#But anyways these two could well be in their 15th marriage anniversary

[truck-senpai]

Rewatching Inuaysha and god no wonder ppl in the anime assume him and kagome are together like 99% of the time

With the way those two act (taking into consideration the time frame too) I almost forget they still aren't dating every ep😭

[matth1w]

I was wondering if you could write this please: Imagine being Lucifer Morningstar’s long term girlfriend but as a result of fearing the relationship isn’t going anywhere she leaves him. Then after some time she’s a witness in an investigation and Lucifer later will propose to her? Thank you!!

Witness

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Summary: After the fear of your relationship going nowhere, you end things with Lucifer. End of the story, right? Well you just so happen to witness a drive-by and get wrapped up in the Devil again.

Warnings: Breakup, angst, language, some anxiety/panic

Rating: Everyone

Word Count: 4,715. Yes, you read that correctly, 4,715 words.

Note: This is mostly sad but does have a happy ending. I hope you enjoy this, Nonnie. It certainly took a life of its own!

Tags: @kittenlittle24

As a wedding photographer, you were definitely put off with the whole overpriced over the top wedding culture that infected LA. And you had to deal with a plenty couples and guests that were just straight jerks, entitled brats, and thought they could do your job on the freaking iPhone 4.

That said, sometimes it did get to you. You wanted it. Well some of it. None of the family arguments or drama but the ability to stand with your partner and dedicate yourselves to each other in front of your family and friends.

But alas, that didn’t seem to be in the cards for you. You and Lucifer had been together almost five years now and there was nothing that indicated he wanted to take the next step with you.

Sure marriage seemed trivial when you were with the literal Devil, but you couldn’t help but want something more. Of course you trusted him, you knew his flirting was harmless and he would never think of acting on his - or someone else’s - desires.

But… still

Sure you should talk to him like an adult and tell him how you were feeling but that doesn’t always happen.

You had come home after a Sunday wedding, a Catholic one nonetheless. With a full mass. And a reception across town from the ceremony. To say you were exhausted was an understatement.

The only consolation was that the couple was going on a technology-free honeymoon for a few weeks and wouldn’t be bothering you for photos tomorrow like some clients.

Sore feet, a slight headache, and just general annoyance were plaguing you. So it’s no wonder a fight broke out.

You were pouring yourself a glass of water when the elevator doors opened, revealing Lucifer. You paid him no mind but apparently he had other plans.

“Another wedding?”, he sighed as he gave you a once over.

You frowned at that, “Yep”, you bit back with a touch too much of bitterness.

“I don’t understand why you insist on doing those silly things.”

You slammed your glass down.

“Silly?” You spat. “Silly, Lucifer?”

He was looking at you, shocked but annoyed at your outburst.

“Yes, silly, darling. They’re just excuses to party and for women to pretend like they’re the most important princess in the world.”

You stepped forward and pointed your finger at him.

“Newsflash, Morningstar. Some people just want something more than being boyfriend and girlfriend for the rest of their lives.”

“Rest of their lives? Is this about us? It’s only been five years, Y/N.”

“Yeah, and some of these fucks get married after one. It’s been five years, Lucifer, and nothing has changed. You haven’t mentioned marriage once aside from criticizing my clients.”

“And what? You want to get married? Is that what this is about?”

“Yes, for God’s sake!”, you shouted.

“Well why didn’t you just say that?”

“Because, Lucifer, I know you don’t. And seemingly never will.”

His eyes narrowed at that. “And you’re so sure of that? Without having even spoken to me?”

You crossed your arms and looked at him accusingly.

“You want to get married?”

Lucifer paused at that, mouth open but saying nothing.

“That’s what I thought.” Tears started to build up in your eyes. “Well. I think that shows this isn’t meant to be. Wish you wouldn’t have wasted so much of my time.”

“Y/N….”

“It’s over, Lucifer. I’ll get my stuff and get out of your life by the end of the week.”

You didn’t look back as you stepped into the elevator and let the doors close.

— — —

15 months later...

‘Oh fuck’, was your first thought.

Not because there was a dead person in front of you, but because you witnessed it. And because you witnessed it, you’d need to go down to the station. And you just knew you would run into Lucifer.

You looked down at your phone to send a text to Dan. You hadn’t spoken since you and Lucifer broke up so you kept it brief. Hopefully he’d give you a break.

-Just witnessed a drive-by on 15th & Hill. Can I give my statement at a later time when you know who won’t be there?-

Your phone rang and you cursed. You thought about just shutting off your phone but you knew that would just cause more trouble.

You clicked accept and brought the phone to your ear.

“Hey D-“

“Are you alright, Y/N? Are you still on the scene? Stay where you are. We’re on our way.”

“Dan! I’m fine. I’m fine.” You pressed.

“And who do you mean by we? I’d prefer to not have to see anyone I don’t need to.”

“Sorry, Y/N, but Chloe and Lucifer are already on their way to the scene. I can be the one to take your statement but I won’t be able to get there before them.”

‘Great’, you thought.

You sighed, “That’s fine, Dan. See you soon.”

“See you soon.”

You hung up and looked around. A small crowd had begun to form.

‘Might as well try to blend in’.

You spent the next few minutes on your phone, trying to blend in with the crowd and keep your head down.

A throat pointedly cleared behind you and you knew who it was before you turned.

You met the eyes of Lucifer, unable to look away. He was trying to mask whatever emotions he was feeling and gave you a fake sugary sweet smile.

“A little douchie told me you witnessed the shooting. I have to say I’m glad you’re alright but I’m rather surprised you called Daniel. Actually, I guess I’m not since you blocked my number and all that.”

You looked down. You didn’t want to just go out and say ‘I was trying to avoid you because I was - and still am - broken hearted’, so instead you just looked away.

“Lucifer!”, Chloe yelled from her place above the body.

She looked at you and smiled with a visible amount of pity clear on her face.

“Well. If you’ll excuse me, Y/N.” He said with a huff, shrugging his suit jacket and straightening his cuff links.

Cuff links, you noted, that weren’t the ones you had gotten him for your third anniversary and had worn ever since.

You let out the breath you had been holding and slumped as he walked back to the scene.

Thankfully, Chloe was able to keep Lucifer preoccupied for the next few minutes until Dan arrived.

You felt mixed feelings seeing your old friend and ex-boyfriend’s coworker but relief overcame everything else.

At least you could get out of there.

Dan walked over to you with open arms. You accepted the hug and gave him a thankful smile.

“Well, wanna hop in and head over to the station? Shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

You shrugged, “Sounds good. Thanks again, Dan. Hope I’m not being too much of a bother.”

He waved his hand, “Nah, gives me a chance to get some fresh air. Plus I haven’t seen you in forever.”

You gave an awkward smile at that and didn’t comment. You didn’t know what all Lucifer had said about your breakup and realized how awkward the situation was.

Biting your tongue, you walked to the car and hopped in. Thankfully, Dan was pretty silent, turning on the radio to instead fill the air.

Once at the station, you walked in and were hit with a wave of memories. You would often come down to grab lunch with Lucifer, help celebrate birthdays, or bring treats to help when the team was dealing with a difficult case.

You tried to steel your face but Dan was already looking at you.

Thankfully he didn’t say anything. Opting instead to lead you to the interrogation room.

Once inside you sat down at the metal table. You took a moment to breathe, just trying to get through this then you could go back to how things were.

When you looked up at Dan, you saw him standing by the door, looking somewhat nervous.

“Hey, uh, can I ask you something?”, he asked while moving to sit down across from you.

You nodded. Fairly certain what he was going to ask about.

“What happened with you and Lucifer? I mean... you guys seemed lso happy.”

“Lu didn’t tell you?”

“Nah. None of the details anyway. Just that you had some big fight and he was an idiot about it.”

You chuckled dryly. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it. I mean, I was too. Probably more so than him.”

You cleared your throat, “Anyway, that’s behind me. I mean it’s been over a year, it’s time to move on.”

“You really think so?”, Dan asked.

“Yeah. Well I’m sure he already has. And then some. So I might as well...” you saw Dan looking at you like you sprouted another head. “What?”

He laughed, “Nothin’. I just...” he cocked his head and paused, trying to think of how best to phrase it.

“Between you and me, that’s not the case.”

You gave a half smile, knowing what he was trying to say.

“And who knows? It might be worth trying again.”

