#⥬ Perhaps this is my chance to enjoy what I’ve always taken for granted [beach episode] ⥫

[regnumaves]

"You must be the finest treasure I've seen."

What the--?

Okay, first Sharena, and now this person he doesn’t even know comes up to him, throws him what he believes the beorc kids these days call a “pun”, and asks for a signature on her arm in return?

This is actually becoming more bizarre than whatever it was that they were doing before they ended up in this weird place.

“Well, at least I hope this is just what Sharena was doing earlier, and not an attempt to hit on me or something like that”, he voices his last thought out loud, his face utterly expressionless, save for slightly raised eyebrows. “I’m at least 90 years older than you.”

With that, he leaves his signature on her forearm.

[creativenicocorner]

Slides a ⭐ for a star person :p

Holy shit it took over a year and I barely remember which fanfic ask this is about...I think it's like a director's cut one? REGARDLESS! I do remember the star was to like talk about whatever - and while looking for a WIP I came across an attempt to answer this WITHIN a wip? Past Nico what were you thinking?!

I do know this was written sometime before Ch15 of Terpsichore came out, because there were a few references? But I rephrased the wording a bit.

Forgive me for using this as an excuse to just babble on about how I choose the music titles for chapter sections in Terpsichore, but also, I'm not entirely sorry haha Without further Ado! Here’s hoping this rambling makes sense haha!!

⭐ AN ANSWER!（♥￫ｏ￩♥）

So it’s taken me a long time to figure out how I wanted to answer this. For a while I was going to ramble about M*A*S*H how it was a rather formative show for me growing up, especially in its anti-war message as well as how it feels like a comedy played in a minor key. There was even going to be a link to a video essay on the show, and then I was going to hint at a want to write a series following the changelings in a pre-show context in the sort of vibe M*A*S*H gave.

But it got lost, and weighty…and…idk, I can’t seem to stick to a lot of things these days? I don’t know.

But there’s always been in me the want to attempt to explain why I choose the music pieces I choose to title the sections in each chapter. Cause despite the little message at the bottom of the first chapter and the last chapter talking about motifs leitmotifs…writing prose is nothing like composing music.

And not only that I’m sure less than half of the people reading the fic will listen along with the playlist. Which is 100000% fine! I anticipate it even!

Because at best, those sectional pieces serve less as soundtrack more like a silent movie’s musical medley.

Because it’s the written word, and I’m not Andrew Hussie ldgj though the day I find out how to put a little ‘play button’ to listen to music during a fic, I might do that. But at this point in time Hell No haha.

Despite this, there is a process behind my music selections.

There is a difference between what I consider ‘corpse de ballet’/ ‘ensemble’ sections, and ‘leads’ / ‘duet’ sections.

Or what my poor readers go through as ‘a shit ton of prospective shifts’ and two prospectives at best, at the same time. I don’t know why I’m such a fan of bouncing between perspectives so much that you probably feel seasick. I always consider it a miracle anyone understands what the heck is going on dfjglk The answer is probably because I like third person omniscient writing, and am a sucker for situational/character irony. But I’m also a grammar school drop out haha and don’t actually know the rules of writing by heart? I’m just a fool with a bunch of vibes and a dictionary doing their best lol.

[ stressed coffee sip ] Fake it til you make it baby

But yeah! Enough borderline weird self deprecating! Let’s talk music!!

So! Usually when writing a section I try and think about who are the central characters in the section, and or what is the theme/emotion I’m trying to call on. Is there a motif, or a reference I can play on musically? An idea or concept I can echo or even enhance? Will it be a specific genera of music tied to a character because that character embodies and or is known for a specific genera (example: Nomura and Opera- more on that at during ACTII )

Once I answer those questions, I’m able to narrow down my music choices. Which, again, acts more like a book of suggested musical medley orchestras and musicians would purchase during the silent movie era as like a cheat sheet of what they could play during a specific scene.

So…for instance, for a character like Barbara Lake I wouldn’t use video game music -or maybe I could…but it would only be in terms of perhaps referencing her son.- who I would have a higher chance at choosing to select a video game music piece for (hang on to your butts ACT II Zelda soundtrack).

In the fic I’ve built the idea that in order to explain Barbara’s ability to paint, that she not only took classes but was part of the production team in putting on a play, mainly in set design painting props. Which opens me to a world of musical options when it comes to Barbara’s character. Especially when certain musicals hold songs that can be really fitting to her character later on. An example of this can be seen in ch3 “Aquarius”, and ch14 “Julia”.

Ch3 is Barbara’s big planned picnic date. The first date she and Walter go on after she ingested the binding spell. The two of them coming together, but also the magic of which awakening something magical inside.

And Ch14 in which the binding spell is broken, but also whatever was holding Barbara’s potential to reaching towards that magical something inside her is also broken. And in a sort of my own attempt at written diegesis between the narrative and the song selections in the sections, the lyrics to Aquarius is written out as Barbara depends into the water. In which it is no longer the dawning of Aquarius, Aquarius is starting to take center stage. Their cue is played.

That would be my example on a very character driven musical choice.

Not only that, but it is at Ch3 where Walter is influenced more and more to Barbara’s appreciation to musicals, so much so that it begins to influence his own array of music pieces. His dreams no longer dialogue from movies he fell asleep to, but sometimes full on reproductions of staged musicals and plays. An example of this can be seen in Ch11 On the Right Track from Pippin the Musical - which oof I could go into a full dissertation on in regards to changelings/Pippin and The Pale Lady/Leading Player.

Not only that, but due to influence from Barbara’s love we get the moment of Walter’s ‘I want’ section piece in the form of Ch9 “Corner of the Sky” (aka Pippin’s I want song as well). The moment before this happened there was the interaction with Angor AND Otto AND the repercussions of Angor attacking the school. It is clear to these characters that Strickler is not giving his all in killing Jim, and perhaps never tried to give his all. Something that Otto proclaims as Strickler making excuses, and Strickler insists is tact.

Then there is the situational character driven choice.

I’m going to continue to use Barbara as an example here, and say that THIS can be seen in Ch2 “No. 9 – Finale Andante” and ch12 “Le Lac Des Cygnes Introduction: Moderato Assai”

Both of these music pieces come from Swan Lake. The reasoning behind the choice is probably asinine in thought process (Barbara Lake, Swan Lake), but also thought out in the sense of the following:

In Season3 of Trollhunters Morgana, in order to attempt to reacquire her shadow staff from Strickler (“The Exorcism of Clair Nuñez), transforms herself to take Barbara Lake’s physical form.

IN THE BALLET SWAN LAKE The wizard Von Rothbart, in order to obtain what they want, transforms (granted someone else) Odile to look like the hero Odette in order to trick the prince into proclaiming this imposter Odile as their one true love. In which Odile is the mirror to Odette, and while looking similar (in fact typically the ballerina who performs as Oddette would also perform as Odile) are opposites in spirit.

And, at least in Terpsichore, what near primordial eldritch force can rival that of the Eldritch Queen that we know from cannon will inevitably impersonate Barbara Lake?

But wait, there’s more.

In chapter 2 the piece used in section 2 is the end of ACTI from Swan Lake. The music hints not only the arrival of Odette, but also her inevitable tragedy. What is written in this section, briefly at that cause we watched how the scene plays out in the show, you don’t need me writing that back at you, but I digress- What is WRITTEN in this section is Barbara sipping the enchanted tea that binds herself to Waltolomew Strickler. Something that you, the viewer and fan will know ends in tragedy, as do I the writer and also fan knows will end in tragedy. The only people out of the loop here are the poor poor characters.

And then the revolving door of bad situations that is ch12 happens, and we return to Swan Lake with “Le Lac Des Cygnes Introduction” In which Barbara is introduced to Jim Lake’s Trollhunting world, finally. But wait! There’s EVEN more.

Because not only is Barbara introduced to Jim’s Trollhunting world, Barbara begins to allow herself an introduction to that weird magical more that’s inside her via dream. And YOU/WE the reader/writer/audience, are introduced to the strange figure Giselle is talking to on the beach of Lake Superior…who…well, you’ve probably already have an idea as to who that figure is ;)c

There are also moments when I just select a song piece because I think it fits Thematially well - ch11’s “Powerhouse” section. Aka the music that plays in Looney Tunes whenever an assembly line montage occurs - to which in that section Jim Draal and Walter are putting together the booby-traps to thwart Angor Rot (as well as try to reassemble some sort of emotional connection between them). Or it could be a reference to a meme I really enjoyed, example Ch12’s “Roundabout” aka the music piece known vernacularly as “The Jojo Meme” but also like…meme aside it’s really good and fits and just lkfgjkgsdj I have a lot of feels about Roundabout and I won’t apologize for it haha

And yet, something I pride myself in, is that you don’t need to know all of this to enjoy the story. It isn’t necessary to listen to the Swan Lake pieces or even the Musicals, or even the Jojo Meme. Because, if I did my job right, those echoes ought to be in the writing. The pieces to the section have always been optional. Just little markings in a booklet to be given to you the reader/composer as a suggestion and you can choose to play those pieces along to the silent film, or boot up a ragtime. And that’s the power you have. And that’s equally as wonderful!

[taeken-my-heart]

Moirai Chapter 15

Summary: On your 18th birthday a name appears on your wrist. The name of your soulmate. It’s a momentous day that everyone looks forward to, but you’ve always brushed aside; refusing to believe in a fickle mistress called destiny. But what happens when on the morning of your 18th birthday you wake to find the name of your mortal enemy? Jeon Jungkook.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Genre: Soulmates au/ Enemies to lovers au. Angst, fluff, bickering, romance, eventual smut.

Word Count: 4580

NOTES: Next chapter is THE chapter...if you catch my drift ;) It will be coming out VERY soon, so keep an eye out for that. This chapter is slightly shorter than others, but next chapter will be longer than normal, so I hope that will make up for it!

**

You weren’t sure you would ever get used to the feeling of Jimin’s absence. It had been just over a month since you’d broken up and it was like a cavern in your chest. You hadn’t had much distraction at first, at least until Lizzy found out.

It had been overwhelming when she found out. She was the type of friend that liked to coddle and you just wanted to forget everything and be alone. Eventually, she found a distraction that worked for you, spending multiple nights a week bringing you dinner and conversation.

Your schedules didn’t always match up but somehow, she always made it work. She’d find you at work and sit with you in the breakroom sharing her hummus and chips. She’d find you outside of the hospital sitting on one of the benches, waiting to be entertained with jokes and lively stories. Or, like tonight, she’d find you at home.

A rare night off for the both of you, Lizzy had come over with takeout and a cheesy romcom from the 90’s you’d already seen one too many times. One more time couldn’t hurt, though.

You’d recently moved to a new apartment and most of your stuff was still in boxes, but you had a beanbag chair and a love seat to enjoy. The sofa had been Jimin’s purchase so you were lacking in a better seating arrangement until you could find time to search for your own couch.

Lizzy stretched lethargically across the arms of the loveseat, takeout pasta dish in her lap as she slurped noisily and you wiggled around in the beanbag chair, trying to find a more comfortable position. “I told you I can take the beanbag!” Lizzy said, turning to look at you and you shook your head, holding your own bowl of pasta to your chest as you readjusted once more.

“No way, you’re my guest, Liz.”

“I’m your best friend; that hardly counts.” She said, standing from the loveseat and hovering in front of you, “get up.”

“Seriously, I got this.” You insisted and Lizzy frowned, hand going to rest on her jutted hip.

“You look like a beached whale right now. Up, up.”

You huffed, putting your food on the floor beside you and rolling onto your knees with a groan. “Wow, things really are not the same when you’re in your 30’s.” You complained, standing and bending over to grab your food. Lizzy settled into the beanbag with a contented sigh and you resigned yourself to the (far more comfortable) loveseat.

“We need a vacation.” Lizzy announced loudly and you looked over at her while reaching over for your glass of wine on the TV dinner table between the two of you. It was rickety, precarious with age; as old as your high school diploma. Back before you’d ever even met Jimin or learned how to be delicate with your things.  A quick trip to the thrift store on your way to your first semester of college had deemed you its new owner. Who knows how many had owned it before?

“What made you think that so suddenly?” You questioned.

“To be fair,” she slurped a noodle loudly and you waited, “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I’m just now saying it. We’re tired and overworked and I want to sit somewhere on a beach in a bikini that shows off a little bit too much of my cellulite and drink an appletini that makes me feel a little too dizzy and just live my life. You know?”

You smiled, sipping over the rim of your glass and humming. “Maybe your soulmate is on that beach.” You teased and Lizzy’s eyes lit up, leaning forward in the beanbag.

“You’re so right. So where should we go? I’m thinking Mallorca. My sister went there last year and said it was unbelievably gorgeous.”

“Sure, we can go to Mallorca. I can’t do it for a couple months, though. I’ve already taken a few days off for my sister’s wedding so I doubt I could take more time off so soon after.”

Lizzy hummed, taking a sip of her own wine. “That’s right, when’s her wedding again?”

“The 20th of next month.” You sighed, leaning your head back against the headrest of your chair and spacing out on the television.

“You gonna be OK?”

You paused, watching the colors dance across your vision before lifting your head to look at your friend. “What do you mean?”

