#Bad thing is that I also bought a fucking plane ticket to my home country for August and now I don't want to even talk to my family.

[caenith]

(just venting)

[btsslowburnfic]

Series Summary: For Namjoon, the moment he set his sights on being the #1 rapper, he pushed the symbol to the side and hated it. Love should be chosen, not forced on you. He didn’t believe in fate and this mark on his wrist was a big “fuck you” to all that.

AN: a loooong update where we get YN to Korea Previous Chapter here

The three of you made it safe and sound to your new brownstone across the river in New Jersey. Joe has a job lined up, but at the moment you and Xavier are unemployed. On this particular day, you are in your room job hunting when you hear a knock on your bedroom door and then see Xavier gently push it open. “Fly your ass to Korea. Now. Here,” Xavier throws a book at you. “I bought you a Korean dictionary.”

You roll your eyes. “Namjoon speaks English. And I can’t read the characters or whatever so how will a dictionary help. And, I’m not going to Korea.”

Xavier crosses his arms in front of his body. “Girl. You are still in your twenties. You have no job. There is a hot man who is also your soulmate across the ocean. GO TO KOREA.” You pick your phone back up, ignoring him. You hear him let out a frustrated sigh and leave the room. You didn’t know what you wanted. You didn’t tell them that Namjoon had passed along his schedule to you and that he would be in Korea for 6 weeks starting in two weeks and that he had offered to buy you a plane ticket. You kept going back and forth. Fine. Fuck it.

YN: Hey! I’ve been thinking and I would like to come visit. As long as it’s not too much trouble and won’t interfere with your schedule

You let out a breath and put the phone down. One thing you have learned is that he keeps very strange hours and there is no way of knowing when he will be awake, when he will be performing, or even what country he is in. You are shocked when you receive a reply instantly.

NJ: It’s no problem. I will be working a lot of the time, but there is also some free time blocked out so make sure you’re ready to do some sightseeing as well on your own. I’ll rent a noona for you.

YN: I have no idea what that means but ok. Sounds exciting.

NJ: You can rent tour guides. An “older sister” to translate and show you around on some of the days.

YN: That would be amazing! Ok. Sounds great!!

NJ: I’ll book the flight and email you the information.

YN: Awesome ^_^ Thank you so much.

You try to keep your cool. You really do. But it doesn’t last long as you sit the phone down and walk out into the hallway. “Xavier!”

“What? Brat.” You hear him call from the living room.

“I’m going to Korea!” You say with a big smile on your face.

“Holy shit. You’re doing it!?! Really? When?” He sits up straight on the couch.

“I’m not sure. He’s booking the flight.”

“Oh my God. Oh my God. IT’S HAPPENING. Come. Sit here. Let’s watch some Kdramas. We need to prepare you.”

You roll your eyes but join him on the couch anyway.

--3 weeks later--

The flight isn’t too bad. When Namjoon booked your ticket you did secretly wonder if he would spring for an upgraded seat since you know...you guessed he was rich. You did not expect that he was going to pay for a first class seat though. The comfort of the seats and the fact that food was actually delicious helped to balance out the longest flight you had ever taken in your life. You managed to get some rest on the plane, but not very much since you were so excited and nervous. You had not seen each other for a while. And the last time you saw him you were both naked.

When you arrive you don’t have any bags to collect; you just brought your carry-on. You know you are going to do a lot of shopping while you are there and had decided you would just buy a suitcase there. You walk down to departures and scan the crowd looking for your name. This was so exciting. You had been the person in the crowd holding a name placard before, but you had never had it done for you. It helped that it was one of the few names written in English. You smile and walk over to a man in a suit.  After confirming each other’s identity, you follow him out to a black SUV with tinted windows. He takes your bag and you slide into the backseat. 

YN: Hey! I’m on my way to the hotel. When will I get to see you?

NJ: Yeah….about that. There is no way I would be able to just be going in and out of a hotel without anyone here noticing. This isn’t LA. We can’t really go out in public much here. The driver will be taking you to my apartment complex. Once you get here, you will let security know who you are. They will provide you with a key and directions.

You weren’t expecting this at all, but it made sense.

YN: Umm ok. Sounds like a plan. 

You hoped to God someone at the security office spoke English. Oh well. You typed some things into your translation app just in case and tried to enjoy the scenery. It was a city, but it seemed a lot cleaner than LA. Less sunny, and more modern. At least the parts you were driving through.

After a fifteen minute taxi ride that has brought you into a very fancy part of Seoul you try to keep your cool as your driver assures you that this is the location you are supposed to be at. It is fancy looking as fuck and has a giant ass gate around it. The driver pulls up and shows his credentials and then pulls up and rolls your window down.

The security officer stands there, looking at you. You pull out your passport and state your name. He looks over a sheet of paper and nods. Handing you an envelope that feels like it has a keyboard and some papers in it. You thank him in shitty Korean and the driver closes the window. You open the envelope.

“Hey. If you’re getting this, I wasn’t able to get off work in time to meet you. The driver knows which building to go to. Use this key to go to unit 4106. Text me when you get there. Sorry!

Namjoon”

The chauffeur drives between several of the buildings. The streets are lined with trees and there appeared to be several small gardens between the buildings. The car comes to a stop outside building 4. The driver gets out to open your door and hands you the bag. You thank him and head into the building.

The apartment building was a lot like a luxury hotel, you find yourself thinking. It was decorated similarly with gilded light fixtures and a marble floor. You scan your key card at the elevators and head up to the 10th floor. 

It becomes very obvious from the minute you walk in that this is Namjoon’s actual apartment. His giant shoes are all over the foyer.  You purse your lips and take out your phone.

YN: YOU DIDNT SAY IT WAS YOUR APARTMENT

NJ: Relax sweetheart, the guest bedroom is for you. I’m hardly ever there. Make yourself at home and I’ll see you later ;p

YN: THATS NOT THE POINT

NJ: You’re welcome. Stop being a brat and enjoy.

You pout a little bit. Fine. Fine. You’ve already slept with him so why does it matter if this is his apartment. Because it feels so much more intimate, you think. You enter into the space while texting Xavier.

YN: New chapter in the Kdrama series. 

You knew Xavier would normally be sleeping, but he was so excited and wanted to make sure you made it safely he was wide awake.

X: Oh no, what?

YN: he didn’t arrange for me to stay in a hotel IM AT HIS APARTMENT.

X: AHAHAHAHAHA HOLY SHIT. Is it nice? Is there like a waterfall? Does it smell like rich people? Send pictures!

YN: I don’t think I should send pics since he’s famous, but there are no waterfalls that I can see. It smells normal. Actually no, it smells new, like people don’t really live here. Stay tuned for updates.

X: Has he dicked you yet?

YN: -_- he’s stuck at work. And I’ll be in the guest bedroom thankyouverymuch.

X: Yeah….ok…..suuuuuuure.

You put your phone back in your pocket and continue to wander around the apartment. It is the size of a house. There is a small terrace running  along the side of the unit and three open rooms that flow together. I guess rich people need more than one living room? You wonder. They are all furnished with couches and art. The floors are a beautiful Marble. Or Granite. Some expensive imported thing. You notice several plants on the wall as well as out on the terrace. Huh. I did not think he would be into plants, you find yourself thinking.

YN: Nice plants

NJ: My pride and joy

You smile and walk into the kitchen. It looks like a showroom. You doubt much cooking goes on here. If you could afford to eat out all the time you would too. You open the fridge and as predicted, it is mostly empty. There are a few bottles of water and some random condiments. Panic strikes you as you begin to wonder if there’s a coffee maker in this apartment. This could be a deal breaker; you might have to flee to the Marriott. There isn’t one sitting out. You frantically open cabinets. You make eye contact with a very fancy looking Espresso maker. Ok. You will learn how to use this beast. You sit it out on the counter and plug it in. Crisis averted for now. You continue through the rest of the house. You quickly find the master bedroom. Big bed. That’s all you take note of before closing the door. You don’t want to be nosy. You wander to the other end of the apartment and find an extra bedroom and an office. You don’t go to the office, but do take your stuff into the guest bedroom. You are feeling tired and starting to feel hungry.

YN: When will you be back? Is there a convenience store nearby? I need coffee and/or food.

NJ: Sorry. It will still be a while. Actually there are several stores on property. The closest one is in building 2. Here, download the app. I’ll send you the login info.

YN: Thanks.

You change out of your traveling clothes into real clothing and head to the market. The apartment complex’s layout is fairly easy to understand once you look at the app. You walk over to tower 2 and ride the elevator to the market level. It looks like the atrium of a cruise ship. There is a giant crystal chandelier hanging in the middle of the lobby area as well as beautiful indoor trees, glass art bulbs, probably a peacock or two wandering around, and some light music playing in the background. Oh God. I should just starve. This is too fancy. I need to leave.  

You turned to leave when you heard a voice speaking politely in Korean. You ignore it, and then hear the same voice ask in English,  “Excuse me, Miss. Can I help you?” A short man in his 50’s walked over. “I’m on the concierge staff here. You must be new.” 

“Ah yes. Thank you. Umm...Coffee please?”

“Of course. Take-away or beans?”

“Both please?” You ask, trying to keep it simple and very thankful for the English.

“Yes of course. If you just get me the unit number I can actually just have it sent there. Also there is an ordering and delivery app you can use next time if you would like to save yourself the walk.” The man explained while he typed some information into a tablet. 

“That’s very helpful. Thank you. For today, now please.” 

“Very well miss, please insert your chip or resident card here and sign,” he turned the tablet towards you. You inserted your debit card.  

“Thank you. Please wait.”

You take a seat in the fancy lobby area and get out your phone. You had some messages from Namjoon.

[NJ]: Oh, there is also an app you can download and order groceries to the apartment. 

[NJ]: I usually eat at work so I forget about it.

[NJ]: Sorry, you probably already hiked there.

A smirk crossed your face as you started to type a response.

[Y/N]: Sorry, I just saw these. And no worries. It’s a beautiful part of the complex. I was a little overwhelmed to be honest but the concierge was very helpful!  10/10 recommend.  

You take a picture of the lobby area and send it to him.

[NJ]: wow, yeah that’s beautiful. I haven’t actually been there myself.

The concierge returns, handing you a coffee and a bag of coffee beans.  You thank him profusely one more time.

“My pleasure. Take care.”

You sit the beans down and pose with your coffee cup, snapping a selfie to send to Namjoon.

[Y/N]: There, now all is right with the world ^_^

[NJ]: :) See you soon!

You travel back to the apartment and unpack your suitcase. You try your hardest to stay awake, but at this point you have been up for over 24 hours and you can feel the pull of sleep. You’ll just lay down for a nap. 

---------

It is dark outside by the time Namjoon gets off work. He feels bad he couldn’t meet you in the car at the airport, and even worse that he’s kept you waiting for hours. You haven’t answered any of his texts these past few hours either. He opens the door to his apartment. The lights are off. Did you leave? He wonders. He flips on the light and sees your shoes by the door which put a smile on his face. You must be sleeping. He hasn’t actually been in his apartment for about 2 months. It was mostly the same as he left it, except most of the time when he returned the apartment had a stale smell from having been left empty. This time it smelled like coffee and girl.

He enters the main living area and finds you laying in a small blanket nest on the couch with a laptop on the table; a coffee cup resting on a coaster next to it. He smiles and goes through to his bedroom to deposit his travel bag. He washes his face and changes clothes and then proceeds to nervously pace. Should he wake you up? You were probably tired, but at the same time, to prevent jet lag you shouldn’t sleep too much, and he wanted to hang out with you. He wrestles with this issue for a while and then decides he will try to wake you up.

He gently shakes your foot, “Hey sleepy. Wake up.” 

“Mmmmmmmmmmm…” you respond. What’s happening? You kick the thing bothering your foot. So annoying. You hear a deep voice laugh. Oh shit, where were you again? The shaking of your foot resumes and you crack open one of your eyes and see Namjoon sitting on the couch. “Heyyyy.”

“Hey there sweetheart. Nice seeing you in Korea.”

You feel your heart do a little flip flop at the way he’s talking to you but you want to play it cool. “Yeah. It’s good to be here.” You stretch out and move to sit up.

“How are your legs doing?” He asks.

“Good. They get stiff pretty easily and I still have to do my exercises everyday but they don’t hurt most of the time or anything. I get pretty bad headaches from time to time, but you already knew that. Sorry about that by the way.”

“It’s fine, I just carry aspirin around with me now.” He shrugs. “Did you get any food? Should I order something?”

“Yeah. Order some super Korean food.” You are fully awake now.

“Yeah? You serious? It’s not going to be like Koreatown food.” He teases

“Might as well jump in. If I don’t like it, there’s always rice, right?” You smile.

“That’s true,” he takes out his phone to order dinner.

“What did you do today?”

“Today was planning for the Festa. Even though it’s months away we have to make sure we have enough content planned just in case there are any unforeseen delays.”

“Cool.” You say. You had done your basic level ARMY research so you were somewhat familiar with their different activities.

“How was your flight? You should probably get up and stretch those legs around. Get up.” He pushes your shoulder playfully.

“Ughhh….fine. By the way. Nice apartment. Is rent like 20 grand a month?” You stand up groaning slightly like an old woman. Damn stiff legs.

“Uhh...I paid 6 million dollars for it up front so I don’t pay rent. Do you want anything to drink?”

It’s a good thing you weren’t drinking anything when he dropped that little factoid on you or you would have spit it out comic-book style. Jesus. That explained the security and Gucci grocery store. “Uh water please.” You walked over following him to the kitchen. “It’s good to see you by the way. Thanks for inviting me.” You slowly remember how to speak like a human again.

“Sure. I wish I had more free time to spend with you, but I’m glad you were able to make it.” He fills a glass with water for you. “Wait a minute! Before I forget,” he jogs out of the room and returns with a small box. “Here, this is for you. We were in Australia last month and I wanted to get something for you.”

You are surprised. It didn’t occur to you that he would think about you or buy you something. Until a few months ago you had considered yourself a nuisance. “Wow, thank you so much. You didn’t have to do that.” you say, taking the box, “I hope it’s a tiny KNOIFE or tiny koala or tiny kangaroo,” you open the box. It is an adorable mug with a Koala on it superimposed on the Australian Continent. It says in English, “Lucky Australian Koala.” You burst out laughing, cupping the mug with both your hands in front of your face. “This is perfection. Thank you so much for my authentic LUCKY AUSTRALIAN KOALA, I cannot wait to drink out of him tomorrow. Seriously. “ You sit the mug on the kitchen table. Fuck it. “Come here,” you gesture, and pull him in for a hug. His body feels solid against your and he gently wraps his arms around you. You give a firm squeeze. “Thank you for the mug and for flying me out here.”  You pull away and smile at him. 

He looks away almost shy, “It was nothing. I figure I still owe you a few for the pen incident.”

You take a drink of the water. “Yeah. You have had some dickish moments.” 

“Speaking of dickish behavior...do you want to talk about what happened with Ben or…?”

You shrug. “There’s not a lot to say. Ben apparently met his soulmate about 4 months before the car accident. He tried to stay away since we had already agreed that we didn't care about stuff like that. But he couldn't. I don't know when he started seeing Jessie behind my back. They were apparently banging all summer in the apartment and while I was in the hospital.” You take another gulp of water. Namjoon is surprised that he isn’t feeling much anger or sadness coming off of you. “After I got all my shit out of the apartment and had a chance to calm down, I couldn't be too mad about it you know? You and I had already slept together and most people aren't as stubborn as us. So really, how could they resist? I mean I was angry and sad at the time but at this point it seems like a lifetime ago. "

Namjoon had never asked about what had happened with Ben before, assuming that if you wanted to talk about it you would have brought it up. " Wow. "

"Yeah. I mean that's waaaay oversimplified but that's the gist of it. Anyways. Everything was a mess for me for a while. You know I stayed with Xavier and Joe and then  Xavier's husband got a really good job offer here so we all picked up and left LA."

“And now you’re in New York.” He finishes your thought

“Yeah. Well Jersey technically because rent is $1000 less a month. But I’m applying for jobs as assistant director at tv stations and theaters. I’m hopeful something will come up. I can’t really teach fitness classes anymore.”

Namjoon listens thoughtfully, feeling like a jackass for never asking about this stuff before. What kind of soulmate was he? 

“Well, let me know if you need a job reference.”

“Ahahahaha,” You laugh awkwardly. “No way. I don’t want people thinking I only got a job because I know someone famous.”

“Sweetheart, that’s how everyone gets jobs in the industry.” He leans against the counter.

“I don’t know, I’ll think about it.” You fidget

“You know I’ll just text Xavier and he’ll tell me the companies you applied for.” Namjoon flashes his dimples at you.

You scowl. “I didn’t realize you two were so chummy.”

“Hey, we bonded a lot in the hospital.” His phone let out a chirp. “The food is at the security office. I’ll be back in a few. Make yourself at home.” He heads over to the foyer to slip his shoes on. 

You decide to unpack and then wash your face and brush your teeth before returning to the main area where he has just returned. “That was fast”, you comment, meeting him near the door and taking a bag from his hands.

“I rode my bike over.” He replies, following you to the kitchen. 

“They let your clumsy ass ride a bike?” You tease, pulling food out.

He lets out a laugh, “Yeah. Just remember, only one of us has got hit by a car.”

“Touche. Touche. Alright. I don’t know what any of this is, so I’m going to go wait at the table like a lazy bitch.”

“Haha, fair enough. I’ll bring it over. “

You head over and have a seat at the dining table, placing your water down. This feels so weird. So intimate. He joins a few minutes later placing a bunch of food on the table along with a spoon and chopsticks.

“I’m sure there’s a fork around here somewhere if you need one.” He says as he opens the lids on the containers.

“I lived in LA where we ate sushi almost every day, I think I’ll be ok.” You sass back, ,looking over all of the delicious food. You start to dig in. He sits waiting to see what your reaction will be. You flash him a thumbs up as you chew. It’s definitely good. He smiles and begins to eat as well.

Dinner is relatively quiet. You had no idea how hungry you were until you started to eat. Some of the foods had a texture you didn’t quite care for, but overall you liked it all.

“Wow. That was delicious. Thank you so much.” You smile

“It was. You’re welcome.” He gets up and starts to clear the table and you join him. 

You continue to yawn involuntarily as the two of you straighten up the kitchen,

“Do you want some coffee or a nap?” he asks.

“I’m going to try and stay awake a little bit longer. What does the rest of the night look like?”

“Relaxing. I am exhausted from work. And you don’t look so fresh yourself. LEt’s watch a movie or something.” He says it so casually. Like this is a normal thing the two of you do. Like it hasn’t been months since the last time you saw each other and you left him naked and alone in a bed. You feel your heartbeat speed up.

“Hold on, I’m changing into some comfy clothes before I make this commitment.” you get up and head towards your room.

You come back in leggings and a shirt. Namjoon has re-positioned himself on the end of the couch. You sit next to him. “Ok, all set,” you grab your blanket. 

“You take your comfort quite seriously,” Namjoon laughs as he hits the play button. 

“Definitely,” you respond, yawning. After about half an hour, It’s dark outside, the night spilling into the living room. You are trying to keep your eyes open. You feel Namjoon put his large arm around you. You don’t resist, you nestle into it. You feel the warmth of his body radiating against you. It feels so nice.You try to stay awake but your eyelids grow heavy.  The next thing you know, you wake up slowly, not quite oriented to where you are. Your face is sweaty. You take stock of your surroundings. You are still in the living room. You must have fallen asleep while watching the movie. You move a bit and realize you are not alone. Namjoon is asleep as well. Underneath you. Oh god. You probably trapped him. Is that your drool on his shirt? You wonder. But you know that yes, it definitely is. Jesus [Y/N].Not making a great impression here.  Must sneak out so the drool will dry before he wakes up. You move as stealthy as possible off of him, which is very difficult since you found yourself laying between his legs. How did you even get like that? You had gone in for a light snuggle to see how it would be received and then apparently passed out dead. No more starting movies when you were tired. You knew it was your weakness. 

The poor man probably had to pee and was stuck, forced to lay underneath you until he fell asleep.    Is he snoring? Huh. Well ok. You drool and he snores. Very attractive individuals. You grab a blanket from your nest on the other side of the couch and put it on top of him. You sneak down the hallway to your bathroom, pee and sneak into your bedroom. You lay down and try to fall asleep, but your heart is beating fast as all you can think about it falling asleep on Namjoon. You feel your face grow warm. You are  a mix of turned on and embarrassed. You turn off your light and wonder if he will still want to go sightseeing with your drooly-ass tomorrow.  @calling-dips-on-j-hope​​  @ghostkat23​​ @cuteipat​​ @marianeamine​​@thisisval​​ @almonte12​​  @themisunderstoodblackswan​ @bobbyboops​  @betysotelo18​ @katerbees​

[the-explodin-kittins]

theimperfetc:

spankfuckabuseme:

Oh Tumblr, I have quite the story for you today. I’m back from my break with quite the cautionary tale. My message? Don’t fucking trust people from the internet. I know this, I really do, I’ve been burned by crazies here before. But the sociopaths just keep getting smarter and better at lying. Take this to heart, learn from my mistakes and naivety. Just because it happened to me doesn’t mean it has to happen to you too.

So here’s a tale about how I got catfished on tumblr.