“I don’t think there’s any fixing things.” You sighed and lowered your head.

Dan gave you a gentle nudge on the shoulder across the table. Like he had so many times before.

“People reconcile all the time. I mean, look at me and Chloe.”

You looked up again at that.

“You two are officially back together?”

“Yeah,” he said with a laugh. “Surprisingly it’s thanks to Luc-“

He coughed awkwardly. “Well. Anyway... want to get into your statement?”

You sighed. Relieved to be talking about the shooting rather than hear more about your ex.

— — —

You stood up after giving your statement to Dan. He went to open the door but paused.

“Hey, I know things... you know... Anyway, it was good seeing you, Y/N. Even under these circumstances. You don’t have to be a stranger.”

You smiled sadly at that.

“Yeah. It was good to see you too. I’m happy to hear about you and Chlo.”

Dan smiled and pressed the file in his hands.

“Well, ready to go?”

“Yep. No offense but I just want to go home.”

He laughed in response to that, “Yeah I get that. Lucifer always said you never liked the whole crime thing.”

You started to laugh but fell silent, realizing how easy it was to fall back into your friendship with Dan and just how much you missed your old life.

Dan opened the door for you and you walked through. Unhappy but not surprised at the sight before you. Lucifer stood on the bottom of the stairs.

“Hey, you good?” Dan muttered to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You kept your eyes on Lucifer, who prickled at the sight of Dan touching you.

You looked away and smiled at Dan.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You walked up to Lucifer and smiled briefly before having to take your eyes away. It was hard just being near him. Looking into those beautiful brown eyes was simply too much.

Lucifer smiled softly at you, that cautious, nervous smile he wore when you two had first started dating.

“Let me drive you home?”

You wanted to agree but then remembered home wasn’t what it had been for so long. Now you were in a new home. And you were unsure about letting him inside it. It was a sanctuary from him. You tried desperately to focus on life without him and it helped having a place he had never been.

“I...” you were unsure of what to do until you saw the pleading look in his eyes. You relented.

“Sure”

You walked side by side with Lucifer, and it felt so strange not holding hands or being close. You stopped once you entered the parking garage. For some reason your didn’t realize you’d be taking the Corvette.

You had so many memories in the passenger seat of that car. Driving through the hills and the wind flowing through your hair, late night drives with music blasting and singing together at the top of your lungs, holding hands on the shift, peppering kisses on his cheek and lips at red lights...

It was too much.

All too much.

Tears started to come forward and you sniffled, trying to conceal your emotions but only achieving in alerting him. I mean, you had stopped in your tracks at the sight of the Corvette and were now trying not to cry. But still, it was embarrassing.

And how would you ride in his car next to him? Being so close to him, in the car you two shared so many memories in, taking him to your new home.

House, not home. He was home. And nowhere you were without would ever be home.

Too much.

You wrung your hands, starting to panic. “I, uh, thanks for the offer Luci, but I actually forgot something inside so go ahead without me.”

It was a shitty lie that you knew Lucifer saw right through, angelic abilities or not. He looked down and tossed the keys in his hand before putting them back in his pocket.

“Right. Well, have a good night, Y/N/N.”

He tried to smile at you but it was just a pitiful look. You met his eyes once more, trying to ignore their shiny mistiness that matched yours.

You smiled one last time, knowing the dam would break any moment. You couldn’t trust your voice so you simply nodded and turned around to walk back.

Once you exited the garage and out of sight, you let out a sob as your back hit the concrete wall. This was all too much. There was too much pain, guilt, regret, and still... love.

That’s what was hardest about seeing him again. The love that was still there and would never leave.

— — —

Once the Uber dropped you off and you went inside your house, you slumped against the wall.

That night, all you could bring yourself to do was cry yourself to sleep.

— — —

The next morning you woke up to a missed call and voicemail. It was from the number you had blocked, then unblocked, then deleted, but never forgot.

You pressed the phone to your ear and heard the soft voice your heard a thousand times before.

“Hello, love. I’m glad to see my call went through. Though I suppose you’re still ignoring my calls. Or sleeping. You always were a sound sleeper... Anyway, just wanted to make sure you got home alright. The Detective said there’s nothing to worry about with the drive-by. Just a silly turf war so we passed it on the gang unit. So... I suppose we won’t run into each other again. It was nice to see you though, darling. I... I miss you.”

There was an extended pause at the end of the message and you expected more but were only met with silence as the voicemail ended.

You looked down at your phone, finger hesitating above the return call button. You didn’t move, instead letting the screen darken.

— — —

You had been avoiding your phone like the plague all morning and afternoon. Doing everything you could to avoid it. You cleaned the house, did laundry, and took a long shower. But finally, you gave in and grabbed it once more.

You saw no messages or missed calls and decided to make that call before you could think twice.

As it rang, your nerves grew.

‘What would you say? Would he even answer? Of course he would answer. He called you. Said he missed you. But would he answ—‘

“Hello?” His voice broke through your cycle of thoughts. Unprepared, you couldn’t reply.

“Y/N, darling, are you there?”, he said with a edge of worry.

You swallowed before responding.

“Yeah, Luci. I’m here.” Your voice broke at the last word.

“Are you okay, love?” Lucifer sounded understandably even more worried now.

You sniffled and nodded. Not trusting your voice but you realized he couldn’t see you.

“Yeah. I’m- I’m fine. I just uh, got your message.”

Lucifer sighed slightly, relieved you were alright.

“Yes. My apologies if I was too forward.”

You gave a halfhearted laugh, “No, it wasn’t.”

You paused. “I- I miss you too.”

Lucifer was silent. For so long you thought the call had been disconnected.

“Luci?”

“Yes. I’m- I’m here darling. Can I... see you?”

You smiled and sniffled again. Your tears slightly turning to ones of happiness.

“Yes. Of course. I would... like that.”

“How about tonight then? I’ll close Lux and we can order that Indian food you love.”

You smiled, “You don’t have to close Lux for me, Luci.”

“I’d do anything for you, darling.”

He cleared his throat.

“Anyway, tonight? Seven?”

“Yeah. I’ll... see you then.”

“See you then, my dear.” Lucifer said quietly.

As you pulled the phone away from your ear and ended the call, you felt lighter. Lighter than you had since...

You checked the time on your phone and decided to try to focus on getting ready, rather than think more.

— — —

At 6:55, you were standing outside Lux’s front door. With a shaky breath, you stepped inside.

True to his word, Lux was empty sans Lucifer sitting at the piano, playing an unfamiliar tune slowly. Lost in the song, Lucifer didn’t notice you until you had descended the stairs and were leaning against the bar.

He closed the lid and turned on the bench to you.

“Did you like it?”

You nodded. “Yeah. It was beautiful. Though, I don’t recognize it.”

He smirked. “Well I would hope not. I wrote it myself.”

You couldn’t help but be surprised. In all the time you had known Lucifer he hadn’t written anything. Especially not a full song.

He sighed then gave you a smile that you knew was hiding his true feelings.

‘Something about that song...’

Before either of you could continue, a man entered, carrying bags labeled with your favorite Indian place. Just as Lucifer had promised.

Luci climbed the stairs to greet him and grabbed the food. Slipping an extra hundred in the man’s hand as he held the door open for him.

You smiled at Lucifer as he came back downstairs. “You always were the best tipper.”

He laughed, “What, that? An old friend told me about the importance of tipping and I guess it’s been a habit ever since.”

You looked down and smiled. You remembered that. It was one of your first dates. Like Lucifer said, he was always extra generous after that.

“Anyway!”, he said lifting up the bags, “Ready to eat?”

You nodded, almost drooling. You hadn’t been to the restaurant since last year and you knew by the smell Lucifer had gotten your favorite.

Luci set the table, and by setting the table, you meant taking the containers out of the bag and opening the packets of plastic silverware.

You looked at the food on the table then back to Lucifer as he waited for you to sit. It wasn’t right though. You scrunched your nose without realizing and Luci laughed. That hearty laugh when you did something ridiculous.

“Oh, you haven’t changed one bit, dear. Come, let’s move to the couch.”

You smiled brightly at him, thankful he could remember your quirks.

You two sat down nearby each other, with some room in between, thanks to the large Lux couches compared to the ones he had upstairs.

You filled the air with happy noises of content and talking about what antics Maze and Amenadiel had gotten up to. It was light, fun, and exactly what you needed.