“You gonna be ok at your sister’s wedding? I know you, Y/N. You act like things are OK when they’re not. Do you want me to go as your plus one?” She’d finished her pasta by now, empty bowl discarded beside her on the floor.

You sighed again, looking back at the television. “What do you want me to say? Jimin absolutely broke me. I’m absolutely not OK, everything hurts and every morning I wake up thinking maybe it’ll be better and it’s just not. I know someday it will be ok, but it was 8 years, you know? Now I get to go sit at my sister’s wedding and watch her marry her soulmate while my own is,” you paused, realizing you had yet to tell your friend about Jungkook. Now was not the time. “Well, anyway. I’m not OK…but I will be.”

“I’m sorry,” Lizzy frowned, twisting her fingers around her glass. “I shouldn’t have asked. For what it’s worth, though, I know you’ll get through it. You’re pretty amazing, you always bounce back and this time will be no different, it just might take a little longer.”

You nodded, heart clenching at the thought of more time. More time to sit and think about Jimin and hurt. Sometimes you wish you could just turn your heart off.

Later, after Lizzy had left home and you’d finished cleaning up your living room, you made your way towards your bedroom, flicking on the lights. There were only a couple boxes left unpacked in here. You’d wanted a sense of normalcy in at least one room so you’d chosen to focus on your bedroom.

Lizzy had come over and helped you hang up the fairy lights across your ceiling. They cast a much softer glow than the actual light in the center of the room and you liked that warm feeling, like a security blanket over your heart.

This apartment was smaller than the last, you couldn’t afford to spend your one paycheck on two extra bedrooms you didn’t need. Instead, you’d stuffed your office supplies inside the smaller second bedroom. Eventually this place would feel like home and it wouldn’t haunt you with memories in every corner. It was blissfully blank.

Ella was coming out for her final dress fitting tomorrow and you’d be joining her for your own. You’d been eating one too many pieces of chocolate recently so you were a little concerned it wouldn’t fit quite right, but maybe if you sucked in enough it would work out.

You sat on the side of your tub, brushing your teeth languidly as you thought. Apartments were eerily quiet when you lived in them alone. Granted, you lived on the top floor all the way at the end so you really only had to worry about one wall, and that neighbor was apparently some kind of producer, so he was never there.

You missed the noise of another person, though. The thought overwhelmed you suddenly, the vast emptiness of it all and your eyes stung as they filled with tears. Crying with toothpaste slathered all over your mouth was not the look you were going for so you quickly rinsed out your mouth before sitting back on the edge of the tub.

You knew you were still young, still had time, but it honestly felt like a ticking time bomb. You weren’t getting any younger, already close to turning 31 and you felt like your dreams of the future you had were slipping from between your fingertips.

Your dreams with Jimin were gone, like ash in the wind. That you would have to let go of…but to be in love, to be a mother…those were difficult pills to swallow. Tonight, like many other nights before, you wondered what would have happened if Jungkook hadn’t turned you down. Would you be in love? Would you be married and have children?

You supposed it was silly to wonder if you’d be in love, you’d never seen the universe pair people up incorrectly, even if it seemed like maybe it had at first. Jimin said he’d had a couple of soulmates in his office before, but you’d never seen it yourself and you just wondered if that was just that those individuals were unwilling to work with anyone.

If you and Jungkook had given each other a chance…well, maybe you could have been magical. It was futile to still think about it, even though he was back in your life. There was no way of really knowing if that was something he even wanted. Sure, he’d seemed apologetic and like he wanted to make amends…but perhaps that was just to satiate his guilt, or maybe he felt sorry about losing your friendship or perhaps you were only a backup plan, in case he couldn’t find anyone else better.

You scoffed, standing from the edge of the tub and rinsing off your toothbrush before flipping off the bathroom lights and heading back into your bedroom. You wiped at your cheeks, willing yourself to stop crying. It didn’t help anything to mope and it certainly didn’t help to imagine things you couldn’t possibly know.

You slipped under the covers, pulling them up to your chin and staring out into the dark across your mattress, feeling far emptier than it had in a long time. It may have been foolish to imagine all those things, but no one ever communicated that to your heart and she loved to mourn what she’d never even had.

 **

It was the perfect day to wear a sundress. You’d shaved your legs, scrubbed your face from any puffiness from crying and were now sat outside a nearby café waiting for Ella and your mom to arrive. Late summer was beautiful and you let the sun warm your legs as you sought shelter under your table’s umbrella, running your fingers across the metal of the chair.

You were tired this morning. Negative thoughts had kept you awake for most of the night, but with a dress appointment and work later tonight, you wouldn’t have much of an opportunity to make up for it.

Across the street you saw your mom’s car pull into a parking spot and you waved as she and your sister both stepped from the car, scanning the sidewalk for you. They smiled, waving back, before making their way to the crosswalk and you waited patiently.

“Sweetheart!” Your mom called and you stood, reaching out to hug her as they got closer.

She held you close, a little too tight and warm for the weather, but you sunk into the embrace. She only lived an hour away, but you hadn’t seen her much recently and with everything going on, you were exhausted and just needed to hug your mom.

“How are you?” She asked, standing back and rubbing her thumb across your cheek. “You look tired.”

You smiled, soft, shaking your head at her. “I’m ok. Didn’t sleep well last night. Morning, Ella!”

Ella squealed, flinging her arms out for a hug and you chuckled as she embraced you. “I’m so excited! It’s almost here!”

“I know,” you agreed, “I can hardly believe it. Feels like just yesterday we were little kids and you were stealing all my clothes.”

Ella chuckled, grabbing your hand and leading you back towards the table. She took her seat across from you with your mother in the middle and set her purse delicately in her lap before replying. “Well, now you’re always dressed in scrubs. I think it’s safe to say my fashion sense is better than yours.”

You smiled, shrugging, “I don’t know, this dress is pretty cute.”

“True.” Ella admitted, “You live too far to steal from now, though.”

“Remind me when you’re coming back home again?” Your mother asked, perusing the menu and you picked up your own to start looking.

“The day before the wedding. It’s pretty hard to get more time off right now.”

“I can’t believe you’re going to miss my bachelorette party.” Ella pouted, sipping at the water the waiter dropped off.

“I know,” you sighed, closing your menu. You’d been to this place a few times and always got the same thing; you weren’t sure why you kept checking the menu as if something would have changed. “I really wanted to go, but they’ll already be down an anesthesiologist that week so they really can’t afford to let me go for too long.”

“Are you ladies ready to order?” Your server asked, pen and paper ready and after you’d ordered and handed over your menu’s, conversation resumed.

“So, what’s dad doing right now? Laying around in his boxers?” You asked and your mother laughed.

“Most likely.”

“Gross.” Ella scoffed and your mother poked her in the side.

“Hey now, I happen to really enjoy that view.”

“Double gross!” Ella complained and you sipped at your lemonade. It was nice being with your family again, even though your father was currently not here. It had been months since you’d seen them all together, months since you’d had enough time saved up to take off and drive home for a few days. You were trying to get as much guided experience as you could while you still had someone supervising your every move. Taking extra time off just wasn’t reasonable right now.

“Is Michael at work today?” You asked, watching as your sister thanked the waiter and sipped at the martini he’d just brandished.

“Yeah, I didn’t want him here anyway. It’s bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the wedding. I don’t need any bad juju on my special day.”

“You don’t really believe in that stuff, do you?” Your mother teased and Ella nodded earnestly.

“Totally! I’ve got my apartment all set up to invite positive feng shui in and I do yoga every morning and night. It’s really brought a lot of clarity to my mind.”

“I should probably do some yoga.” You mused, staring off across the street at nothing in particular. “Could use some relaxation.”

“Maybe a massage would be better,” your mom grinned, “last time I tried yoga, I pulled a hamstring.”

“Well, you obviously weren’t doing it right.” Ella huffed, “It’s meant to center your mind, not hurt you.”

“Tell that to the high lunge.” She giggled. 

**

The dress shop was beautifully air conditioned. You could feel a bead of sweat sink into your bra and you grimaced. Ella looked like she’d walked straight into heaven, the lady at the door greeting the three of you with water bottles and a smile.

You took the proffered bottle from its tray, gulping half of it down before following after the woman in charge of your sisters dress alterations. She rambled on excitedly about the recent finishing touches to your dresses and you nodded as though you were listening, walking into the backroom where small changing rooms were draped in white curtains for privacy.

“Your dress is just over here.” She directed, showing Ella to the large bridal room and Ella followed after with a squeal of delight. Her dress was draped elegantly over the bodice of a mannequin that honestly did the lace no justice and you watched your sister flit like a bird around every side to inspect the work.

“Your beading is so exquisite, Darcy.” She cried warmly and the seamstress hummed happily.

“Let’s try it on, shall we?”

Ella nodded enthusiastically, dropping her (most likely expensive) purse unceremoniously on the floor and beginning to strip from her clothing. Darcy chuckled, closing the draping quickly so your sister could get ready in privacy.

Both your mother and yourself sat on a bench against the wall opposite and chatted softly while you waited; listening to the little gasps and squeaks of your sister as she was fastened into her gown.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” She called over the top of the curtain and your mother shouted out her enthusiasm to see it.

Darcy pulled back the curtain and your mother gasped, running to meet your sister where she stood on a pedestal looking like a princess. “You look so beautiful!” She said, already teary eyed and you walked to meet them with a smile, rubbing the soft lace of your sister’s dress gently between the tips of your fingers.

“You look like a princess.” You agreed and Ella beamed.

“It’s perfect.” She sighed, twirling the skirt and eyeing herself in the mirror. “I feel like I’m living in a fairytale.”

“Let’s get you ladies in your dresses as well and see if we need to do anymore tune ups.” Darcy said and both you and your mother walked to your own dressing rooms to be helped into your dresses. Your dress was a lavender floor length with off the shoulder sleeves and it made you feel unreasonably beautiful.

“You look gorgeous.” Ella whispered and you turned to find her behind you, surveying the fabric of your dress. “If I didn’t know that Michael was so obsessed with me I’d be concerned.”

You chuckled, shaking your head at her. “Don’t be ridiculous. No one will even know I’m in the room if you’re there. You look gorgeous; Michael is gonna die.”

“Do you think it fits me well?” She murmured and you smiled, nodding.

“Like a glove.”

“Look at my girls.” Your mother crowed, walking towards you in a dress like your own. “You both look so beautiful.”

“We get it from our mom.” Ella teased and your mother laughed.

“And don’t you forget it!”

“How do your dresses feel?” Darcy asked, approaching your circle. “Any modifications?” She pinched at the fabric of your dress as she surveyed the fit and you allowed her to manhandle you.

“Actually, my dress feels like it fits perfectly, as long as I don’t gain any weight.” You smoothed your fingers down the silk idly.

Darcy moved on to the other two dresses, pinching and surveying as she went and you twisted in the mirror to see the back of the dress.

“You said you work later tonight, right?” Ella asked as she was led back to her own dressing room and you followed.

“Yeah, I work at 5pm. I’ll have to leave as soon as we’re done with this fitting.”

Darcy waved one of the other attendings over, “Can you assess her dress? She’s running on a time limit.”

The woman nodded, ushering you back to your own dressing room and you stood up on the little stool in the center so that she could go over the details of your dress one final time before the wedding.

“So you’ve got somewhere to be soon?” She asked casually, sitting down beside the end of your dress with a pin between her teeth.

“Ah, yeah, I’ve got work later. I’m an anesthesiologist at the hospital.”

“You must be very busy,” She hummed and you nodded, watching her work.

“Yeah, I mean, it can definitely get crazy sometimes. I guess we’ll see how everything goes tonight.” You mused.

“I’m rooting for you.” She smiled up at you.

**

It wasn’t very often that the hospital was still. It was eerie in its solitude. Empty hallways, the nurse’s station busy with conversation. You were back in the maternity ward this evening. Not many rooms were occupied tonight; no babies ready to be born. You had one caesarean scheduled in two hours and a whole lot of free time.

You could hear the cry of a baby in a room as you passed; disquietude with its currently mortal journey. “Bored?” One of the nurses called and you smiled with a nod, “Come chat.” She waved you over and you complied with ease.

“How are you, Jane?” You inquired softly. Jane was young, mid-twenties, and fresh with enthusiasm. Her hair was wild in its bun, like she’d thrown it up in a hurry, but she smiled bright and that comforted you.

“I’m great,” she beamed, twisting the engagement ring around her finger idly. “Josh and I just put an offer in on a house!”

“That’s amazing!” You smiled, leaning across the desk. “I wish I could afford a house, but my apartment will have to do for now.”

“Honestly, the only reason we could afford to do it is because Josh sold that app he was developing. Got 3 million for it. Crazy, right?”

“3 million?” You spluttered, “Oh my gosh, I wish I could develop an app.”

Jane laughed, “Me too, but I have no talent for that sort of thing.”

“Me neither.” You mused.

“So how have you been, Y/N? I heard about you and Jimin. I’m so sorry.”

Your heart seized at the mention of his name, but you mustered a smile; you knew she meant well. Jane didn’t have an unkind bone in her body.

“I’m OK,” you answered honestly, “work keeps me pretty distracted. It’s just gonna take some time to learn my new normal.”

“I’m sorry I brought it up,” Jane frowned, “That was thoughtless of me.”

“It’s OK,” you reassured, “I know you, Jane, you didn’t mean any harm.”