A few months back, I got to know a fellow blogger, @silence-in-submission and her Daddy, @thewolfsdarklair/@kinginthesheets. I was talking with both of them for a bit, but then things got a bit more personal and serious between Wolf and I. We got to know each other, had a lot in common, and started messaging on Kik damn near constantly. He told me he was a single dad, and that his ex walked out when his son was 3 months old and it’s been just him ever since. I’ve never actually trusted anyone on tumblr enough to give them more than a few details about myself, but this slimeball is good at making you trust him and charming the pants off women, myself included. He made himself into the perfect man and played the part well. He used my vulnerable state of going through a divorce to weasel his way into my heart.

BUT! Though shady, this isn’t even the most scandalous part of my tale…yes, I’m a piece of shit man stealer, I’ll own that. But try to keep up, so far we have a tumblr submissive, and a tumblr girlfriend. Girlfriend knows about submissive, submissive does not know about girlfriend. Read on.

Anyways, we start chatting more and more often and he tells me how amazing and special I am, I’m the most incredible woman he’s ever known. I let him into my life enough to show him pics and videos of my son and I. My sweet kiddo blew this monster kisses on FaceTime. He shows me photos and videos of his son and himself. Snuggling on the couch, coaching his sons T-Ball games. Father of the year, swoon! Plays up the single dad card, hard. He messages me nonstop, “good morning beautiful” every morning, phone calls on our commutes to work daily. We had the same favorite bands. We both loved to cook. He told me about his family. His careers. He would message me links to sweet country songs of how he felt about me. My ringtone for him was “Crave You” by Thomas Rhett, I legit bought a damn ringtone for this dickwad because that was “our” song. He would conveniently disappear over weekends, busy with his single dad gig, but in reality he was otherwise occupied.

It was soon, but man I was sure I was in love with this joker. My dumb ass bought a plane ticket to see him, with his enthusiastic blessing. I was supposed to go see and stay with him over Easter weekend. We were both so excited! We could finally be in each other’s arms at last, he said it felt like “I had been his for a lifetime” already. We were going to sight see in his city, cook dinner together and have loads of crazy, kinky sexy. I had a countdown app on my phone counting the days, minutes and seconds until I was with this amazing man. He conveniently disappeared from the face of the earth a few days before and surfaces the afternoon before my flight to tell me he’s out of the country for work and he’s so sorry but I have to cancel my trip. I thought it was odd he flew out of the country without a heads up, but he said it was super last minute and he needed to make arrangements for where his son would stay when he was gone. He was “overseas” for over a week before he told me I would have to cancel my trip. He’s gunna make it up to me 10fold, he misses me, he loves me. Ya know, it was fishy, but shit happens with work. I was devastated and mad he didn’t tell me sooner he was away on work. But here I am, out the better part of $500. He’s “out of the country” for another week and once he’s back, I sent a care package to him and his son of stuff for them. I went to copy and paste the address he gave me and google popped up with the address and it was a commercial building, not a home. Strange. I asked him on the phone why he gave me a fake address, and he casually told me it was the building he worked in. Still strange, why wouldn’t I send it to your house? Oh well. I was so excited to send something from me to him. It was super cute, love letter with cartoon hearts at all. I’m a SUPER thoughtful and romantic person, I went all out asking him if he would be my boyfriend “officially”. I got him stuff from his favorite shows and movies, same with his son, and here I am out more money on this joker. He thought it was super cute, said his son loved the books and he loved the figurines I sent him.

So we plan another trip, two actually. He tells me he’s flying here for the weekend April 26-30th. My son had a brief stay in the hospital due to illness and he was the perfect boyfriend during the whole ordeal, calling while I was at the hospital and cooing “awww poor buddy” when my son would cry. Messaging to make sure we were ok. Everything is going well, we’re released from the hospital and my boyfriend will be here in less than a week! Ahhhh! I just moved to a new house and I’m working on making it presentable and homey for us to nestle up in over the long weekend. I got us tickets to see Infinity War together. We were going to go dancing and I had a babysitter! Yet again, the same as the last trip, he falls off the face of the earth for “work.” This was on Friday the 20th and I have yet to hear from him again and as far as he knows, he thinks I still think he’s planning to come here Thursday and he hasn’t said a word to me! I’m sure he was planning an elaborate work story for this Wednesday to message me with, but I’m sure he will see all of this before then and hopefully not waste his time. We also had plans for me to pick him up from a nearby town May 7th after a work trip that would bring him back this way so soon! I was so lucky, I get to have the man I love sleeping next to me two weeks in a row?! Luckiest girl ever, so spoiled.

But…something just felt…off? the other day. My PTSD from him canceling the last trip was making this past weekend feel eerily familiar. He was off the radar again, I was sick with worry, and I had the impending doom feeling in my gut. Part of me knew there were never any plane tickets.

I had ran a background check on him previously and most things he told me checked out. His age, where he lives, his family members he has mentioned in passing. No marriages or crazy criminal charges listed (but man, 20 was a rough year for you, wasn’t it man?) I missed a small detail the first go around. I missed an eviction suit from last year, with a codefendent listed of the female variety that I was positive wasn’t a family member. Facebook to the rescue, and to my utter dismay, his codefendent was in fact his WIFE since 2015, the MOTHER of his son who supposedly bailed, and they have ANOTHER son who recently turned 1! His wife also may or may not currently be pregnant with number 3, I’m not positive. Oh my. All the happy family photos, I swear to you I threw up where I was at when this news sunk in. The man who said he saw a future with me, saw marriage with me, couldn’t wait for us and our kids (the one I knew about anyways) to all be together at last. We casually discussed me moving to be closer to him in the future if our trips went well. If this would have played out longer, who knows how much of my life I would have ruined for the lies this man told me. But…he already had a happily ever after.

I had been fooled. And not to any fault of my own, other than my naivety. I’m not an idiot, I did my due diligence and did a background check, but one little line on there was missed and I ignored all the little details about him that were sketchy because of the way he made me feel with his words. This man is an expert liar and sociopath. Who knows what shit he spins to his wife to cover his ass with his online affairs. I feel so bad for her. I feel so bad for anyone else he’s involved with. I feel so bad for myself for getting mixed up with this mess. I hate that I didn’t trust my gut when I felt like he was too good to be true, because part of me always knew he was too good to be true. The last photo is the last contact he had with me last Friday, keep in mind he’s supposed to be flying to see me Thursday supposedly. Oh and PLOT TWIST! The child he said he was a single dad to? Send me photos and videos of? I sent him a carepackage? IT’S NOT HIS CHILD. It’s his wives from another man! So he exploited a child that’s NOT EVEN HIS.

Silence, I felt, and still feel dirty, for beginning a relationship with a man who was already in a D/s dynamic, but he said he wanted more with me than that - led me to believe you were just a hobby and I was the real deal. He told me to say the word and you would be gone, that I was “so much more to him than that.” Led me to believe he was slowly breaking things off with you to be with me completely. And I sincerely bought into it, unfortunately. I thought he had told you about me when I sent you those cryptic messages a few weeks ago. I also played along when he sent me fake messages to screenshot to calm you down. The messages telling me to back off from your dynamic in February we’re also fake. I know, I’m an awful bitch for toeing in on your property, but you’ve got to know he played us both the same and I fell for it hook, line and sinker. What I did wasn’t right, I’m sorry, but we’re both victims here and I’m glad I was able to uncover the truth about this piece of shit. It’s not us. There’s nothing wrong with you, beautiful girl, this man is a selfish monster, don’t let this ruin you and for the love of god don’t believe whatever lies he’s going to tell you to keep you around. You can do better. We both can.

My dearest N, you sociopathic anal hemorrhage. I know you thought you were smart, how could this crazy little 20 some girl blow up your spot? You’re alpha, established, educated, and wise. You had it all figured out. There’s no way that your loving B would ever be suspicious of you, because I just LOVED you so extremely, right? All you need is love, baby. Well, love be but a feeling and though I felt it strongly for the person I thought you were, logic and the truth always win. I’m not an idiot, honey, and I fucking figured it out. The lies roll off your tongue like cotton candy. You know all the right things to say. But you can’t talk your way out of this explosion, buddy. I hope the lies and drama were worth the shitstorm you’re about to experience. You say you don’t do drama but my sweet idiot, you ARE drama. I’m sure you can understand why I had to go and message your wife every conversation, detail, photo and video you’ve ever sent me because being a Libra, you’re all about justice, my badass teddy bear. I’m sure you’re tempted to lash out now and try to hurt ME by sharing the intimate pictures and videos I sent to you of myself, but let me remind you that’s called “revenge porn” and given your job, you know that isn’t legal. Every person you cross paths with is either a blessing or a lesson, and though I KNOW my presence is a motherfucking blessing, you’re gunna learn this goddamn lesson today, fuckboy.

So let this be a lesson.

1. Block this dude. Both of his accounts. He’s bad news. There’s good people on tumblr, and we don’t need this sociopath muddying our waters. I’m sure he will resurface with a new blog, but heed this cautionary tale. 2. Don’t ignore red flags because of sweet words. Actions speak louder than words. 3. Don’t meet people from the internet without a background check, and check it thoroughly and use every tool the internet gives you to verify family members and details about the person you’re meeting. A person can be anyone they want to be online, and men like this think they’re invincible. 4. Make someone work hard to earn your heart. Even if someone seems to check all the boxes and seems like your perfect man, if he is, he will earn your heart - you won’t have to give it to him with hesitations, you won’t have to wonder at night when you’ll hear from him next.

I don’t know if this asshole is a prick, a sociopath, a monster, or if he just thinks he’s smarter than everyone else. Well, he’s not. Not for long enough. If you know of this vaguely human-shaped piece of shit, then spread the word. He shouldn’t have contact with anything more than the fucking curb. I expect both his blogs to be gone pretty much right away here, but he’s obviously an addict to this kind of behavior. He’ll be back and looking to get his kicks off of the vulnerable again.

Be careful who you let in this deep, people are more fucked up than you know. If something seems off, look into it harder. And trust your gut. Mine knew something was wrong with this sack of bees with a face, but didn’t step in in time.

@thewolfsdarklair you’re narcissistic enough to be reading this. Fuck you. With a rusty garden rake, in a counterclockwise swirl, in the lemon and salt depository of hell.

#douchecanoe

[funtimebunnyblog]

Diamante d’Italia: Chapter 1

After his Father "generously gave" the teenager a whopping amount of money Josuke finds himself vacationing in beautiful southern Italy.

However, being the trouble magnet he is, he ends up getting caught in Famiglia affairs.

Being so far from his home and his friends, Josuke needs to make some powerful allies to help him out of this mess...

(Chapter 1: Culture shock)

"--and remember to-"

"Yes Mom. I know." Josuke sighed into the phone, rolling his eyes. "I've got everything on me. You know I can protect myself."

They'd had this exact same phone conversation at every other airport he had called from so far. By now the teenager had memorized it all and knew exactly what his Mother was going to say.

Standing in the airport of Naples Italy wouldn't make a difference.

"Ok. But just be careful Josuke. Italy is so far from here." She said over the background clatter. "And you don't even know any Italian."

There was a crackle over the phone as she sighed, he could hear the sounds of dishes clinking in the background followed by running water.

He almost had to plug his other ear to drown out the loud voice on the intercom so he could hear her talking.

"...I know Tonio."

"That joke was horrible, Josuke."

If there wasn't the sound of dishes still being done, he would've been sure his Mother had hung up on him.

There were no words exchanged for at least a full 10 seconds and with each passing second the teenager tried harder and harder to contain every giggle that tried to escape his lips, waiting with baited breath on her reaction.

The teenager couldn't hold in his laughter anymore, wheezing a little as he leaned on the glass wall of the phonebooth.

"I know." He cackled. "But it's kinda true. Tonio told me so much about Italy! It can't be that bad here..."

A change of scenery would do him good. Especially after all he had been through in the past little while with all that serial killer mess.

He had been daydreaming about this trip, this place, but most importantly; the cuisine, for almost a month now.

After his Father so generously "gave" him his wallet upon departure of Morioh, Josuke Higashikata decided it was time for him to see some of the world.

It was definitely time for a vacation and what better place to visit than the country with food that made Okuyasu and him squabble over every single morsel cooked and served to them by Tonio.

He earned a punch to the shoulder however from Okuyasu after telling him the news. His friend wasn't spiteful however and laughed, telling him that he could finally have Tonio and his fine chef skills all to himself while he was away.

Neither of them had really looked at "normal" food that same way after tasting fine Italian food so he couldn't think of a better place to go for some rest and relaxation.

He had also heard that Italy held some beautiful sights.

Josuke promised to bring him home a shitload of souvenirs anyways. He was also considering getting something for Koichi and his Mom back home.

There was another crackle over the phone along with the running water in the background suddenly being turned off, making it a little easier to hear the woman as she spoke.

"If you say so..."

It also made it easier to hear the undeniable concern lacing her tone however.

"Say, what time is it over there anyways Mom?" He questioned, mostly out of curiosity, but also for the sake of taking his Mothers mind off of any worries she held for him.

"Just after 5." She answered with a hum, the sound of a plug being pulled and a draining sink accompanying it.

"Oh wow!" He blinked, peering out off the glass booth to squint at the overly large clock of the airport terminal. "It's only 10AM over here."

"If you're going to call home, please do it around this time Josuke." She told him, a laugh lacing her voice as she spoke. "I wouldn't appreciate being woken up by the phone at 3AM."

The Highschooler laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head. He should probably write that down just in case he forgot, the last thing he wanted was to be screamed at by his Mother over the phone for waking her up in the middle of the night.

"Right..." he murmured. "Anyways. I should probably go now Mom. I'll call you from a Hotel or something tomorrow."

"Ok Josuke."

He could hear her hesitation to let him go in her voice alone.

"I'll be fine. I love you Mom. Talk soon!"

"I love you too."

He hung up the phone at last, a small smile gracing his lips.

Gripping the handle of his luggage tightly, he stepped out of the booth with his head held high.

He was worried about his Mother too of course. She was going through a lot too, especially when she was still grieving for his Grandfather.

However, once he was in possession of his newly aquired money (not stolen! Where would you get that idea?) He had given her a good portion of it and told her to spend the time he was away getting her nails done or treating herself in anyway she saw fit. She needed this little break as much as he did.

"Time to find a cab."

☆☆☆

Easier said than done.

Here he was on a sidewalk, finally into the City after nearly 2 hours of waiting for an open taxi to take him from the airport to the city, his pompador all in a stressful ruffle over the whole ordeal.

His eyes darted back and forth between the outstretched hand of the driver and the meter on the dashboard.

"120 000 Lira?!" He squawked at the cab driver, his aquamarine eyes going wide in their sockets as the man held out his hand before him.

Josuke wasn't exactly a mathematician, but he knew enough to know that amount was absurd! "Th-there's gotta be some mistake, sir! You only drove me to the edge of the city."

This was highway robbery (no pun intended), there was no way it could've been that much!

The taxi driver had rolled his eyes at him and told him otherwise, demanding he pay up or he'd drag him straight to the Police Officers who were standing idle near the Cab on the streetcorner.

Josuke peered into his wallet with a sigh from where he sat on the curb. Damnit. He'd have to think twice about taking another cab. He only had so much money to blow, necessary expenses like food and hotelrooms were his main priority, and he still needed a ticket home to Japan when all of this was over.

He'd just have to settle for walking the entire time he was here.

He tucked his wallet away safely, flicking out a comb and began to straighten out the poof of hair he so adored. He'd have to put some more hairspray in it later if things kept going like this, good thing he packed 8 whole cans.

His Lunchhour.

He stood up, grabbing his suitcase once more and keeping it close to his side.

"Well... I guess it's time to find a hotel." He mused. His thoughts were interrupted however by a punctuating growl of his stomach. He hadn't eaten much on the plane at all and from the position of the overhead sun, he could tell it was noontime.

"Ooh." He breathed, a hand moving to his stomach in surprise. "I'm running on empty..."

However, maybe it was better to ask for directions.

He supposed a Hotel would have to wait. What he really needed right now was a restaurant.

From all the stories Tonio told him about Italian cuisine and the entire culture behind it, he was sure it wouldn't be too hard to find one of those around here.

"Um- excuse me--" he tried to grab the attention of a passing man. The guy kept on walking without even giving him a side glance.

Another man approached him from behind and Josuke turned, stepping in front of him somewhat to gain his attention.

"Er... oh! Sir! A moment please, I'm--"

There went another one, very much like the first.

"Excuse me sir, could you tell me--" he started again. The man stopped in his tracks, nearly bumping right into Josuke.

"Ey! What gives?!"

"Outta my way, bastardo!"

The Highschool student barely had a chance to blink before the guy was right in his face, a fierce scowl pulling on his face.

If looks could kill, Josuke would be getting murdered in that moment.

The man grunted and shoved him further out of his way, balling his fists and grumbling to himself, too low for Josuke to hear, but the teen knew it was all in fluent Italian.

He held up his free hand in surrender, backing up and out of the way of the angry stranger.

"S-Sorry sir!" He practically squeaked. "I... I didn't mean to bother you!"

He rubbed his arm, a frown found its way to his face as he watched the furious mans back.

Sheesh. And here he thought he had been in a rough town back in Japan.

Maybe he should just start walking...

☆☆☆

He was starting to wish he took some language courses with Koichi in this years last term.

Or maybe he could've learned some basic words and stuff from Tonio, the man always seemed eager to share in the wonders of his culture after all.

Or maybe he could've not been an absolute dumbass and bought an Italian to English dictionary to use.

Or worse.

Josuke had been walking up and down the streets for nearly an hour, passing by buildings and signs galore, none of which he could read.

He was tempted to stop another stranger to ask what any of them meant, or even just plain ask where the nearest restaurant was, but he didn't want to get screamed at again.

Staring at the signs like a toddler who didn't know how to read but was trying made it all the worse.

"This is hopeless..." he grumbled, kicking at the sidewalk, sending a small stone bouncing down the white concrete.

He was actually contemplating calling his Mother again to ask her what he should do.

Maybe he could even call Tonio. Or Koichi. Or Okuyasu. Or his Nephew. Or fuck, ANYONE at this point.

Maybe he shouldn't have traveled alone and brought one of them along...

He had a feeling this was going to be a long day and he dug in his coat, whipping out his comb again. His pompadour was getting all ruffled again.

"Ei, tu."

He paused. Did someone... speak to him?

"Um... Hello?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "Did you say something?"

Frowning, he turned to locate the voice, finding himself facing an alleyway that lead off the street.

A figure stood there, leaned against the brick wall of a building, their eyes gleaming at him. There were others too, just two others, all of them looking at him.

The one closest to the alley entrance, a tall thinner male, looked him up and down, "Sei il ragazzo?" A question of some sort.

The one who spoke sported disheveled brown hair and clothes that were even more so, with strange sunken in eyes that seemed to hold a never ending stare. His two friends were not much different, they all had that same stare and it was locked firmly onto him.

Josuke frowned a little deeper, he didn't really understand what the man wad saying. Did he want something? Or maybe... was he trying to help him?

The Highschool student looked around before stepping into the alley, closing the distance between him and the group.

"Um... I'm sorry I don't understand." He flashed an awkward smile, looking between the three men hoping that someone could understand him or at least translate. "Can any of you help...?"

It sort of reminded Josuke of when he ate his Lunch at the neighborhood park back in Morioh.

The dogs that hung out around there would all approach him, then sit and watch, with their ears up and their backs straight, unblinking and expecting him to give them a piece of his sandwich.

He always thought it was a little creepy, but it was even creepier somehow to see it in a person.

The brown haired one pointed to the suitcase he held, "É questo?" That sounded like another question to him.

This was getting nowhere. He heaved out a sigh, throwing his hands up as he began to back away. "Sorry. I have no idea what you're saying... I-I really got to go."

The more he backed up, the more the blankness of stares seemed to disolve into... anger?

Yeah, suddenly these guys were looking pissed. All three of them were staring even more intensely into him, most especially the brown haired one.

"Prendetelo!" One of the others barked.

"Dacci le maledette droghe, cazzone!" The brunet man screeched and Josuke realized there was a fist coming for him. He stepped back quickly, the closed hand swooping loudly through the air, barely gracing his chest.

What was happening? Why were these men suddenly after him? Josuke barely had the time to consider the options of running away or trying to talk his way out of all of this mess before he was suddenly on the ground.

"Darlo a noi!"

They tried to pull the leather bag from his grasp and he pulled back harder, now full on clutching it to his chest as the fists now rained down on him.

Josuke couldn't even cry out. Everything was happening all at once. His thoughts were loud and his heartbeat was louder. The noise around him had gone to nothing but whitenoise. His only thought was to not let them take his suitcase.

And then... it all stopped. Just as quickly as it happened.

The teenager opened his eyes to find that all the kicking and punching had ceased on him. One of the men was on the ground and there was another person standing over them, yelling into his face.

But here he was. Defending a fucking stranger from a group of junkies.

Leone Abbacchio hated getting involved with common street fights. He hated it especially more when he was supposed to NOT be fighting someone today.

It was his day off after all. Bucciarati told him he could spend his time how he wanted it and he wanted some alone time.

All the Mafioso wanted to do was listen to his damn music and get some lunch when he noticed this damn idiot (obviously a tourist) trying to converse with the men.

'Just keep walking.' He tried to tell himself over and over, trying to pacify the unease building in him.

It wasn't his affair.

This was their problem.

He was a bystander.

He wasn't even in the alley.

He was on his way somewhere.

He shouldn't even give it a passing glance....

And then he watched the punk get knocked to the ground.

Now here he was, kicking the shit out of a damn dirty junkie.

Josuke winced at he the sound of a fist hitting hard against a nose, the crackle of bone filling his ears.

"FUCK OFF!"