Once your bellies were full, you both sighed happily.

“That was wonderful, thanks Luci. I haven’t had them since...” you trailed off.

He nodded, “Me neither.”

You looked down at your hands, feeling the shift in the mood.

“About that, darling.”, Luci said, scooting slightly towards you.

You furrowed your brow, “Do we have to?”

Lucifer smiled at your whine. “Unfortunately, I think we do.”

At your silence Lucifer cleared his throat.

“I’ll start.” He looked at you and waited until you met his eyes.

“I’m so terribly sorry for everything I said and more so for the things I didn’t.”

You nodded, biting your lip and trying to hide the tears that were soon to come.

Lucifer scooted closer to you and placed his hand on your back, hesitantly and then more firmly after you hadn’t shaken it away.

“Darling, you have to understand the whole marriage thing was so foreign to me. And the whole swearing before Dad bit just seemed ridiculous.”

At your pointed look he stopped speaking for a moment.

“What I’m trying to say is that I didn’t realize it was so important to you. And I’m sorry. I should have asked. I assure you, if I had known I would have married you the day I met you, Y/N. I knew from the moment I met you you were the one for me.”

“Are you just saying that?”, you questioned. Somewhat insecure.

“No. Of course not, darling. You know I can’t lie.”

At your small smile he continued.

“After you left, I was broken, lost. And when I realized what a mistake I had made, I wanted nothing more than to make it right.”

“So why didn’t you?”, thankfully the tears hadn’t come and your voice was stronger.

“You looked happy,” he sighed. “You seemed to be doing things you always spoke about doing. I didn’t want to ruin that. I thought you were better off.”

“I wasn’t better, Luci. I was just as broken and lost as you were. The reason I was trying new things was because I had to distract myself. It was the only way for me to keep going.”

You leant your head against his shoulder with a sigh. “I’m sorry too, Luci. I should have spoken to you about it earlier. And I shouldn’t have blown up on you like I did.”

You pulled back to look up at him.

“I’m so sorry, Luci. I’m a terrible idiot.”

He smiled down at you and caressed your cheek softly.

“I forgive you, darling.”

The sincerity in his voice broke the dam and you let out a broken sob.

He pulled you in tight and let you cry into his chest, mumbling assurances that he forgave you every time you apologized.

You don’t know when you’d stopped crying. Maybe you ran out of tears.

All you knew was that you awoke some time later. Your throat was dry, eyes puffy, and neck hurt from how you had slept. But, you also felt relaxed. Lighter from the confessions and the tears.

You frowned as you were alone. You rubbed your eyes and picked up your phone on the nearby table. Underneath it was a folded piece of paper with your name written in Lucifer’s handwriting.

You opened and read the note.

My love,

My apologies for not being by your side as you wake up and instead having to leave this. I had to go to a scene. I tried not to but the Detective guilt tripped me. Awful thing to do, really.

Anyway, I assume you’re probably sore from sleeping on this couch. I assure you I tried to get you to come to bed or even on the more comfortable couches upstairs but, well, you know how stubborn and persuasive you can be. Especially when you’re half asleep...

I know you have things to do so I won’t expect you when I return. But I do hope to see you again soon, darling.

With love,

Lucifer

P. S. Maze insisted on watching you sleep. Not me.

You looked around and found Maze behind the bar. You jumped, she was always so quiet.

“Maze?”, you asked.

She frowned at you while she pushed away from the bar but when she approached she pulled you into a tight hug.

“I’m so glad you’re back. Lucifer’s been miserable without you.”

You laughed as you pulled away, “Sorry about that. But I’m not back.”

“But I thought...?”she said with confusion on her face.

“I mean... we just hung out last night. Nothing’s official.”

“Hmmph.” She smirked. “But from what Lucifer told me, you’ll be back.”

You shook your head in happy exasperation.

“Oh Maze. I could always count on you to say the things Lucifer was always too afraid to.”

Maze smiled proudly at that,

“Like how he wanted to marry you?”

You practically choked.

“I’m sorry, what??”

She shrugged, but had her signature smirk.

“Yeah...” she said with fake nonchalance, swirling her drink.

“He had a ring for over a month. But kept backing out because he was ‘unsure you would want to marry the Devil’.”

She added with air quotes at the end.

“And even though I’m dedicated to Lucifer for the rest of eternity, I totally take your side on this one. Dumbass said he didn’t need to talk to you about marriage and already knew how you felt. Saying you didn’t like weddings or something because you were always so sour after shooting them. And I told him, well maybe you were sour because you wanted to stop working them and have your own. But you know how Lucifer is.”

She rolled her eyes and took a quick swig of her drink.

“Once he gets a self-deprecating thought in his head, he can’t get it out. Ugh, daddy issues, am I right?”

You laughed, oh how you missed Maze.

— — —

“So are we doing this?”, you whispered into his chest as he held you tight that night.

He moved his head so he could smile softly down at you.

“Yes, I do believe so.”

You smiled back at up him.

“One condition.”

At his raised eyebrow you smirked.

“You have to ask me out again. You’re not getting off so easily, Luci.”

“Getting off, you say?” With a chuckle. But then he got more serious.

“But I’m afraid I can’t do that darling. Well, rather, I don’t particularly want to.”

Your heart dropped and face fell.

“What?”

“I don’t want to ask you out again.”

“But —“

Lucifer pulled away from you and reached into the pocket inside his suit jacket.

“Darling. I don’t want to simply be boyfriend and girlfriend again. I want you...”

He dropped to his knee, maintaining eye contact with you.

“I want you to be my wife, Y/N.”

You gasped, frozen in place.

“Darling, the moment I met you was the best of my life. And I’m so sorry for not asking sooner, but please. I’m asking now. Will you marry me?”

You stared at Lucifer on his knee before you, holding up a velvet box with an otherworldly beautiful ring inside. Your vision began to blur, and you hastily wiped the tears away.

Seeing him clear before you, nervous, in love, and vulnerable, you couldn’t help but laugh. You brought your hands to his face and gave him a searing kiss that spoke volumes, full of apologies, love, and dedication.

As you pulled back, lips lingering, and pressed your forehead against his, you opened your eyes to stare into his.

“Yes”, you whispered, nodding and smiling. Starting to tear up again.

Lucifer’s face lit up with joy.

“Yes?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, your smile matching his.

You both looked down as Lucifer took the ring from the box and slipped it on your finger.

You admired its intricacy and perfection for a moment before looking up at your now fiancé.

“I...” you began, trying to quell the tears.

“I... thank you, Luci.”

He laughed at that, unable to stop smiling.

“Darling, I’m the one who should be thanking you. You’re the light of my life.”

You smirked, unable to help yourself. “That’s rich coming from you, Morningstar.”

He closed his eyes and groaned. Trying to hide his smile.

“Back to the puns are we?”

You laughed and automatically responded, “You love me!”

You paused. Partially at the old phrase and at his serious face. Lucifer stroked your cheek.

“I do, my dear. I never stopped and never will.”

[sambergscott]

i'll promise that i'll love you for the rest of my life

one giving the other flowers, as requested by @rosalitadiazz AGES ago, also dedicated to @397bartonstreet for the initial idea of amy sleeping in/just being the best and @nine-niall for helping with the marriage highlight reel.... and for making me listen to heartbreak weather on repeat for the last few days and coming up with this title

happy anniversary to jake and amy!!! (also since the ep aired 2 years ago today i'm not *technically* late thank u very much)

One million, fifty one thousand and two hundred minutes after marrying Amy Santiago (or, two years), every moment is as wonderful as day one. He still feels the same rush of excitement when he sees her waiting by their car at the end of a shift, the same swell of pride when she introduces him to someone as her husband, the same “oh my god we’re actually married” moment when he catches her rings glinting in the sunlight. It’s been the best one million, fifty one thousand and two hundred minutes of his life. And while he appreciates every single second they have together, knowing how in their line of work things can change all too easy, their second anniversary presents the perfect opportunity to remind her that everyday he gets to be with someone as amazing as her is crazy to him.

He has flowers, a handmade card, he even hoovered and she’s still asleep.

She never sleeps this late.

