh, head thrown back, shoulders hunching up. “What did you do?”

“Forgot to feed him breakfast this morning,” Lu sighs. “Siobhan did it, but he held it against me anyway.”

“Ah, well,” Niall shrugs. “I’d be mad too, if I were a cat.”

“S’a good thing you’re not, then,” Lu smiles. “I’m not here to feed you.”

Niall’s still giggling. Lu wonders if he ever stops.

“I’m thinking I might make him pupcakes or something as an apology…” Lu is rambling a bit now, but she’s so tired, and Niall’s so cute, and nothing is real here, anyway. “I know they’re for dogs but I can’t imagine they’re bad for cats? I bet he’ll like those—honestly, I bet he’ll just like knowing I slaved over a hot stove for him. It’s like he can tell, you know?”

It wasn’t meant to be that funny, but Niall is fully cackling, crinkles by his eyes on full display, one hand clutching his tummy. “You’re funny,” he says between laughs. “A bit looney, me da would say—hey, Lu, looney, Looney Tunes. It all makes sense.”

“Isn’t ‘looney’ offensive?” The banter with him comes so easily, Lu doesn’t let herself overthink it. “Think we’re supposed to stop using it.”

“Ah, well,” Niall’s pulling his guitar out to tune, now, “You’re in Ireland now, love. All good nicknames are a little offensive.”

####

The night is mostly quiet, a dozen customers at the most, which Lu thinks is probably good for Niall’s nerves. He’s just as stunning as he was the night Lu first met him, pulling out an arsenal of covers ranging from Bruce Springsteen to Post Malone, somehow making them all work for his voice, for the vibe, for everyone, but he’s shaking—she can see it when he pushes his hair off his forehead, or when he drops his pick on the floor between songs, laughing awkwardly as he bends to grab it. Even with the mistakes, the dropped pick, the few stumbles over lyrics, he’s endearing, engaging, all-consuming. Lu’s meant to be working, but she can’t find it in her to look away.

From her spot at the counter, Lu watches how Niall keeps his eyes trained on the window across from him. He doesn’t seem to be looking for anyone or anything, but Lu suspects it’s easier than looking his audience in the eye—despite the fact that she can see for herself just how captivated they are. It shouldn’t take an hour and a half to drink one coffee and eat one slice of chocolate cake, but that’s how long old Mr. Kane spends in the shop anyway, eyes closed, listening to Niall play.

For two full hours, Niall keeps the shop warm and alive. Everyone is so captivated that Lu barely has to work after all; she leans up against the counter instead, cradling the mug of hot chocolate that Siobhan made her before she left for the night, and taking him in. She barely knows him, and yet.

Lu has seen plenty of nervous first-timers performing in front of apathetic crowds—it was practically her job, after all. She’s also seen more than her fair share of world class performers stunning crowds that want to eat them up, keep them on stage forever, bottle their energy and carry it through the rest of their lives. Working in the music industry, even just as an assistant, for five years turned her hard and jaded, made her feel like she’s seen the seedy, rough, rude underbelly of it all—but she’s never seen anyone perform like Niall before. His unadulterated, all consuming love for music is tangible, even from across the room. This is now Niall communicates. This is how he understands the world. This is how he sees life. Half of Lu feels lucky to hear it—the other half feels sick knowing that his talent is wasted here.

It almost makes her sad to have to close up at 9. Niall’s good about it—he’s designed his set to last exactly two hours, finds a climax in the middle with “Dancing in the Dark” and tapers his song choices toward a slow but steady ending, letting everyone know, without having to say it, that it’s time to head home. Lu doesn’t even have to ask him if he knows how to play “Closing Time.”

Mr. Kane is the last to leave, sticking around a little after nine to shake Niall’s hand and tell him he had no idea how talented Maura’s son is. He talks about Maura—Lu assumes she must be Niall’s mom—while Lu slowly, quietly begins putting dishes away. She likes the routine of this already, Niall’s quiet voice, his booming laugh, his warm presence keeping her company while she settles down for the night. It’s something she could get used to. It’s something, the first thing, she thinks she could miss, if she left.