“Just because I meant well doesn’t mean it was right. I’m sorry. I wish I could ease the pain.”

“I wish you could too,” you chuckled, “You sure Josh is the one? Not me?”

Jane giggled, “That’s what my wrist says, anyway.” She tapped at her tattoo and you grinned.

“Dang. He’s a lucky guy.” You sighed deep. “Well, I’m gonna go sit in the break room for a bit and rest my feet.”

“Get yourself a snack, too!” She called and you waved a goodbye.

The breakroom was quiet when you entered, one resident sprawled prostrate across the couch as its only occupant. You made your way to the vending machine, peering into the spirals, chaining snacks in place. Nothing of real substance; but there were pretzels.

After retiring to the couch with your snack, you allowed the silence to wash over you. It still didn’t feel real that Jimin was no longer around. Even in a new apartment, his absence was like a nail in your heart. You wondered if you’d ever feel better. Ever feel normal again.

Maybe if Jungkook- no, there was no point in thinking that way. He’d made his decision, you just needed to let that go. You couldn’t hold on to someone you weren’t even sure wanted you back. It was just another kind of heartache you didn’t need right now.

Back in high school you could have never imagined this future. A future in which your enemy was your soulmate and you were the one that was sad that he didn’t want to try for…more. It was frustrating just how devastated that made you feel.

The crunch of your pretzels filled your head like a drum and you stared absentmindedly at the ceiling. You could hear the soft snores of the sleeping resident and you wished that you could be like him. So many people said eventually you’d be able to just tune it all out and fall asleep, but you preferred the comfort of a bed and a couch that gave you a crick in the neck would never do.

The door to the breakroom opened and Jungkook walked sluggishly inside. He hadn’t noticed you, fiddling with something in the pocket of his scrubs. He walked up to survey the vending machine and you took the opportunity to watch him.

He looked tired; the kind of worn you could only get from working 18 straight hours without rest. His shoulders sagged with his fatigue and his eyelids drooped. He settled on a bag of chips before turning and spotting you.

“Oh. I didn’t see you there,” he walked towards you, motioning to the spot beside you. “Do you mind if I-?”

You shook your head, motioning for him to sit down and he slumped into the seat with a puff of exhaustion. “Long day?”

“The longest.” He nodded, slowly opening his bag of chips and munching on the end of one as his vision blurred on the floor.

“How long have you been here?” You asked softly, hoping your voice wasn’t loud enough to wake the sleeping resident on the opposite couch.

Jungkook shrugged, eyes still trained on the tile floor. “Probably 16 hours, maybe longer. I’m honestly not sure what time it is.”

You glanced down at your watch, humming. “It’s 9pm.”

He was slouched, docile like a doll in the lumpy cushions of the couch beneath you and you smiled down at him. You remembered how exhausted you were when you very first started. You were still exhausted most of the time, but now it was like a film over a window pane that you’d become accustomed to.

“How long does the exhaustion last for?” He asked, looking over at you and you shrugged.

“Probably forever.” You mumbled and he frowned.

“Encouraging.”

You chuckled, staring right back. “Sorry. To be fair, the load does lessen and it’s easier to function like a human, but it takes time. We’ve all got to put in our grunt work; it makes you appreciate things more.”

“Life’s never easy.” He nodded, tracing the edges of his chip bag. “I definitely agree that timing is everything and sometimes if you have to wait for something for a long time and work really hard for it…it’s more worthwhile because you’ve earned it. You know?”

He turned to look at you and suddenly you felt like his question was more than just surface level. “What if you work for something and you never end up getting it?” You asked softly.  “You work so hard for so long and have these big dreams and it just…never materializes?”

“Then I suppose it wasn’t meant to be.”

“It seems like even destiny has become a liar at times.” You sighed, but you couldn’t look away from him.

Jungkook shook his head, “I think sometimes it just takes a little longer for fate to work its magic.”

“Maybe,” you mumble, watching as his eyes traced along the shape of your face, “Jungkook, I-”

Suddenly, someone is yawning loudly and you jumped, turning to see the resident you’d completely forgotten about sitting up, scrubbing at his face tiredly. Dr. Amari smiled over at you, grin lopsided and drooping with fatigue.

“Evening Dr. Y/N, Dr. Jeon. That power nap was exactly what I needed.” He groaned, adjusting himself on the coach so that he was no longer on his front before pulling the table beside him forward and rifling through pages he’d apparently left there before falling asleep.

Jungkook chuckled to himself softly before standing and adjusting his scrubs. “I should go. I only had a few minutes to rest anyway. I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

You nodded, mute, and watched as he left back out the door he’d come in. The room returned to its previous solitude and you sighed. It was going to be such a long night.

**

Next chapter is THE chapter so look forward to that!

Let me know what you think, my loves <3

Chapter 14

Chapter 16

Copyright © 2018 by Taeken-My-Heart. All rights reserved.

[revengerevisited]

Maddie rambles about Kingdom Hearts: Dark Road

Let’s just get this outta the way: Xehanort is my least favorite character in Kingdom Hearts. Now there are certainly more boring and underdeveloped characters but as far as evil deeds go, it doesn’t matter how ‘cute’ or ‘relatable’ Nomura tries to make Xehanort. I will never forget that he tore Ven’s heart in half, tortured Vanitas for four years, killed his own best friend, possessed Terra’s body for a decade, possessed Riku’s body as Ansem, unleashed Heartless on the worlds resulting in countless deaths, manipulated Organization XIII for years, and experimented on Kairi as a child and eventually murdered her in front of her best friends. Any attempt to make me sympathize with him just ain’t gonna work.

Also, I’m not taking any of these ‘Character X is secretly Character Y’ theories too seriously until they actually happen. Yes, it can be fun to speculate that Bragi or Odin is secretly Luxu or the Master of Masters, or that Brain is Eraqus’s ancestor, or that Demyx is the MoM, or that Ava or Vor is Kairi’s grandma, or whatever other theories are out there. But until there’s conclusive evidence that’s all they are, speculations and theories.

On that note, I don’t know why Xehanort is having dreams about the KHUX Player’s adventures but I don’t think it’s because Xehanort is the Player’s Nobody or a reincarnation of the Player. Reincarnation has never been a concept present in the KH series, and honestly it just sounds like bad fanfiction. Plus, if Xehanort does turn out to be the Player, then I feel bad for everyone who spent a lot of time creating their own unique character only to have it be replaced by the generic default Player in KHDR’s opening cutscene and then re-replaced by Xehanort of all people. Perhaps Xehanort simply has a unique, unexplained power to see into the past like Namine’s memory manipulation or Terra’s precognition.

Either way, this past-sight just makes it harder and harder for me to believe that Xehanort wanted to learn about the Keyblade War in BBS, since it seems he already knew all he needs to know. Xemnas knows that Luxord, Marluxia, Demyx, and Larxene are from the past, young Xehanort lives in Scala ad Caelum which was built over the ruins of Daybreak Town complete with a huge machine explaining Daybreak Town’s demise, Eraqus talks about the Book of Prophecies like it’s common knowledge, the list goes on. Also, I don’t like the implication that Xehanort chose Ventus as his vessel and later as material for the X-Blade only because he knows him from the Player’s dreams. Then again, if his dreams of the Keyblade War end before the Player meets Ven and Lauriam, then Xehanort wouldn’t know about them and would instead be more familiar with Skuld and Ephemer.

I will say that one thing I do like is Xehanort comparing himself to a starfish laying on the beach, both for the humorous imagery and also just a bit of that islander backstory flavor. Xehanort being the outsider of his friends group and not telling the whole truth of how he ended up in Scala is also an interesting Kairi parallel, although him being found unconscious in the middle of a city is kinda overused. I do like that the surrounding cities around Scala are all uninhabited, since trying to wrap my mind around these huge mountain-sized cities with potentially millions of people in them was a little too much for my brain to handle.

I do however find it quite bizarre that it’s taken some worlds so long to recover from the Keyblade War. Not only that, but apparently people just appear out of thin air once their world is restored. Like, how? It just feels weird and uncomfortable, almost like these people only exist for the protagonist and audience’s amusement rather than being independent living beings in their own right. I dunno, there’s just something deeply unsettling about those implications. It also makes me wonder how long ago the Keyblade War was, if places like Agrabah still aren’t finished only 75-ish years before KH1. The characters refer to it as a legend, so it must’ve happened a long time ago, right? Some fans think it’s only been 100 years since the Keyblade War, but that would be like the equivalent of calling World War 1 a legend.

The worlds all being on different timescales is also extremely headache-inducing, both as analyst and a fanfic writer trying to keep track of the plot. Couple that with time travel and the whole thing just falls apart. Of course, if each world runs at a different time, then perhaps this is why Xehanort looks so much older than Eraqus, or rather why Eraqus looks so relatively young when he’s supposed to be 80-ish years old. And if that’s the case, then do any of the characters’ ages really matter? I’ve already proven that their ages have been retconned before. Also, this renders timecodes such as ‘75 years later’ and ‘one year later’ from Re:Mind and other parts of the series completely meaningless. The timeline is broken.

Anyway, I’m not sure how much Norse Mythology will play into the story, but all the new characters have Norse names with two that stand out the most. The first is Master Odin, named after a Norse god who sacrificed one of his own eyes for knowledge, which is an interesting parallel to the MoM. The second is Baldr, the as of yet unseen seventh student who has a missing sister, because evidently Nomura likes recycling his previous plots before they’ve even finished. In Norse Mythology, Baldr is the god of light whose death kickstarts the events of Ragnarok. How this’ll be relevant in KHDR remains to be seen, but after seeing those four gravestones in the timeskip/flashforward, I can’t imagine this ending well for anyone not named Eraqus or Xehanort. 

Now, as funny as I find it that the new characters have all been killed off this quickly, I’m not entirely convinced that those are Urd, Hermod, Bragi, and Vor’s graves. They could actually be the graves of the missing upperclassmen, if some of them turn up dead. Speaking of the upperclassmen, I would hope that Yen Sid is one of them, but I have a feeling he won’t be allowed to show up simply because of Disney’s stranglehold on its own IP. It’s pretty sad and ironic seeing as this series used to be all about Disney, but I assume that’s why Nomura is straying further and further from the brand.

About the four new student characters, I don’t have any particular attachment to any of them, beyond Vor’s name being hilariously unfortunate. I find it a bit eye-rolling that fans continuously snub Kairi but will instantly latch onto any new characters like Yozora and these four despite barely knowing anything about them. It doesn’t help that, and please correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems that any of the four who you choose to be in your trio will have the exact same dialogue in cutscenes no matter who you pick, meaning that these new characters don’t even get much of a chance to develop their own personalities because all of their dialogue has to be generic and bland enough to fit all four of them.

Young Eraqus is probably the best character so far, simply because he’s the only one with any personality. Granted his supposed cowardice has yet to be seen, but it’s mentioned so often that I assume it’s gonna be an important plot point later. However, I’m finding it hard to relate young Eraqus with his adult counterpart seeing as their personalities are just so different. I’m aware there’s a 65-ish year gap between this Eraqus and older Eraqus, but there better be some major character development to explain this, especially since even standing in front of his presumed classmate’s graves he still seems fairly chipper.

On that note, as humorous as ‘Tardy Fleetfoot’ is, just like with Xehanort, don’t think I’ve forgotten that this guy caused Terra’s insecurity and self-doubt with his overzealous anti-darkness stance, probably heavily influenced Aqua’s black-and-white anti-darkness keyblade-first-ask-questions-later thinking, was also probably the one who told her to lie to Ventus about always living with them, and attempted to straight up kill Ven and Terra. Eraqus’s actions aren’t as bad as Xehanort’s, but they certainly aren’t acceptable in any capacity.

Something odd I noticed is that Eraqus knows what the Heartless are called, and even the difference between Pureblood and Emblem Heartless-- well, part of the difference; I’m assuming he doesn’t know that future Xehanort created them. But anyway, my point is that Aqua doesn’t know what the Heartless are called until Mickey tells her in BBS 0.2. Before that she simply calls them ‘dwellers of darkness’, and even mistakes one for an Unversed. Does this mean Eraqus never taught his students about the Heartless? Why? Perhaps after his classmates died, he decided to shelter his own students from the worlds, hence why their Mark of Mastery was so simple? I’m just guessing at this point. Of course, there’s still no real explanation as for why the Emblem Heartless are here in the past. My best theory is that someone used the Book of Prophecies to summon them... somehow. It really just seems like an excuse to gloss over the corner Nomura wrote himself into with the whole ‘Emblem Heartless were made by Ansem’ thing, but we’ll see.

Honestly this whole series is just one big endless death-spiral of constant retcons and nonsensical plot twists and at this point I’m just exhausted. My view on KH has become one of mild and morbid curiosity, rather than expecting anything truly great. Is that cynical? Yes, but I’ve watched other once-great series (Star Wars, Voltron) worsen over time to the point that they just fizzle out and die, and I’m afraid it’s the same deal with Kingdom Hearts. I don’t think I’ve truly enjoyed a KH game since BBS, and if the series just continues down the path of introducing bland new characters every time Nomura gets bored rather than developing the already established ones, I don’t know how long I can stay interested. The Dark Seeker Saga is over and he really needs to let Xehanort go.