Everyone knows she’s the morning person in their relationship and he’s the Get Out Of Bed After Snoozing The Alarm Seventeen Times person. They live together, share a car, and yet most mornings he ends up riding the Subway, squashed between an old woman and a nerdy looking guy who smells like he hasn’t showered in a week, Amy rolling her eyes when he gets to work mid-briefing. The rare days she can get him out of bed early usually involve some kind of bribery using food and/or sex.

The point is, he’s supposed to be the one sleeping in past 11 AM, but ever since their doctor prescribed Clomid to help stimulate ovulation and boost their chances of making a baby, their roles have been totally reversed like Lindsay Lohan and Jamie Lee Curtis in Freaky Friday.

Pregnant Amy falls asleep anywhere and everywhere. The couch, the car, the cleaning cupboard at work when she was trying to find some Nuclear-strength cleaner to remove the stench of Charles’ lunch from the air before she hurled again.

She could sleep all day if he let her and he quite easily could. She looks so peaceful and cute and free from the stresses of her family asking why they waited so long (well, long for Santiago standards) to start a family. Plus, the messy hair and tiny bit of drool on her chin are impossibly endearing in the way only she can be.

He smiles and wraps his arms around her, resting his head on his shoulder, his hands - like his thoughts - drifting to her growing bump as they inevitably always do.

This time next year they’ll be celebrating with their little boy or girl, telling them all about the insane, magical day that was May 15th 2018. Of course, it might be some time before they can fully grasp the TV-worthy drama of the creepy phone call, the bomb in the vent, the ex-boyfriend proposing - twice! - and the wall of Amy photos, but they will sure as dammit know how beautiful their mom looked in her dress and how happy their dad was when Grandpa Holt finally announced them as husband and wife.

“Can’t breathe,” his wife squeaks, finally awake. “Arms too tight.”

“Oops. Sorry, babe.” He kisses her by way of apology; sometimes when he gets to thinking about that day, about seeing her walk down the shredded paper aisle under the glow of fairy lights, surrounded by the very people who watched them fall in love, he kind of forgets where he is and what he’s doing.

She’s always had that intoxicating effect on him. That’s never gonna change.

“Time is it?” She yawns, stretching her arms above her head.

“Twenty five to,” he pauses to brace himself for her reaction, “...twelve.”

“Twelve?” Horrified, she moves to get out of bed and yeah, he knows her so well. “Let me go,” she huffs in frustration when he forms a barrier to keep her from leaving.

“No can do, Santiago,” he says authoritatively. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone and you’re pregnant. You need to rest. We’ve both got the day off, our dinner reservations aren’t until 8. Just let your husband take care of you for a couple of hours.”

She chews on her lower lip, making her contemplative face that he recognises from sitting opposite her for so many years, preferring watching her piece together the leads in a case rather than work on his own. “Fine,” she eventually concedes. “Happy anniversary, by the way.”

“Happy anniversary,” he returns the sentiment, kissing her again because, well, he can, one of the perks of marrying Amy Santiago (alongside a perfectly organised sock drawer and getting to hang out with the best person in the world 24 sevs). “I got you these,” he adds, procuring the daffodil bouquet he found online.

“Jake,” she sighs dreamily, placing the flowers on her nightstand. “They’re beautiful. And my favourites.”

“I know,” he smirks. He may not be Santiago level smart, but he’s smart when it comes to all things Santiago. “Also made you this.” He hands over the card.

She opens it, instantly tearing up at his sweet message inside, the dam bursting when she notices the scrawled message written with his wrong hand from their unborn baby. “Mine sucks in comparison,” she laments, passing him his card before locking her eyes back on the words ‘happy anniversary to the world’s best mama’.

“It does not suck,” he reassures her, clutching it to his chest. “I’m going to savour it for all times. I want to be buried with it.”

She rolls her eyes, drying her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I thought you wanted to be buried with your original copy of Die Hard.”

“OK, Die Hard and your card. Rhymes for a reason, Ames.”

“You’re such a dork,” she responds, stifling her laughter. “Can’t believe I’ve been married to you for two full years.”

“I know.” He grins. “What was your favourite part?”

Her eyes glimmer with excitement and love and memories of their first anniversary before things turned upside down. “Are you suggesting we do a marriage highlight reel à la NBA inside stuff?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. I’ll go first. NUMBER FIVE,” he yells in his spot on Ahmad Rashad impression, earning a giggle from his wife. “Number five is that dress you wore on my birthday. Your butt looked the bomb in it.”

“Thanks, babe.” Two years in, she’s used to the constant “your butt is the bomb” comments, often uttered at the most inappropriate of times like when she stands up to brief the squad or play soccer with her brothers, much to her chagrin and their delight.

“Number four,” she quickly moves on. “The time you taught me to play Mario Party and I beat Wario on the first try.”

“That was my worst moment,” he groans.

“And that’s why it’s my best.”

He sighs, considers debating it, engaging in the classic back-and-forth that is the very foundation of their relationship, but it’s moot. She was way better than him. Santiago’s learn fast. It’s in their genes or something. And despite the crushing disappointment when she beat Wario with ease and dork danced her way to the kitchen to grab them both an orange soda, it was still a very fun night and a worthy moment in the highlight reel.

“Number Three. The York murder.”

Immediate understanding spreads across Amy’s face, but he explains anyway.

“I spent three days working that case and you just came in, saw the board and solved it right away.”

“I’m very smart,” she jokes lightheartedly.

“You are,” he agrees, his voice coming out softer and sincerer than even he imagined. “I love that about you. I love your brain. I love how good you are at your job, at figuring out puzzles. I love that you listen to NPR and know so much about the font Helvetica and have read, like, a million books. I love that you do a crossword every night and I love how proud you look when you give me a sports clue and I actually get it right. I love cheering you on at Trivia Nights even when Kylie can’t stop glaring at me. How lucky am I to have the smartest wife in the world?”

Touched, she can barely compile her thoughts to reveal her Number Two.

“The night at Shaw’s, at Hitchcock’s second divorce party, your speech, the way you kissed me, the way you were so gentle when we got home,” she sniffles. “It was special and made me feel so loved and if I say anymore I’m going to cry again, so you go.”

He chuckles knowingly. The pregnancy hormones have been making her extra emotional lately, they can’t even watch commercials anymore without her fully weeping. And while last year Pam and her twisted bowels interrupted before they could get to Number One, this year Number One is obvious. Clear as day. And there’s no one to interrupt.

He pretends to think about it for a minute (because he will always love teasing her, married or not). Only when she grabs his arm and digs her nails into his skin does he put both their hands on her bump and smiles. “Obviously this little guy or gal is Number One.”

She smiles back at him, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

His own face falls. “Ames?”

“It’s been a hard year, hasn’t it?” She sighs, thinking back to calendars and fertility appointments and the strict no nacho policy.

“Yeah,” he says, “it has. But this next year is gonna be the best one yet.”

“I mean... We’re probably not going to sleep a lot.”

“You might not sleep a lot but I sure will,” he teases, his words falling flat. “Just kidding, babe. Obviously I’m going to get up for all the feeds and diaper changes and whatever else this kid throws at us. Gonna be there for you both. No matter what.”

The pregnancy hormones strike again and she starts crying and, honestly, he can’t wait for this baby to get out, for more reasons than one.

“BRB, I’ll go make your favourite breakfast to make you feel better, don’t grow anymore body parts while I’m gone.”

He returns seven minutes later with pancakes, a ton of fruit, decaf coffee and another kiss. He climbs back into bed, devours his own Nutella pancakes and posts his favourite blurry, drunk on Champagne and love selfie from their makeshift wedding reception at Shaw’s, on Insta with a caption about how he promises he’s gonna love her for the rest of his life.

And he keeps that promise.

[hickorycreekrp-blog]

Out of Character:

Name/Alias: Luna

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: Seventeen

Timezone: GMT

Face Claim Preferences: Lily Collins

Character Basics:

Full Name: Meredith Angelica Wilson

Nicknames/Prefers: Baby.

Age: Twenty-Seven

Occupation: English Teacher at Hickory High School

Pronouns: She/Her

Gender: Cisfemale

Hometown: Hickory Creek

Current Neighborhood: Hickory Square

Highest Education: Teaching degree

Religion: Christian

Family and Relationships:

Parents: Miranda Wilson (forty-four), Julian Wilson Sr(forty-five)

Siblings: Julian “JJ” Wilson Jr (twenty-three)

Children: N/A

Other: Meredith Capshaw (grandmother, deceased)

Pets: Pluto (ginger cat)

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Romantic Orientation: Biromantic

Marital Status: Single, dating.