One of the men who had been attacking him came up behind the silver haired figure and threw his arms around him in an attempt to pull him down.

Abbacchio didn't even flinch and hauled the man forward, bending so he came right over his head and smacked into the brunet who was holding the nose that was gushing with red blood.

He definitely owned up to his name then and there because to Josuke his gruff and booming voice was like the roar of a powerful Lion.

That was all it took. All three of them were clamoring to their feet and booking it down towards the other end of the alley.

It sort of reminded Josuke of that time he broke that seniors nose.

Thank God his hair was still ok though, after checking quickly he sighed in pure relief. That was truly what mattered to him, along with his luggage.

His eyes turned to his savior and he slowly got up from the hard ground, wincing as he did.

He was definitely going to hurt in the morning. He could already feel a bruise spotting on the center of his back.

"Th... Thank you." He spoke at last watching as the new stranger turned to face him at last. "I just wanted to ask for directions but I didn't know what they wanted..."

The duel coloured eyes of the man burned into him as he looked over him, making the high schooler start to sweat under the penetrating gaze.

"You... seem familiar." Abbacchio said at length. He had seen someone before with the same kinda face, he was sure of it. He squinted at the Highschool student as he wracked his brain for answers.

The teenager was sure of that. He was sure he would've remembered this man purely by the way he looked, let alone the strong and intimidating presence that radiated off him, if he had even glanced in his direction before.

Josuke blinked, his expression not unlike a deer staring into the headlights of an oncoming car.

"Um... we've never met before."

Abbacchio rolled his eyes. "Tch. No shit." He spat. "I've never seen you before either stronzo. You just seem kinda familiar."

Josuke winced slightly, averting his eyes to the ground lamely.

"Sorry."

He really hoped this guy could take a joke. He just got off the ground and didn't want to be thrown back down onto it.

He really was. For what exactly, he wasn't sure, but apologies always spilled from your lips in these kind of situations, regardless of whether you did something or not.

He broke off into an awkward laugh, shrugging as he struggled to meet the mans gaze. "I'm the only one I know who has such stylish hair like this so I don't know what would seem familiar to you."

"Whatever." The Goth finally said, shaking his head. "Judging by what just happened I can tell you're not from around here. You a tourist or something kid?"

Abbacchio folded his arms, looking him up and down again, making him painfully aware of more sweat beading on his neck.

This man was so hard to read to Josuke, kind of like his nephew in that way, he had no idea what the hell he was thinking.

"Oh sure am!" Josuke smiled brightly, a little more at ease. This guy was making some small talk with him, which was usually a step in a good direction.

A direction where he hoped he wouldn't get beat up and almost mugged again...

"I'm kinda on a vacation. I got some money and decided I wanted to see the world..." He rocked on his heels a little, studying the man before him just as much as he was him. "You live around here?"

"You could say that..." Abbacchio hummed, glancing back towards the street. "I don't exactly have a home but I live here."

"Oh!" Josuke had to refrain himself from covering his mouth after letting out that noise in surprise. He averted his gaze, absentmindedly scratching the back of his neck.

"Oh." He said, much softer this time, feeling very awkward. If only he had the ability to make the ground swallow him up. "I'm sorry...."

Leone offered no response.

"Do you like... have a place to sleep at least? Like at nights?"

"Yeah. I tend to move around a lot though." He answered vaguely. Best to keep all that extra information to himself. This brat didn't need to know the ins and outs of his life.

He nodded this time, because he did. He mostly slept at Bucciarati's house, whether upstairs in one of the guestrooms or on the mans couch downstairs.

Sometimes when out on missions, whether alone or with the others, he checked into a hotel (sometimes a Motel) and stayed there.

Other times he slept in the back of a van while on the road to or from said missions.

At least he wasn't drinking himself to death somewhere in the gutter anymore...

He turned his gaze back to Josuke who seemed a little more at ease hearing his words. He narrowed his eyes, "You're not.... in the Famiglia? Are you?"

Josuke blinked a few times. The.... what?

"Fam-eel-e-ah?"

That alone answered his question.

Who the hell other than a Mafioso sported a fucking pompadour?!

Raising one pointed eyebrow, he looked the kid over again. He never would've guessed he wasn't associated because he certainly dressed like a Mafioso.

What with that black coat adorned with those shiny golden hearts, not to mention the peace sign and the anchor as well, and that hair...

This twerp apparently...

Abbacchio huffed, waving a hand dismissively. "Nevermind. Just... watch yourself Kid. More importantly, watch your wallet."

Oh Christ! His wallet! He might've dropped it in that scuffle! Those bastards might've took it!

Josuke panicked, hands instinctively slapping his pockets in a frantic search. Ah! It was there! As soon as his hand found the bulge in his pocket, he let out a breath as relief washed over him like a warm tidalwave on the beach.

"Oh- yeah, yeah... of course." He breathed. "Th-Thanks for reminding me-" here he paused, his pale blue eyes blinking. "I never... got your name."

To his own surprise, Abbacchio complied.

"Abbacchio." He said. "Leone Abbacchio."

"Abbacchio..." Josuke tested the name out, bobbing his head as he idly scratched his chin. "Ha! Cool name. I'm Josuke Higashikata, I actually come from Japan."

The dawny eyed mans frown deepened as he contemplated telling him that his last name literally just meant "lambchop", a far cry from "cool" if you asked him, but he thought better of it.

Yeah. There was no way in Hell Abbacchio was going to try and take a crack at repeating that last name. He'd be there all day.

Just "Josuke" would have to do.

"Japan, huh?" He said aloud, more to himself than Josuke, stroking his chin in thought. "I hear the streets are much nicer there..."

The events of the past couple of months suddenly came flooding back all at once to Josuke. How he and his friends had been attacked left and right, going against all odds, all on a search to hunt down their towns serial killer.

The blaring siren of that Ambulance still haunted him in his sleep and he woke up in a cold sweat each time there came the sound of a head being popped each time it replayed in his head.

He laughed a little, forcing a smile on his face as a hand swept through his hair. "Yeah... you could say that."

Now desperate to change the subject, he decided to steer the conversation to something much lighter. Something that didn't make him remember a massacre.

Or a hand-fetishing serial killer getting his head squashed like a grape.

"You've... got quite the fashion sense." He commented, pointing to the mans open coat lined with laces and purple lipstick maybe a little rudely. "I like your eyeliner."

Leone hardly batted an eye (a well lined eye at that) at his words. If anything, he was surprised the kid didn't outright say anything like "ARE YOU A GOTH?!"

He was quite used to that one, even if the answer was yes it was still irritating.

Besides... that one little girl on the bus that time told him he looked pretty. And that was enough for him.

Or there was always the "Why are you wearing makeup? You're a MAN!"

Now that one always made him fucking furious. Just because he was "a man" didn't make any damn difference. Makeup was to make you look good so it was for everyone.

"Thanks." He huffed. Though his voice hadn't lost any of that gruffness, he truly was thankful for a genuine compliment. "I like your coat."

He wasn't quite like Koichi however. The silver haired teenager thst only came up to his hip wore his heart on his sleeve everywhere he went.

Josuke, very unlike Abbacchio who seemed indifferent to it all, blushed at the praise. His friends always told him he was very expressive and that was true.

When he was happy he walked with bounce in his step, when he was sad it all came out in tears and when he was angry... oh... he was told the sight wasn't very pretty.

"Ah, thanks. It's my school uniform, I really like it."

Here Abbacchios eyebrows shot right up, a frown twinging at the corners of his mouth. A school uniform? This kid must have been living some kind of high life, or maybe at least went to a pretty decent school, if this was just a plain old uniform.

He pursed his lips, the punk kind of reminded him of a stand-user. He had a hunch.

"I see..." he hummed, folding his arms across his chest. "You really are still just a kid then."

Bucciarati often said that stand-users (natural or otherwise) tended to gravitate towards one another. Like "strings of fate" or some cliché sounding shit.

But maybe it was possible. This kid wasn't a Mafioso... but he could very well have powers.

Like lightning striking, Josukes expression changed again. His eyebrows went together and his lips into a sort of a pout.

"I'm 16." He told the man, trying to sound as rough and tough at least as half as this stranger was (Abbacchio quirked an eyebrow, looking completely unfazed at his attempt however, probably because he just watched him get beat up). "Besides. I think I'm pretty mature..."

"I won't call you a kid if you don't call me an old man. Deal?"

This kid was starting to kinda sound like Mista. However if the punk started spewing shit about how the number 4 was unlucky, he would get as far away as possible.

He half chuckled (it was more of an exhale), coloured lips quirking somewhat into a smirk.

Josuke shrugged, uncrossing his arms as his lips pulled into a smirk of their own, cocking an eyebrow at the other.

"Hmm, depends. How old are you?" He questioned, almost playfully. The man must have been at least approaching his 30's but he wasn't sure.

"Well into my 20's." Abbacchio grunted, keeping his exact age number vague to the young teen. "But I've seen more shit than other people do in a lifetime."

For all he know he really could be an old man. He had white hair after all and certainly had the gruffness of an older man.

Maybe he was hiding some wrinkles under that makeup or something?

Only in his 20's? Jeeze... he believed that last part. Most especially when the dawny eyes suddenly locked onto his, staring at him with all seriousness.

"Listen to me, I don't really care what the Hell you do, but when you get out of school... stay away from the bad stuff. You hear me?"

Josuke swallowed, his mouth now felt way too dry, and he nodded to the man almost knowingly. He had been through some bads too... however, he couldn't help but wonder how much similarities there were between him and Abbacchio.

Leone huffed quietly, giving the kid one more solemn nod, before turning on his heel and quietly going on his way down the alley, out towards the street.

The teenager watched him go, feeling painfully out of place all of a sudden, like a puzzle piece that had been jammed into the wrong spot.

"Uh- hey!"

He didn't even realize that he had called out until Abbacchio halted in his tracks, turning to look at him with a deep frown.

Josuke fidgeted on the spot, stuffing his hands in his pockets to avoid fumbling with them out in the open and look somewhat composed under the older mans stare.

Once again, Leone Abbacchio found himself feeling surprised.

"Uhh..." he cleared his throat, trying to focus his thoughts clear enough to speak without stuttering.

"This might sound kinda weird but -uh... you wanna... like grab a coffee or something?" He smiled sheepishly at the man whose expression didn't change. "I mean, you just kinda saved my skin back there and you seem pretty cool. I don't have anybody traveling with me and... we could like... talk more? Ah- only if you don't mind!"

Ah, fuck it. He had already gone out of his way.

Normally when he was out and about and people were forced to interact with him in any way, shape or form, they tended to want to get as far away as possible, as quickly as possible.

Hell, he had people practically jump out of his way sometimes when he was just walking down the street.

Plus, he was getting hungry.

He nodded to Josuke.

Josuke was now jogging up to him, the man swore he saw stars in the teens eyes to match his bright smile.

Tonio definitely didn't tell him that part about Italy...

He wasn't even sure if he had even been that long here in Italy.

Josuke did his best to keep up, Abbacchios steps were long and deliberate making him quite fast for a man who was just taking a stroll, keeping just a little behind him to avoid bumping shoulders with the people on the streets.

Abbacchio started down the alley again, waving him to follow.

"Comrades, huh?" He laughed a little. "What? You in a gang or something?"

It was meant to be a joke. Something to get his newest companion to roll his eyes and give a half-hearted chuckle. Josuke felt his stomach become as heavy as a brick when Abbacchio swiveled his head to look at him, his white hair flinging slightly over his shoulder as he stared him in the face.

The teen wondered briefly if his new ally would suddenly beat him up like those dealers tried to do and he gulped, preparing to turn tail and run as fast as he could down the street.

The former policeman frowned deeply. Did this stronzo know nothing about the mean Italian streets? The Mafia? Of fucking course he was in a Gang, did he think he was just a streetwalking freak that kicked the shit out of druggies and junkies alike for fun?

Abbacchio leaned closer, his expression radiating all seriousness.

"S-Sorry..." he muttered somewhat lamely, his voice so quiet Abbacchio probably wouldn't have heard him if he weren't so close.

Any idiot would know the true meaning to that answer and Josuke didn't consider himself an idiot.

The man grunted in response and simply kept walking, no more was said as Josuke continued to followed him down the street to this supposed spot.

On the bright side of things... he now reminded him even more of his nephew Jotaro.

Even if it wasn't in a good way...

More importantly, he was finally going to get something to eat.

[princessselene126]

Hey yall, emotional abuse, physical pain (not self harm, just illness pain), brief mention of periods, and shitty parents tws coming up.

So i generally try to keep my personal life off here unless I won’t be posting for a while and want to let you know why (like i did with my ear infection.), but I’m having a really bad week and a half and desperately need to vent. Feel free to completely ignore this because I don’t expect anyone to respond, I just need to get everything off my chest--although any suggestions as to what the fuck I should do are more than welcome.

My dad and stepmom have been controlling any emotionally abusive for pretty much my entire life--because you know, abuse doesn’t just start randomly and it’s not something that you can easily fix.

Anyway. When I went home for my ear infection, my stepmom got kinda mad about it. Mad might be the wrong word, controlling is probably better. I didnt tell her or my dad that I was coming home to see the doctor for a few reasons:

I knew if I told them, they’d tell me i should tough it out and go to class

They’d say that i was being over dramatic and that it couldn’t possible hurt that bad

They’d ask why I couldn’t have seen a doctor in Milwaukee (where my college is and 1.5 hours from home), why I needed to come home for something like that.

So I didn’t tell them. While I was home my stepmom texted me asking how I was doing. At the time she didn’t know I had an ear infection or that I was home, so of course like the idiot I am, I was honest and told her I came home sunday night. Seriously I think honesty is my fatal flaw. She, of course, asked why and I told her that “I cant think right now, let alone take a bus somewhere I’ve never been before. I tried to get into the dr at school, but they dont have any openings until wednesday.” I was able to get into my doctor at home on monday, two full days before I would have been able too at school, so it seems logical that id go home right? I couldnt hear out of my right ear anyway, so it’s not like I would have been able to pay attention in class and actually learn anything. 

She drops it or that day.

But my stepmom, being my stepmom, of course texts me back a few days later (fthursday or friday i think) because she thinks that I should have tried harder to find a doctor here. She said, and I fucking quote this entire goddamn text 

Hey so I just want to clarify with you ... you could have gone to a dr there you know? You guys didn’t have to come all the way home and back. good lord. Just find a clinic thats an urgent care or er. you might have had to pay more out of pocket, but so what? And you have 2 insuraces, so that wouldve helped more too. Just saying. So I thought I’d let you know instead of doing all that craziness back and forth. Make it easier on yourself next time kiddo.

And this has me fucking livid because:

I literally explained to her why I didn’t find someone in Milwaukee days before. 

She’s insinuating that it’s too inconvenient for my mom to come get me.

And my stepdad had off on tuesday, so he gladly took me back too school. No questions asked. No complaints. He even bought my antibiotics for me (which I was totally prepared to pay the $10 for myself) before we left.

She’s talking down to me as if I had no idea that I could do this.

I can’t afford to pay more out of pocket right now, even if I might (read: MIGHT) get reimbursed for it later.

Going home literally WAS making it easier on myself.

So I send a screenshot of this text to my mom of course, and she replies almost immediately just going off. My mom and I havent always had the best relationship (she has some emotionally abusive habits too, but she knows about most of them, acknowledges them, and tries her best to fix them), but I know that she will always be there for me. She’s that person who will drive an hour and a half just to come make sure someone is okay, and she has done so 2-3 times in my 2 years at college. She doesn’t care if I’m 45 and living on the other side of the country, she will drive or by a plane ticket to hep me if/when need it. So my mom is beyond pissed off that my stepmom would ever imply that coming to get me, take care of me, is an inconvenience.

I reply a simple “i know” to my stepmom, because I know better than to give her a long winded explanation. She’ll just come back at me with an even longer block of text basically telling me how wrong/stupid i was to not just see a dr in the area.

And of course, of fucking course, she replies with a long block of text anyway basically telling me the same fucking thing. She does this several times and I keep doing the “i know” “yeah” “okay” thing because I just didn’t have the fucking ENERGY you guys. 

But then she says 

my goodness you’re a peach sometimes. Just trying to help and maybe you guys didn’t think of that. 

So by this point in time my patience was completely GONE. I have absolutely none left. I know when my stepmom calls me a peach it’s just her “nice” way of saying “you’re being a fucking bitch.” ((Keep in mind this entire time I was taking screenshots and sending them to my mom so she could be mad with me.)) And so I fucking went off in the nicest way possible. I tell her

no, you’re trying to be in control of the situation that had absolutely nothing to do with you

I was going to just try going to a dr the next morning, but then my mom called and I was crying and she asked if I wanted to come home, so I said yes. It wasn’t an inconvenience to her, though it feels like you’re trying to make it seem that way. And [stepdad] had off so he was easily able to take me back.

I’m not an idiot, im an adult fully capable of doing things myself. But i also recognized that I needed help and accepted it when my mom noticed I did as well

Because yes. I was in so much pain that I was actually crying from it. I usually have a decent pain tolerance (horrific period cramps will do that to a person), but for some reason whenever I say that I’m genuinely in pain my stepmom never seems to think it could be “that bad.” And... that’s exactly how that went. I was soooo prepared to just tough it out and wait until Wednesday if I absolutely had to. But then my mom called and I may be 20 years old but there are those times when you’re an adult and you just need your parent. You need your parent to tell you it’s going to be okay. You need your parent to hold and comfort you. You need your parent to take you to the dr. And for me this was one of those times. I so very rarely ask for help but this time i needed it, and there’s no reason for my stepmom (or anyone) to make me feel like I should be ashamed of that.

So she said something brief to that and I didn’t reply back. Ne next moring she sends me another text starting off with something along the lines of “I’m hurt by how you treated me last night...” and I didn’t read the rest because I knew it would make me mad. I did, however send a screenshot to my mom again.

The next day I call both my mom and my paternal grandma to talk about this entire conversation.

My mom thinks that I should cut off ties with them for at least a few months because this has been overwhelming me so much. I agree with her, but I’m concerned about my younger siblings (not that they’ll get hurt or anything, but that I won’t be able to see them) and also my aunt is getting married in may.

And my grandma was livid too. She’s never liked my stepmom because she’s always thought that she’s treated me like shit. (For a long time i mistakenly believed that my stepmom was a better person than my mom, but I was an impressionable child/teenager then). My grandma and I talked about times when stepmom made me feel bad about myself or treated me as lesser than my half siblings. And my grandma agrees that I should keep my distance, but she asked me to not cut ties, and to keep a decent amount of peace, until after my aunt’s wedding.

Which I understand. I get it. I love my aunt a lot and I truly dont want to cause any problems at her wedding, she deserves the world. But at the same time I don’t know how much longer I can take this you guys. I’m supposed to go to a water park for a night with my dad, stepmom, and siblings during my spring break (it was a christmas present from my dad to the family) and I’m absolutely dreading it. I don’t want to go. My mom says I should just lie and say I have to work, but again, fatal flaw here is honesty, so I don’t know if I’ll be able to do that. I want to see my siblings too, but I really need to start taking care of myself.

I’ve spent far too long worrying about my family even after not living at home for the last two years. I need to take care of myself. I do. But I honestly don’t know how to do that without causing a family feud in the process.

And the reason this was all triggered again today (after not having talked to anyone on my dad’s side since saturday) is because I got a call from a random number while I was in class today. It was a call from my home city and whoever it was left a voicemail. In the back of my mind I started worrying that it was my dad and that he wanted to talk me into not being upset with my stepmom (he’s a terrible person too but that’s a rant for a different day).

I have yet to listen to it because the idea of talking about this with him makes me nauseous. At the same time, not knowing who called is making me overwhelmingly anxious. I don’t know what would be best:

Ignoring the voicemail, or listening to it and potentially having to talk to my dad?

Toughing out being around my family until after the wedding, or risk causing a family feud by cutting ties?

I just... I’m so lost you guys.

[aahsokaatano]

ITALY????

Y’all I spent one whole week in Italy in 2017 and it was one of the most bizarre fucking weeks of my life

let’s break it down from the beginning

[under a read more for length]

So, fall of 2017 I was studying abroad in London. One of the classes I was taking was specifically for study abroad students, designed to get us engaging in the culture of London or whatever i dont really remember the class itself but my god do i remember the people i met in it

two in particular were these girls, also American. We shall call them Molly and Ally. They had quickly made friends with each other, and after one of the class trips into London, i was friendly with them as well. The “reading week” or fall break was coming up, and they mentioned that they were going to Italy and asked if I wanted to go. I had booked a short tour to Dover, but thought “oh my god Italy???? Fuck yes!” and so I bought my plane tickets then asked them where they had booked hotel rooms so that I could add myself to their itinerary

“Oh,” Molly said, “we haven’t, don’t worry about it”

Me, a seasoned traveler “?????? uh”

I bugged them about this for at LEAST a week and finally, about THREE DAYS from when we were supposed to leave, I just went ahead and booked an assortment of hostels and airbnbs for us in all the cities they wanted to go to and told them to pay me back later

they actually admitted afterwards that that had been a smart move on my part which like????? no SHIT its a smart move to have a plan where you’re gonna sleep every night while in a foreign country. god.