Niall masterfully leads his conversation with Mr. Kane toward goodbyes, shaking his hand again as he shuts the door behind him. Lu looks up from where she was rinsing a cup to watch as Niall watches through the window to make sure Mr. Kane gets in his car. He waits for the car to start before turning around, leaning his back up against the door, dragging a hand through his hair, and letting out a long sigh.

“Alright?” Lu asks, gentle. Niall’s got his eyes closed, his head back, neck exposed to her. It’s thick and littered with freckles, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. In her chest, Lu’s heart does something funny. She presses her thighs together, tight.

Niall opens his eyes halfway, exhaling a little laugh as he meets Lu’s gaze. She hopes he can’t tell—how could he?

“Yeah,” he says then, standing all the way up and shaking his head. “That was mad.”

“It was amazing,” Lu counters. She gently places the mug back into the sink, bracing her hands against the edge. Part of her is afraid of what she’ll do without something between him and her. “They were so into it. No one could look away from you.”

Her cheeks flush, and Niall catches it. The corner of his mouth pulls up in half a smile as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “Ya think so?”

“I know so,” Lu presses her lips together, but it doesn’t do much to prevent her smile. “‘Dancing In The Dark’ was my favorite one; it’s perfect for your voice.”

“Thanks, Looney Tunes,” Niall hums, making his way back over toward her. “Can I help ya clean up? I wash, you dry?”

“Oh,” Lu stills. She’d half forgotten about the dishes still left to clean, the floor to sweep, the leftovers to toss, the counters to wipe down. Her mind stumbles over the best way to go about this: it would be rude to keep him, but, God, she wants his company. She realizes, with a slight swoop in her belly, that she hasn’t felt homesick in two hours. She needs him to stay. “I actually—I have a dishwasher. I just like to rinse everything before I put it in.”

Niall smiles. He comes around the counter to stand next to Lu at the sink, knocking his hip against hers. “Sensible,” he says. It’s quiet. Just for her. “I’ll rinse and put ‘em in. You’ve been stood here all night. What else do you have to do?”

“Uh,” Lu feels like her whole body is vibrating. Her mind turns over itself like an engine that won’t start. “Sweep the floors, wipe down the counters, lock up.”

“Alright,” Niall is so close that Lu can smell his aftershave. Warm, soft, mixed with sweat from his nerves and the smell of his skin. “Let’s do it.”

####

taglist: @missy14us @antisocialsocialclub5 @coconutdawn @ficnarry @bopbopstyles @okaaayniall @theresnooneheretosave @niallgolden @tinyfelthat @adoremp3 @thelifeofbo @crocodileniall @niallsguitarthings @kara-246

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#one direction #1dff #one direction fan fiction #niall horan #niall horan fic #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan imagine #niall #without fear

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m00nlitknight · 4 years

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bowers gang headcanons part 3 ft. modern ideas

henry.

there aren’t that many photographs of him. the most prominent ones are the few taken before his mom left from childhood and his school photos. he will not smile for the camera.

actually began skipping school picture day in the later years. never bought the photos in the first place.

he doesn’t really know how to act on camera?

in a modern setting, most of the pictures he takes are of inantimate objects or things to sell like cattle or tractors or whatever.

in a modern setting, he doesn’t have a very busy snapchat. it’s used mostly for social gatherings / getting the word out about parties / meeting up with the gang / etc.

uses the most emojis in the groupchat.

upgraded from a tracfone ( busted to hell and back, amazing it still even functioned ) his junior year of high school.

got an iphone 6 secondhand with his own money. he’s cracked the screen and broken two otterboxes for it.

little to no customization of it. no games. has spotify, though.

he follows vic and takes music reccomendations from him

has never gone to the dentist

his wallet has an expired ID, crumpled money from doing odd jobs for people,

cut nearly all the sleeves off of his shirt. the only reason he didn’t cut them all off was because belch reminded him winter exists.

his boots are tired and worn, and he usually has to buy ( or steal ) them for himself or bank on birthday money from friends.

no bank account. makes belch go to the bank with him to cash checks.

does not budget for shit. not that he doesn’t know how, just doesn’t care to.

belch.

photographs of him and his family absolutely line the hallways and are hung up around his house.

a bit awkward in front of cameras, but smiles the best he can

has a natural crookedness to his smile

he has a photo of his mom in his wallet.