To end this on a positive note, I am tentatively hopeful about Melody of Memory. The gameplay looks cute and fun and the story looks like it will have more development for Kairi and her backstory, which is something I’ve been wanting for a while now. Focusing on the original cast is definitely a step in the right direction, and I hope this series can keep moving forwards rather than backwards.

[thisselflovecamebacktome]

My personal connection with Taylor’s discography, part five: Marjorie

Basically this is just a series I’m doing where I write down my feelings on what each of the Taylor songs means to me personally on a line to line basis both for my own sake to have it somewhere and for anyone who wants to know anything further about me. So with that in mind, let’s get started.

Marjorie

This song is a little weird for me because as a whole, it’s about losing the almost romanticised view I had of my family. Like most of the people I think of when it comes to this song are still very much alive, but our relationship reached a point where I will never speak to them again. But despite our relationship being like that now, much like most kids, I grew up thinking these people were near perfect and those memories don’t go away just because I’m not on good terms with them now. Because of that, this song has been a very bittersweet song for me and one of the harder Taylor songs to listen to.

Never be so kind, you forget to be clever

When I was younger, I was one of those kids who never wanted to see anyone hurt and would give up if it meant someone else was happy. And that cost me a lot of opportunities. And a remember each time I’d do it, my mother and paternal grandparents would sit me down and remind me that I am a female and that the world is harsh and doesn’t give us as a gender many chances, so I shouldn’t be throwing away chances like that, especially to people who were more likely to achieve those goals through different means. I particularly remember having one of these talks in the third grade when I asked the teacher to allow my competitor in a maths competition to have a second try when he got an answer wrong only for him to quickly declare victory when I messed up a question later. Let it be known that I will never again forget that 7x8 is 56 and that even if I still have issues with it, I do not need to make things harder for myself by giving a leg up to people who would keep me down given the chance.

Never be so clever, you forget to be kind

As much as I tried to be nice as a kid, I definitely grew up with some privileges and a bit of a god complex when it came to my academic skill. Cringily, up until like 9th grade I was that kid that gloated about their grades and was like “well if you just tried harder, you’d get these grades too!”. I was particularly like this with my sister given my parents spent our childhood pinning us against each other and that was the only “win” I could take, especially in terms of my mother. Except it really wasn’t because my mother was also someone who hated school and didn’t do well through no fault of her own. As a result, “You’re smart Jessica, but there’s always going to be someone smarter and nobody is going to care how good you are if you can’t be nice” was a common phrase I heard as a kid. Whether or not it’s true is yet to be seen given some of the biggest names in the world are assholes, but I’ve definitely come to a place where kindness will always outclass cleverness in my life.

And if I didn't know better, I'd think you were talking to me now

When I have a hard decision to make or I feel like I’m making the wrong choice, I still imagine these idealised versions of my family were still in my life and talk myself into what I think is the next right move. Is talking to yourself still counted as being crazy? Perhaps, but it works and is weirdly comforting given everything that’s happened.

If I didn't know better, I'd think you were still around. What died didn't stay dead. You're alive, you're alive in my head, so alive

Despite everything that happened, my anger towards it, and the way I’ve tried to put it out of mine, I still look back fondly on these memories with these people before they showed who they actually were.

Never be so polite, you forget your power

Like I said, as a kid I hated inconveniencing anyone. This meant I ate a bunch of food I hated, did activities I didn’t want to and even went out while sick because I didn’t want to ruin the day for anyone else. In particular, I remember getting a big stomach ache while on holiday at my paternal grandparents’ house but still trying to get ready and go out to the beach for the day. When he immediately realised something was wrong was told that I hadn’t said anything because I didn’t want to ruin the day, he sat me down and reminded me that it was my holiday too and that was my body so I could and should take control of that and say no sometimes, even if it is just because I don’t want to do something.

Never wield such power, you forget to be polite

For all their flaws, my mother’s side of the family did teach one one thing. I came from nothing, and even if someday I broke the poverty cycle, I was not above anyone else. A lot of conversations with that side of the family was about how oftentimes it was “higher class” people who refused to tip or use manners and felt above it all. Also, when I was a smartass about my grades and jobs I wanted to get, I was reminded that even if I had the best paying job in the world, I would still need the “lesser” workers in order for my life to run smoothly. While the words “class struggle” never came into play, these conversations very much helped to form a lot of my beliefs and remind me to stay humble.

And if I didn't know better, I'd think you were listening to me now

When someone dies, a lot of people believe they send signs from beyond the grave. Sometimes these happen in the form of seeing associated animals on a bad day, sometimes it’s a random thing coming to you and pushing in a certain direction when needing to make a choice. And there are days when it feels the same with my family even though most of them are still alive. 

But most of all, I think about this line in reference to my uncle who passed when I was 12 who always had mine and my mother’s backs. I remember driving home from my partner’s place during a depressive episode a few years back thinking about how my grandparents live in the same suburb and considering dropping past even though I had cut them off years before to have not only roadworks happen to be happening in a way to make me go past their street, but also their light being off implying they weren’t there. And despite not being a spiritual/religious person anymore, something about that felt very much like my uncle had heard me and was making it clear that his parents were out living their lives and I was making the right choice by doing the same.

The autumn chill that wakes me up. You loved the amber skies so much. Long limbs and frozen swims. You'd always go past where our feet could touch

This line screams my sister to me. The best thing about my sister and the thing that I will spend forever missing is how she got so excited about the little things in life. Doing her makeup or wearing nice clothes was exciting, listening to music was exciting, getting up early on special days to open gifts was exciting, hell even going to a concert for an artist she hated was exciting for her. She was also the biggest risk taker of the family. And given her auburn hair, the autumn/amber visuals just caps the whole thing off.

And I complained the whole way there; the car ride back and up the stairs

I was a whiny and impatient kid (who somehow turned into a more impatient adult, yikes). Looking back, I spent so many occasions with my family whining about little things or asking how long it’s going to take instead of just enjoying the moment. And ultimately, I think that’s one of my biggest regrets in life so far.

I should've asked you questions. I should've asked you how to be, asked you to write it down for me

Like most people, I really underestimated how much time I was going to have with my family and I took for granted the notion that there was always going to be a time that they’d be around to help and get advice from. So I never asked. And now I’m here, 25 and feeling incredibly unequipped for handling the world around me like I should and wishing I had taken those opportunities to ask for more advice. Likewise, while people make jokes that white people have no culture, I genuinely really feel like I don’t (and as a result struggle with my place in the world) because I didn’t bother asking about our history or the family members I never met or any of that and don’t have anything in my possession to give me that information.

Should've kept every grocery store receipt 'cause every scrap of you would be taken from me

Kinda continuing from above, I hated taking photos and really didn’t keep much that my family gave me growing up. Like realistically when it comes to the extended family, I have a few really low quality photos, a piece of art my paternal grandfather gave me before moving to the UK because I loved it as a kid and my memories. And even with my sister and father, I have a single box of things my sister left behind and one Taylor Swift fan book and a necklace my father gave me. That’s it. 

I don’t have any family heirlooms, I don’t even think I have one picture of me with most the members of the family and I don’t even have the loving perception of them because that was taken from me in the fallout of the family. And despite everything that happened, that upsets me whenever I think about it.

Watched as you signed your name Marjorie. All your closets of backlogged dreams and how you left them all to me

To be honest, this line just reminds me of the women in my family and how much they sacrificed in order for me to get where I am today. Like both my grandmothers never finished school (with my maternal grandmother being unable to read) in order to get jobs to look after their families after both fathers abandoned them before marrying into abusive relationships. My mother quit her higher paying job to raise me and my siblings full time because my father had epilepsy and couldn’t. And my mother started working again in my teens in the form of cleaning the dirtiest of houses so I could go to Japan which was one of the happiest memories of my life. She also mentioned she wished I could have been a performer because she had always wanted to be. None of these women got to experience their dreams or even the lives they should have had all to make sure I had the best chance of living mine and again, no matter what happens, that will always be something I remember.

And if I didn't know better, I'd think you were singing to me now

Again, this line just screams my sister. Any time I hear one of her old favourite songs or a top ten hit I think she’d like, especially if it comes on shuffle or out in public, I think of her.

I know better, but I still feel you all around. I know better, but you're still around

Obviously I know these people are not talking to me. They’ve moved on with their lives and outside the moments where they feel the need to try PR the situation to keep me quiet, I imagine they don’t really think of me at all. Additionally, it’s hard to say that the idealistic versions of them I created in my head even existed to be around in the first place. And yet, I still feel their influence on me in my day to day life.

[amareite]

Lacewood Week 2018 Day 6

Prompt - near/far

Word Count - 4.6k

Warning -  A small peppering of explicitness, spelling errors, 

This was written in under 4 hours on this road trip.l. I know there are spelling errors and the like but I didn’t get a chance to look through it and I only have wi-fi for the next 10 minutes. Enjoy!

Augustine sighed listlessly at the screen before him. So many numbers that he had to fix and he wasn’t going to fix this tonight. Usually, he’d stay and remedy his mistakes immediately no matter what but right now he was exhausted. He already stayed up from the night before, he was verging on almost two days of no sleep. He hadn’t done this in years. Being a night owl was most commonly practiced in his early days of university, but now it took its toll.

Augustine shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the sleepy haze and focused intently on the screen. Only for the numbers to begin blurring and his temple developed a sudden and sharp pain that made him squeeze his eyes shut. Alright. That was enough, his brain was melting and sleep was necessary. Sleep was needed. Augustine fought the aggravated sigh that tried to rumble out of him. It had passed midnight some time ago. He was tired.

It was okay, he tried to tell himself. The paper didn’t need to be finished now. He mismanaged the numbers so this was his fault. With heavy limbs, Augustine closed his laptop, his tablet and phone. They would only suit to exacerbate him, though he left his holo caster on. He always left that on, just in case.

So it was a sudden start when he reached for his holo caster and it began beeping incessantly. His heart nearly jumped out through his throat. Who was calling him? At this time of night? Well, if it was a stranger or some solicitor, he could just hang up.

“Âllo?” Augustine answered uncertainly. The hologram didn’t show. Maybe he hallucinated it?

“Oh, Augustine. Are you still awake?” The beautiful voice of the love of his life drifted through the holo caster with such vivid clarity that Augustine sighed out loud this time, a rueful smile on his face. His exhaustion lifted slightly, his limbs felt lighter, and he perked up as if he had a whole pot of coffee.

“Serena, mon ange, good morning.” He answered her brightly, his stress lessened just hearing her. He assumed it was morning, if it was well after one here in Kalos, it was around the middle of the afternoon for her in Alola.

She giggled at his greeting. “Good morning? You’re supposed to be asleep.” She accused.

Augustine clicked his tongue in playful annoyance, hitting the elevator button to quickly get to his loft. “Then why did you call?”

Serena taunted him in return. “Because I knew you weren’t.”

He chuckled openly, it was like she was right here with him. “Oui, your intuition is spot on.” He sighed to her again, leaning on the elevator wall. “I swear to you, I’m out of the office. I had a bad night as I made many, many mistakes on the statistics for my paper.”

“How bad?” He could feel her cringe for him. Her empathy concerning him was saintly.

Augustine exhaled and ran his hand over his face in frustration. “Well, I made the mistake when I averaged the numbers on the wrong base. I wrote the entire conclusion based on those results.” Augustine exited the elevator and opened the door to his loft, taking off his lab coat and placing it on the hook beside him.

“So you have to run your numbers again and rewrite half the paper? That’s awful.” Serena groused, not at him but knowing certain mistakes can be exhausting to deal with.

Augustine couldn’t stop the groan that escaped him. “I know. It was such a terrible mistake to make so late in this process, I’m a little stressed. I’ve been trying to make up for lost time.” He hadn’t complained to anyone about this, not Sophie and certainly not Sina or Dexio. They would offer to fix the mistake themselves and he knew this was his own fault. Besides, his assistants were busy with other projects that he had assigned them to.

The champion was quiet for a moment before she spoke again. “When was the last time you slept?”

Somehow, Serena just knew these things. He thought he sounded pretty upbeat and Serena couldn’t even see him. “Ah, that would be around 30 some hours ago. I slept a few hours the day before but I couldn’t stay asleep.” It was a little more that, but he didn’t want to tell her he was suffering from insomnia and he didn’t know why exactly, it was frustrating.

“Did you have dinner?” Augustine clamped his mouth shut. Again, her intuition was spot on and he didn’t know what to reply. “You didn’t have dinner.” Serena supplied quietly.

Augustine rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. “I’m so sorry, ma belle. It hasn’t been a great week for me.” He apologized carefully.

“Did anything else happen?”

“Non, I’ve just been having trouble sleeping. I can’t even explain it.” Augustine admitted, he was telling the truth. He made mistakes on papers before, this was nothing new. This time, the mystery issue bothered him enough in the first place and caused the mistake, since he’d been so distracted and all.

After a moment of silence, Serena spoke again. “Do you want me to come back?”

Augustine had to stop himself from shouting ‘Non!’ at the top of his lungs at her. She had worked so hard to go on this adventure, she went to a few different countries and there was no way in hell he was going to ruin that for her. He breathed deeply and answered calmly yet firmly. “Certainly not. You are on vacation and you will enjoy it.” The professor instead scoffed at her suggestion.