Personality:

Favorite Film: The Breakfast Club

Favorite TV Show: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Favorite Book: How to Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

Favorite Song: Easy by The Commodores

Favorite Color: Duck Egg Blue

Likes: Rosé wine, children, 80s pop, chinese takeout, lighthouses

Dislikes: Peanut butter, extended social interaction, the ocean, dogs (allergic), being awake past midnight.

History: ( death tw )

“She’ll be an old soul.” That was the first thing that Meredith Capshaw said to her daughter upon finding out that the seventeen year old was pregnant. Plenty of reactions had been prepared, on behalf of Miranda, but that was not one of them by any means. Screaming, shouting, demands of an abortion, demanding that Julian Wilson take her hand in marriage; they were all things that were expected. Still, she certainly wasn’t going to complain about how coolly her mother was taking things. It were a shame that the same thing could not be said, however, for Julian’s parents. They demanded that the pair be married, to save face from the rest of the town on the matter of the teenage pregnancy, and so it happened. Not a large wedding, not really a wedding, just two bodies in a registry office in Greene Hills with their respective parents on either side. Miranda hadn’t even begun to show a bump yet, but there she was. White t-shirt, jeans and eye liner that she would later come to regret in wedding album photos.

Six months later, she’s cursing the day she decided to sleep with Julian Wilson and neglect the art of birth control but it turned out to be worth it. Turned out to work out just fine, in fact. After two hours of gruelling labour, out popped Meredith Wilson. Her father had missed the birth of his daughter by ten minutes; caught at work, then in traffic, then in a storm. It’s in his truck that the song Baby, Baby sounds, filling the stuffy cab with the love song and subsequently planting itself firmly in his head. One look into big brown eyes, and it’s decided. Of course, Miranda certainly had something to say about that, and decided that the name Baby certainly wouldn’t be going on a birth certificate. Instead, she would be named after the strongest woman on the planet, Miranda’s mother. To avoid confusion, they nicknamed her Baby and it simply stuck well into adulthood.

For a while, it was simply the four of them living in a house on Hickory Square. Baby, Miranda, Julian and Meredith. The young lovebirds had moved into Meredith’s house since the idea of living on their own was too costly. Plus, with Baby’s paternal grandfather being gone ten years to the day of which Baby was born, it was a welcome presence. Of course, screaming children at three in the morning are rarely a welcome presence, but the innocent laughter and gum-filled grins were certainly pleasant. Twenty years old, Baby edging closer to the age of four, and thus appeared a new screaming baby. “JJ” her mother informed her, named after their father. He looked like a JJ (well, more like an alien in the first few months) and it was certainly easy for Baby to say, so now she had a younger brother. And inside a three-bedroom house in Hickory Square, four became five.

During the first year or so of his life, Baby resented JJ. He was cute, sure, but then he would scream and scream and scream. And often her mother seemed preoccupied with him to pay attention to her. When her father returned from work, attention turned to JJ before it graced Baby, and this was something she hated. It wasn’t their fault, of course, but luckily for the young girl, her grandma (or Grams as she would be coined) was never too far behind with a warm hug and an ear to listen. Quickly, Baby formed a bond with her Grams that was unbreakable. When school started, it was Grams who would pick her up from the occasion and ask her about her day. When it came to tasks about recording information about your family, it was Grams whom Baby wrote the most about. They were the best of friends, practically inseparable. Even when JJ got old enough to have a personality and subsequently an imagination, their bond was never quite as close as that of Baby and Meredith. They did share the same legal name after all.

Everything within Baby’s life was about as perfect as could be expected. But things do not stay perfect forever and on October 15th 2007, otherwise known as Baby’s 18th birthday, everything fell apart. For a few months, Grams had been sick. “It’s nothing,” she’d reply to the concerns of her grandchildren. “Old bones. I’m fine.” the woman would insist. Of course, no member of the household was stupid, and it was clear that things were not fine. By this point, the Wilson family had their own house, their own home, their own lives. Yet Baby still made time to spend with her namesake. Nobody else ever did quite understand. The morning of her birthday arrived, and when no phone call came at 10am, Baby was certain something was wrong. This feeling lead to her discovering, at 10:12am on the morning of October 15th 2007, that Meredith Wilson had passed away in her sleep. For an hour, Baby sat on the floor and wept. No paramedics, no family was called. Just her, stunned, staring at the body of her best friend. When JJ found her, an hour after she’d originally set out, Baby wasn’t crying anymore. Just staring, void of all emotion into empty space.

Since then, things changed. Baby became more of a shell. A confident, exuberant young woman had left. In her place was a character withdrawn, quiet, neglectful of small things. It was as though the girl had become infantile again, unable to take care of herself and requiring the assistance of others. Her parents were concerned; a severe drop in weight had occurred, and her grades? Awful would be an understatement. Most days, she didn’t even attend Hickory Creek High. Instead opting to lie in bed, stare at the ceiling and think about nothing at all. As Christmas rolled around, her parents knew something had to change. Her senior year of high school was about to be thrown away, forcing her to repeat, and it was becoming almost unbearable to witness their daughter be in such a manner. Thus, they struck a deal with Baby. She would be permitted to live in her grandmother’s house, of which they would pay for bills and such, providing that she return to school and get her grades back up. Do something, become someone; that was their deal.

Somehow, it worked. Baby left her house and returned to her childhood home a few streets away, moved back into the room she’d had when she was five which was still very, very pink. Attendance in high school rose again, and she worked her ass off to be able to graduate. Weekends, after school, holidays; whatever was required to get those credits, she did it. Summer of ‘08 she graduated with the rest of her class and by the fall of the same year she was attending the community college in Greene Hill to get her teaching degree.

Twenty seventeen marks the ten year anniversary of Grams’ death, and in truth, she has never really bounced back. No longer is she the teenager that is heartbroken by the frugality of life, but she’s certainly not the girl that could’ve out shined the sun if needed. For a while, she tried to get rid of the nickname because it seemed linked to all the things that caused a pang within her aorta, but now she simply accepts it. Reserved, cautious and not nearly as eager to let people in, she still resides in her grandmother’s house. After he graduated from high school, JJ moved in with her leaving only one spare room and a substantial amount less food in the house. Her parents left Hickory Creek shortly after, making it so it’s now just the two of them.

Baby tries to be sociable, but being around teenagers all day certainly takes it out of her. Often, she’s accused of not listening in conversations, or otherwise being neglectful. Of course, she doesn’t intend to be, it’s simply that her mind is full with a thousand things and no questions ever seem to have answers. She isn’t one for a large group of friends, and while she’ll be perfectly cordial and polite towards you, spilling secrets isn’t her style. Not that there’s many secrets left in such a small town anyway.

[aruneshgoyal]

The Contextual Major Plot Featuring India-Pakistan World Cup Tie as Also Wedding Anniversary of the Main Protagonists

Mahesh and Saraswati are well settled now in India (old Delhi) with kids, Shaloo - thirteen years of age, and Brij - nine years old. Mahesh is a devout Hindu, especially dedicated towards Goddess Durga and his wife, Saraswati is a pious Muslim lady before marriage by the name – Shakila.  

Now, husband and wife for the last fifteen years ever since 15th February, 2000, Mahesh and Saraswati are all set to celebrate their fifteenth wedding anniversary along with another grand event, Indo-Pak World Cup cricket clash planned for the day, viz. the fifteenth of February, 2015.  

Cricket has always been their cup of dilemma and duel especially due to Shakila’s brother, Hussaini Bhai, being a member of the Pakistan cricket team for the last ten years as an all-rounder (medium pace bowler and a power hitter just akin to our Kapil Dev).  

This World Cup, in particular, is especially important for him as he is going to announce his retirement after the Indo-Pak match; moreover, Pakistan, sensing victory, out of the rather low morale of the Indian team due to repeated defeats on its tour of Australia, just on the eve of the mega event, are going all out this time to break the jinx of having never beaten India in a World Cup fixture as yet.  