So, lets go through this day by day

Day 1 - London to Milan

we flew from London to Milan in the evening, getting there pretty late at night. and it was only once we were actually IN Italy that I learned that 1) none of us spoke Italian and 2) despite having grown up in two areas with large Hispanic populations, neither Molly or Ally spoke a lick of Spanish, which is close enough to Italian that you can kind of limp through a conversation of one if you know the other.

so, somehow, I ended up being our Italian translator for the week, armed with nothing but a translator website, a handful of Italian music terms, and the ability to roll my r’s fairly well for a white person. Literally, i figured out where the bus stop was outside of the airport because I saw the word “fermata” painted on the pavement and I knew that meant “long pause” in sheet music terms so I hazarded a guess it meant stop or similar in regular Italian

(sidenote I almost got in a fight with some random Italian dude on the bus because Molly was going on about how excited she was to try the pizza and I told her it wasn’t going to be the same because “the pizza you’re used to is an American invention” and he turned around and started going on about the tradition of pizza in Italy and I was like I just mean that American pizza is different from real Italian pizza i did not mean to offend i’m sorry!!!!!! anyways)

the bus dropped us in a square in the middle of Milan and we got out and i’m lookin at my airbnb app trying to figure out where we need to go and i said “okay we need to get a cab” and Molly and Ally are arguing about something and this RANDOM ASS DUDE walks up to us and is like “you need taxi?” and i said yes to he leads us back to his REGULAR ASS CAR, NOT A TAXI and tells us to get in, and for some unknown fucking reason I do and Molly and Ally follow me and shut up real fast because this is sketchy as fuck but the guy did take us to the airbnb without murdering us so thats a win i guess

The airbnb by the way was more like a mini hostel - it was this apartment where pretty much every room except the bathroom had been converted into a bedroom and so probably not entirely legal but whatever. whatever. 

Day 2 - Milan to Venice

i woke up early the next morning and went to take a shower at the bathroom at the end of the hall and found out that the lights didn’t work. Whatever, I’m mostly blind without my glasses anyways so i just showered in the dark, no biggie

we had an early bus to catch from Milan to Venice, so we headed out to the bus station. I’ll be honest, I do not remember how we got there. I think we walked, because I ended up with a coffee at some point so I probably got it from some cafe on the way? But idk. I was so tired.

We get on the bus, I found two empty seats far away from Molly and Ally, and immediately stretched out and fell asleep.

Ally woke me a little later and said “c’mon, we’re here!”

I was confused as all hell because it had not been nearly long enough for us to get all the way to Venice, but I got off the bus and was greeted by Molly stretching her arms out and proclaiming “Welcome to Venice!” underneath a sign that said we were at the Verona bus station.

They did not believe me when I said Verona and Venice were two different places. “Venice has canals, Verona is where Romeo & Juliet is set. There are no canals in R&J, they’re two different places!” I literally had to pull out my phone, go to google maps, and zoom out until they could see that Venice was still several hours away before they believed me.

The bus driver almost didn’t let us back on but I was able to show him on the tickets that our end destination was, in fact, Venice.

Venice itself was pretty neat. We got to go on a gondola ride and I ate an entire pizza by myself at dinner lmao.

Day 3 - Venice to Florence

we took a train from Venice to Florence the next morning, and that’s when I discovered that Italian train stations have lovely little cafes with AMAZING coffee and really good pastries. The other two didn’t drink coffee but like, their loss. it was fantastic. 

Florence was great, we found a little shop that sold really yummy gelato for only 1 Euro a scoop - Geletaria La Carraia. If you ever end up in Florence, definitely check it out!

We wandered around for a while, took a lot of pictures. There was some famous church that was undergoing some renovations, but as we walked up to it Molly gasped and said “I’ve climbed that in Assassin’s Creed!” which was pretty funny. 

We went to a museum that had made a bunch of models of some of Leonardo DaVinci’s inventions. We went to an art museum and stumbled across Michaelangelo’s David on accident, so that was the big “wtf” moment of the day. Also that night Molly decided to buy a bottle of wine to take home to a friend of her’s back in America, but realized after buying it that her backpack wasn’t big enough to cart it around for the rest of the week so I ended up carrying an entire fucking bottle of wine for the rest of the trip because I was the only one smart enough to bring a proper backpacking backpack and not just my school bag.

Also the hostel we were in had actual skeleton keys for their rooms and actual goddamn keyholes that one could clearly see through so i left the key in the lock all night AND hung my sweatshirt from the door handle so that no one could peek in at us

Day 4 - Florence to Pisa

once again, I woke up early, went into the bathroom attached to our room (the hostel had had a cancellation and so we ended up in a private room instead of a dorm style) and discovered that the lights didn’t work so I had a second shower in the dark

we took another train from Florence to Pisa, and there we ran into our only bit of bad weather

What’s the big draw in Pisa? The Leaning Tower, right?

What was the only day it rained, non-fucking-stop, the entire time we were in Italy? THE DAY WE WERE IN PISA

I got so soaked that I actually bought a new sweatshirt because the one I was wearing was DRIPPING

anyways, after we had taken several dumb touristy pictures and grabbed an early dinner at a nearby restaurant, we decided to head over to the room I had booked. The cheapest place I could find was a tiny cabin at a campground nearby. According to the map on my phone, it was a short walk away.

A solid hour later, we finally trudged up to the main office of the campground, shivering and soaked, and got the keys to our cabin. We set our stuff down, and Ally and Molly decided to go back out to the grocery store we had passed coming in. I waved them off and went to take a shower in the bathroom with fully functioning lights! hooray!

Day 5 - Pisa to Rome

another morning, another train station with excellent coffee. We got into Rome and, at this point, we were all so tired from travelling that I was finally able to take charge. up until this point, Molly had been railroading us, even sort of bullying Ally in the process, but now she was exhausted and I, through a combination of practice in functioning while dead on my feet, lots of travel experience, and Mom Friend Instincts, took the reins. We got to Rome and I said “we’re going to the church with the big hole in the roof (its a thing, look it up) and then we’re going to eat.... at this place around the corner and then we’re going to to go our hostel and check in”

they didn’t argue, and that’s a true testament to how fucking tired the two of them were, especially Molly, because she would argue about anything and everything given half a chance. We also went to the military museum that day, mostly because it was free and also air conditioned

(also while looking through my pictures of this trip i just discovered that i still have the picture i took of the Rome hostel FAQ page that had by the front desk, which i now remember i did because it had the wifi password on it and we weren’t in our room for 30 seconds before one of the other two asked what the wifi password was so, once again, i show that i am a very good traveler/travelling buddy)

Day 6 - Rome

so we had the next full day in Rome, and we got up early to get in line for the Vatican. I wanted to be there by 7am, Molly was like “it doesn’t even open until 9!” and we compromised at 8 and it was STILL an enormous line so i was like “see? this is why i wanted to get here early”

Oh, but before we went to the Vatican, i took a shower. IN. THE. DARK. BECAUSE ALL OF ITALY EXCEPT FOR PISA DECIDED THAT I DIDN’T DESERVE TO HAVE A SHOWER WHERE I DIDN’T HAVE TO FUMBLE AROUND BLINDLY LIKE AN ASSHOLE

ALSO on the way to the Vatican, I asked if the two of them had their passports. Ally said yes. Molly said yes, why?

And I had to then explain to Molly, a 20 year old RELIGIOUS STUDIES MAJOR, who was RAISED CATHOLIC and who had FAMILY IN THE CLERGY, that the Vatican, THE CENTER OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH, is it’s own country. 

she, again, did not believe me until i pulled it up on google for her

turned out that we didn’t need our passports stamped to enter the Vatican but still! still!!!!!

so it turned out that whatever day we were there on, the Sistine Chapel isn’t open that day, so we just walked through the cathedral and then headed out to the Colosseum and the ruins of the Senate behind it, both of which were very cool

Day 7 - Rome to Milan to London

we got up even EARLIER on our last day, I took another shower in the dark, and we rushed over to the Vatican, speedwalked through most of the museum, and finally got into the Sistine Chapel, which was absolutely breathtaking. Then we hauled ass back to the train station to catch our train back to Milan.

At this point in the trip, I was so fucking done with the two of them, but especially Molly. Ally was sweet and naive, but she was also willing to listen to new information. Molly was just a stubborn ass with a mean streak a mile wide and I was COMPLETELY done associating with her.

Luckily, since I had booked my flights separately, while we had flown into Milan on the same plane, I had a completely different flight back to London - to a different airport, even. They were going back to London City, but I was heading to London Gatwick. Both planes were set to depart around the same time, from two gates that were next to each other though, so i couldn’t really escape them until - uh oh! My flight was delayed. 

Molly and Ally were fretting about it but i was like “it’s fine. it’s fine. I’ve been flying since i was literally 3 months old and I s o m e h o w know more Italian AND Spanish than the two of you combined, even though I would never say that I speak EITHER of those languages. Just go.”

The flight ended up being delayed like 5 hours due to mechanical issues. They finally just got another plane for us, and we finally took off from Milan. When we went over Paris, the captain, obviously feeling bad about the delay, made sure to tilt the plane in both directions so that everyone could see the Eiffel Tower lit up, it was really neat.

We finally got back to London at literally like 230 in the morning. The busses and some of the trains weren’t even running at that point - certainly not all the way out to the fancy little liberal arts college I was going to. I went up to some security guard at the airport and said “just tell me how close I can get to the University of Roehampton on the trains” and he told me to take the train to Black Friars so I got out there and there was a bus, but it was like 40 minutes out. It’s now pass 3am, I am exhausted after a long, weird week in Italy, I texted my dad and he said “just get an Uber i’ll pay for it”

The Uber driver was very nice and as soon as I got in he said “you look really cold! do you want the heat on?” i could have fucking kissed him. he was super nice. actually made sure that I was still texting my dad (i had mentioned it when I got in because I almost dropped my bag while trying to text and maneuver at the same time) every few minutes. offered to let me take and send a picture of him to my dad. otherwise didn’t really speak and just let the music play. I tipped him literally whatever was in my pocket at that time, i don’t remember how much it was, but it was at least 20% and probably more. Really great guy. 

Random London Uber driver from 2017, you remain the best Uber driver and I love you

i finally crawled into my shitty little dorm bed at about 4am, exhausted and utterly bewildered by the past week

honestly??? I’m still bewildered by my week in Italy.

wtf even happened in all that mess.

[ser-yolomere-of-swagalore]

Welcome, O life! I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race myself, bitch.

James Joyce -- Ulysses (with some much needed editing)

I haven’t written here in a long time. In fact, after this post, I don’t really see myself writing here every again-- and no, before any of you (if there is, in fact, any one who will see this) jump to conclusions, this isn’t some kind of weird suicide note, or plea for help. What this is, is a sort of manifesto, or a summation, of everything that I’ve felt, and am feeling at the moment, and in a way, hopefully, purging myself of these feelings forever. It’s a goodbye, but also a new opportunity. A creation, as well as a destruction. A final litany of things that I have to say, or wanted to say, and a final exorcism of numerous antagonistic little ghosts that have been rattling around in my head for God knows how long. 

I’ve always been struck by the concept of a sort of Joycean paralysis. Maybe because it’s true-- that Irish people are, in a weird way, struck with a sort of deep, abiding, spiritual malaise, a psychological and emotional paralysis, as a sort of weird, post-colonial hangover-- or maybe because it simply hits too close to home. The narrative of a sort of genealogical, archaeological torpor is one that is all too easy to believe, because it is something that I have experienced quiet viscerally throughout my entire life, but also in a way that is difficult to articulate. The sense that you’re fundamentally at odds with the world around you because of some fundamental, spiritual displacement resulting from years (centuries?) of imperialistic and religious abuse isn’t something that goes well over dinner, after all-- especially when dinner is a hurriedly bought Burger King and the sound of mopeds careening up and down the Cardiffsbridge Road muffles the sound of Coronation Street on the television. 

But it’s a feeling that has stuck with me so long. Longer than I can really remember. This sense of being held back. By myself, by the world around me, by the people around me. Dreams of leaving, of emigrating, have been a consistent fantasy of mine. Occasional spurts of creative writing have always been characterized by the theme of a departure, whether through the realm of some childish Tolkien-esque fantasy or through a plane ticket that randomly fell into the protagonist’s (read: my) lap. That feeling of momentary, ontological vertigo, when the plane leaves the ground and you can feel yourself lifted in that miniature pocket of zero-gravity, is a sensation that I’ve craved and chased (either literally, or figuratively) whenever possible, with varying degrees of success. I even had, at one point, a bit of a miniature breakdown (you know those ones, where they creep up on you, where you have this vague sense that at any minute things are just going to collapse all around you, and nothing will ever be the same) and I started doing some pretty illegal things to get money (fill in the blanks there however you wish) in order to essentially run away, get a plane ticket to somewhere, and just start afresh. But that did crash down, either way-- I started having some viscerally severe panic attacks; I felt like I was going to be trapped here, forever, that I was going to die here, that all the dreams and aspirations I had of doing something worth while were just gonna be swallowed up the dull, plot-less relentlessness with which life here seemed to drive itself--arguably into the ground. I attended counselling, got a professional, objective perspective, and was able to get to grips with things. The anxiety stopped. The borderline insane drive to escape was lulled, and while the gnawing sense of there being a sort of hole, at the center of everything, dissipated, it didn’t quite disappear. I was, once again, able to manage, and plod right along. 

Over time, I’ve come to terms with the fact that my sense of malaise is not, in fact, the result of some kind of literarily prescribed sense of paralysis-- or, at least, not entirely. It is the result of years, perhaps arguably even decades, of mistreatment. By a family and a home that is so deeply dysfunctional that it is, legitimately, tragic. By an early upbringing so neglected and isolated that, to look back and take an earnest look, is genuinely pathetic. By a mindset and by people who see who I am and see something to laugh at. I’ve slowly come to terms with the fact that my family have never quite seen me seriously, as someone incompetent, flowery, soft, and not worth paying attention to. Years, again, potentially decades of subtle gaslighting, invalidation, negation, criticism, patronizing, condescension-- all compounded by shitty, so-called friends, who were all too happy to take advantage of my desire to please and turn it around on me-- had resulted in a person who had so much self-doubt, such a negative self-image, such a horrible sense of failure that, to further disappoint, would result in self-harm. Decades of having my life dictated to me, taking up responsibility and accepting the burden of my family’s terrible choices, of having my potential and my opportunities circumscribes by what seems to be the endlessly unfolding soap opera of my extended family’s self-inflicted pain.  And the worst part is that I simply thought all of this was normal. The concept of Joycean paralysis was able to help me understand, in a vague sense, what was really wrong, but only hindered me in truly understanding its origin.

I worry that if I go on like this I’ll only end up sounding like some kind of serially self-pitying asshole, one of those people that advertises their personal trauma and tragedy as a means to win the Sadsack Olympics, or obtain sympathy, or blame their lack of success and fulfillment on their past. But in the end, that isn’t what this is about. That isn’t the reason why I’m writing this post. In fact, the reason why I am writing this is far more joyous, written with a deep smile spreading across my face. I’ve spent my entire life orientating around myself around other people, of pleasing other people, and I’ve gotten very, very good at figuring out what is that people want, and giving it to them. What I’ve learned, an what I’ve finally gotten the balls to do, is do what I want. I’ve learned to say no. I’ve learned to pursue what I want, to accrue self-confidence, self-love, self-esteem. I’ve learned to deny people, to put myself first, and tell people who need to be told what for. I’ve learned that to be “good” is to give in, to do as I’ve told and take it all on the chin, and I’ve learned that to be “bad” is to pursue what I want, and to rebel. And, fundamentally, I’ve learned that when I am good, I am very, very good, but when I am bad I am FUCKING FIERCE. 

So I am leaving. In fact, I’ve been planning on leaving for quite some time now. Since March, roughly. I am moving to the U.K, getting away from this place, to spend time with people who I have chosen to spend my time with, that I have build up relationships purely of my own choosing and initiative, and whom I trust. To build a life that I choose to build, for myself, and shirking off as much of the trauma, pain, insecurities and self-doubt as I can. Psychiatrist Harry Stack Sullivan believed that the core motivating force in all human behavior was anxiety, and not just anxiety, but the creative and ornate ways we go about avoiding or managing it. According to him, a personality was simply a collection of habits and strategies people gathered over time to “avoid or minimize anxiety, ward off disapproval, and maintain self-esteem.” What I’ve learned, personally, is the sheer liberating power of identifying and deconstructing the aspects of my own psychology that are life-limiting, and taking great joy in completely and utterly destroying the ones that are build up anxious defense mechanisms. I would be lying if I said that it wasn’t scary, because when these mechanisms fall I’ll be thrust, head first, into facing the things I am most deeply afraid of—social rejection and abandonment, unworthiness and failure, unlovability and isolation, to name a few. But it is liberating because I’ve come to realize that, yes, our defenses serve a function, but no, we don’t actually need all of them to survive-- and then, suddenly, an entirely new life is possible. I’ve come to realize that I actually CAN tolerate anxiety; I CAN live with not being liked, I CAN be misunderstood, I CAN make mistakes, I CAN feel bad. And let me tell you, it is a relief. God is sometimes understood as a creator, but he can also be understood as a destroy-- And I am choosing to be the God of my own goddamn life, and taking great pleasure in destroying that which I don’t like.

I’ve ended up prescribing some great, symbolic significance to the act of me leaving. It is me righteously striking back at all the things that had made me hate myself in the past, because they couldn’t simply tolerate hating themselves and needed to destroy me in order to feel better. And so, to them, I say: 

Fuck my family, who have done nothing to actually foster and cultivate who I am as a human being

Fuck the people who have turned my own kindness against me and made me doubt myself

Fuck the people who have made me feel as though my command of words is a weakness-- I am a fucking fantastic writer, and I dare any of those people to challenge me, because I’ll write them into the fucking ground. 

Fuck the people who made me doubt my intelligence; I am more than smart enough to figure things out for myself and smart enough, at least now, to see them for the self-hating, jealous troglodytes they are.

Fuck this place that has made me feel that who I am is wrong, and lesser, and subordinate-- I am worthy, and powerful, and capable.

Fuck this country, and its backwards, stagnant, repressive culture

FUCK

YOU

And that’s it. There’s my gigantic, theatrical display of radical self-acceptance. In a way, what I want to do is leave, and never come back. To delete all my social media, and start afresh. But I know that’s not realistic. I know I have to tether myself to “home”, as much as I disagree with the idea this place is truly home. I will say this, however-- there are parts of my experience here, and my life thus far, that have been wonderful. I’ve got a handful of genuinely fantastic friends, and I’ve forged some very important memories with them. To burn those bridges would be unforgivable, and I would never be able to do that to them. 

It’s 2:16am. I was already exhausted but I had to write this and get it all off my chest. But this is it-- me signing off, forever. Let this be a testament to everything I want to be, an will be, from here on out. 

-Ian.

[rezares]

Wildcard || War & Peace

Reading order of posted threads:

Spill The Tea (August 22, 2019)

Bullshit Cover Story (November 10, 2019)

Bullshit Detective (November 10, 2019)

Word Count: 2166

Date: November 10th, 2019

tl;dr: Rory follows Reza to the airport because he’s a shit liar

@spindlesandrosethorns

AURORA

Aurora was probably making a bad decision. 

It wasn’t as if she and Reza didn’t have enough bullshit muking up their friendship; somehow she didn’t think inviting herself on his murdercation would endear her to him in the slightest. But Aurora refused to let him go and face his former student alone, and so when Reza had evasively said he was going to be out of town for a while, she had bribed Lamia into getting her his itinerary and bought her own ticket on the same flight.

Not that much bribery was involved. Rory had said “I’m following your brother to Tunisia” and Lamia and Fadela had given her all the help she didn’t think to ask for.

The ticket she had bought was burning a hole through her bag and against her hip, but she walked through the terminals like nothing was wrong. If he wanted to fight her, fine, but she was getting on that plane by hook or by crook. She had arrived with plenty of time to spare, and was even able to get some tea before making her way to their gate. Reza was easy to spot - not because he stood out, but because she simply couldn’t miss him if she tried - and taking a deep breath, Aurora walked up to him calmly. Might as well be upfront.

“That seat taken?” she asked, one hand on her hip.

REZA

Reza’s heart wasn’t racing. In fact, he was more at ease than he’d been in years. Soon enough Mekki Masmoudi wouldn’t be breathing, let alone be a problem, and that was the greatest comfort of Reza’s life. It was time to put down the monster he’d unwittingly created.

His eyes were cast down at the book in his lap he brought for some plane reading when a voice said something about a seat.

“Yeah, yeah, go ahea-” y’allah. He knew that voice. 

“Rory!” He jumped in his seat, knocking his book to the floor. To hell with losing his page, what was she doing here? “How- why-? The fuck?”

AURORA

Calm as anything, Aurora ignored his spluttering and instead sat down in the available seat with a casual toss of her curls. She scooped up his book and held it out to him.

"I'm doing my father a favor picking up some papers from a business partner of his in Tunisia," she said evenly, her eyes not leaving his. "Maybe checking out the fibre scene while I'm there." She silently dared him to call her out on her fib. "Lamia and Fadela were kind enough to tell me when you were flying out so I wouldn't have to fly alone." At this, she gave him a smile. "Hope you don't mind."

Read: I'm coming. Suffer.

REZA

He took his book, grip weak as most of his strength went to his brain to try and processes this scene. Rory was here. Rory knew. Rory was barging in on his plans to kill a man.

She sat down next to him and Reza wanted to scream. He wanted to pick her up and carry her to the exit and tell airport security she had knife or something. Anything to keep her from boarding that flight to Tunisia. 

She shouldn’t be here.

“Go home, Aurora.” Reza said darkly. “Go home.”

She needed to leave.