“I am enjoying myself, but without you-,”

Augustine cut her off abruptly. “Serena, when I was your age, I had just graduated and I ran off to Sinnoh for a year and then when I got my PhD, I traveled the world for months at a time.” They were very fond memories for him. He traveled extensively in his early years.

He continued softly this time. “You have the freedom to travel easily right now, you haven’t taken enough time for yourself to appreciate it.” He compelled her to understand his point of view.

Serena heaved a sad sigh this time. Perhaps the distance between them was too much for her, as well. They’d known each other for a few years, and this was the first time, dating or not, they’d been apart for this long. “It’s not the same without you.” The professor ran his hands through his hair, looks like his intuition was spot on, too. She missed him. “I wish you were with me, enjoying this freedom.” He didn’t have the freedom to leave his lab for months. Though at the same time, he refused to cage Serena here just because he couldn’t leave.

Augustine decided to lighten the mood a little bit. “If I was with you, I probably would have died from a heart attack while you were competing in Mantine Surfing between Ula’ Ula and Poni beach and got absolutely destroyed by a Wailord.” The term ‘destroyed’ was often used by Serena to describe the most mundane things to the most outlandish of situations. It was highly amusing at time.

Augustine smiled as he enunciated his next words. “A shiny Wailord, no less.”

Silence from the line, until an embarrassed moan travelled to his ears, causing him to giggle. “You saw that?” Serena griped out in disbelief.

Augustine just kept giggling. “I take it you didn’t think the Summer Games were televised internationally?” The summer games did start out as a small Alolan competition years ago but were immensely popular for their consistent scheduling and variety of sports. He wondered if Serena was going to compete in Mudsdale racing later. Incredibly dangerous sport but he knew Serena loved that kind of rush. He loved the way her eyes shone with competitive nature though.

“That’s a hard no. How many people saw me bust my ass?” Even though she asked the question, he could feel her reluctance to know the truth.

“The whole lab.” He stated quickly, and then promptly continued. “You’re mother, Calem, Shauna, Tierno, Trevor, Olivia, Grant, Seibold, Korrina-,”

Serena stopped him with a choked squeak. “Okay! Okay, everyone saw it! I get it.”

Her response was only followed with silence so he added one last thing. “It was majestic.”

More silence until they both burst out in laughter. Augustine would be lying if he said he didn’t miss her. Every morning he woke up and she wasn’t beside him left him feeling empty. Their calls were few and far in between since she was running around. In Alola it was even more difficult because the time difference was around 14 or 15 hours. Still though, they found time. Even with their completely conflicting schedules.

They continued chatting while Augustine got ready for bed, combing his hair, brushing his teeth, washing his face, changing into his pajamas, sighing in exasperation realizing he ran out of shaving cream and he wouldn’t be able to shave tomorrow morning. Serena pestered him on his terrible organization skills and he mocked on her terrible ability to dodge Wailords. Again, for emphasis, shiny wailords.

“You know I miss you, right?”

There it was, Serena admitted her feelings. It wasn’t all that uncommon but Augustine learned that Serena was hardly ever honest with him in terms of any negativity in her life. If she was lonely, she said nothing. If she was upset, she pushed it down. If she was injured, she pretended she was fine. She wanted to be good to him and that meant, to her, not showing him weakness and being strong.

He loved her with every fibre of his being but he wished she was a little more honest with him. Like right now.

“Possibly about as much as I miss you.” He concurred promptly.

Augsutine spoke again before Serena could, only to halt her concerns. “Please, do not fret for your boyfriend. He is a silly man.” His dramatic words managed to get a snicker out of Serena. “What I want from you right now is for you to have fun. I want you to be able to look back on this vacation and remember what a spectacular time it was.”

Serena hummed happily, he could see her smile in his mind. “When I come back, I’ll have so much to show you. Pokémon, z-crystals, malasada’s…”

Augustine climbed into bed and sunk into the mattress, his voice was low as he replied to her. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Are you going to bed?”

The professor furrowed his brows, no, he didn’t want to sleep yet, now that he was talking to her. “I can stay up a little longer for you.”

Serena refuted, only thinking of him. “It’s okay. You sound so exhausted.”

“I don’t want to hang up…” Augustine whined morosely, he really didn’t.

“Oh, Augustine.” Serena laughed lightly, a pleasant sound that calmed the professor. “Let’s just talk until you fall asleep.” She conceded to him rather easily this time. She must’ve not wanted to hang up either.

“I’ve heard that you can find many interesting items at an island Pelago.”

They talked about the islands Serena had visited, small questions were exchanged with answers. Laughter as Serena recounted her embarrassing fall while Mantine Surfing and how she struggled to get back on the Mantine while she was horrified that a pink monolith had nearly landed on her, and then fear from Augustine as she affirmed she was going to go Mudsdale racing and Tauros Chasing. Regardless, in between their banter, soft words of love were exchanged between them both.

Slowly, their conversations quieted to the point Serena couldn’t hear her lover anymore. “Augustine?”

He answered quietly. “Hmmm…” He was so weary but Serena was speaking to him and he wanted to stay awake and keep talking but, wow, his eyes refused to open. Serena said nothing else and Augustine wondered if she had hung up.

Then, her soft voice filled his room, she was signing to him. What a treat, he managed a dreamy smile listening to her serenade him to sleep.

“Tu minspire tout le bon, Le meilleur

Meilleur que des bonbons, l’amour

Tu minspire tant d’amour,

Je tenlève tes habits, Comme le papier joli

Autour des caramels

Et le sucre de ta peau, Cest tout ce quil me faut pour etre…”

Even without accompaniment, she sounded marvellous to him. She didn’t sing often, but when she was comfortable, when it was quiet, he was gifted with her hymns.

Softly, nearly inaudibly, words spilled out of his mouth for her. “Je’taime de tout mon couer, mon amour.”

Serena’s soft singing occupied his entire being as he sighed into the pillows and sheets and the mattress in a wistful haze as he finally relaxed. Serena didn’t even get to the chorus before Augustine was out like a light.

When he woke up the next morning, he had felt alive. More alive than he had felt in weeks. He turned to his side and found his holo caster was on standby. When he checked the history on his phone, he could see the time stamp from his conversation with Serena. They spoke for nearly two hours. He only slept for 6 hours and he felt completely refreshed. Serena was magical. Maybe… just maybe he was off balance because Serena wasn’t here with him?

He prayed that wasn’t the case, for one thing, he could never admit to Serena that he couldn’t be parted from her and on the other hand, he was a grown man, that’s just embarrassing. Then Augustine noticed he had an unread voice message. So he opened it.

“I have been missing you, Augustine. I know we just spoke, but hearing you fall asleep made me realize just what I’m missing here. In the day, I run around and have fun but at night, it’s lonely and there are a million stars at the sky and kills me because I know you’re not seeing those same stars. I feel disconnected from you.”

She felt the exact same way he did, he thought with a remorseful smile. He was turning her into a romantic, he knew it. It was such a comprehensive way to describe how they were feeling.

“I know you want me to have fun and enjoy myself but I never got to say what I wanted from you. I want you to be happy. I want you to take a few minutes for yourself, please, maybe just to think of me. Or what you want or to eat… You asked me to have fun, and I will so you have to rest, just a little but, every day until I come back.”

Think of her for a few minutes? She never left his thoughts, so that was simple enough.

“I love you, Augustine and I miss being with you. Wait for me, okay? I’ll be home soon with you.”

Augustine tried to stop his lips from trembling and to still his breath. He did ask her to have fun and if she was, he’d have to listen to her. It wouldn’t be fair to make requests of her like that. Still, she sounded so emotional at the end he wondered if she was crying and he just couldn’t see it. He wanted to hug her but he couldn’t so he went with the next best thing, breakfast. It was a good start to keeping his deal with Serena.

Later, he’d send a message in return. She deserved to hear from him, as well.

For the most part, in the following weeks, he kept his end of bargain. He tried to eat at least two meals a day, ensuring he had breakfast and a late lunch or dinner. It was usually a late lunch but it wasn’t enough, he wasn’t eating much. Sophie tried to tell him, but he never listened. Sina and Dexio left him food and snacks at his desk but he was so busy he just ate half and left the rest discarded.

His paper was thankfully submitted on time, mistakes and all fixed. He felt so invigorated the morning after Serena had spoken with him, he’d finished the paper in under 7 hours. A little longer than he’s like but he was meticulous and he was very proud of the end result.

Then the days went by, Augustine tried to keep the motivation Serena bestowed upon him but it faded by the end of the week. There was so much he had fallen behind on that he just worked until he passed out at night. He played Serena’s message every night and told himself, tomorrow, tomorrow he would uphold his end of the bargain but he just lost himself in his research.

If he stopped working and sat to think, he inevitably thought of Serena but not in the way he wanted, he just ended up thinking of her with him, in his room, in his arms… in his bed. Merde, he was doing it again. Every time he thought of his lover, he ended up getting frustrated. He hated it, there was only so much he could do for himself.

Three weeks went by, and in that time, he’d only spoken to Serena once and the connection was lost. Then, the holo caster wouldn’t connect at all. It put a damper on his mood. Now, the professor was working on a whole new report. It had a tight deadline, two days from now, and he had to mark fairy type migrations in Kalos. It was meant for the Pokedex Association in Kanto, they were cataloguing old information for the new model. Since most fairy types resided in Kalos, it was easiest just to contact him, he had years of records over such things but gathering all that information was tedious and tiresome.

Augustine woke with a start, pushing off of his desk. Not again. He fell asleep at his desk and it was always a miserable experience. His back ached, his head was pounding. He felt sore. Not that his mahogany desk was meant for being slept on. It was nearly day break, and with it came that sick feeling of agitation that settled in his gut from an unrestful sleep. His laptop was far too bright for him and Augustine reached up and closed.

God, how did he relapse back into this? He remembered being like this when he first became a professor. The late nights, the complete disregard of his flat upstairs where he recalled there were days when he never saw his bed. He couldn’t live like that anymore, that was so long ago.

He hit the button for the elevator and pressed his forehead onto the cool metal of the elevator shutters. He had a headache that caused his temples to pound. Why was he like this? He told Serena he was going to be better and now he was getting worse. He hadn’t slept at his desk in over 3 years.

The elevator doors swished open and Augustine grit his teeth. He just wanted to sleep and forget all this tedium.

“Augustine?” A soft voice called to him and it was so real, so close to him that the professor threw himself back with a shout, terrified that he’d heard his name spoken out loud and landed on the ground. He was so tired and his eyes weren’t quite focused yet but he heard what he heard. What was that!?

A surprised voice called him, a woman’s voice, panicking. “Augustine! Wait! It’s just me!” The blonde haired woman shushed him fervently.

Augustine all at once focused on the beautiful face of the Kalos Champion, fretting over him. “Serena?” He questioned, his head unable to comprehend how she was in front of him. His lover knelt beside him on the floor, troubled by startling him.

Serena was so concerned, she seemed so distressed over him. “What are you doing down here at this time?”

Augustine tried to work mouth, Serena wasn’t due back for another month. He didn’t even hear what she had asked him, more stunned that she was right beside him. Touching him. “What are you doing back?” His asked skeptically, almost doubtful of her very existence in that moment.

“…I missed you.” Her guilty reply reached him and all at once everything rushed back.

How much he missed her. How badly he wanted to talk to her. How awful it was without her. She’d been gone for months and she came home to see him.  He had missed her so goddamn badly, he was killing himself with work. How long had she been back in Kalos?

He shook his head in apology at her while throwing his arms around her in a fierce hug, crushing her to him. “Oh, Serena, mon coeur, welcome home.” He answered her back mournfully, running his fingers through her hair. Serena returned his hug tightly, resting her head on his shoulder.

Serena steadily pushed herself away from him to look at his face. “What are you doing down here?” She repeated firmly, her expression slightly alarmed.

Augustine shook his head, remembering what had been going on. “I fell asleep on accident. I didn’t mean to, I’ve been a bit of a mess.” He confessed, trying to offer her a smile but it was hollow and a little heartbroken.

Serena cupped his cheeks and leaned in to kiss him sweetly, causing to Augustine to become complete putty in her hands at her touch, his headache magically gone. He moaned into the kiss blissfully, getting a small giggle out of his love. She broke the kiss and rose to her feet, holding out her hands so he could grab them. “Come on.” Serena urged him off the floor.

Augustine took her hands gratefully with a laugh and allowed himself to be supported as he lifted himself off the carpeted floor of his office. “Ah, merci.”

Serena pulled him to the elevator and pushed the button for the loft. Before the elevator doors even closed, she wrapped her arms around his middle and pressed her face into his chest. “You’ve lost weight.” Serena murmured into his torso resolutely, though it was muffled.

Augustine sighed as he wrapped his arms around her in return. “I… haven’t been eating properly.” He was met with a long silence from his lover. “Je suis vraiment désolé.” Augustine murmured wretchedly.

The moment the elevator doors opened to his loft, Serena just smiled up at him and led him to the bedroom. “Let’s just get you to bed.” She offered with some mirth in her eyes. Augustine’s cheeks burn all of a sudden and he didn’t understand why.

So Augustine blurted out the first thing that came to his mind, trying to lessen the heat in his cheeks. “You look so beautiful.” Except the incredulous stare from his love made him rethink what he just announced out, so he smiled a little lopsidedly and shrugged.