 After marriage, being a dedicated wife as she was, Saraswati alias Shakila was always in a state of turmoil – whether to support her husband or her brother! The children too were at loggerheads on this issue. Hussaini Bhai also adopted certain Hindu customs after the marriage of his sister to Mahesh, which included the celebration of the much wonted and acclaimed ‘Raksha-Bandhan’ festival with the tying of the sacred thread on his wrist by his sister, elder to him by a good seven years.  

 Whenever Saraswati would handcuff him with a sparkling ‘Rakhi,’ he would seek her blessings you guess what, your guess is as good as mine – asking for his team’s victory over India in the upcoming matches. February 15 in 2015 was no different. He had already sought his sister’s affectionate blessings the previous year in the wake of his upcoming retirement from international cricket. Before leaving for Australia-New Zealand, the venue of this year’s edition of the World Cup, Hussaini Bhai had touched his sister’s feet yet again, promising to call her before the all-important Indo-Pak contest.  

True to his word, before leaving for the cricket arena on the actual day of the match, Hussaini Bhai had called his sister, Shakila alias Saraswati, and said – “dear sister Shakila! Please bless me so that not only do I perform well with both bat and ball but also our team does well and goes on to defeat India!” Shakila, in reply, said simply – “dear brother Hussaini! I am a wife more now than a sister. Still, I pray to God that you perform well in your last encounter before retirement. As for defeating India, I cannot say anything but only that it be an absorbing contest between the two teams for the spectators to feast upon and the better team which does better today win!”  

 Mahesh and the two children – Shaloo and Brij, were standing just nearby, overhearing the entire conversation between the brother and sister team of Shakila and Hussaini. Mahesh said jokingly – “don’t you dare to spoil your dear brother’s mood today! Just see the extent to which he has gone, how much he has been preparing, and looking forward to this – his last and final outing in cricket!” Brij added – “it’s going to be my Mamu Jaan’s day today and Pakistan will beat India hoarse, hollow, and outright!” Meanwhile, Shaloo, listening to all this talk, just couldn’t bear the thought of India losing this particular ‘prestigious’ match, and joining in the conversation, said mockingly – “even if Mamu Jaan takes the blessings of the entire household in India, nay Pakistan as well, God will see to it that my India doesn’t get defeated today!”  

“Okay, okay! Everybody, listen now! Enough discussion has already taken place on the issue. Let’s not waste any more time over the matter and straightaway get into the act, by having our breakfast quickly and then settling down lest we miss any of the live coverage by Star Sports. Remember, we have specially subscribed to the channel for this occasion and only about half an hour is left before the live action begins, beamed right from Australia to so many countries around the globe including our India” – intervened Saraswati alias Shakila, suddenly taking control of the situation.  

Everybody fell silent now and there was no further talk about the upcoming cricket action during breakfast time. Finally, as the clock struck exactly 09:00 hrs. IST, everyone settled down, taking their own vantage positions in front of the HD color ONIDA television set, once so much famed for its “owners’ pride, neighbor’s envy” ad.  

 Being a Sunday, Mahesh was off from his office work and the children too were free from their respective schools. Mahesh worked for a leading MNC in Gurgaon, travelling to and fro daily in his Honda car. While Shaloo was pursuing her studies in a central convent school and had come home specially to join her family for the match, Brij was studying in the nearby Jesus & Mary school. The school van would come daily to pick him up from home in the morning as also drop him back after school time in the afternoon.  

The match had a significant sidelight too – a touch of the Indian cinema. Mr. Amitabh Bacchhan, the veteran actor well known for his versatility, and the famed anchor of the popular soap opera and Sony’s TV show – “KBC (‘Kaun Banega Crorepati’),” was making his grand debut in the commentary box, for a change this time, during the course of the match. It may be pointed out in this context that Amitabh Ji’s voice is his greatest asset and everybody, whether from India or abroad, was keenly looking forward to listen to this golden voice on the occasion. Star Sports, who had roped Amit Ji in for the event, was particularly keen on cashing upon his worldwide popularity and up the ante as far as TV ratings were concerned.  

Before the match, there had been frequent calls from Shakila’s family and other near and dear ones from Pakistan all of whom were rooting for their home team and wanted Shakila alias Saraswati to fall in their footsteps and follow suit. Only Saraswati knew how tormenting all those moments had been. On one hand, she was supposed to and had to support India in the wake of her foremost relation as Mahesh’s wife and on the other, she couldn’t afford to displease her native relations too, not to speak of her role as a sister to Hussaini Bhai.  

 But, there was one very good point and factor working in her favor.

Mahesh knew his wife well, trusted her, and supported her through and through. Furthermore, he was not a jingoist or a cricket fanatic and was wise enough to understand not only the intricacies of the game but also the significant fact, missed by many but not him, that after all, it was only a game in which one of the two competing sides had to win and the other to lose.  

Sometimes, he just brooded over and told himself that people were, by and large, foolish enough to put at stake so much for their chosen team, even going to the extent of gambling and betting heavily on the outcome. All this, he so wisely surmised, added to the ever increasing pressure on the players from both the sides and everybody else genuinely concerned about the game, which in modern times, had already acquired and taken the form of an explosive volcano, ready to erupt anywhere anytime.  

He stood by his dear wife, Saraswati, often consoling and calming her down with soothing words, telling her to take all the discomfiture in her stride and that things would take their own course and everything would eventually work out well, God willing, or ‘Inshallah,’ as they say in Urdu.

Mahesh also had the good sense to realize that the game and so to say, everything in the modern world, from education down to health facilities, had become too commercialized, especially, of late, for comfort. The common man was hard put to even afford the “grand luxury” of going to a cricket stadium to watch and catch the action right in front of his eyes, not only due to the heavily priced match tickets but also taking into account the fact that as no outside food was allowed these days at the stadia, he would have to foot the bill for the highly over-priced eatables and drinks being offered and available at the match site and that too of much inferior quality in comparison to their rates.  

Anyway, as he sometimes would take up and broach these topics with his wife, she would tell him to be ‘practical’ and not think too much but enjoy and, rather, relish the fun of it all, as if “any fun could be greater than humanity,” thought Mahesh although he used to keep and remain silent, accepting Saraswati’s views, but only outwardly. His inner senses were just neither willing nor ready to accept this hard reality and these harsh facts of life and he always wished he could do something about it. But, “what could he do,” all alone. He needed outside support and backing to buck him up in his mission and in this instance, his own wife was telling him in plain words to be ‘smart’ and ‘practical’ and let things go their own whacky way, whether “right or wrong,” how it mattered!  

His conscience would prick him no end and he often thought and wished he could write a book and express his views and opinions openly without any fear or regret whatsoever. As of now, he had a family, may be small, but it was after all a family with a beautiful young wife and two decent kids to be taken care of and he just couldn’t afford to put their lives at stake, for the time being, at least. “All right, let me be rid of my family responsibilities and my office as well after retirement. Then, possibly, I can take a chance and would be able to write, fulfilling my cherished wish for so long!” he told himself consolingly and softly.  

Back to our match, the little Indo-Pak cricket encounter. Pakistan, winning the toss, had elected to bat first on what appeared to be a paradise of a pitch for batsmen, laden with runs. And, keeping in view Hussaini Bhai’s impending retirement immediately after this significant contest, he was asked to open the innings along with Mohammed Shehzaad, a young, elegant to watch, and gifted opener. May be, the move to send Hussaini Bhai upfront was meant to take India by surprise and upset their rhythm, especially during the first ten power-play overs when only three fielders are allowed outside the inner circle. Be that as it may, Hussaini Bhai was out first ball, yorked by Umesh Yadav, the fastest bowler of the lot on the Indian side, much to the disdain of Brij but amusement for Shaloo. Shakila too was a bit upset about this particular dismissal, knowing in her heart that her brother would be even more upset about it, especially in view of his last outing in cricket.  

The whole of Pakistan was stunned into silence and rubbed its eyes in disbelief. Meanwhile, Mahesh, calm and composed, as always, came forward to soothe Saraswati alias Shakila, telling her that Hussaini Bhai still had a chance to bowl well in the Indian innings, and that all was not lost as yet. Misbah-ul-Haq, the skipper of the Pakistan team, walked in next and boy, what an innings he played, simply breathtaking and out of this world! Along with Mohammed Shehzaad, the diminutive young opening batsman, he put up a bewildering partnership of one hundred eighty runs, in which his own personal contribution was a marvelous one hundred fifty runs, full of strokes all around the ground, comprising twelve fours and a towering eleven sixes, to boot.  