AURORA

Aurora knew she was currently treading water in the depths of Reza's anger; that any second now she was going to be sucked under. But she refused to back down or be cowed by her sorcery master.

"Would," she said with a shrug, "but I already bought my ticket. Buggers are impossible to refund. 'Sides," she said, resting her chin on the tips of her fingers. "You look like you need a travel companion too. It's a long trip to make alone, and I don't mind flying."

Reza was a smart man, he'd be able to hear the words between her words.

REZA

No, no, no. She needed to be far away from him while he was this version of himself. She didn’t need to see this, or watch him wash blood off of himself, or have any part in this. 

“You can’t come. You’ll feel cramped. My dad’s apartment is small, we’re poor.” Reza deadpanned. 

“I’ll give you the ticket cost money.”

AURORA

Aurora gave him a deadpan look in return that clearly said "Really, dude?"

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I am like… half your size," Aurora said. "I'm not concerned about space. Worse comes to worse, I rent a room somewhere."

REZA

“Then you can’t come because you can’t be an accomplice in a homicide. You can’t go to a country where the punishment for being a sorcerer is vigilante murder.” Reza said, gripping his book tight to keep from raising his voice. 

Was Aurora this in love with him or just this stupid?

“I know you know. Fadela has a big mouth.”

AURORA

"Fadela didn't have to have a big mouth because you left your conspiracy folder on the desk we both use," Aurora replied, leaning in so she could keep her voice under a whisper. "You've been attached to that thing at the hip for weeks now, I got worried. Also, notice how I didn't mention any of that in public? Keep up, Reza."

Her expression was calm even though she could see the anger dancing around him. She honestly did not want to be fighting with him, but there really was no other alternative. "I'm coming," she said, quiet but firm. "You are not doing this alone. So either I fly in with you or I travel there by myself and track you down once I arrive."

REZA

Why can’t she just leave? He didn’t want or need her here. Why did she have to do this?

“You can’t track me down, you don��t speak Arabic.” Reza countered. “And Tunisia is dangerous for foreign women who don’t know the Middle East to travel to unless they go with a local.”

“And I don’t have time to be a tour guide and translator. I’ll ditch you at the airport in Tunis and continue to my hometown alone.”

AURORA

Aww, he thought a language barrier would be enough to stop her. That was cute.

But she didn't say that. She didn't point out that she could defend herself more than well enough. That she could always call Lamia or Fadela for help.

All Aurora did was stare into his eyes and quietly ask, "Would you?"

(They both knew the answer was no.)

REZA

Reza blinked at her and wanted nothing more than to physically carry her back through security and out of the airport. This wasn’t a world for her. She was never meant to see his darkness, his hatred, and bloodlust so clearly.

If she fancied herself such a good friend, couldn’t she see this hurt him?

“Without hesitation.” They both knew he was lying.

AURORA

He was bluffing and she knew it, so Aurora just turned to her phone with a small hum. "Guess I'll meet you in Hammamet then," she said. 

After he had a moment to steam, she leaned closer and whispered in his ear "I'm not coming along while you actually find the guy, I know better. I'm just here to make sure you come home. I promise I'll stay at your da's place like a good girl and won't get in anyone's way."

It was aggravating, religating herself to the kids' table so to speak just so Reza didn't throw more of a bitch-fit than he already was, but Aurora knew where her strengths were. And they weren't in battle magic or any sort of fighting. She'd be dead weight. No, her skills lay in other places; pulling Reza's head out of his ass was practically listed on her resume.

REZA

“You don’t know where my father lives.” Reza mumbled childishly, looking away from her and staring out the window overlooking the tarmac.

He laughed mirthlessly as he bit down on a curled knuckle to stifle it and relaxed his legs...yeah, manspreading a little. ‘Making sure he comes home.’ What does that even mean? As if he was going to stay in Tunisia. As if he could. He was revealed as a sorcerer, he couldn’t stay forever. Sabiha was the only reason he’d ever wanted to move back there one day but now she was in Swynlake. He wanted to be where his daughter was, wherever that may be.

“I don’t need you to do that.” He said quietly. “Like I could possibly be apart from my daughter ever again.”

AURORA

She knocked her knee against his reflexively, the motion almost habit from long nights sitting together on his couch either going over magical texts or Board documents. “That’s not what I mean,” she said softly.

Physically, yes, Reza would come home. Sabiha was enough incentive for that. But he would leave a piece of himself in Tunisia wherever Mekki met his end if someone wasn’t there to guide him back. She couldn’t just stay home and wait for him to come back in pieces, left alone with his thoughts for too long. No, she would be there. What exactly she could do, she didn’t know - this was the most the two had talked in one time about something that wasn’t in a lesson plan in months, whatever care he’d had for her thoughts and opinions had vanished when the bruise on her chest had bloomed on her skin - but she wasn’t going to let that keep her from trying.

REZA

A silence fell between them. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t awkward either. It just was.

“You need to do everything I tell you to do.” Reza finally said, opening up the front pocket of his carry on to pull out a notebook and pen. “Tunisia is one of the best places in the MENA region to be a woman-” he explained, writing quickly. “- but the whole area is trash for magicks, so that kind of cancels out our strides in gender equality. There should be some of Lamia’s and Fadela’s old clothes in their room at baba’s house, so if I think an outfit needs some...Tunisia-fying, just add whatever I hand you.”

“Hammamet is a larger northern city, so total modesty isn’t all but demanded like in the south of Tunisia. And you’ve traveled to Africa before and been hanging out with Tunisian Muslims long enough to know, so I’m not implying you aren’t prepared, but-” he shrugged. “ - just don’t get offended if I toss you a shawl for your arms. Did you pack sunglasses? Like a good pair? The sun is bright in Tunisia year-round, you will need them. We can buy some there if we need to.”

He kept writing until he was satisfied, and ripped the page from his notebook, extending it to her.

“You’ll get around just fine with English and French - and I’m not letting you go anywhere alone anyway - but you’ll impress people if you learn just this much Tounsi. Learn it, live it, love it.”

AURORA

Aurora didn’t grin when Reza accepted that she was coming along, but it was a very near thing. He could probably see the satisfaction and relief curling around her, and really, that was telling enough. She sat up and listened to him carefully, watching his pen fly across the paper.

She didn’t mention that she had packed most of her clothes she wore when visiting Mozambique with her mother, including enough head-scarves to keep even Aurora’s wild curls contained and tucked away. Her mother’s home wasn’t Tunisia, so if Reza thought her outfits weren’t to snuff, she’d listen.

“I did,” she reassured, patting her carry on bag. Fadela had basically given her the same speech over the phone while she and Ella had packed. Aurora took the page from Reza, looking over his familiar handwriting carefully. There were several words that Aurora couldn’t read without her accent tripping over itself, but darn it, she was going to learn them.

“You’re going to have to help me with pronunciation,” Aurora admitted. “But I’ll learn them.”

REZA

Reza nodded. 

“Good.” He went back to staring at the tarmac. This was a terrible, horrible, awful idea. He should shout ‘she has a bomb!’ but ah, neither of them were white. Probably not the best idea for either of their very brown asses.

“Aurora, I can’t stress enough how dangerous going to my country is. If you so much as think the word ‘magic’ I will kick your ass. Metaphorically. A lot of metaphorical ass-kicking will go down. Clear?”

AURORA

“I will be on my best behavior,” Aurora promised, catching his eye so he could see how serious she was. This wasn’t a decision she had made lightly, no matter how easily it had come to her. She knew what the risk was; it just happened that she thought Reza needed her more.

[menalliha]

Getaway Trip

Summary: Chris treats you to a trip of a life time and surprises you.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2.6K (Got carried away a bit)

Warning: Smut!!! 18+ ONLY!!!!!!

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long!! I had it started then it ended up on the back burner because of some personal issues! But here it is lovely!! I really hope you like it. I know my smut is like awful!! So please forgive me!   I requested a one shot of Chris and the reader in Rome, but now that I've been to Firenze and and I got this felling that the city is so romantic. Specially the Vechio Bridge with the jewellers stores. So if you haven't written yet, can you change it to Firenze instead of Rome? Like they walk through the bridge and all and maybe he bought her a ring or necklace or something? Cute, romantic and smut in the same one? Thank you so much.

MY MASTERLIST

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Florence was one of the places you have always wanted to go. It’s always beautiful. Venice is so beautiful as well as Rome.You never pressured Chris into going since he’s been busy with filming and such. You hated being a bother about traveling. You knew he was busy and didn’t have time to leave the country unless it was on business. But one day he surprised you.

You came home to a bunch of luggage packed by the door. Luggage that had your stuff in it. You unzipped and rummaged through the bags and saw mostly your things. Fear started to sit in. You two have been together for well over 2 years, almost 3 in a week. You always talked your issues out with each other.

“Chris… if this is your way of telling me to leave… I got the hint…” Setting your purse on the counter. You heard him upstairs in your bedroom making so much noise. You really hoped he was alone. You couldn’t take the pain of walking in on him having an affair. There were already rumors about him with all these women, him being a playboy and sleeping around. “Chris…” You yelled a bit louder than before. You swore you heard him swear followed by him running down the stairs.

“Hey baby! I didn’t expect you home so soon. I uh…” He turned his attention to the doorway. “You’re uh… you’re probably wondering about the uh… bags huh?” Running his hands through his hair, he was clearly out of breath and trying to play it cool.

Raising your eyebrows, you nod. “Yeah… you want me out that bad…? You packed my stuff?” You were trying to hide the hurt in your voice. “It’s bad enough about the rumors… I don’t want them to be true and what we have be a lie.” You mumble and cross your arms.

Chris gave you a confused look. “What? What rumors?” Waving his hands, he reached into a duffle bag on the floor. “They don’t matter. I always come home to you. I planned on surprising you better but… I have loads of free time now and I managed to get you off of work… we have tickets to go to Florence!! The one place you’ve always wanted to go!” He held up two plane tickets and moved them in your face.

Your jaw dropped as you snatched the tickets from him. “How long will we be there??” You look at the toothy grin on Chris’ face.

“About two weeks.” He pulls you close and caresses your cheek.

“You realize what next week is right?”

He started to think long and hard. “You know… there’s a date in my head that’s like… sticking out but I don’t remember the significance of it. I have no idea what it is. Must not be that important.” He started to smile and laugh.

You smacked his chest and poured. “Christopher! It’s our three year anniversary!” He pressed a gently kiss to your forehead. “It’s been an amazing three years.” You played with the collar on his jacket.

Here recently, you two were talking about marriage and when the right time was. Right wasn’t with Chris having movies and press tours coming up. He wanted to wait till everything slowed down here in the next year to get married. But little did you know that was part of the surprise for you.

The first whole week there was just a bunch of sightseeing during the day and endless love making at night. Then followed by slow morning sex. Chris was always a gentle lover, knew all your spots and what got you off easily.

This morning was different. He only wanted to please you. Make you feel good and happy and it was also your anniversary. He had the whole day planned around you. Which was why he was he was between your thighs, his hands keeping your legs spread and his mouth attacking your sensitive little bundle of nerves for well over an hour.

Your back was arching off the bed, your fingers tangled in his hair. Moans escaping your lips as your release grew near. The coil in your stomach started to tighten as the icy hot sensation spread through your veins.

“Chris,” You moaned. “I-I’m close!” He never stopped or let up. He kept attacking your bud until you were pulling on his hair, earning a small growl from his chest and screaming his name. He slowly started to back off as he helped you ride out your release.

Leaving you a withering mess, Chris stood up and wiped his chin of your release. He couldn’t help but smirk at what he did. He always loved making you feel good over him. He likes to make up for lost time when he’s away from you filming and on press tours.

Chris made his way to the bathroom and started a shower, making it nice and warm for you. Walking back to the bed, he gently picked you up and took you to the bathroom. “We need to get cleaned up and ready for the day. It’s like past eleven. I have the whole day planned baby.”

Hiding your face in the crook of his neck, you gently kissed his neck and rubbed his broad shoulders. Your lips ghosted over his tattoo on his chest, causing him to let out a small moan. “But… what if I want to please you right now? You made me feel good. It’s only fair.”

Chris set your down gently and watched you walk into the shower, playfully smacking your bottom. “You know… having your pretty little lips wrapped around my cock sounds so amazing. I was hard before but…” He followed you into the shower and watched as you dropped to your knees. “Love when you suck me off.”

Carefully caressing his length, you wrapped both your hands around his length and rubbed his slowly. His eyes fluttered shut and his mouth hung open a bit, blissful moans leaving his lips. Smirking, you licked his tip, taking the small bead of precum into your mouth, your hands never stopping the motions they are doing.

“Baby, I’m sorry but I need you to either move a little faster or I’ll take it into my own hands.” His once blue eyes stared down at you as they were lust blown. “I know you like it when I fuck your mouth.”

Taking his hands, you placed them in your hair and you opened your mouth. You looked up at him, lust in your eyes, wanting him to be forceful. Chris growled and gently moved his cock into your mouth till he hit the back of your throat and your nose was pressed against his pelvis, tightening his grip on your hair.

Laying your hands on his thighs, you stared up at him as tears started to roll down your cheeks. Feeling him pull out, giving you a moment to breath, he smirked. You know this was going to be great.

Shoving his cock back into your mouth, he set a slightly rough pace as he fucked your mouth. Making moans escape his lip as he hit the back of your throat with the head of his cock each time. From time to time he would pause as his cock was in your mouth, feeling your throat vibrate as you moaned. You knew he loved that feeling so you never failed to deliver it.

“Oh god baby girl, I’m gonna cum down that pretty throat of yours. You better swallow every last bit too. Don’t want you wasting any. I’m so close baby. I hope your ready for this.” Feeling his cock swell in your mouth, you closed your eyes as your prepared for the warm goodness that was about to be released into your mouth.

His thrusts got sloppy and his breathing increased even more. As his release hit, he shoved his cock down your throat, spilling his seed until every last drop was out.

He pressed his back against the shower wall and tried to catch his breath. “Damn baby… your mouth is just… wow. Tonight will be amazing.” Chris helped you to your feet and kisses your cheek. “How does your throat feel?”

Shaking your head, you rubbed your throat. “A little sore and hoarse but it’ll be ok by time lunch comes.”

As the next hour almost went by fast, you and Chris went shopping. He got you a new dress and let you roam around the stores while he went into a few by himself. Little did you know one of the stores was a jewelry store. He was getting a ring that was going to be specially engraved for you.

Chris didn’t lie when he said he had the evening all planned out. He took you to a fancy restaurant and got you the best wine while you both were dressed to impress. The food was amazing and it exceeded your expectations.

Taking your hand in his, Chris kissed each knuckle. “Happy anniversary honey. These three years have been so amazing. Not going to lie, I didn’t think you would stick around this long. Having to deal with months of me being gone and such. I knew it got rough and even rougher with those rumors and everything. But we made it through it.”

Tears slowly gathered in your eyes as the sweet words he had said to you. “Happy anniversary to you too baby. Honestly, I never thought you would be into such a boring girl like me. Your friends even think I’m cool. I don’t do much but go to work, come home and eat and sleep.” Taking your napkin, you gently dabbed the tears away.

“You are an amazing woman and I am very thankful to have you.” Kissing your cheek, Chris got up from the table and paid for the dinner. “Come on I have one more surprise for you. I know you’ll love it.”

Walking around for a little bit, you made your way to Vecchio Bridge. It was beautiful, even at night when it was lit up. You noticed that Chris was checking his watch constantly as you stood in one of the opening of the bridge. You only shrugged it off and looked over at the beautiful scenery. The building in Florence were made with rustic and authentic looking. The fact that some overlook the water made it even better.

Chris gently placed his hands on your hips. “Keep watching baby, the last surprise is about to happen.” Letting you go, he watched as your face lit up when the fireworks went off. But those were only a distraction.

He got down on one knee and pulled out a small velvet box. Gently taking your hand in his, he turned you around slowly. “Y/N, for three years you have made me a happy man. For three years you have stuck by my side.” Your eyes widened at the sight in front of you. Covering your mouth, you couldn’t help but actually sob. “Will you do me the honor and stick by my side even longer? Will you marry me?”

Nodding your head, you pull Chris up and kiss him deeply. “Yes, a thousand times yes. I will marry you.”

Pulling you back into a loving kiss, his lips traveled down you neck and to your ear. “Let’s head back to the hotel and celebrate baby. Our first time as an engaged couple.” You can feel his smirk on your skin as you shivered at his words.

It didn’t take long to get back to the hotel or for your clothes to be stripped off of you both.

Chris hovered over you as he bottomed out inside you, giving you that burning sensation when he did, feeling your walls clench around him. He took one of your peeked nipples into his mouth, sucking and nibbling on it while he pinched and rolled the other between his index finger and thumb.

“Please baby,” You moaned as you ran your fingers in his hair.

Chris let go of your nipple with a loud pop. “Please what baby? I need you to be specific.” He rolled his hips once, a smirk playing on his lips.

Whining, your back arched and lifted your hips to get more friction. “Please move. I need you to move. I want to feel you move.”

Giving you a hungry kiss, he snaked his tongue into your mouth and pulled his hips back. You gasped against his mouth as you felt his move along your walls. He couldn’t help but smirk as he snapped his hip forwards, causing you to yelp.

“Is that better?” Chris asked against her lips. He kept up that same pace which left you speechless.

His pace stayed the same, slowly and rough. He kept dragging his length against your walls and snapping his hips. Even he had to admit this pace was slow and agonizing for him. But he liked going slow and taking his time.

Sitting up, he hooked his hands under your knees and pushed them back more, opening you up even more. Giving him a new angle to hit your sweet spot. This was all about making your feel good and loved.

He watched as you gave soundless moans. Your mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water, your eyes tightly shut. He loved the fact only he could ever make you feel this way. He also knew this way would make you orgasim faster.

Pressing his thumb against your clit, your body tensed at the sensation. He started to slowly make small circles against your clit. Chris watched as your body was starting to shake.

You felt the coil in your stomach start to tighten with each thrust he made and each circle he made on your clit. “Chris, baby, I’m close.”

“Oh no, you can’t cum yet. I want us to come at the same time.” Chris picked up the pace and made his thrusts a little faster and harder. Snapping his hips against your at a bruising pace. He also quickened his pace on your clit, feeling your walls clench around him. “You can do it baby. You’re doing so well. It won’t be much longer I swear.”

Grabbing the bed sheets, you tried so hard to keep yourself from orgasming that your whole body started to shake. The coil in your stomach was so tight, you knew it was going to snap soon. “Please baby… I-I can’t last much longer.” Feeling his length swell inside you, you knew it was time.  

He kissed you passionately and lovingly. Moaning against your lips, his thrusts started to turn sloppy signaling his release. “Ok baby,” He grunted. “You can cum now, I’ll follow you.”

That was music to your ears. The coil snapped, your vision went blurry as you saw stars. Your back arched and a scream left your throat that sounded like his name. But soon as your walls clenched around him, his release followed. Coating your walls with his seed, he moaned and your name left his lip.

Panting slowly, you whine as Chris fell next to you, leaving you feeling empty. He pulled you close to him and pulled the covers over your both.

“That was amazing.” You sighed into his chest.

Chris couldn’t help but chuckled. “It always is. You’re an amazing person to make love too.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. You slowly fell into a deep slumber to the sound of Chris’ heartbeat. The sound that usually calmed you after a night of making love.

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[missvalerietanner]

Last weekend, I was jet lagged and had to rest. This past weekend... turns out I needed more rest. XD But I finally got everything organized, and it’s time to share... 

I WENT TO CANADA!

As a birthday present to myself, back in June, I filled out all the paperwork and got myself a passport ‘cause, damn it, I want to travel. Just three little months later in September, I had to help my boss check in for his flight for a work thing ( he’s not so computer savvy), and I got antsy. I wanted to be flying somewhere too. And I wanted to give my passport a trial run. SO! My aunt had mentioned wanting to see Niagara Falls, and I was cool with seeing Canada cause 1. passport test, and 2. Lewis Black’s words haunt me: “Even drunk on a bet, you make it to Canada.” (in reference to the fact that George W. had never been outside the country. 

So I started planning, told my aunt (she was thrilled by the idea), and in a matter of two weeks, we had the trip laid out, plan tickets bought, hotel room reserved, and we were good to go.

We stayed in Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada. We flew into the Buffalo airport in New York, got a rental car, and drove across the Rainbow Bridge ‘cause I figured that’d be pretty cool. Our flight got into Buffalo at midnight, Friday morning (Nov. 2nd), and we reached our hotel in Canada at about 2AM. Should’ve slept, but we were both too jazzed to fall asleep ‘cause we were excited and we could see the freakin’ falls from our hotel room so we stayed up until about 4AM just planning the next day’s adventures and finally crashed. Then we woke up at about 8AM. Insane.

Friday, we shopped at Niagara on the Lake, this cute shopping district about 30 mins north from our hotel (Sheraton on the Falls, if you’re curious). 

Saturday, I had bought us tickets to the boat tours with Hornblower Cruises. We got on the first boat at 10AM and froze our butts off in that 40 degree weather while getting hosed by the mist coming off the Falls. But as I have told everyone, “It’s cool. My face caught most of it.”

That water was cold, but it was revitalizing. We got back to the hotel room, and my aunt said, “Don’t you feel refreshed?” And, you know what? I fucking did. I felt, like, not “born again,” but definitely close to that. I felt... pure and alive.