Serena laughed in response. “Thank you,” She sat him down on his bed and started undoing the buttons on his shirt. He jerked a little bit, his cheeks still flushed. “Sit still, I’m just taking off your clothes.” She murmured to him. Her fingers were certainly the most captivating thing he felt in months. Her cool fingers brushed his skin softly as she removed his dress shirt and the undershirt. This was followed by her unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants. She tugged them off in one swift motion. She was certainly efficient. 

Serena placed his clothes on a nearby chair and looked at the dresser and then around the room. “Where are your pajamas?” She asked, not seeing them in their usual place.

Augustine could only offer a guilty grimace. “I haven’t… washed them?” He answered her unsurely. He actually didn’t remember. He recalled wearing them not long ago but now… well, everything was probably in the wrong place.

Serena just tilted her head, unconcerned. “Alright, let’s just sleep in our underwear.” Serena turned and began taking off her clothes, as well. She tossed her clothes into the overflowing basket in the connecting washroom.

Augustine flushed as he realized just how messy everything was and how much of a layabout in the flat he’d been. Also then considering he was spending less time up here because Serena wasn’t here and it wasn’t fair to him because he could still smell her perfumes and shampoo and it drove him crazy some nights. “Desolé, ma belle. I’ve been so busy and I keep losing track of time as-.”

She shushed him with a quick peck to his lips. “It’s alright, don’t stress. You’ve been busy.” Augustine nodded slowly, once again his eyes seeing her the first time. She looked fabulous, the lights were off but the lightness of day break just lit the room up enough so he could get a nice, long look at her tanned skin. She interrupted his thoughts as she pressed a hand to his chest and pushed him back. “You look exhausted, lay down.”

He found his words after a moment of internal ogling. “You always have the best ideas.” He sighed theatrically as he flopped back and laid across the bed.

Serena giggled as she waked back to the connecting washroom to ready for bed. “You always say that.”

With the washroom light on, he could properly see the tan lines on her body, from her shorts and her tops but the most telling feature was that her top tan lines were matching in tone, meaning she had tanned topless. It was a nice mental image.

She looked beautiful, perhaps the time and distance made it more noticeable but Serena seemed ethereal, her hair seemed lighter and with her sun-kissed skin, he felt like he was staring at an image of divine beauty. This could also be the sleep deprivation talking but she looked really, really stunning.

He sat back up as Serena returned to the bed. “Ma moitié.” He began, reaching out for her. She climbed onto his lap and he embraced her close, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Chaque jour, tu m'as manqué.” He murmured to her fervidly, it had been so long since he could touch her. His hands slowly caressed her skin, learning her all over again. Learning her curves, her muscles and her physique in a new light.

Serena sighed as he roamed her skin with intent. She wanted this, and moaned a little loudly when he kissed her neck and groped her butt. “Augustine…” She sighed, rolling her hips so she began grinding in his lap. Augustine appreciated her enthusiasm and rewarded her with a deep kiss. Then he collapsed backwards onto the bed and Serena giggled. “I missed you, too.”

Augustine stared intensely at her, so many emotions between them. The grip he had on her hips tightened ever so slightly. “S'il te plaît, pardonne-moi, c'est juste que...” His words were pained and hopeful all at once as he stared into her blue eyes. “I need you.” He crooned tenderly.

Serena ran her hands through his hair and met his lips lovingly, gripping his locks delicately so she could show him how much she had missed him as well with. “I’m right here.” She smiled approvingly, bringing her hands to run over his chest sensually. Augustine grinned at her, his expression soft as he hands wandered down to her underwear.  

He rolled over onto her, pressing his body into hers. He murmured words of adoration to her, punctuated by kisses and sweet touches that left her breathless. Augustine had been feeling sick, and weary but having her home with him just made it all melt away into oblivion as he drew her into coital bliss and he found himself lost in her body.

(The song Serena sings is ‘In The Mood for l'Amour by Claire Denamur it’s a great song)

[hamletstudy]

[1/100] - // 7.18.19 // death’s head hawkmoth 

So I’ve been kind of emotional as of late. I was jarred into remembering about the ghost of the knight that guarded Jenna Heap’s bedroom after seeing a photoset with a description that listed various ways how ghosts could exist or reasons why they would linger: and that those paired with strong emotions never did fade away. For some reason, this triggered the floodgates: and I found myself weeping over a knight whose name I can’t even remember. I just know that he was fond of silly jokes, and often made terrible puns. He presided over the princess’ bedroom as he had for all of the other princesses before her, and when the castle was being overcome with dark magic thanks to Simon, her brother gone rogue: he made a spirited (spirited!) attempt to defend her. There’s something about that sweet wholesomeness in a paternal figure that really made me bawl, especially when he’s clumsy about it and sometimes taken for granted when Jenna is in a snit.

I keep hearing the whip poor will birds. The tiger lilies that’d been shorn and placed into a glass to dry out and die have long been disposed of, mulched back into the earth, maybe- buried like compost in little piles in the rich loam. They call in a peculiar sort of way, against the other bright birdsong that lights up in early morning and continues until late evening, when the sun falls from the skies: a repeated end noise that makes it sound as if they’re speaking to you. 

I haven’t heard, or seen any black birds: crows, ravens, red winged black birds, and I’m worried that the mortal offense of the SUV nearly running them over made them a little more cold, indifferent: I hadn’t had any of them call at my usual alarm hours. I can understand. Or perhaps it’s just that I’m growing up- after all, a coming of age, a loosening of the bonds of childhood: plunged into new plumages and new eras coming alighting down on feathers not so glossily inky.

I’ve been watching a lot of Dr. Mike reacts to medical dramas as of late- I think it’s just that weird, parasocial coziness of having someone more informed than I am explain as we go along, a sort of false learning that I nod and smile at while idly digitally collaging in the background. Speaking of digital collaging, I forgot how soothing that is for me. It’s the perfect way to go about it. The internet has limitless resources, all of the ways to edit it you could want- without any of the mess of glue, shakily trimmed edges from damaged hands, and no worrying about the bulk or tearing if you choose to arrange them in a particular way.

I’ve been feeling isolated. I feel like I know some things approximately, and not very many concretely. The sheer variation of plants around here is comforting, in a distracting sort of way: but the birds are beginning to haunt me. They’re there when I wake up, jarred from sleep- they’re there when I’m trying to go to bed. They’re always there. The greenery seems so far apart from me: almost too exhausted to take in the variation. It all seems like so much work. 

It feels like I’m perpetually exhausted. My body seems to want eight hours of its own accord, regardless of the timespan that this falls into. I’m sick of being eaten alive in my own house. The walls are infested with biting bugs: my shoulders and back are livid and red, and I’ve expressed pus from several of them, including on my face and fingers myself. Blood spattering down my face has become almost commonplace.

My hair is a lot more biddable when it’s not being run through the daily stress of being washed three times with enough shampoo to drown a rat in. I’ve killed one black spider that was already curled up and twitching after I trod on a curtain, and one fly that took entirely too long to die. I’m a terrible shot with a towel. I like running my hands through my bangs. The way that it looks as if I’ve a particularly short, boyish cut is really pleasing. I think the bang running is a self soothing habit borne of nervousness, though. Sometimes I pull at my hair in frustration. It’s annoying to try to sleep with it all bundled up into a bun, but even in the cooler depths of the basement- which due to the odd placement of a hilly slope, is really the ground floor, it’s hot as hell. And giant mosquitos live down there. Alongside the black widow colony that set up residence and that I spotted first, as well as swaying, white thick strands of webbing that had gotten all tangled up and coarse.

Found a book that I forgot that I had lent, that I had owned. The sparkly triangles on the cover are soothing. The heft of the book, the cut of the pages. The softness of its supine spine. I cried when I realized it was a book about a woman in my shoes, who had chosen to be furiously happy in spite of her circumstances. Perhaps to spite them. I could only bring myself to read a single chapter. She’s high energy: a lot to process. Even in text I’m an introvert, worn out and exhausted by interactions, even of the parasocial kind.

I tested all of the toilets in the house when we first moved, and ranked them in order of how likely I thought that I might break them, hilariously. The one assigned to me is the one that I thought worked the best, even if it’s cold: and positioned weirdly, it’s tiny, everything lined up: window, you, mirror. You watch others watching yourself, blinds a thin separation. It’s kind of hilarious in a metaphorical sort of way.

I took a bath for the first time in maybe a year, maybe more- and it felt like a religious experience. I wept at being held. I wept at the sensation of being loved, of something that I longed for and missed and hadn’t had the time or chance to in so long. My body hurt, less. I could forget myself, suspended tenderly in the suds. I cried. I stayed in the bath until it ran cold, and pulled myself out hesitantly, gingerly. I wanted to stay. I stayed for the better part of two hours, wrinkling all over. I cried until I couldn’t tell where I ended and started.

The cold winds in combination with the random mechanical sounds and various airplanes flying overhead, with a wet edge to the air can make night seem particularly foreboding. I’m cranky. I’ve been a lot more on emotional tenterhooks as of late. I’ve found myself living according to waiting around for others, on their whims- and I don’t like that. It’s something that I need to address again. It’s the malaise of not having a concrete, solo project to pour all of my attention into.

I swing between wild extremes. If I was an astrologist in any earnest capacity, I would blame it on my gemini moon and libra aspect to my sun sign. Because I don’t believe in astrology, and at most think it’s an amusing short hand to quickly communicate with others about ourselves that at best: has social value, rather than scientific, I chalk it up to a lack of structure and order in my routine, all over the place eating and times, weirdly bunched up water intake, and being sweaty and hormone fluctuations and blood loss out the wazoo.

There was still beach sand inside of my pen, when I took a closer look at it, after a moment of startled fear and confusion as to why the texture was so different on it. Summer draws ever closer to an end and it paralyzes me. I’m horrified by the passage of time, and this time, that deep dread and anxiety about it started as early as the very first week of July. I really hope that this doesn’t start becoming a trend. It strikes me that it probably won’t have the opportunity to, considering the odd placement of summer in the higher echelons of education. 

Going into a new city, dealing with new circumstances and faces and navigating it all pretty much after being tossed into the deep end- terrifying. Being stranded in the concrete jungle without a scrap of greenery, other than the tall pink tree in whose bowers I saw a peregrine falcon slaughter a pigeon and rip it to shreds one summer? Terrible. But then, even now- the nature here drives me to distraction. I can’t really enjoy it. I wonder what part of me lost the ability to do that, to sit simply in the world and let it wash over me in deep, abiding comfort.

The cold grayness of the city is depressing, the soot and grime of it settles into your bones and after awhile even the warmth of summer, or the rattling heater can’t make me feel any better about the black, sooty snow churned into a slushy slurry beneath your feet. And the stairs! It’s just the shift of newness. It’s not entirely unknown grounds. It’s a place I know well by night and summer and the neon, shifting quality of holidays. Not so much in its every day to day. But I think it’ll be alright. Its always been the closest thing I’ve ever had to a home city, throughout all of my turmoil brewing years.

I think a part of it is deep grief that’s been stirred up again by contact I didn’t expect. I think a part of it is the sharp hurt at realizing that my importance in others’ lives is not the same as theirs in mind. I know logically, that just calls for a readjustment, a tuning in dialing: but having the curtain pulled back on it aches all of the same. The things we do for the people we love, not knowing if they love us in the same ways, in the ways that matter.

I haven’t been able to bring my pen down onto the paper. I finger the frilled edge from where I ripped pages out, scoring down with a pair of splayed open scissors, I smell the perfume, heady and rosy and floral, and sweet, so sweet- mellowing out the sharp printer’s ink, still a cloud that gets thrown up, a scent of beauty and warm summer beach sand, eating melted icecreams and lying in white, clean sheets snuggled against the blue silky pillowcases that I love so much- and I can’t bring myself to mar it. I don’t know what to do with it. I want to make a safe space, a familiar place: a private sanctum before, to have a place to retreat to, a concept of safety, a place to head back to when I am unsure and lost and questioning, but I can’t bring myself to. A part of me wonders if it is because I am punishing myself for all of the things I cannot bring myself to do, out of that paralyzing fear of indecision, and learned helplessness.

It’s something that bites at me constantly: where do I stand in others’ eyes? Sometimes it surprises me, the unwavering support revealed in a pithy, half of a joke remark. Sometimes it punches the air out of my lungs, a twisting hurt at realization: and smothering it underneath, because no one told you to feel like that. No one ever said that they felt like that. You had just assumed, and sometimes- your assumptions are wrong. Sometimes you are wrong. You walk around with grief in your eyes, tangled in your hair, hands shaking from holding all of it, dripping from the corner of your mouth like the spit and snot and tears that cut tracks down your face: like the baying hounds fighting over territory two doors down.

But whose fault is it, really? You’re the one who put it there.

I read something that struck home. It isn’t naive to expect people to appreciate your love. It was an empty, generic platitude, and yet somehow it was as comforting to see as being wrapped up in my favourite blanket and eating my favourite chocolate cake. I know that I eat to self soothe. I know that it’s a problem. These days, my hands are gnawed down bloodily raw, I am anxious, trembling, walking through my days with generalized anxiety and fear and wanting to cry. I find myself crying at little to no provocation. I feel like a vessel of water filled to the brim: the top bulging with surface tension. One drop and I rupture, I shatter- the elasticity only goes so far. I spilleth over.