his phone is an android ( samsung galaxy 8 ). he’s had it for about 6 months

vic gives him constant shit

takes pretty okay care of it? considering he works on cars sometimes, it may get damaged because of that.

has a few games for henry to play while he’s driving

his social media is pretty barren. talks to a few people on snapchat, has a twitter for vic to reach him on but doesn’t really do anything except retweet anti-ford memes

guess what his gallery is also full of.

he goes to the dentist about every other year at his mother’s discretion. is actually afraid of the dentist.

pays for a lot of the bank’s activities so he’s checking his bank info constantly

budgets to the best of his ability. when it comes to school, he listened most during personal finance.

handles most of the check-business with henry

wears his hats and boots until they’re nearly falling apart.

absolutely hates buying new clothes.

sometimes goes thrifting ( + stealing ) with vic since he knows the best places

vic.

his photos are pretty sparse, too, but not to the extent of henry.

doesn’t usually skip school picture day, regardless of the year

his mom buys them most of the time, if she has the money

the only one who really knows how to act on camera tbh.

the most active on snapchat! gives henry shit for using emojis.

is very aloof through text, everything he does and says sounds like an all lowercase tweet with absolutely zero emotion

along with snapchat, he also has instagram and twitter. has an active following on there which he doesn’t really interact much with, but still appreciates

makes tiktoks. theyre pretty funny, but in an obscure way

he posts selfies and lanscape stuff on there. patrick teases him about it.

has an apple, from months of begging before his birthday.

has Many Memes and games, the most customized out of the gang

uses darkmode on any app he can

has been to the dentist twice, both times after pestering his parents about it.

feels a bit bad about belch paying for everything, chips in when he can.

not as avid about checking his bank info, but does from time to time just to make sure it’s all there as it should be.

can write checks and balance his own checkbook, even in modern-day times. his mom made him learn to do it before he got a bank account, even if it’s an obselete practice.

also wears his clothes until they fall apart. avid shoplifter.

undeniably the best fashion taste in the group.

has an eye for fashion, lowkey.

has his ears pierced. never actually wears any earrings in them.

patrick.

there are many photos of him. most of them are blurry, or off-putting in someway.

he will deliberately move while photos are being taken.

his smile is fuckin wack we already know this

he creeps out the school picture-taker. that is his only reason for showing up.

does not give a fuck about school picture day either. oh he hasn’t showered in three days and his hair is greasier then an auto repair shop? Good.

his phone is a busted phone he got shipped from somewhere foreign. it’s overloaded with so much shit. it’s cracked and falling apart. 50/50 chance there’s fire damage to the poor thing. he’s had it for a week.

his social media presence is nonexistent or very cryptid-esque. he has multiple platforms and takes photos of weird shit. 90% chance the platform ( insta / twitter / snapchat ) took it down themselves.

loves r/nosleep and other subreddits. doesn’t have an account.

takes photos of shit he shouldn’t be taking photos of.

approx. 2 selfies. both of which are unsettling in their own ways.

he’s the guy that got drunk and changed the size of missouri on the wikepedia map very subtly. if you asked him what missouri was he’d say ‘what the fuck is missouri’

rewrites wikepedia articles

uses lightmode anywhere possible.

god help the person who finds his search history

goes to the dentist the most. has the most dental issues and least care.

doesn’t feel any remorse for having belch pay for stuff. he’s a freeloader to the highest degree, we been knew.

has not spent a dime of his own money almost ever. steals or mooches almost exclusively.

he was too busy reading books about marxism in personal finance for shock factor to soak in any of the class’ information.

#bowers gang #bowers gang headcanons #bowers gang imagine #bowers gang fanfiction #henry bowers #henry bowers imagine #belch huggins #belch huggins imagine #victor criss #vic criss #vic criss imagine #patrick hockstetter #patrick hockstetter imagine #it 2017 #it 2017 fanfiction #writing.txt

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coffee-and-a-cardigan · 5 years

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It’s the little things

If I am being completely honest here, I didn’t really know what to write about today. I do have a few scrappy things saved in my draft that are far from being ready to post. But it just floors me about how much hate, negativity, and bashing is happening in our society today. I can’t even get on my personal social media accounts without seeing posts or comments pointing someone or something out, claiming their thoughts and opinions are wrong. And followers or loyal fans or complete strangers are attacking them for their opinions. Now, just to warn everyone, I do not post my political views or opinions on social media. It is just a personal preference. So in light of a very dark time, let’s talk about the little things.