After the boat ride, which was only 20 mins, I drove us up to Toronto ‘cause, why not, right? We were RIGHT there. Well, not right there, but only two hours away. XD The drive was nice, though, and there are some beautiful bridges along the way. (Though, I never really adjusted to the speed limit signs being in kilometers per hour versus miles. But that’s my fault and America’s. We seriously need to be standard.)

Anyhoo, Toronto was large and loud and busy and kinda insane. Though with 2.2 or so (I think the sign said?) million people, it’s like the crowds of Manhattan with the insanity of L.A. (I assume?). The city’s pretty, though. The architecture of the residential areas was so homey and 1980s feeling--I loved it. So nostalgic and well-kept... like something out of a sitcom. Every yard was perfect. Every car maintained and polished. It was lovely.

On the way out of Toronto (we just drove in and pretty much back out ‘cause it was such a long drive to get back to the hotel), we drove through a primarily Jewish community and saw some of them heading to church--I assume by the way they were all gussied up. That was awesome and definitely not something you happen upon in Tennessee. 

And, look, I don’t wanna come off as creepy, but on the way into Toronto, we stopped at the ONLY SHELL GAS STATION WE EVER SAW, and bought a shit ton of candy for the ride. Then we spot this super adorable Jewish boy, and I made a few jokes about offering him candy (not where he could hear me, obviously). He stared at us as we passed. We stared at him, and I joked that’d he’d puff up his collar and tell his buddies: “These babes were checkin’ ME out.” But in reality, it’s probably more like: “These weird Americans from Pennsylvania were staring at me.”

We had Penn state license plates on our rental car, and whenever I passed people in traffic, I’d say, “Let show ‘em how we drive in Pennsylvania.”

We are NOT from Pennsylvania.

Then on Sunday, our flight was at 7:27 PM in Buffalo, the plan was to just get to the airport and wait there and be bored. But stupid Daylight Savings Time totally fucked us. Not to mention we switched from Central to Eastern time while flying, so we lost an hour then gained one then lost it again on the way home. Fucking stupid.

Anyway, we accidentally checked out of the hotel an hour early ‘cause we thought it was noon (spolier: it was only 11 AM). I realize then when we’re leaving in the car--too late. We cross the border, eat lunch at an Irish pub in... I forget what city it was--but upstate New York outside Albany and about twenty minutes from the Buffalo airport. The place was called Connor’s, and it was fuckin’ delish.

Then we returned the rental car, chilled in the airport for like five hours (that went by faster than you’d think), flew to North Carolina for a layover (which turned into a stress-filled sprint walk, as Daniel Tosh calls it, to our boarding gate which we were late arriving too ‘cause our previous pilot had to circle the damn state of NC ‘cause some jackass was blocking up the runway), and then finally back to Nashville.

All in all, the trip was a blast. It cost me roughly $1000 for the three day trip. We split the hotel room and plane tickets, but I paid for the rental car, gas, and the boat tour. And then I spent roughly $400 on souvenirs and food. Not a bad chunk of change for such a relaxing vacation. That weekend felt SO long, but every minute of it was awesome.

OH! We also ate twice at this ice cream place on the corner from the hotel (well, actually inside the hotel) called Sweet Jesus. Look it up. That place is fucking wonderful.

Canada is lovely and so so peaceful. Probably the best thing about the trip was leaving behind all the bullshit of American culture. We are seriously bogged down here with so much shit every day and so many things demanding our attention and our money and... UGH! I didn’t feel any of that in Canada. Granted, being on vacation and not at work helped, but even still, the country just seemed laid back and calm. 

We all need a little Canada in our life.

Also one place we ate at served tiny packets of peanut butter at breakfast time along with typical tiny packets of jams and jellys. Totally stole one. Totally awesome. 

And at that Shell gas station, I spotted these:

They taste more like hot sauce on a potato chip rather than ketchup, but awesome to see. Oh, and I bought us Tim Horton’s coffee one morning, ‘cause I just HAD to. And boy do Canadians love their Wendy’s and Subway’s. We saw those two eateries everywhere. And we passed a marijuana store which was pretty nifty too.

We didn’t go in, despite what the guys at work say.

Ready for some pictures? :D

This was the view from our hotel room on the 8th floor. We could open the door and just get such a perfect view of the Falls. Every night, they lit up the Falls in an array of colors, but when they colored them for the American and Canadian flags... just wow.

Beautiful homes in Toronto. (And the Mini Cooper that was behind me FOR MILES and probably getting pissed ‘cause he’s in every damn shot. XD)

More houses. I love architecture, o.k.!

Made my aunt grab this shot while I drove. 

Another shot of the Falls, but lit in blue, white, and green. 

And a shot on Sunday morning at about 9AM (we thought it was 10AM XD). Sunday was the only sunny day while we were there, but I didn’t mind. We did a lot of walking--I mean, A LOT--and I’d rather walk under clouds than the sun any day.

And this is Connor’s, the Irish pub we stopped it in New York. 

Here’s a shot of us on the Hornblower boat. The distorted look is ‘cause it was shot with my cheapo-knock off Go-Pro. The big green building in the center back is our hotel. ;p

‘Nother shot from the boat with the CamPark. Those are the American side of the Falls.

The Horseshoe Falls on the Canadian side. Probably the best angle the CamPark caught on the boat.

There were also fireworks over the Falls on Saturday night. I overheard some women in the hotel saying there was some winter festival starting that night (Nov. 3rd). Dunno, but the fireworks were beautiful.

At long last, a shot of some sweet Canadian money ‘cause I still have the $5 bill and one of the $2 coins. I love the look of their money. 

[/content sigh]

...I would absolutely go back.

The even better news is that my aunt knows this chruch group that travels around a lot (like, right now, they’re in freakin’ Sierra Leone!), and they’re planing an Italy trip next June.

YES! Be still my heart!

My aunt signed us both up, and barring an unforeseen accident or a lobotomy, I could be in Italy in June 2019. And the chosen dates line up with my birthday, so I could very well spend my 30th birthday in FREAKIN’ ITALY, MAN! How cool would that be? And yeah, I’m not much for church and religion, but I am willing to put up with anything if it gets me to Italy. XD Plus, Italy has so many beautiful churches I’d love to see, and a church group damn better get me there.

[boreothegoldfinch]

chapter 6 paragraph xviii

Xandra was out cold by the time they all left—asleep so deeply that Boris got a pocket mirror from her purse (which we had rifled, for pills and cash) and held it under her nose to see if she was breathing. There was two hundred and twenty-nine dollars in her wallet, which I didn’t feel all that bad about taking since she still had her credit cards and an uncashed check for two thousand and twenty-five. “I knew Xandra wasn’t her real name,” I said, tossing him her driver’s license: orange-tinged face, different fluffed-up hair, name Sandra Jaye Terrell, no restrictions. “Wonder what these keys go to?” Boris—like an old-fashioned movie doctor, fingers on her pulse, sitting by her on the side of the bed—held the mirror up to the light. “Da, da,” he muttered, then something else I didn’t understand. “Eh?” “She’s out.” With one finger, he prodded her shoulder, and then leaned over and peered into the nightstand drawer where I was rapidly sorting through a bewilderment of junk: change, chips, lip gloss, coasters, false eyelashes, nail polish remover, tattered paperbacks (Your Erroneous Zones), perfume samples, old cassette tapes, ten years’ expired insurance cards, and a bunch of giveaway matchbooks from a Reno legal office that said REPRESENTING DWI AND ALL DRUG OFFENSES. “Hey, let me have those,” said Boris, reaching over and pocketing a strip of condoms. “What’s this?” He picked up something that at first glance looked like a Coke can—but, when he shook it, it rattled. He put his ear to it. “Ha!” he said, tossing it to me. “Good job.” I screwed off the top—it was obviously fake—and dumped the contents out on the top of the nightstand. “Wow,” I said, after a few moments. Clearly this was where Xandra kept her tip money—partly cash, partly chips. There was a lot of other stuff, too— so much I had a hard time taking it all in—but my eyes had gone straight to the diamond-and-emerald earrings that my mother had found missing, right before my father took off. “Wow,” I said again, picking one of them up between thumb and forefinger. My mother had worn these earrings for almost every cocktail party or dress-up occasion—the blue-green transparency of the stones, their wicked three a.m. gleam, were as much a part of her as the color of her eyes or the spicy dark smell of her hair. Boris was cackling. Amidst the cash he’d immediately spotted, and snatched up, a film canister, which he opened with trembling hands. He dipped the end of his little finger in, tasted it. “Bingo,” he said, running the finger along his gums. “Kotku’s going to be pissed she didn’t come over now.” I held out the earrings to him on my open hands. “Yah, nice,” he said, hardly looking at them. He was tapping out a pile of powder on the nightstand. “You’ll get a couple of thousand dollars for those.” “These were my mother’s.” My dad had sold most of her jewelry back in New York, including her wedding ring. But now—I saw—Xandra had skimmed some of it for herself, and it made me weirdly sad to see what she’d chosen—not the pearls or the ruby brooch, but inexpensive things from my mother’s teenage days, including her junior-high charm bracelet, ajingle with horseshoes and ballet slippers and four leaf clovers.

Boris straightened up, pinched his nostrils, handed me the rolled-up bill. “You want some?” “No.” “Come on. It’ll make you feel better.” “No, thanks.” “There must be four or five eight balls here. Maybe more! We can keep one and sell the others.” “You did that stuff before?” I said doubtfully, eyeing Xandra’s prone body. Even though she was clearly down for the count, I didn’t like having these conversations over her back. “Yah. Kotku likes it. Expensive, though.” He seemed to blank out for a minute, then blinked his eyes rapidly. “Wow. Come on,” he said, laughing. “Here. Don’t know what you’re missing.” “I’m too fucked-up as it is,” I said, shuffling through the money. “Yah, but this will sober you up.” “Boris, I can’t goof around,” I said, pocketing the earrings and the charm bracelet. “If we’re going, we need to leave now. Before people start showing up.” “What people?” said Boris skeptically, running his finger back and forth under his nose. “Believe me, it happens fast. Child services coming in, and like that.” I’d counted the cash—thirteen hundred and twenty-one dollars, plus change; there was much more in chips, close to five thousand dollars’ worth, but might as well leave her those. “Half for you and half for me,” I said, as I began to count the cash into two even piles. “There’s enough here for two tickets. Probably we’re too late to catch the last flight but we should go ahead and take a car to the airport.” “Now? Tonight?” I stopped counting and looked at him. “I don’t have anyone out here. Nobody. Nada. They’ll stick me in a home so fast I won’t know what hit me.” Boris nodded at Xandra’s body—which was very unnerving, as in her face-down mattress splay she looked way too much like a dead person. “What about her?” “What the fuck?” I said after a brief pause. “What should we do? Wait around until she wakes up and finds out we ripped her off?” “Dunno,” said Boris, eyeing her doubtfully. “I just feel bad for her.” “Well, don’t. She doesn’t want me. She’ll call them herself as soon as she realizes she’s stuck with me.” “Them? I don’t understand who is this them.” “Boris, I’m a minor.” I could feel my panic rising in an all-too-familiar way—maybe the situation wasn’t literally life or death but it sure felt like it, house filling with smoke, exits closing off. “I don’t know how it works in your country but I don’t have any family, no friends out here—” “Me! You have me!” “What are you going to do? Adopt me?” I stood up. “Look, if you’re coming, we need to hurry. Do you have your passport? You’ll need it for the plane.” Boris put his hands up in his Russianate enough already gesture. “Wait! This is happening way too fast.” I stopped, halfway out the door. “What the fuck is your problem, Boris?” “My problem?” “You wanted to run away! It was you who asked me to go with you! Last night.” “Where are you going? New York?” “Where else?” “I want to go someplace warm,” he said instantly. “California.” “That’s crazy. Who do we know—” “California!” he crowed. “Well—” Though I knew almost nothing about California, it was safe to assume that (apart from the bar of “California Über Alles” he was humming) Boris knew even less. “Where in California? What town?” “Who cares?” “It’s a big state.” “Fantastic! It’ll be fun. We’ll stay high all the time—read books—build camp fires. Sleep on the beach.” I looked at him for a long unbearable moment. His face was on fire and his mouth was stained blackish from the red wine. “All right,” I said—knowing full well I was stepping off the edge and into the major mistake of my life, petty theft, the change cup, sidewalk nods and homelessness, the fuck-up from which I would never recover. He was gleeful. “The beach, then? Yes?”

This was how you went wrong: this fast. “Wherever you want,” I said, pushing the hair out of my eyes. I was dead exhausted. “But we need to go now. Please.” “What, this minute?” “Yes. Do you need to go home and get anything?” “Tonight?” “I’m not kidding, Boris.” Arguing with him was making the panic rise again. “I can’t just sit around and wait—” The painting was a problem, I wasn’t sure how that was going to work, but once I got Boris out of the house I could figure something out. “Please, come on.” “Is State Care that bad in America?” said Boris doubtfully. “You make it seem like the cops.” “Are you coming with me? Yes or no?” “I need some time. I mean,” he said, following after me, “we can’t leave now! Really—I swear. Wait a little while. Give me a day! One day!” “Why?” He seemed nonplussed. “Well, I mean, because—” “Because—?” “Because—because I have to see Kotku! And—all kinds of things! Honest, you can’t leave tonight,” he repeated, when I said nothing. “Trust me. You’ll be sorry, I mean it. Come to my house! Wait till the morning to go!” “I can’t wait,” I said curtly, taking my half of the cash and heading back to my room. “Potter—” he followed after me. “Yes?” “There is something important I have to tell you.” “Boris,” I said, turning, “what the mother fuck. What is it?” I said, as we stood and stared at each other. “If you have something to say, go on and say it.” “Am afraid it will make you mad.” “What is it? What have you done?” Boris was silent, gnawing the side of his thumb. “Well, what?” He looked away. “You need to stay,” he said vaguely. “You’re making a mistake.” “Forget it,” I snapped, turning away again. “If you don’t want to come with me, don’t come, okay? But I can’t stand around here all night.” Boris—I thought—might ask what was in the pillowcase, particularly since it was so fat and weirdly shaped after my over-enthusiastic wrapping job. But when I un-taped it from the back of the headboard and put it in my overnight bag (along with my iPod, notebook, charger, Wind, Sand and Stars, some pictures of my mom, my toothbrush, and a change of clothes) he only scowled and said nothing. When I retrieved, from the back of my closet, my school blazer (too small for me, though it had been too big when my mother bought it) he nodded and said: “Good idea, that.” “What?” “Makes you look less homeless.” “It’s November,” I said. I’d only brought one warm sweater from New York; I put it in the bag and zipped it up. “It’s going to be cold.”

Boris leaned insolently against the wall. “What will you do, then? Live on the street, railway station, where?” “I’ll call my friend I stayed with before.” “If they wanted you, those people, they’d have adopted you already.” “They couldn’t! How could they?” Boris folded his arms. “They didn’t want you, that family. You told me so yourself—lots of times. Also, you never hear from them.” “That’s not true,” I said, after a brief, confused pause. Only a few months before, Andy had sent me a long-ish (for him) email telling me about some stuff going on at school, a scandal with the tennis coach feeling up girls in our class, though that life was so far away that it was like reading about people I didn’t know “Too many children?” said Boris, a bit smugly as it seemed. “Not enough room? Remember that bit? You said the mother and father were glad to see you go.” “Fuck off.” I was already getting a huge headache. What would I do if Social Services showed up and put me in the back of a car? Who—in Nevada —could I call? Mrs. Spear? The Playa? The fat model-store clerk who sold us model glue without the models? Boris followed me downstairs, where we were stopped in the middle of the living room by a tortured-looking Popper—who ran directly into our path, then sat and stared at us like he knew exactly what was going on. “Oh, fuck,” I said, putting down my bag. There was a silence. “Boris,” I said, “can’t you—” “No.” “Can’t Kotku—” “No.” “Well, fuck it,” I said, picking him up and tucking him under my arm. “I’m not leaving him here for her to lock up and starve.” “And where are you going?” said Boris, as I started for the front door. “Eh?” “Walking? To the airport?” “Wait,” I said, putting Popchik down. All at once I felt sick and like I might vomit red wine all over the carpet. “Will they take a dog on the plane?” “No,” said Boris ruthlessly, spitting out a chewed thumbnail. He was being an asshole; I wanted to punch him. “Okay then,” I said. “Maybe somebody at the airport will want him. Or, fuck it, I’ll take the train.” He was about to say something sarcastic, lips pursed in a way I knew well, but then—quite suddenly—his expression faltered; and I turned to see Xandra, wild-eyed, mascara-smeared, swaying on the landing at the top of the stairs.

We looked at her, frozen. After what seemed like a centuries-long pause, she opened her mouth, closed it again, caught the railing to balance herself, and then said, in a rusty voice: “Did Larry leave his keys in the bank vault?” We gazed horrified for several more moments before we realized she was waiting for a reply. Her hair was like a haystack; she appeared completely disoriented and so unsteady it seemed she might topple down the steps. “Er, yes,” said Boris loudly. “I mean no.” And then, when she still stood there: “It’s all right. Go back to bed.” She mumbled something and—uncertain on her feet—staggered off. The two of us stood motionless for some moments. Then—quietly, the back of my neck prickling—I got my bag and slipped out the front door (my last sight of that house, and her, though I didn’t even take a last look round) and Boris and Popchik came out after me. Together, all three of us walked rapidly away from the house and down to the end of the street, Popchik’s toenails clicking on the pavement. “All right,” said Boris, in the humorous undertone he used when we had a close call at the supermarket. “Okay. Maybe not quite so much out-cold as I thought.” I was in a cold sweat, and the night air—though chilly—felt good. Off in the west, silent Frankenstein flashes of lightning twisted in the darkness. “Well, at least she’s not dead, eh?” He chuckled. “I was worried about her. Christ.” “Let me use your phone,” I said, elbowing on my jacket. “I need to call a car.” He fished in his pocket, and handed it to me. It was a disposable phone, the one he’d bought to keep tabs on Kotku. “No, keep it,” he said, holding his hands up when I tried to give it back to him after I’d made my call: Lucky Cab, 777-7777, the number plastered on every shifty-looking bus-stop bench in Vegas. Then he dug out the wad of money—his half of the take from Xandra—and tried to press it on me. “Forget it,” I said, glancing back anxiously at the house. I was afraid she might wake up again and come out in the street looking for us. “It’s yours.” “No! You might need it!” “I don’t want it,” I said, sticking my hands in my pockets to keep him from foisting it on me. “Anyway, you might need it yourself.” “Come on, Potter! I wish you wouldn’t go this moment.” He gestured down the street, at the rows of empty houses. “If you won’t come to my house —kip over there for a day or two! That brick house has furniture in it, even. I’ll bring you food if you want.” “Or, hey, I can call Domino’s,” I said, sticking the phone in my jacket pocket. “Since they deliver out here now and everything.” He winced. “Don’t be angry.” “I’m not.” And, in truth, I wasn’t—only so disoriented I felt I might wake up and find I’d been sleeping with a book over my face. Boris, I realized, was looking up at the sky and humming to himself, a line from one of my mother’s Velvet Underground songs: But if you close the door… the night could last forever… “What about you?” I said, rubbing my eyes. “Eh?” he said, looking at me with a smile. “What’s up? Will I see you again?” “Maybe,” he said, in the same cheerful tone I imagined him using with Bami and Judy the barkeep’s wife in Karmeywallag and everyone else in his life he’d ever said goodbye to. “Who knows?” “Will you meet me in a day or two?” “Well—” “Join me later. Take a plane—you have the money. I’ll call you and tell you where I am. Don’t say no.” “Okay then,” said Boris, in the same cheerful voice. “I won’t say no.” But clearly, from his tone, he was saying no. I closed my eyes. “Oh God.” I was so tired I was reeling; I had to fight the urge to lie down on the ground, a physical undertow pulling me to the curb. When I opened my eyes, I saw Boris looking at me with concern. “Look at you,” he said. “Falling over, almost.” He reached in his pocket. “No, no, no,” I said, stepping back, when I saw what he had in his hand. “No way. Forget it.” “It’ll make you feel better!” “That’s what you said about the other stuff.” I wasn’t up for any more seaweed or singing stars. “Really, I don’t want any.”