I’ve been listening to a lot of country music. I’ve been listening to a lot of indie pop music. I’ve been listening to a lot of Russian pop music, because I was trying to find a ringtone for Sascha’s father in the thing I’m writing with my friend. I found myself crying, shoulders heaving, shoulders trembling over an Ed Sheeran song, of all things: at the idea of being able to put it all on someone else, put it into their hands, let go of that weight and be held for a little while, just to be taken care of. I feel as if that’s what I truly want, underneath all the hysteria and the raw, rough edges: to be loved, and to love in turn. Sometimes I run across songs that chafe at me: make me feel seen, exposed, a throbbing wound barely held back by the lightest layer of skin, the blood flushing the surface: that you aren’t alright. And I don’t think that I am alright.

I find myself crying myself to sleep these days. It makes me sad in an abstract sort of way, for myself, for the fact that I am crying. The winds remind me of when I was a child, and spoke to the wind: fully believing that it was a man, it was named Zephyr, that he pushed and carried my tiny body down the windy round about, that he made tiny cyclones and leaf circulations where I waved twigs at: the sensation of being held and caressed by the wind, hair gently tousled and pried loose. It feels as if a little part of my past has come back to haunt me. I feel as if I am a dwelling of ghosts. I feel as if I am a collection of all that has happened to me, rather than what I have done. I question what exactly I have done.

It’s bizarre what changing the quality of light will do to you: the sky seems flat and gray, and the world similarly dulled and muted for it: the skies are yellow. The umbrella is a stark, sharp red: the extended wood light overtop, weathered, cracked, grey. I want to take a power washer to it.

I want to write a book some day. Who doesn’t? Why? I promised the woman who kept me writing, inspired me to continue to- she said that she expected, in the easily gracious way of absolute faith, to see a dedication in the front cover’s page to her. I don’t know what I want to write about. I don’t know. I sit here for hours sometimes, paralyzed by indecision, unable to make a choice: unable to commit to even the most meaningless of things. Paper or pen. Fridge or room temperature. This identical pen, or the other? Phone or computer? What to hold in my pockets? What to eat?

I feel like I’m slipping into bad habits. Last summer I starved myself thinner. People noticed, complimented me: told me to keep up the good work. I’ve put all of it back on and then some, and I’m disgusted at being recognized. There is an ache in wanting to be seen, and the revulsion in that actually transpiring. It is central to the experience of womanhood. This summer I find myself indulging in comfort foods at hours when the night haunts me: oven soft chocolate chunk cookies, pizza folded over on itself, chocolate cake with creamy frosting, burgers with red onions that make my mouth smart and hurt but God, they’re good. I’ve been drinking a lot of water. I’ve been taking my iron pills. I’ve been trying to see if I have been getting enough sleep. Learning to be gentle with myself is a process.

I’m a woman now, not a girl. No longer the feral wild child, haunting the clover fields and picking through for red budding gowns, laughing with delight at monarchs high up in the sky: symbolic for a livening of the senses, a quickening of breath: the heart thrumming and racing with enthusiasm at learning that the wonders captured on the glossy ink page were real, and here in this life too: but a tired eyed, hollowed out woman. A woman who can’t find solace in the outdoors, who shies from the biting insects, who expresses pus and dribbles blood, spurting out onto mirrors, so tired. I have lines from frowning, now. I have lines carved in lightly where my eyebrows scrunch and furrow. I wear my unhappiness writ across my face, even when I don’t want to be. The monarchs haven’t come this year. They haven’t in many.

The first anniversary of the worst day of my life harkens: and I dread it. Immediately after is one of the most hysterical belated birthday gifts possible, a little nod of absurdism from the universe. Emotional whiplash. It’ll be a year soon. A year into the unknown, stumbling forwards into the future: time doesn’t wait for anyone, doesn’t slow down, doesn’t stop: even as we crawl forwards, haul ourselves on worn down fingernails. And wasn’t it good? Wasn’t there good in it, after all? Even if you didn’t know to anticipate it? Didn’t know what to look forward to?

I’m a very tired young woman, who has been harangued by death all of my life. I think that I’ll live a little longer, as far as the odds go. Someday I will love the things that I love again. For now: I cry when it washes over me, and try to hold onto the idea that it’ll be alright.

[filmista]

Big Little Lies

“I read a quote once that said...friendships are the masterpieces of nature.”

I normally don’t review shows, but I enjoyed this so much and it touched me in a way that demanded that I speak about it, It doesn’t often happen that as a woman I’m touched by a show almost solely about women (and in this case what’s classically seen as their “ female issues”, in fact, I don’t think there has been a show like that ever), because as I’m sure someone somewhere in the golden state might have said: “Who would want to see that boring shit?”

Because every so often I end up finding the characters too shallow but now that it did happen, I had to talk about it. I figure there’s a first time for everything, so here it goes, these are my thoughts on Big Little Lies: (please be kind, since I’ve just lost my tv show reviewing virginity) ;)

Big Little Lies’s trailer doesn’t do it justice: it’s visually pleasing, tempting snippets, set to a pleasant beat, it looks stunning, but does it makes sense? For me, it didn’t really give me much of an idea of what the show is about.

Still, after I had heard good things about the show, I wanted to watch it. The first episode disappointed me a little bit initially, it looked simply like a spin on Desperate Housewives, but with murder. Women and their perhaps potentially lethal catfights and backstabbing, someone in the show even goes as far as to say: “I believe women are chemically incapable of forgiveness” and it is often said that women remember everything, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned right?…

But by the end of the show I was glad to see that it had gone beyond that and didn’t limit itself to dishy catfights over hot, muscular men and mommy wars, at the end of that first episode we see the three main women bond and you see a strong friendship form, but I was distrustful, beautiful female friendship doesn’t last long in tv land does it?

Surely a big crisis and meltdown of their friendship would come and nasty catfights would follow, fortunately, this does not arrive and the friendship becomes even tighter.

I found it incredibly satisfying to see three so different women, accept their differences, there’s not even an argument made about how different they are, they bond, get to know each other, they offer each other unwavering emotional support.

There are fun times to be had Our trio: part time working mom Madeline (Reese Witherspoon), stay at home mom Celeste (Nicole Kidman) and single mom Jane (Shailene Woodley) goes out for cosy cups of coffee in trendy beach bars, but they are also there in more difficult and trying times, It’s simply unconditional love between women and I honestly freaking adored it! Because you don’t very often get to see it, It’s rare that a show has as It’s driving force three women; their friendship and their individual lives, how they perceive themselves and how the world around them perceives them.

There have been shows that have female friendships in them, but they are rarely It’s driving force. It’s also quite rare to see a show with such well written female characters, all initially respond to a type, to a cliche, they are all classified as a certain kind of woman.

Yet while they may to some degree respond to these stereotypes, they accept that they do, but we also get to know each woman as more than a stereotype, they become fully realised persons, each has conflicts, things from their past that come back to haunt them and that have shaped them as a person.

Maybe one of the reasons that some people have the dismissed the show, is that it is perhaps a bit too stylish for its own good: it is filled with beautiful sceneries, shots that are hyper aware of their own attractiveness, we’ve got architectural porn: beach houses with their beautiful terrace roofs and the ever so beautiful ocean views that come with them, and then the ever so hot, rich white people (all Hollywood A-listers, which admittedly is kind of what initially drew me in, I’m not above being lured in sometimes) 

And It’s all set to a soundtrack with immaculately good music, it simply seemed a little too good to be true, usually, when I see a film filled with Hollywood’s most wanted, I become wary surely something should be up, maybe it has a despicable script? But in this case, I’m glad that I set my previous prejudice aside and gave it a chance.

Shows and movies about rich people and their perfect world, that’s seemingly only designed to make you jealous aren’t usually my thing. But Big Little Lies embraces this cliche in a very interesting way: It says look at all the pretty houses and their pretty people, don’t you want to live in one of those houses?

But then it shows us what’s going on with the people in the houses and one thing becomes painfully clear, if you’re miserable, if you’re an asshole, then a pretty house is not going to cure you're being miserable or of you’re having a shitty character.  

But returning to what I had previously said, while I was initially a bit dissatisfied with the first episode, I stayed and became hooked because of the promise of a budding friendship between these women and the fact that all of them seemed to be written so well and I simply wanted more of it.

You discover the character of each and the dynamics of their at home situation in the very first episode, they are almost immediately well rounded and shaped, by the end of the first and second episode, you feel like you know each of them.

Big Little Lies has an extensive female cast and all of them extensively collaborated on it as well, which was for some people a red flag, signalling that It’s only a show about women and their “lady issues”.

All these women, are women that exist, and their problems aren’t discussed in ways that are glossed over, it brings them in entertaining, fascinating also scary ways, they offer a scarily realistic, sometimes shocking of the sometimes harrowing reality that being female entails.

The show is not so much a murder mystery, yes the ultimate goal of the show was revealing who got killed, but It’s really merely an excuse to explore It’s character’s interpersonal relationships, the relationships of the women, between them, their family and ultimately some types of relationships between women and men, and the dynamics between the two in a relationship, in some cases healthy, in some cases downright toxic.

The men in the show are mostly cliches, but they are all incredibly well acted, and that’s what gives depth. We have the asshole who abuses his wife, we have the guy who is permanently chill next to his stressed out career driven wife, then we have the husband who is simply a nice guy to his wife, always there for her, yet while he is a genuinely nice guy, there is also some bottled up anger, he doesn’t feel appreciated enough at all times, he feels as though his wife takes him for granted.

So they all do respond to cliches, but the show wasn’t out to demonise them, some people could interpret the show as too overly feminist, as something that immediately makes men the bad guy, but that’s not entirely true in my view, while it is openly feminist, it does it from a very positive angle it merely wants to illustrate some of the issues women deal with, and it shows them in depth.

But the female characters are not victims in a way, we are not supposed to pity them or find them miserable, and while we can admire their strength, It also doesn’t feel like It’s saying look at these badass, strong women!

They are brought to us as multisided human beings, that you can feel for, relate. Their real strength and the strength of the show is their bond, their union, the fact that they protect each other, it shows that the world is easier for women when they are not pitting against each other, but rather helping each other navigate stormy waters.

Instead of wishing the other would fall into the water or push each other into the water and help each other take down personal demons, which in this case results in one of the most beautiful, riveting and most satisfying, and downright wild tv finales ever, let’s just say that a misogynistic asshole gets taken down by a group of angry ladies, (the always cool Zoë Kravitz) has something to do with it as well and it’s pure poetic justice and It’s fuckin’ beautiful!

The show’s strength lies in It’s writing and It’s acting, while the writing in some episodes seems a bit weaker, it always results in an enjoyable episode, due to the strong acting. Each actress and actor is allowed to demonstrate their chops to the full range, all the actors and actresses are usually not actors that do tv work (but they’ve all beautifully adapted to it), and the director of the show (Jean-Marc Vallée) usually directs films, not tv series, and that to some degree shows, the show has a highly cinematic quality, and aesthetically It’s as beautiful as some of Vallées films.

The acting unlike in some tv series does not seem overly scripted and staged, maybe to some extent because most of the actors in the show usually stick to film, they all take their roles seriously and give it their best, and the result is some of the best performances out of their career for the actors.

Reese Witherspoon plays what she has played before, a woman who defends everything she believes in, a woman with a big, foul mouthing mouth (I will never forget the wonderful: “I’m a lady and I’ve never said this to anybody in my life, but I’m gonna say it to you, you can go fuck yourself on the head”) seen by some  because of her never bow down attitude as a controlling, backstabbing bitch. 

Reese Witherspoon has played the woman who never gives up on anything before but who is also extremely sensitive and vulnerable, but here she is given such witty, emotional and sometimes dialogue that’s so sharp it could cut, that she just once again could give a fine showcasing of her talent and reminded me of why she is one of my favourite actresses.

A performance that has been dismissed, I think undeservedly so is Shailene Woodley’s as Jane Chapman, Jane is the single mum with a haunted past that arrives at the town, is quickly singled out as different and becomes the target of a witch hunt. As we discover Jane suffers from PTSD, she was raped and her son is the result of that sexual assault, her character goes jogging by the ocean, always with her headphones on, by means of therapy, it seems, during these sequences we get to see flashes of her past.

That kind of filming technique and a character running off frustration and pain is nothing new, but Shailene Woodley has an understated calmness and elegance here, that conflicts with the stormy battles she is fighting within herself, and Woodley conveys it all to us with an admirable naturalness and transparency, one look suffices to let us in on how she’s feeling.

I think she handled the role of the single young mum beautifully, she showed real love for her son and tries her hardest to give him a good life, all the more admirable when considered that her son was the result of a sexual assault. It’s a difficult role no doubt about it.

And some people claim that Woodley is still too young and inexperienced an actress to handle it, I found it refreshing to see her as something other than a teen with cancer or battling in dystopian worlds and I think she handled it with ease and grace.

And the greatest thing about her character for me was that she ends up in a way being the one that unites the women, at the beginning of the show Jane goes jogging alone after she has confided to one of the women what happened in her past, we no longer see her go jogging alone.