Although he got out soon after reaching this milestone, trying to hammer another six and caught brilliantly near the boundary by Suresh Raina, who took a low tumbling catch running a good twenty yards to his left, followed almost immediately by Shehzaad, who played a rather needless rash shot in trying to up the ante even more, Pakistan reached a respectable and healthy looking score of two hundred seventy runs eventually, losing five wickets in their allotted fifty overs.  

For India, Umesh Yadav took three wickets with Mohammed Shami and Ravichandran Ashwin being the other two successful bowlers, bagging one wicket a piece. Suresh Raina, a part time bowler used by India, strangely turned out to be their most economical one, conceding just thirty runs off his ten overs, giving him an economy rate of three per over, which was simply stunning under any circumstances.  

It was lunch time now and the whole family, Mahesh, Saraswati and the two kids – Brij and Shaloo, gathered around the dining table to enjoy the package of Daal Makhani, Rajma, cauliflower, Pulaav, Raita and Tandoori Naans, home delivered to them by the nearby “Wah Ji Wah” restaurant, especially for the occasion. Mahesh had also ordered a special candle-light dinner at the restaurant later in the day to celebrate his fifteenth wedding anniversary with Saraswati. Brij and Shaloo too were to accompany them and join in the celebration, especially as a special chocolate vegetarian cake had been ordered the previous day by Mahesh for today’s special evening. During the course of their lunch, Brij was a bit sulky while Shaloo was her usual chirpy self. Mahesh and Saraswati, on their part, tried their best to keep Brij’s spirits alive and not bring cricket into the picture or mix it up with their much needed meal, especially after three and a half hours of rigorous and continuous cricket watching on their TV monitor/screen.  

After a lunch break of exactly thirty minutes, the match began again at 13:00 hrs. IST. At this stage, India were the hot favorites and expected to win, keeping its record over Pakistan straight in World Cup encounters. This was keeping in view the fact that the pitch was still batsmen friendly and benign towards them. Moreover, India had a strong batting line up with stalwarts like Rohit Sharma, Shikhar Dhawan, Virat Kohli, Suresh Raina, Anjika Rahane, and the captain cool, Mahender Singh Dhoni himself, to boot, in its ranks.  

As also, the fact that it had been able to restrict Pakistan to a target well below three hundred was an additional advantage working in its favor. And, the men in blue didn’t disappoint their fans, beginning well with Rohit and Shikhar putting up a decent one hundred partnership upfront off just eleven overs. At this point, Hussaini Bhai was introduced into the attack by Pakistan skipper, Misbah. And, off his fourth ball, he had Shikhar Dhawan caught behind, off a thin edge, with a late out swinger. In his next over, he sent back Rohit Sharma too, catching him plumb in front of the wicket with a peach of a delivery, that came in just a bit, for an easy LBW decision by England’s Ian Gould, one of the two umpires doing duty in the match along with S.Venky, the one from Sri Lanka. He virtually sent the crowd, the Pakistan fans, in particular, into a tizzy, by claiming the prize wickets of Virat Kohli and Suresh Raina off his next two successive deliveries, achieving the rare feat of a hat trick in a World Cup final.  

There had been no addition to the Indian score of exactly one hundred and its batting backbone had been literally broken and virtually torn to pieces, with four wickets gone already. Rahane and Dhoni tried to rev up the innings a bit, adding a crucial and vital eighty runs, before Rahane too was snapped up by Hussaini in his last and final over, not only for the match but in his cricket career as well, caught at short leg, while fending at a well directed rising bouncer on his chest. Even though Hussaini had got out for a duck while batting, he had bowling figures of 10-3-45-5 for the match, a five wicket haul anybody would be proud of and he so very rightly got a standing ovation from the supporting crowd as he finished his quota. Whatever the result of the match, he was relieved now that he had after all done justice to his last game of cricket. In fact, he had made his retirement a memorable occasion, an occasion he could remember with pride and recite to his probable future grandchildren.  

It was anybody’s game now with exactly ninety one runs to get off the final ten overs for India while Pakistan was looking to finish off things quickly and wrap up the remaining five Indian wickets as well. But, its main concern was that its star performer of the day, Hussaini Bhai, at least with the ball, accounting for all the five wickets that had fallen so far, had already bowled out his full quota of ten overs at a stretch. India, on the other hand, was relying on Dhoni single-handedly now to apply the finishing touches and get the required runs at an asking rate of almost nine runs per over, which he was perfectly capable of doing. But, knowing that it was a crunch match, a big pressure game, nobody on either side, was yet ready to take any chances and predict the outcome. But, one thing was for sure. Whichever side doesn’t wilt under pressure and choke down, would be the winner.

Moreover, it was no longer a game to watch for the faint hearted ones. For Pakistan, Junaid Khan and Yusuf Parvez, the two of their fastest bowlers, had to bowl the final ten overs in tandem now while Ravindra Jadeja, a promising young all-rounder (left arm leg spin bowler who could bat as well) was giving Dhoni company at the other end. Both Jadeja and Dhoni were fast movers between wickets and played for the same franchise – Chennai Super Kings, in the IPL (Indian Premier League), a 20–20 or T-20 cricket tournament in which only twenty overs a side are bowled instead of the usual fifty as in one day cricket.  

 Pakistan did well in the first six overs, restricting India to just twenty five runs. Dhoni and Jadeja tried hard but found the duo of Junaid and Yusuf difficult to get away as they bowled a tidy line and length and at a good pace too, sometimes in the vicinity of one hundred fifty kilometers per hour. Be that as it may, they had no option left but to play in the T-20 mould now, if they were to get the remaining sixty six runs in the four overs left for the day. Nobody was giving them even a semblance of a chance or counting on them to even get anywhere close to the target, leave alone achieving it!  

But, M.S. Dhoni had other ideas. He started off with his famed helicopter shot for six over mid-wicket in Junaid’s next over, followed it up with a crunchy straight drive for four off a full length yorker, a shot which only he could play, and then cover drove him, playing inside out for a massive six over the extra cover fence. With sixteen runs off the first three balls of the over, the crowd was on its feet yet again. As he took a comfortable single off the next ball, it was Jadeja’ s turn now to take over and hit the remaining two balls for successive boundaries, one a square cut that sped towards the point fence in the twinkling of an eye, and the other, a delicate leg glance to the fine leg boundary.  

It had turned out to be a very good over for India, with as many as twenty five runs coming off it, in all. But, it still required forty one more in the next three overs, by no means, an easy task. Dhoni, once again, didn’t disappoint his fans, by hitting three massive hefty shots for the maximum, over long on, long off, and straight over the bowler Parvez’s head, off the first three deliveries in the next over, the forty eighth of the innings. Young Parvez completely lost his line, rhythm and length, and just didn’t know where to bowl to the Indian captain. To add to his woes, he bowled a wide no-ball next. Two runs were added to the score and a free hit was awarded to the batting side, viz. the Indians.  

Although Dhoni could manage only a couple of runs off the free hit, hitting the full toss bowled straight into the hands of the fielder at deep midwicket, viz. Shehzaad, he reverse swept the next two balls for successive fours as if he was facing a spinner instead of a fast bowler. Thirty runs had come in the over bowled.  

With just eleven to get in the remaining two final overs of the innings, the game had again turned around and come full circle in India’s favor. However, the ever cool Dhoni got out in Junaid’s final over, trying to repeat his favorite helicopter shot, which he had been able to play successfully off the first ball in the bowler’s previous over. It was neither needed nor called for at this stage of the game, when they could easily do it in singles and two’s.  

It was rather uncharacteristic and unlike Dhoni’s calm approach, disposition, and temperament. But, the damage had been done and Pakistan allowed more than a glimmer of hope. May be, the first two dot balls off which Dhoni had been unable to get any runs, had got to his head. Dhoni had got out to the third ball of the over and the batsmen had crossed while the catch was being taken. Jadeja was in the hot seat now. And, just like Dhoni, he played out the first two balls he faced as dots and couldn’t make any use of them. He stepped out to the final ball of the over, trying to play a hefty cover drive, only to see his middle stump cart wheeling and flying off the ground.  