“But this is different. Completely different. It will sober you up. Clear your head—promise.” “Right.” A drug that sobered you up and cleared your head didn’t sound like Boris’s style at all, although he did seem a good bit more with-it than me. “Look at me,” he said reasonably. “Yes.” He knew he had me. “Am I raving? Frothing at mouth? No—only being helpful! Here,” he said, tapping some out on the back of his hand, “come on. Let me feed it to you.” I half expected it was a trick—that I would pass out on the spot and wake up who knew where, maybe in one of the empty houses across the street. But I was too tired to care, and maybe that would have been okay anyway. I leaned forward and allowed him to press one nostril closed with a fingertip. “There!” he said encouragingly. “Like this. Now, sniff.” Almost instantly, I did feel better. It was like a miracle. “Wow,” I said, pinching my nose against the sharp, pleasant sting. “Didn’t I tell you?” He was already tapping out some more. “Here, other nose. Don’t breathe out. Okay, now.” Everything seemed brighter and clearer, including Boris himself. “What did I tell you?” He was taking more for himself now. “Aren’t you sorry you don’t listen?” “You’re going to sell this stuff, god,” I said, looking up at the sky. “Why?” “It’s worth a lot, actually. Few thousand of dollars.” “That little bit?” “Not that little! This is a lot of grams—twenty, maybe more. Could make a fortune if I divide up small and sell to girls like K. T. Bearman.” “You know K. T. Bearman?” Katie Bearman, who was a year ahead of us, had her own car—a black convertible—and was so far removed from our social scale she might as well have been a movie star. “Sure. Skye, KT, Jessica, all those girls. Anyway—” he offered me the vial again—“I can buy Kotku that keyboard she wants now. No more money worries.” We went back and forth a few times until I began to feel much more optimistic about the future and things in general. And as we stood rubbing our noses and jabbering in the street, Popper looking up at us curiously, the wonderfulness of New York seemed right on the tip of my tongue, an evanescence possible to convey. “I mean, it’s great,” I said. The words were spiraling and tumbling out of me. “Really, you have to come. We can go to Brighton Beach—that’s where all the Russians hang out. Well, I’ve never been there. But the train goes there—it’s the last stop on the line. There’s a big Russian community, restaurants with smoked fish and sturgeon roe. My mother and I always talked about going out there to eat one day, this jeweler she worked with told her the good places to go, but we never did. It’s supposed to be great. Also, I mean—I have money for school—you can go to my school. No—you totally can. I have a scholarship. Well, I did. But the guy said as long as the money in my fund was used for education—it could be anybody’s education. Not just mine. There’s more than enough for both of us. Though, I mean, public school, the public schools are good in New York, I know people there, public school’s fine with me.” I was still babbling when Boris said: “Potter.” Before I could answer him he put both hands on my face and kissed me on the mouth. And while I stood blinking—it was over almost before I knew what had happened—he picked up Popper under the forelegs and kissed him too, in midair, smack on the tip of his nose. Then he handed him to me. “Your car’s over there,” he said, giving him one last ruffle on the head. And—sure enough—when I turned, a town car was creeping up the other side of the street, surveying the addresses. We stood looking at each other—me breathing hard, completely stunned. “Good luck,” said Boris. “I won’t forget you.” Then he patted Popper on the head. “Bye, Popchyk. Look after him, will you?” he said to me.

Later—in the cab, and afterward—I would replay that moment, and marvel that I’d waved and walked away quite so casually. Why hadn’t I grabbed his arm and begged him one last time to get in the car, come on, fuck it Boris, just like skipping school, we’ll be eating breakfast over cornfields when the sun comes up? I knew him well enough to know that if you asked him the right way, at the right moment, he would do almost anything; and in the very act of turning away I knew he would have run after me and hopped in the car laughing if I’d asked one last time. But I didn’t. And, in truth, it was maybe better that I didn’t—I say that now, though it was something I regretted bitterly for a while. More than anything I was relieved that in my unfamiliar babbling-and-wanting-to-talk state I’d stopped myself from blurting the thing on the edge of my tongue, the thing I’d never said, even though it was something we both knew well enough without me saying it out loud to him in the street—which was, of course, I love you.

[zenitharr-blog]

Hi. It's weird writing here, but I just wanted to let it all out. I don't really have anyone to talk to. Apparently writing down heavy stuff helps a bit so here goes. Exactly a year ago everything went to shit for me starting with job problems as I wasn't sure if the company was gonna extend my contract and ending with relations with my family.

As you can guess, the company I was working for for almost a year didn't extend my contract and with the end of February 2017 I was left without a job and any income. That's also when I booked my plane tickets to Finland for the first time. January was also a month where relations with my brother went totally to shit. By that I mean we stopped talking, because at this point everyone tried to stop me from going to Finland including my mother and sister as well. With my brother however it's kinda different, because while sister was being weird for years and we didn't really talk much, with him we had really good realtions. But then when one time I just said I won't talk to him about my leave to Finland, because even thought about it was giving me serious panic attacks he just said: Congratulations on knowing everything, have a high five with your sister. Now, you have to understand, that talk with my brother is basically him talking for 90% of the time and rest is just you not knowing what to answer. Then few days later he showed up in my room and I was afraid what it was about. He and his wife bought me really expensive phone few months back and they both agreed that it's as a birthday present. So what e had to say was me giving like 100 zl every month for a phone. I wasn't even thinking when I said: just give me your account number, I'll give you the whole money back. And that was it. He sent me the number via text and I gave them back the whole 2500 zl. We didn't really talk since then, but then in July he came up to me asking to go with them for a week to Greece, cause they already booked everything, but his wife was having problems. By problems I mean they're getting divorce now. It was more about him not having anyone with proper english outside the country and since I have weak heart I agreed, which I regreted a lot. One time I left our room yelling. Let's leave it here. We haven't talked since then again. Now going back to 2017 before my leave to Finland, my mother was worried, which is totally understandable. So what she did, she told my sister and what my sister did was to come to me with so called "letter" and made me read it in front of her. I obviously ended up with another panic attack after that one hour cause that's how long she was there in my room. The letter was just stuff she found on the internet and printed. What was there as you can imagine was the worst stuff that can happen to yuo if you leave to another country. I won't talk much about it, cause it makes me uneasy as fuck. Anyway I was left broken and anxious to the point where I wanted to hurt myself just to stop the feeling. Two people knew about this and it was obviously my boyfriend who quickly text our best friend and they both talked me out of this. Just imagine me crying in bed with phone in my hand. Cause that's how it was. Our friend told me to write a letter, which I did where I tried explain all my emotions. Our brains are fucked up tools and most of the things we write down or text we wouldn't be able to say out loud. So I wrote that thing and when I had a chance I left it on my mother's desk. That day she showed up in my room and just kissed my head, then left. It helped a bit. Writing that thing. Anyway, with the end of april in 2017 I left to Finland to meet my boyfriend for the first time. It was amazing week. There are no words I could use to describe how it was. But that was when I felt alive. Really alive and happy. But its not what this post is about. Going back was hard. Harder than I thouth it would be. And right after that my mother "wanted to talk". You know how by the tone of someone's voice you're able to tell if it's good or bad... it was bad. So this talk was to inform me, that my parents decided to charge me a certain amount of money every month for living with them. So paying a rent basically. And it's totally fine as I was reading later on the internet. But don't get me wrong, I just came back from Finland leaving my boyfriend for fuck knows how long not to mention I don't have a job yet. I was on call with him as she asked me downstairs so when I came back he was already freaking out and then he heard me crying. With my anxiety I'm really picky when it comes to finding a job, because I'm scared of people. After a month I managed to get a job in a small shop few kilometers outside my city, because I thought it would be okay. It wasn't. I left after month. By then I wasn't paying my mother anything, because I was still hoping she didn't mean it, but then one day she said: it's been two months and you still haven't payed. I just looked at her and said: aight, I hope you'll sleep better with it. I think me deleting her from contacts on skype gave her something to think about because one day I came back home and there was a short letter on my desk with a question: why you hate me so much. Please, let's talk. So next day we had our first talk in months, where I said what I thought was wrong. She was always telling me that people have different problems and for others those problems might not seem like a big deal, but for others it's a life or death. So in this talk, she reffered to my problems as "only". I said what I had to say to her and ended the whole conversation with info of me leaving to Finland at some point. We don't really talk. From the whole rent thing I said I will be paying her half of it and she agreed. At the beginning on July when I came back from Greece I started working in chineese shop right next to my parents place. Since they hired me I wasn't complaining, but it wasn't worth it at all. Working 10 hours per day, 184 hours a month, no matter what month that was. I caught some alergy while working there and currently I'm trying to get an appointement to do a tests. 2017 was a year where my health started to getting worse. Not really the "I caught a cold" kind of worse. I mean the kid of problems you get when you're in a huge stress 24/7. For me it was stomach problems. Since I was afraid to leave my room to eat anything I could go for 4 days without eating anything. When I was finally eating, it was shit. For now, I think it's okay, tho I still have serious stomach troubles whenever I'm in stress. So I worked in that shop for 7 months, left with the end of December. 2 weeks ago I came back from Finalnd again, but this time it was better. We decided with my boyfriend, that in June or if something goes wrong in July I leave to Finland. I hope for good. Now I'm trying to get a job in a small boutique in shopping center in my town, I think I'm getting there, tho it's still not 100% sure. But it'll do for those few months where in a meantime I'll get all formalities done. The only person I'll miss is my dad. He was the nly one supporting me in his own way, he was the only one to notice that I wasn't eating.

But then again, I'm turning 25 in few days and I'm tired of life like I'm 40 or something. Anyway, I learned a lot in 2017, not in a good way, it made me who I am now, but I’m hoping that this year will be better. Mostly because after meeting my boyfriend’s mom and step dad I know I’ll have all the support I need there. Since my sight got much worse his mom got an appointement for me to check the eyesight and to get me glasses. I’m not saying anything, but this saved me a lot of money, since no one here would be willing to do that for me.

I don’t think I’ll be posting here again, but I won’t delete that blog, cause sometimes I just come here and scroll to see wtf is happening here. I’ll post some pics from my last visit in Finland and for some reason posting my face doesn’t seem like a big deal like it used to so I’d call that a progress.

[serceleste]

my victory over hamlet

I expect everyone who follows me knows about my Hamlet saga because I won’t shut up about it (sorry not sorry) but I really wanted to write down my experience, mostly for me, but I’m sharing it because so many of you have been amazingly supportive all the way through my disastrous first attempt to my eventual victory. So here it is, and if you just want to hear about Oscar and the play you can skip a ways down, lol. 

I wanted to see this play from the moment it was announced. I mean, it’s obvious that I love Oscar’s beautiful face and he just appeals to me in general, but I absolutely love him as a performer. So the idea of seeing him live, in Shakespeare, was just… But I kind of pushed it off, because it would have been an enormous expense. The tickets weren’t cheap, I live halfway across the country so there would be airfare, hotels, Uber/taxi fare, food… I’m not where I thought I would be in life at this particular point so it just didn’t seem feasible.

And then.

The play began. I started hearing about it. And I thought… if I don’t at least try, I’m going to regret it forever. I have far too many regrets in my life for still being young, stemming from my natural introversion and anxiety and from the fact that I have always, always tried to be responsible and level-headed and do what’s expected of me. But I just thought… fuck it. I am going to do something ridiculous for once in my life just because I want to.

The tickets were sold out, obviously, so I started searching for inevitably over-priced secondhand ones. I found one that wasn’t too bad. I found a hostel a mile away from the theater, I booked a flight, I took off work. I went to NYC by myself to see Oscar Isaac play Hamlet.

And then it got cancelled. I was devastated, guys, I think you all know that. The theater employee told me Oscar was ill and I just thought… you know what? That figures. It figures that I would do this crazy thing and it would crash to hell.

So I went back home. I’d had a nice time beforehand exploring parts of the city on my own but the memory of standing there and hearing that lady tell me it was cancelled and going back outside and just… It soured the whole thing.

I called my mother. I told her I was so disappointed that all I could think about was trying to go back. She told me that I should take a few days and let it settle, think about it, but it was my money.

That was Thursday. On Friday I was checking StubHub again and figuring out what day I could make it work. August is our busiest month of the year and a blackout period where no one can take off. Because of my promotion last year I don’t work weekends anymore but in August I do. I thought, okay, I’m working weekends the second half of the month, but if I go just before then, on a Friday evening or Saturday morning, see the play Saturday, and come back on Sunday, that won’t affect anything. Saturday the 12th was squashed right in between undoable time periods and literally the only day all month I thought I could make work.

On Saturday I went back to looking for tickets and flights and the hostel. I found one ticket, more expensive than last time but not overly ridiculous (and I had had my first ticket refunded) for Saturday the 12th. I found plane tickets only slightly higher than before. The hostel was 20 bucks a night more than when I’d stayed during the week but still cheap. I dithered.

Then chelliaphra told me that was the day she and her friend were going, and then she offered to let me stay in their hotel room, and I went !!!!!

I dithered a bit more, the seller upped their ticket price (BASTARD), I bought it anyway. I was going to fucking see this fucking play if it killed me, which seemed better than stewing in regret and disappointment.

This time it was a physical ticket they mailed to me. It arrived and the seller had SCRATCHED THEIR NAME OUT SO IT LOOKED LIKE I FUCKING STOLE IT. I mean, the name on the ticket was bad last time, it gave me anxiety, but at least it was a woman’s name so unless they ID’ed me, which seemed unlikely, it would have been fine. But this was SCRATCHED OUT LIKE I STOLE IT OH MY GOD. I had to call StubHub because I was freaking out. StubHub, or at least the woman I spoke with, has excellent service and made me feel better. I was still going to freak out until my butt was actually in my seat in the theater, but I felt reassured.

My dad’s reaction was the greatest. I told him, hey, so you know how I went to New York to see a play and the play was cancelled? Well, I bought another ticket and I’m going back. My dad just went, ‘oh no’. LMAO. Then he said he hoped it was a hell of a play and I was too embarrassed to admit that I cared less about what the play was than who was in it. :D (I mean, Oscar could have been in the shittiest production of fuck knows what and I would have wanted to see it.)

So I went back to NYC! I was so anxious I was nauseous, I slept maybe 4 or 5 hours, I got up at 3:30 am Saturday morning to catch my flight. I wandered around midtown partly to pass the time, partly to do the tourist thing because it was a different part of the city from what I’d seen last time, and partly to distract myself from how badly I was freaking out, to minor success.

I met chelliaphra and brehaaorgana, who were totally lovely (and I know this wasn’t your intent but thanks for actually making me eat! I was in NYC roughly 48 hours last time and ate exactly one actual meal, and I know myself enough to know I would not have eaten at all this time if I hadn’t been with you so thank you, lol) and we went to our hotel, which was AMAZING, I will never stay anywhere that nice again for the rest of my life, I am sure. Yay accidental free upgrades! \o/ There was a pillow menu!!

I got my period in the hotel, of course, which helped contribute to my severe nausea, like, omg, I was dying. I was so anxious over everything, over my ticket, over the play actually happening, over every stupid thing I could be anxious about. No even the truly magnificent comic book store (next to door to the magnificent bookstore I explored last time) could do much for me.

Actually arriving at the Public made me feel worse, if that can be believed, I was having flashbacks of how utterly shitty I had felt, looking at the corner where I’d called my mom and cried, remembering how fucking horrible I had felt walking down the street and figuring out what the hell I was going to do now. Thankfully we didn’t pass the awful bench I’d sat on feeling miserable, lol, before I walked to the park and wrote fanfic.

We took obligatory pics next to the poster of Oscar. We went inside. I was dying. Chelliaphra went with me to the desk to see if they could reassure me about the ticket but mostly it was down to StubHub. The announcement that the doors had opened came over the speaker and we went up so at least if there was a problem I’d be at the front. I thought I might vomit.

When the woman scanned my barcode and the “good!” beep happened I almost cried I was so relieved, it was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard in my life.

And then my butt was in the seat!!!!! It was fine!!! I was going to see the play!!!!

Chelliaphra and brehaaorgana had seats in the front row and my jealousy was epic, tbh, but honestly I was so happy just to actually be there, after everything, that I would have stood in the doorway or something and thought that was good enough. The theater was very small, anyway, so all the seats felt pretty intimate. I was in the first row at the top of one of the aisles so it was actually rather nice, though I did end up having a bad angle for a little bit of it, Oscar had his back to me for one of the really key emotional scenes, which was a bummer, but whatever.

And the play! If you are looking for a critical evaluation of the play, this is not it. I had never seen Hamlet performed before and I read it once in school but that was a while ago. The closest I’ve come to seeing it was watching the movie version of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, lol. I had zero expectations of how it should be.

I fucking loved it. It was wild. It clearly was a non-traditional staging and I dug every minute of it. Oscar was phenomenal. Just… OMG. He is such a brilliant performer and seeing him live was something else, I will never forget it. He has so much energy and intensity and he knew how to play to the entire room; he made you feel like he cared about every person in the audience and he made eye contact with EVERYONE, no matter how crappy your seat was.

He speaks Shakespeare as naturally as you or I would speak to each other, like it’s how he normally talks, so it feels conversational and everyday. You forgot he was actually speaking Shakespeare because it just rolled off his tongue as if that’s how he always speaks. His comedic timing is SO GOOD, I did not know Hamlet could be that funny. He pushed troll!Hamlet to a whole new level. His gestures, his body language, everything. A few favorite moments were when he makes this mocking kissing gesture to his mother, and when he was running around dragging Polonius’ body in a sheet before stowing it in the audience, and the ‘may I lay my head in your lap’ bit, when he’s joking about his, uh, parts, and he just like raises his leg up and gestures and I died for multiple reasons. I also loved the use of the comfy sweater, Ophelia wears it, and then throws it back at Hamlet when she’s returning his gifts, and then Hamlet wears it.

And he was so moving, dear lord. Watching him play Hamlet’s grief and loss was incredible. Knowing that he lost his mother this year really gave it an extra emotional impact, because you know that had to have informed his performance, I mean, the thrust of the play is the loss of Hamlet’s father. (Also I would just like to say that I was attacked by the playbill, like, it literally says the play is dedicated to Oscar’s mother, and in his little bio bit it says it again, ‘dedicated to my mother’, GOD I HATE FEELINGS.) When he cried it was impossible not to cry with him, he was so heartbreaking and moving. You could literally hear the sniffling across the audience. The scene where he sees his father’s ghost was amazing, and he was so good in Act Two in the big emotional part with Gertrude.

And, you know, Oscar with blood on his face is the most Extra.

Everyone knows about the lasagna but watching it was… I mean, he sat on a table and railed at a tray of lasagna with a knife and you could not look away, and when he says, ‘why what an ass am I,’ it was like you could finally breathe again.

(The lasagna was an A+ prop, btw, for the way Oscar murders it and for the way Ophelia just digs into it post-spurning Hamlet. And my friends informed me it smelled amazing, lol.)

And, yes, he spends a lot of time in his underwear (very small well-fitted underwear that sometimes rode up a bit one side and obviously I noticed, sorry not sorry). Um. He looked great in it. His ass is FINE, and I feel like this post would be lacking if I didn’t call attention to that. (He killed the lasagna in his underwear, for the record.) There was a bit in Act Two when he was watching the players where he was leaning over the back of a chair just in front of where I was sitting and that was indeed a perfect angle because DAMN. His shirt fell down to cover the front most of the time but yeah, that was not bad either, lol (and my friends confirm the answer to the question is cut, in case you were wondering). But all that being said, he was running around in his underwear and you couldn’t not look but he is also just such a fantastic performer that he was in his underwear and you were still mesmerized by the actual performance. Also I just liked it as a dramatic interpretation, I mean, he comes out when Hamlet’s meant to be a bit mad, no pants, a toilet seat protector around his neck, his hair sopping, reading the newspaper. It worked. Later on when he’s dressed again he whips the sweats back off to show his madness (or, as can be debated, his “madness”) again and I just really bought it.

Plus, he sang! Having never seen it, and only read it the once, I have no idea if that’s common practice or if it was just Oscar (I feel like it was just Oscar??), but I Approve. God his voice is lovely, I have witnessed Oscar singing in person, I can die happy.

Also I would be remiss if I didn’t talk about his hair because it’s me, hair is my thing, and Oscar’s hair… It was shorter but it was on point, and let me tell you, his hair just does that naturally. You know what I mean. It got wet a bunch of times and he would run his hands through it and it just curls like that, like, ridiculous, his hair is fucking amazing.

Of course I was there for Oscar but I greatly enjoyed the cast in general. I thought Gertrude and Claudius were amazing playing off each other and off Oscar, Ophelia was lovely (and what a beautiful voice!), Polonius was especially amusing in his ‘imparting wisdom’ bits (and looool at the bathroom as set piece), I really liked Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, and Laertes was from Preacher! The gravediggers were played by Ophelia and Polonius and they were very funny. Ophelia knocked me in the head with her potted plant when she came down the aisle to cover Polonius with dirt and flowers and I felt blessed, lol.

But Keegan-Michael Key, OMG. What a fabulous actor. I knew he would be hilarious but I wasn’t expecting to be moved quite so much by his drama, his closing lines were especially good. I loved how much they played up the Hamlet/Horatio relationship, all the face touching, dear lord, and Oscar kissed him on the mouth! I kinda ship it now, tbh. I know Hamlet/Horatio fic exists and I feel like this performance should inspire more, lol.

But, you know, I have to note the play within a play, the reenactment of the murder of the king to try to provoke Claudius, with Keegan as the king and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern as the faux Gertrude and Claudius. It was EPIC. They were all great, with their large, overdrawn movements, but Keegan was… The audience was in hysterics watching his over-played parody of a death, and damn if he didn’t go Extra for us. Oscar was sitting there covering his face to try to hide that he was laughing (we all saw you Oscar) and you could just see his OH MY GOD. Keegan did a ‘thank you!!’ to us at the end.

Oh, and the cellist! There was a cellist playing background music and they used him quite amusingly at times, like when Claudius basically tells him to fuck off.

For the gravediggers scene, Oscar and Keegan came down the aisle to sit in the audience, and Oscar was perfectly diagonal to my seat and let me tell you, his eyelashes are INCREDIBLE. So fucking long. Ridiculous. How is he real, seriously. But that was an impressive bit, Oscar is stunning in the famous ‘Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him, Horatio’ monologue, and the actual funeral, fucking hell, he killed it and he killed me, and the way it cuts out after he and Laertes have just wrestled over the burial ground with Horatio trying to stop it and Hamlet is just lying there clutching Ophelia to himself killed me again.

And there was fencing, of course! I loved the fencing. Oscar put on the white shirt with the codpiece thing and I approved. Damn the fencing was excellent. And obviously then it was sad because it’s Hamlet and everyone dies. The finale was all rather gutting, good job all around.

So the play was wild and I loved it in a very non-judging way, I was just immensely entertained and I loved the cast and Oscar was fucking phenomenal. Obviously we gave them all a standing ovation.