She now goes with her friends, who run off their own frustrations and who offer their own silent support, not a word is spoken and it is not necessary, simply being there is sometimes the greatest sign of friendship.

Nicole Kidman is also a force to be reckoned with here, I hadn’t seen her do much lately that impressed me that much, but this was truly a pleasant reminder of her talent. She has perhaps the most emotionally draining role, playing the victim of domestic abuse.

But she handles it with her trademark calmness, elegance and subtlety, Kidman is the sort of actress whose performances if you don’t watch her carefully, might seem like she’s not acting at all because she’s barely moving.

However, if you watch carefully she speaks incredibly loudly and clearly, just through her body, she does it here again and the result is simply magnetic, as she perfectly captures what must be going through her character’s mind.

Kidman and Skarsgard (who plays her pig of a husband), have a downright scary and harrowing chemistry, the scenes in which she suffers physical violence at his hands and in which she fights back, have an intensity and volatility to them that make you at the same time want to look away because it makes you sick and downright angry.

But Kidman and Skarsgard (who’s downright scary) are so disturbingly good together, that you look anyway. There are scenes here that verge into the not often explored area of marital rape, Celeste appears to be consenting, she doesn’t say no at least not with her voice, but seemingly only because she can’t recognise to herself that if she said no, her husband would not listen.

So in her mind no resistance and letting it happen is easiest, these sequences are filmed in an almost horror like way, they’re meant to unsettle, show the suffering of Celeste, in no way are they meant to be sexy or enticing, and frankly I think that anyone that thinks they are is a bit of a troubled individual…

There are other good performances, especially the child actors do an amazing job, but the three leading ladies are the ones that impressed me the most. I finished Big Little Lies in literally 2 days, which is a record for me even with miniseries, but I was hooked on this.

It’s got everything you could possibly want in a show: Excellent writing, beautiful camera work (the colours and the lighting in this, are the wet dream of anyone that loves to take screenshots), strong performances, smart sound design, a fantastic soundtrack and well-rounded female characters, Big Little Lies will perhaps become to tv what Thelma and Louise is to film and that’s a wonderful thing to see, if one thing I hope that it sparks many more shows that don’t have women stabbing each other in the back, but as friends.

It shows something that I and a lot of other women probably already knew: women can and should help and stand up for other women when they are suffering injustice or unfairness, (heck every human being should) and if they’re not, then there’s no reason they should make each other’s lives more difficult. My ultimate verdict: A  21st-century feminist masterpiece that keeps women and men alike on the edge of their seat! 

My favorite character, even though, It’s not a fan favorite is probably Shailene Woodley’s Jane. She offers such an understated and quietly moving performance. I wanted to include this article because I agree so much: http://www.esquire.com/lifestyle/news/a54268/shailene-woodley-big-little-lies/

“It’s like I’m on the outside looking in. Or, like, I see this life and this moment and it’s so wonderful, but it doesn’t quite belong to me.”

[samuelfields]

The Ideal Retirement Age To Minimize Regret And Maximize Happiness

When I was 30, my goal was to retire in 2017 at the age of 40. I figured, after spending my 20s learning, I should spend my entire 30s earning.

Now that I’m almost 41, I’m glad I didn’t wait until 40 to leave the workplace for good. Life doesn’t end once you retire. It simply morphs.

Although I no longer consider myself retired with all the work that goes into running this site and being a stay at home dad, here are some things that have happened since 2012:

1) Written a book called, How To Engineer Your Layoff: Make A Small Fortune By Saying Goodbye.

2) Traveled to 30+ new countries in Europe and Asia with my wife. Angkor Wat, Cambodia was truly amazing.

3) Gotten my USTA tennis ranking up from 4.5 to 5.0. This would have not been possible without all the newly found time to practice.

4) Consulted for several financial technology startups ranging from seed stage to series C.

5) Built this site into over a million organic pageviews a month with no forum.

6) Grew passive income by 2.5X.

7) Bought and remodeled a fixer.

8) Became a foster child mentor.

9) Became a high school tennis coach

10) Became a father.

I’m excited what the future will bring!

Factors Involved In Retiring

Before we discuss the ideal age to retire, let’s take a look at what the average retirement age is in America. As you can see in the chart below, the average retirement age for men has risen to about 65 and to 63 for women, if we are to round up for 2018.

The trend to work longer for men since the early 1990s is probably due to changes in Social Security, pension eligibility, less strenuous work, longer and healthier lives, more educational requirements, and a decline of retiree health insurance.

The constant increase in retirement age for women is likely due to increasing workforce participation plus all the same reasons men face. In a land of equality, I suspect the average retirement ages will eventually be the same.

Now that we have a baseline for the average retirement age in America, let’s go through some retirement age ranges and discuss where someone is probably at in their lives and whether such an age range is good for retiring.

Things to consider for the ideal retirement age include:

Length of time spent in school

Cost of education

Student loans

Multiple job changes in a career

Graduate school

Children

The desire to spend time with aging parents

Healthcare costs

Passive income generation

Overall health

Life expectancy

In order to retire comfortably, I believe one needs at minimum 20X their average annual expenses in liquid net worth e.g. $100,000 annual spend, $2,000,000 in stocks, bonds, CDs, and cash. You can retire with less, but you’ll always be looking over your shoulder wondering when the boogey man will get you.

The chart below uses 20X average income to be more conservative.

Suggested net worth targets by age, income, work experience

The Ideal Age To Retire

Ages 20 – 30: Unless you’re leaving work to be an entrepreneur or a stay at home parent, this is a suboptimal age range to retire, even if you have the money. Your energy and enthusiasm will generally be the greatest at this age. To spend it on a beach doing nothing would be a darn shame. Further, spending more time getting an education versus working sounds like a waste of an education. You’re expected to live another 50-60 more years. The ratio of learning, to work, to leisure is off.

Ages 31 – 35: Most people only start gaining confidence at work after they’ve hit 30. Before then, you’re a cost center doing your best to learn everything you can about the business. Why else do you think there are no CEOs under 30, except for at startups that have failure rates of over 90%? Your 30s is a time to leverage all the experience you’ve gained in your 20s to position yourself for greater rewards. Unless you have something very clearly in mind that you want to do in retirement, to retire before the age of 35 is to prematurely truncate your potential.

Ages 36 – 40: After five years of seeing what you can do in your 30s, you realize that more money and power gets old after a while. You’re still young enough to try something new, but you may be getting squeezed by a mortgage and kids. Just as 30 was a big age for the motivationally inclined, 40 is equally big because this may seem like your last chance to change your destiny or be stuck doing the same thing in the same industry for the rest of your life.

Ages 41-45: You’re likely in your prime earning years, making leaving your job that much harder. But after 20 years of work, you won’t feel as much shame retiring or taking things down a notch. After all, you’ve been working longer than the time you spent in school. You’re also starting to feel that life speed is accelerating. 50 is right around the corner! You think more about your mortality because you’re probably less in shape and more injury prone. You feel like it’s now or never to make a move.

Ages 46 – 50: The closer you are to 50, the more you may be wondering how you lasted for so long working at a job that doesn’t tickle your soul every day. Can you truly say the work you do makes a positive impact on society? You may begin to wonder how your life might have been  different if you had taken the leap of faith earlier. If you have kids, you may be questioning whether spending all that time away from them was truly worth it since they’ll soon be entering their own phase of independence.

Ages 51 – 60: Perhaps you’ve waited this long because you wanted your kid(s) to get through college. Or maybe you just couldn’t quit the money and the prestige granted upon you after 30+ years of work. Or maybe you are lucky enough to have a pension that keeps on paying you more for every additional year you work past 20 years. Whatever the case may be, you better have loved what you did or else you will feel regret having waited this long to retire.

Ages 61+: Not only do you feel a sense of accomplishment for lasting this long, you also feel a great amount of nostalgia. Where did all the time go? You wonder. Hopefully you’re done or almost done with paying for your children’s education. Further, there just might be a healthy pension waiting for you. At the very least, you can withdraw from your pre-tax retirement accounts penalty free if you wish. Just make sure you do so in a way to minimize taxes. God willing, there should be another 20 years of life left to enjoy. You plan to make the most of it.

The Ideal Age Range To Retire: 41 – 45

Going through the age ranges, I believe the ideal age to retire early is between 41 – 45 years old once you’ve got at least 20X your annual expenses saved up. It’s the optimum age where you’ve put in your dues, earned a good sum, minimize regret, and still have enough energy to do something new.

If you retire at 41, you won’t be left wondering whether you wasted your 30s because you’ve already spent all of your 30s seeing what you could do as an employee or as an entrepreneur. If you retire at 45, you will feel at ease knowing that you gave 20+ years post high school or college to seeing what you could do at work.

At 41, I no longer have the enthusiasm or hunger to create and earn big bucks like I did in my early 30s. If I had used my energy to keep earning at my day job until now, I probably would have hit a bamboo ceiling because of the politics involved in getting promoted.

I worked in a satellite office that already had two Managing Directors. The only way I’d have been able to get promoted was to move to Hong Kong or New York City. Such a move didn’t make sense due to the large drop in quality of life compared to San Francisco. Therefore, staying in the same role for seven more years would have left me bored and a little bitter.

Instead, I used my energy between 35 – 40 to create something of my own. It is the creation of something from nothing that will give you the most satisfaction. I would choose running Financial Samurai over being the CEO of my previous firm any day.

The main reasons why I left at 34 were because I had a large severance package and a clear idea of how I wanted to spend my time. In effect, my severance package accelerated my retirement by five years because the severance was worth five years of living expenses. Without a severance package, I probably would have kept working until 40.

You Might Find Yourself Busier Than Ever In Retirement

The beauty of leaving the workforce is that you get to focus all your energy doing what you truly want to do. Because you have endless options, you tend to take up as many things as possible. You’re like a kid in a candy store with an unlimited budget. The only restraint is your energy and time.

Not only do I enjoy writing, I’ve discovered since leaving full-time work that I really enjoy working with kids. Sometimes they might tackle you too hard or tell you to “shut up,” but that’s all part of the process of being a good mentor, teacher, or coach.

What I’d love to do in the near future is teach kids about online media and entrepreneurship at the school my son plans to attend. It’s a great way to stay involved with the community while also having something meaningful to do. He might not think it’s cool if his old man is always there, but I will!

Note: There is a poll embedded within this post, please visit the site to participate in this post's poll.

Related:

How Much Do I Need To Save To Retire Early

The Dark Side Of Early Retirement

The Fear Of Running Out Of Money In Retirement Is Overblown

Readers, what age or age range do you think is ideal for retiring? Share your reasons why. 

The post The Ideal Retirement Age To Minimize Regret And Maximize Happiness appeared first on Financial Samurai.

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[regnumaves]

🔥| The beach air turns frigid as the night descends upon them. Flayn happily stands in the warmth of a large, crackling bonfire. A shadow stands near it, backlit golden with firelight. Flayn squints to get a better look; were those… feathers? This must be Professor Tibarn, then, the winged instructor of the academy. Not one to spend such a pleasant moment alone, the girl calls to him. "Professor! Would you like to sit near the fire? It is rather cozy, if I do say so myself."

“Oh, hm?”

Right, he’s a professor these days. That was indeed addressed at him.

Tibarn turns to face the unfamiliar voice - a girl he is not particularly familiar with calls out to him. Perhaps she has not attended flying classes yet. Celadon eyes, with a shade of gold added to them thanks to the fire, stare at him; something about their color and gaze reminds him a lot of the Herons.

He smiles. Well, he has nothing else to do, and she looks and feels like she may be a pleasant company for the quiet, somewhat chilly evening.

“Why, thank you. For sure”, he nods, before approaching and sitting down near her, though leaving enough space for his wings, so that they may rest by his sides.

It really is warmer near the fire, he thinks. He takes a better look at the girl; come to think of it, she does remind him of someone else, and his rather good memory puts it together quickly - right, he’s seen her talking with that Seteth individual - though it does not help him remember what she’s called.

“My apologies, may I ask your name?” he asks. “Have you been at the Academy for a long time? It was you I’ve seen with Sir Seteth sometimes, right?”

[regnumaves]

She slows to a stop in front of him and holds out her arm. She points to the inside of her arm and smiles. "Could you sign here, Tibarn? Pretty please?" A pause, and then she withdraws her arm. "Wait, no, let me start over, I thought of a better line." Arm is held out again, but this time she holds up her quill too. "/Quill/ you sign my arm? Ha ha ha! Hey, that was pretty funny!"

... Huh? Tibarn raises one eyebrow in mild confusion. “... Is that some weird beorc custom? I’ve never heard of people signing each other’s skin like that.”

What purpose would that even serve? He sighs. Better to just not question it, he supposes, it probably won’t do anyone any harm, right? But just as he’s about to say yes, she pulls her arm back, before holding it out again - this time with a weird word joke.

... Reyson might get a chuckle out of that one, but Tibarn just twists his expression into one of pity, before dropping his head and arms as if in defeat.

“... Yeah, sure. I have no idea what this is about, but sure.”

With that, leaves a signature of his in the requested spot, but then hesitates - out of habit, he wrote his name in ancient tongue. “... Uh, you need that legible for beorc, probably?” Just in case, he writes it again in modern speech. Hopefully that’s fine?

Maybe he should ask Ike more about this. Is this really... a thing beorc do?