Today, I rode out with a friend to her grandfather’s farm where they keep their horses. We left shortly after eating dinner. It’s about a 10 to 15 minute drive from town (even longer during planting or harvest season due to being in a farming community). We got there and fed the 3 horses and filled their water trough. As soon as we left, her gas light came on her truck. Sure enough, it was pretty much empty. We laughed about it the entire road home, hoping we had enough gas to get back so we wouldn’t be stuck at the river. Her parents were over an hour away. I could have called my dad to come across town to get us, had we run out. He would have been pissed, but nonetheless, he would have done it. And also knowing him, he would have also used it as a teaching moment. We thankfully made it home and I made the joke before I left that she should definitely get gas before heading back out there.

My best friend and I used to hang out about 4 or so times a week during high school and college. Even during my internship, we still managed to hang out often. But now that I work a full time job, we get to see each other maybe once a week if we are lucky. We do message each other and send memes and edits or we talk briefly about our day but there is only so much you can put in a text or a Snapchat. Because of how my work schedule plays out, I get a half a day throughout the work week so I don’t go over on hours. Sometimes that half day is in the morning or in the afternoon. Depending on my plans, we often eat breakfast early that morning at one of our favorite diners in town. One thing we both love more than anything is breakfast food. It is honestly nice to just sit, eat good food, drink coffee, and discuss our week or what’s on our mind. And if we can’t go during the morning, we will go on Wednesday nights because they serve breakfast later on those evenings. It is something that I look forward to every week.

I love being outdoors. I love hiking, fishing, hunting, running, horseback riding, camping and everything else. On nice days I often take one of my dogs into town and walk the mile around the cemetery. Or I will walk out to the pond ground and let them run around and play. I enjoy going down south with friends for a weekend horse ride. I remember going down there in early spring. It was a muddy, rainy weekend and it was also on the cooler side. We woke up early to a freezing cold camper. So many people had plugged into the outlet that it switched its breaker. Between the 4 of us, we did rock-paper-scissors to see who would go outside and flip it back. Of course her older brother lost and ran outside in shorts to flip it. It was a cold weekend but it was something we all enjoyed and I would love to do it again. One thing I miss about my internship was being outside most of the time.

I recently lost my mother this past March. She had been sick for 10 years, half of my life, long before I understood her illness. I could always talk to her about the different shows I was watching or the actors that I was obsessing over. She was someone that I told EVERYTHING to. I always spoke to her when I had something eating away at my mind. She always knew of my love for Marvel Studios. She would often get me shirts or random Marvel items because they made her think of me. Her favorite character was Black Widow aka Natasha Romanoff. For a Christian woman who NEVER cussed, she always said “She’s my bad ass woman” She would always be willing to watch the movies with me in theaters or in the living room. Due to one of her treatments, it effected her memory. She would ask me if she watched a certain movie and she wouldn’t remember. She took a friend and I to see Antman in theaters and she didn’t remember. But she was always willing to borrow them and watch them again and again. She would ask me questions about certain characters or events. That bond is something I am certainly going to miss.

I come from a farming background. I was raised and still currently live on our small cattle farm. We have about 11 cows. I also have an adorable Red Angus bottle calf named Roman. One of my fondest memories will always be riding in the tractor with my dad in either harvest or planting. He often helps his uncle farm during the season. When he had his previous job as a farm hand, I loved to ride in the semi with him to haul grain to the elevator. It was about an hour and a half drive there. We would stop and get food and a soda at a local gas station. He would even let me control the radio. Or if he worked late in the evenings, I would drive out to the field and bring him food and ride around a few passes with him.

There are so many little things that happen throughout or life or our day. They can be things like having plans with someone to having a quiet evening to yourself. If you aren’t careful, they can disappear in a blink of an eye. Sometimes they are things that you look forward to or they can be a fond memory of something in the past. It could be something that was so insignificant at the time, but can mean everything know. Sometimes it is the little things that get you through the day.

#littlethings #personal #frienship #reallife #loss #life #reality

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