I feel like I should mention now just how fucking tired I was. By this point I’d been awake about 20 hours on almost no sleep, and had spent the day an anxious, nauseous wreck. I was SO TIRED. OMG.

THEN. OSCAR. We asked an usher about seeing the actors and she told us that unfortunately, if we were hoping to see Mr. Isaac, he usually didn’t stay on Saturday nights. So we were bummed and went outside to find somewhere to get food. But I had to pee horribly so I went back inside and I won’t lie, I was totally taking my time because I was thinking maaaaaaybe, maybe if I stay long enough he actually will come out, or maybe the other actors will, and then I came out and thought damn, it’s louder than when I went in, and there was a crowd, and I looked, and THERE WAS OSCAR OH MY GOD OMG!!!!!!!!!

Chelliaphra and brehaaorgana had already come back in on account of the commotion so yay! We waited for Oscar! There were so many people! He looked fucking exhausted! I felt so bad, actually, at taking up his time when he probably wanted to go eat and be face first in his bed, but he was such a sweetheart and stayed and smiled for everyone, he was so lovely and gracious.

I tried taking some pics of him standing there but there were seriously so many people. But I got my moment! He was so nice!! He smiled at me and made eye contact and John Boyega is 10000000% correct, it is really hard to look away from his face, he is so damned handsome. Like, fuck. He is a beautiful man. No one should be that beautiful in real life, it is unreal, like, you look at celebrities and you know there’s make-up, there’s photoshop and airbrushing, but goddamn, he is so beautiful up close. SO BEAUTIFUL. Also he smells great. And he is so small! I did not expect him to be so small! Like, I knew he wasn’t actually very tall but it’s just startling in person how small he actually is, he’s just tiny and compact and cute, I love him.

So it is a miracle I actually formed words. I was so nervous my hand was shaking and my brain would not function properly, IDK, partly how tired I was, partly how shy I am, partly OSCAR ISAAC IS LOOKING RIGHT AT ME FUUUUUUUCK. I also was so anxious not to bother him any more than I already was, or take up more of his time, because I felt so bad, he looked so tired and he was being so sweet, I felt guilty at bothering him. So I really barely could make myself say anything beyond asking for what I wanted and thanking him five thousand times, I don’t even know if I ever told him how much I loved the play, like, damn, I hope I did.

He took a pic with me, I think you’ve already all seen it!! I stood right next to Oscar and he took a pic with his face next to my face!!! And he totally signed my Kylo Ren journal, that is full of fanfic, a good deal of which is Poe/everyone, I am deeply, deeply amused by this. I had originally wanted him to sign my playbill too but I felt guilty asking so I just got the journal. I’d thought about bringing a Poe comic for him to sign, maybe the #1 variant that has him on the cover, but it wouldn’t fit in my purse and I had like this tremendous embarrassment at the idea of having to carry it around and keep it on my lap during the play (I was already a bundle of anxious nerves so this probably sounds stupid to everyone else but I just did not need the added anxiety), so the journal worked because I always have it in my purse anyway, and it just really really amused me to have Oscar Isaac sign my Kylo Ren fanfic journal. I half want to never touch it again because I’m afraid of wrecking it but I also want to, like, write something particularly trashy in it now, haha. (Of course, a lot of what it currently contains is plenty trashy!!) Because I am an awkward dork when I went to the comic shop and was struggling to think of something to say to not-boyfriend beyond ‘hello’ and ‘thank you’ I blurted out some nonsense about wondering if he knew how to take care of autographs, and I ended up showing him my Oscar Isaac signed Kylo Ren journal (WHY AM I LIKE THIS I HATE MYSELF), but I might take his suggestion and put it in one of my comic protector bags.

Oh, also! He was wearing that backpack he always has, that he clips in the front like a 5 yo whose mom made him do it except he’s a grown ass man and chooses to do it, he is so adorable and dorky, I love him.

As we were leaving we saw Gayle Rankin (Ophelia) by the door so we stopped and talked to her and she signed our playbills. I’m a bit bummed we didn’t see anyone else but tbh, Keegan-Michael Key could have been standing right next to me and I would not have noticed because OSCAR OH MY GOD.

We found out later that Lupita Nyong’o had been there too, and I’m so sad I didn’t see her, her bone structure is sooooo lovely, it would have been so cool to see her beautiful face in person, plus I think she and Oscar are so cute. But alas. I suppose at least I can say I was in the same room as Lupita!

So we went for pizza (again, thanks for making me eat guys, even if you didn’t know you were doing it!) and went back to the amazing fancy hotel and I sent my pic to like everyone I know, and I was just so blindingly happy, and I was fucking exhausted but I was so hyped I barely slept anyway, I would doze a little and go back on Tumblr and doze a little and text my mom, it was ridiculous, lol.

And that was my adventure with Hamlet and Oscar! It was so stressful and I was ridden with anxiety and I spent way too much money I shouldn’t have spent and at times it was crushingly disappointing, but in the end it all worked out and I had an amazing time, definitely one of my greatest experiences ever that I will cherish forever. I’m so glad I got to meet chelliaphra and brehaaorgana, as much of an introvert as I am and as much as I did like wandering around NYC on my own without any socialization pressure, it was so great getting to nerd out with them over Oscar and the play and they made it so much more fun. Plus, I appreciated the moral support when I was dying beforehand, lol. Thank you so much to everyone who put up with me through this whole thing, when I was freaking out and when I was miserable and when I was exploding with nerdy joy. <3 I’m sorry this is so long! I feel like I am leaving things out anyway!

Bottom line: OSCAR ISAAC IS BEAUTIFUL AND A FANTASTIC ACTOR AND A LOVELY HUMAN BEING AND HE HAS A GREAT ASS.

Sometimes being utterly ridiculous and just saying ‘fuck it’ totally works out, guys!

[zormikea]

Late summer 2017. Nt brings me to Spain.

The ride there wasn’t very eventful, but it was nice. We had a plane booked for 1pm instead of the usual 3am for once, slept till it was bright outside and left Nt’s apartment on solid legs. The weather was great, the plane was spacious, the bus we boarded after landing was also pretty comfortable.

Then we arrived to our hotel and funny stuff began.

It started with a room that contained three beds instead of two, all of them one person sized and standing wide apart. We quickly decided to move two closest beds together and left the third to our mutual imaginary friend Valera who’s a pretty decent guy when you get to know him better and- I know how that sounds, shut up. Once we got settled, we went to scout the area for supermarkets because the hotel didn’t provide its habitants with free water and we needed it real bad to survive the heat. Actually, I think the temperature might have been a little too rough on Nt because he somehow managed to buy the same bottle of flavored water twice (paying for it in two different stores) and then left his jacket outside our room (I honestly find it endearing because he’s not someone who fucks up often, and when he does he makes that ‘I’m renouncing myself’ face and it’s super cute).

Anyway, first day went okay, and then the next morning came and we went to the beach ­– and I have to say that the beach we chose is utterly amazing, it’s located away from the main area, hidden among giant stones and cacti that grow everywhere, and basically you won’t be able to find it unless you’re deliberately looking for it, which means few people marring good times. We chose a comfortable spot and lay down there… and ended up burning ourselves so bad we really felt it the following morning. For nearly half a week the closest we came to touching were those awkward hug-pat attempts that unavoidably ended with one of us (or both) cringing in pain and hastily retreating.

(While I’m at the beach part, I might as well mention the honorable moment when Nt encountered a ginger cat chilling on the sand and was very merry about it coming to visit us from time to time. Much, much later we learned that it simply saw the beach as one big litter box and used it when it deemed necessary.)

The maids… weren’t awfully impressed by our decision to move beds together, and every single time they left we found them separated and had to move them back together again. There wasn’t much we could do during day hours when the sun was merciless, so we spent them in our room eating Pringles and watching the only two English-speaking channels nonstop (which were Disney (that pulled me into the SVTFOE fandom) and the other channel that showed survival games and Alasca biker gang adventures 24/7 (now THAT was as captivating as it was disturbing)). During a particularly long evening Nt discovered Pokemon Go and it became the main source of my ‘plz stop’ glares because seriously he kept catching those things wherever we went and uuuuughhhh (even though I must admit I installed that too, later)

When we didn’t go to the beach, we went to the pool. And (hahaha) I remember that one time when Nt stood in the deepest part of the pool and I felt triggered and asked him to help me check if I could reach the floor too. He helped me by pushing down on my shoulders so that I wouldn’t float up and then accidentally hit me into the stomach with a knee (I still have no idea how he managed to do that????).

Then there were various excursions starting from Madrid and ending with chibi countries like Andorra. We went to the latter (ever imagined what a huge mall under the open sky looks like? That’s it), took off with so many bottles of wine we had problems packing our luggage… aaaand somehow missed the most important store there could ever be – the game souvenirs. Mysterion watched me from beyond the glass and I couldn’t reach out and take him. Then there was Barcelona with its Sagrada Familia temple I’ve been dreaming to visit ever since Schizm came out (ohhh gooodddd that game left such an impact on my little soul back then), the Dali gallery in Girona and the city of Terragona (which is supposed to be written differently but the typo is hilarious, I’m not correcting it).

And, of course, we couldn’t leave the country without visiting the famous PortAventura. I’m all for amusement parks, and this place delivered 100%. We bought tickets for two days; Nt wasn’t looking forward to it too much (like, eeeeh?! What’s wrong with you!!) but when we were going through our first ride his view on things changed drastically. We spent somewhere around 16 hours walking around the place in total and took on most of the rides. Some of them even went with us sitting front rows, and I gotta say it was fantastic. I only wish we could come back sometime and have a few more Hurakan Condors and Furius Bacos which I consider the scariest experiences in the park. Really, they’re so refreshing I’d ride them every day. Twice. Maybe even more.

The last day was partially slept through thanks to our neighbors who decided it was a great idea to chat the night away, as loudly as they possibly could. The road home took us nearly 12 hours, and we got to Nt’s apartment all wobbly at 5 in the morning. Hitting the pillow was the best thing I felt that day.

The trip was awesome, though. I’m all happy, smiles and gold under the sun.

Nt saved my summer <3

[ilovethings-somuch]

Get It Right (7/?)

Sebastian Stan/Reader

Disclaimer: Fluff, angst, swearing(?), I think that’s it. This gif is unrelated, just look at this goon.

(last part)

I must have fallen asleep shortly after, for I wake up held tight to Sebastian’s chest with our legs tangled together. I glance over at the clock reading 8:17 am. Seb has to leave at 10:00 so he set an alarm for 8:30, I untangle myself gently to turn off the upcoming alarm. Once it’s off I return to my spot presses against his chest and wrap one arm around him while gripping his shirt with the other. Once the clock reads 8:27 I begin kissing a lazy trail up his chest to rouse him. When I reach the back of his jaw line behind his ear I hear a sharp intake of breath, signaling his consciousness. His arms tighten around me as he takes in a deep breath.

“Good morning, Sebastian” I lean back to look him in the eyes.

“G’morning” he replies with a tired smile, he clears his throat before continuing. “That was a much better way to wake up than my alarm”

I can’t help the smile he brings to my lips before I press my lips against his. We spend longer than we probably should just laying in bed, wrapped around each other. When we finally get up Sebastian takes a quick shower while I order breakfast. We eat in a comfortable but slightly sad silence. I think the fact that he’s leaving and I don’t know for sure when I’ll see him again is finally hitting me and I’m not happy about it. It’s too soon that Sebastian gets a text from his manager that his car to the airport was on his way to get him. We spend the last couple minutes together standing by the door and kissing each other with a new sense of urgency. When his phone buzzes that the car is here I take a deep breath, trying to control my tears, while Seb wraps his hands around my waist giving me another tight squeeze. I wrap my arms around his neck and put him closer.

“I’ll miss you, Sebastian”

“I know, baby, I’ll miss you too. But you’re gonna come to New York soon right?”

“Yes, as soon as I get home I’ll start looking into my trip”

“Okay, I really have to go” as he says it I tighten my grip around him. “(y/n), I’ll text you everyday. I’ll call you everyday. This isn’t goodbye, okay?”

“I know.” I give him another squeeze before unwrapping my arms and folding them in front of my body. “I’ll see you later” I tell him with a tight lipped smile.

He gives me a sad smile before saying “I’ll see you later. I’ll call you when I land” I nod and he gives me a chaste kiss before turning and walking out the door.

The next few days before I left were relatively uneventful. I went to the beach, and shopped around a little bit. But mostly, I just bummed around my hotel room. Sebastian made good on his promise to text or call everyday, usually both. It was hard sometimes with being in a different time zone, but since I didn’t have anything important going on it wasn’t a big deal. After Sebastian left I only had 2 more full days before my flight back to Wisconsin. I was very eager to get home, and if this was a sign of how moving away from my family was going to be, I wasn’t looking forward to it. The day my flight left I had to get up at 5 am to get to the airport and check in for my flight that left at 9. With the time change my flight landed around 3. I was thankful that my drive to my parent’s house was only an hour away, and driving is always better than riding. But even so, I was very excited for my day of travel to be coming to an end. Arriving home wasn’t a big deal, I gave my parents a hug and they made dinner. But with my siblings living all over the country a week away isn’t that long. However, I was very excited to see my niece. She’s still only a little over a year old, and I’m trying very hard to be the favorite aunt so I like to spend as much time as I can with her.

After a couple hours of socializing I call it a night and start my bedtime routine. I take a shower to wash away the grime of traveling before brushing my teeth and crawling in bed. The best part about being home is my cat, Oz, she always misses me when I’m gone so coming home means extra cuddles. At about 8 o’clock I decide I should give Sebastian a call.

“Hey, hun, I was just thinking about you” he says as soon as he picks up.

“Oh really? Good things I hope?”

“Always” I can hear the smile in his voice, “How was your trip home?”

“It was fine, I mean as good as a flight can get I guess. I hate flying”

“Oh, trust me. Me too”

“I thought it would get better, ya know as I did it more frequently. I think it’s getting worse with age”

“That’s interesting, I don’t think mine has ever changed. But it’s always pretty bad”

“I’m glad you can relate” I chuckle into the phone. Around this time Oz has taken to pacing around my room, crying, ‘cause I’m not petting her. “Oz, come here” I talk away from the phone.

“What was that, babe?” Seb asks, not catching what I said.

“Oh, nothing. I was talking to my cat, she’s being needy”

“Well tell her to get in line” Seb quips back

“Hey now, I’ve seen you more recently than I’ve seen her. Plus we can talk even when we aren’t in the same room. That’s not an option with her”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Have you started looking into New York yet?”

“Seb, I literally just got home. Can you give me a day or two?”

“But I miss you” he whines into the phone

“I know, I miss you too. And I’ll work on it. But I can’t just leave immediately. I haven’t even talked to my family about moving yet.”

“Why not?”

“It’s just hard. Especially being that far away. I mean, my sister moved to Texas a couple years ago and it’s pretty hard on everyone, especially my mom. But like my brother’s in Minnesota and that’s kinda far but it’s still like a day trip away so it’s not so bad. But New York is really far, and an expensive place to travel to”

“That makes sense. But you know it’s what’s best if you want to keep on the top of your game”

“Yeah I know, and I know they’re supportive of it and they’ll want what’s best for me. I’ve just always been a homebody, so leaving is also gonna be pretty hard on me.”

“I’m sorry baby. But hey, you’re not moving right now. Just a trip to scope out your options”

“Yeah you’re right, I’m just stressing about nothing”

“It’s gonna be okay”

“I know. I can’t wait to see you”

I was enjoying my time at home, I really was. I was working on a couple new songs, visiting with friends that were still home for a couple weeks before heading back to school, and just spending time with my family. Once my friends started going back to school I looked more into trips to New York. It didn’t really matter when I went for me, but I had to work it out with Seb to make sure he wouldn’t be too busy whichever week I picked. We settled on the first week in September, making it a little over a month since California. I think it was longer than Sebastian thought it would be, but I really didn’t want to leave so soon after my last trip. Especially when my friends who are still in school only had a little bit of their summer left.

Me: Just bought my plane tickets (:

Sebastian Fucking Stan: finally! I can’t wait to see you.

Me: 1 more week, baby!

Sebastian Fucking Stan: seems like a year..

Me: You’re so damn dramatic.

Sebastian Fucking Stan: that’s why I’m an actor

Me: suits you.. Hey, I gotta go though. I’ll call you tonight okay?

Sebastian Fucking Stan: Talk to you later

My friends and I planned a small end of summer party for ourselves. We went out to our favorite restaurant/bar and had dinner before dancing and drinking for a couple hours. Out of my 5 closest friends, I’ve only told one about Sebastian. I guess I’m scared they’re going to judge me because of the age difference. And as much as I love them, I’m paranoids the media is going to find out about us.

Even though I’m in Wisconsin and there’s no paparozzi here, pictures of me going out always end up online, so I try to keep my partying to a minimum. I leave a bit earlier than my friends, catching a cab home. By the time I get back it’s midnight, so 1 o’clock in NYC. I don’t want to wake Seb up so I send him a text before calling.

Me: Hey, you still up? Don’t want to wake you.

Within seconds my phone vibrates in my hands, “Hey, seb”

“Hey, did you just get home?”

“Yeah, I went out with some friends. A sort of end of summer celebration”

“Oh okay” normally he doesn’t seem bothered when I call late, so I’m not sure why he seems so distant.

“Are you okay? Sorry if I woke you”

“No, you didn’t.” he says simply.

“Okay..” I trail off, not sure what to say.

“Are you drunk?” he finally says.

“What?”

“Are you drunk” he repeats.

“No, I heard you. I just don’t understand why you’re asking. But no, I mean I had a couple drinks. I might be a little buzzed but I’m not drunk”

“I don’t like the idea of you going out”

“Seb, what? Why?”

“‘Cause I don’t know who you’re with or where you are and I can’t protect you from so far away”

“Sebastian, I’m okay. I’m with a group of girls, the bar we go to is safe. You don’t need to protect me”

“You don’t always know who’s out there, (y/n)”

“Yeah, and now you’re scaring me. But Sebastian, this isn’t New York or LA, this is Wisconsin. I’m in a safe environment with people I trust. Relax, please.”

“Okay, I trust you. I guess I just wish you would’ve told me you were gonna be later than normal. I get paranoid”

“I’m sorry I just didn’t think it was a big deal, but I’ll mention it next time”

“It’s okay, baby. But now that I know you’re okay, I’m exhausted and I have a work out with Don in the morning, so I’m gonna go to sleep, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. One more week, baby, Goodnight”

“One more week, G’night”

(next part)

[intergalacticqueerperson-blog]

Airport thoughts

1. I could get Wetherspoons here at 5am.... but that's going to be a bad idea 2. I could get more coffee 3. I could not get more coffee 4. I want to sleep but I also don't want to get robbed 5. I wonder what air travel would be like if humans had cheek pockets like rodents- would there be special procedures for making sure somebody wasnt smuggling stuff in their face 6. Is airport security going to be mad at me for having a bag of wet clothes as my carry on? Does that count towards my max liquids? 7. Why don't more airports have nap pods? It looks like some sort of post apocalyptic scenario in here with all the people sleeping in weird contorted positions on the floor and chairs 8. Should I get food? I feel like I need food but I don't want food 9. Can I bring my banana on the plane if I bought it before security? Are bananas a non flyable item? If a banana is squished does that make it worse? 10. Do I need to buy another coffee to keep sitting in the giant costa? Will anybody care? 11. Is the costa barista ok? She's been here all night... that must get lonely and nobody is happy to be here. Maybe I should tip her extra next time I get a guilt coffee 12. Last time I got coffee from the barista I handed her a random amount of change and it turned out to b exactly enough... was she just being nice? Does she not give a fuck anymore? 13. My ticket says I'm going to 'HEL' 14. Who designed this airport? Who decided which stores to keep open in the middle of the night? How do they decide what time to open everything else? 15. If I wasn't alone would I be getting more or less work done? Would I be able to sleep for a little bit without worrying about my stuff getting stollen or would I stay awake out of guilt for making the other person stay awake? 16. I still can't decide if I should go get food or wait until Finland 17. My shirt has metal in it... am I going to have to take it off at security? Would I rather wear a wet shirt than have security see my bra? 18. The ultimate lazy has got to be considering flying to another country without actually putting a shirt on under my sweater 19. Why am I still wearing my skirt over my tights and leggings? Why am I wearing both tights and leggings while wearing socks? Am I weird? 20. I really wish I had one of those weird little spaniel dogs that British people seem to have but I feel like id also have to constantly be wearing wellies to own one. 21. I wish that you could get assistance dogs for mental health and anxiety, if you could if get one of those spaniel dogs and then I could get sleep in airports 22. Does this count as the cliche backpacking in Europe thing? I mean I have a backpack and I'm traveling in Europe? 23. I wonder if my roommates will notice I'm not at home these next two weeks... would they care? 24. I meant to call my mom but now it's too late at night there to call even though they're five hours behind 25. If everything goes smoothly I'll feel like a real adult maybe, but then again I have a bean bag doll in my carry on that I got when I was 4 so I guess not. Can adults have toys? 26. Will anybody read this? Is this navel gazing crap even worth posting? 27. If I read this in a year will I think I'm a douche for posting it? 28. If I go to sleep in this chair will anybody care? Do they have hours where they care if people sleep in their chairs? 29. Fuck I really need food but I don't want another toasty.... I want a 'teriyaki experience' egg and cheese wrap from the brock cafeteria 30. I wonder what my point of not being able to stay awake anymore is? Could I technically stay awake until Friday?