India had lost another vital and crucial wicket again, this time of Ravindra Jadeja. Junaid’s final over had turned out to be double wicket maiden one and he was virtually on the moon, clapping and celebrating with his team mates with high fives all around. Everybody was on his toes now for the final over of the Indian innings to be bowled by Yusuf Parvez, the upcoming young fast bowler from Peshawar. At this juncture, India still needed eleven runs to win with just three wickets intact. Pakistan needed to bowl out the final over for less than ten runs to win.  

A distinct third possibility had also come into the picture. And, that was India getting no more  than ten runs off the six balls it was to face, resulting in a ‘tie,’ or a drawn battle, so to say. Ravichandran Ashwin and Mohammed Shami were the two Indian batsmen at the crease now to take them through with Shami at the non-striker’s end. Umesh Yadav and Mohit Sharma, in that order, were awaiting their turn to bat, if required, in the pavilion.  

The first ball – a bouncer over the middle stump! No runs! Ashwin looked at S.Venky, the umpire officiating at the bowler’s end, appealingly for a no ball for extra height above the batsman’s shoulders, but there had been no signal from the square leg umpire, Ian Gould, and Venky simply signaled one bouncer, for the over. The second – a slightly wide full toss had Ashwin groping for it and flew to third man for a single. Mohammed Shami on strike now! The equation – ten to get off four balls!!  

The third ball by Parvez was a full length yorker, dug out somehow by Shami, and they stole a cheeky single! The equation – nine to get off three!! The fourth, a short one, was pulled fiercely by Ashwin to the mid-wicket fence for a welcome boundary for his team! Ashwin had proved his batting credentials time and again for India and this was no different! The equation – five to get off two!!  

The next ball, the fifth, was a quick good length one, and they ran an even quicker single like two hares running for their very lives!  

The equation – four to get off just one ball!! Oh, my, my goodness me, it was all topsy-turvy and could swing either way, although Pakistan seemed to have a slight edge at this point of the game. But, nothing can be said in cricket till the final ball is bowled!  

The final ball of the over and the innings was a fierce yorker by Yusuf Parvez, the young lad from Peshawar, who was learning all the time and had bowled a great last over. Mohammed Shami knew nothing about it; Ashwin was already half way down the pitch, screaming out to Shami to run; meanwhile, the wicketkeeper, Yaseen Jaffer, had thrown the ball to the bowler’s end but there was no one backing up; Shami started to run; the ball was stopped near mid-off by Misbah-ul-Haq, the Pakistan skipper, who threw it wildly to the batsman’s end, trying to run out Ashwin; both the batsmen reached their respective ends safely and tried to run the second as well and managing it too; the throw was so wild that it caught all the Pakistan fielders napping and unawares, going to the fine third man boundary and crossing the fence for four overthrows; while India needed four runs off this particular ball, they had been allowed six, much to the chagrin of the Pakistan team, and Parvez, in particular, who had done nothing wrong in this over.  

In the end, it had been a comedy of errors, of a sort. But, eventually, it was India who had kept their nerves and done the needful, beating Pakistan by three wickets, with its final score reading two hundred seventy three for seven. Of course, it was helped by the Pakistan fielding in the final over; but all said and done it had ultimately and finally prevailed over Pakistan in what had been a hard fought, pulsating and nail biting game of cricket.  

Meanwhile, the much talked about and the much hyped over Amitabh’s stint at the commentary box had come a cropper. It simply had to. After all, everybody can’t do everything. Acting is one thing. But performing in reality is a different ball game altogether. If Amitabh Ji had to act out the role of a commentator in a film, it would have been a virtual cakewalk for him. But, describing live action and moreover a game like cricket with all its buzzwords and peculiar jargon is only a job for professional commentators. Some of the ex-players too have made a good job of it. On his part, Amit Ji were graceful enough to quit right in the beginning itself and fellow commentators on Star Sports (Hindi commentary team) eased him out quickly lest it became an embarrassment both for Mr. Bacchhan and Star Sports. Anyway, most of the audience didn’t complain and accepted the walkout gracefully. May be, they already had a lurking idea that it would be a tough endeavor for Amit Ji to carry out.  

Moreover, you can’t become a cricket commentator straightaway. You need time and graduate gradually from local matches to regional ones onto national level and finally arrive at the international level. You see, it’s a step by step gradual process. The only exception to this general rule could be ex-players who have played cricket at some level or the other. But, even here, everybody doesn’t succeed and turn out to be a good commentator. Rohan Gavaskar, the illustrious Sunil Gavaskar’s son, is a very good case in point with no ill-will towards anybody, especially the latter, who by all means, is an excellent TV cricket commentator himself.  

Before moving on to the two flashbacks from the lives of Mahesh and Saraswati alias Shakila, just a little word about their fifteenth wedding anniversary together, the T-20 format of cricket, and the IPL.

The couple solemnly celebrated their much wonted anniversary in the evening along with their two loving kids, Brij and Shaloo. First, they feasted upon the aforementioned specially ordered chocolate cake and followed it up by whetting their appetite to the maximum on the candle lit dinner, which had several courses, of course, all of them purely vegetarian and only soft drinks and fresh fruit juices.  

Coming to the T-20 format now; while, the reduced number of overs makes the game finish within three hours and the spectators get to watch all their favorite players in one go as also the outcome, we shall also have to say that the T-20 format of cricket suits the batsmen more than the bowlers, who are just left hapless and literally at the mercy of the former. Another valid point is that from a pure connoisseur’s point of view, T-20 is a very poor format and it has adversely affected (of course, along with one day cricket to a lesser extent, though) Test cricket too, which sometime back was his sublime delight.  

Before I round off this first part of the story and the narration, a word about T-20 tourneys like IPL. On the negative side, they have commercialized the game no end. But, the positive point is that many youngsters get to play with their seniors, not to speak of some of their role models as well, as also earn some decent money in the process.  

[andrewdburton]

This blog is now a teenager: Thirteen years of Get Rich Slowly

Thie middle of April is a Big Deal in my world.

The trees have nearly finished blossoming, which means my allergies will soon go away. We're seeing more of the sun, which means the worst of my seasonal depression is behind me. Yesterday, on the 14th, Kim and I celebrated seven years as a couple. And today, on the 15th, Get Rich Slowly celebrates thirteen years of existence.

That's right: This blog is now a teenager.

In the Beginning

When I started Get Rich Slowly, I had no idea what it was going to become. I had no grand plan or vision. I just wanted to write about money while accomplishing three goals.

My primary goal was to document my own journey as I dug out of debt and (I hoped) eventually learned how to build wealth.

My secondary aim was to help my family and friends get better with their money too. (Although, truthfully, in my entire social circle, I was probably the person with the worst personal finance skills.)

And, third on the list, I wanted to make a little extra money with the site. I figured if I could make a few hundred bucks with it, I could pay off my debt a little sooner.

On 26 April 2005 — a year before I started this blog — I published an article called “Get Rich Slowly!” for my personal site. Here's what I wrote:

Today's entry is long and boring. It's all about the keys to wealth, prosperity, and happiness. Over the past few months, I've read over a dozen books on personal finance. Recurring themes have become evident.

These books have embarrassingly bad titles, seemingly designed to appeal to the get-rich-quick crowd: The Richest Man in Babylon, Your Money or Your Life, Rich Dad Poor Dad, Think and Grow Rich, Wealth Without Risk, etc.

Some of the books out there — most of them? — really are as bad as their titles. Others, however, offer outstanding, practical advice. The best books seem to have the same goal in mind: not wealth, not riches, but financial independence.

According to Your Money or Your Life, which I consider the very best of the financial books I've read, “Financial independence is the experience of having enough — and then some”. More practically, financial independence occurs when your investment income meets or exceeds your monthly expenses. Financial independence is linked to psychological freedom.

How is financial independence achieved? Again, the best books all basically agree. (To some of you, this will be common sense, stuff you've known all your life. To others, like me, this kind of thinking is a sort of revelation.)

Here, then, is my personal summary of the collected wisdom found in these books.

“It's nearly impossible to get rich quick without luck,” I concluded after summarizing all of these money books. “Getting rich quick is a sucker's bet. There's only a slim chance that you'll have the sort of luck that's required. You might as well play the lottery.”

Instead, I thought the underlying message of these books was simple: “It is possible to get rich slowly, however, with no risk, and with no luck. All that's required is patience and discipline.”

Get Rich Slowly 1.0

That original “Get Rich Slowly” article at my personal site proved popular. It went the 2005 version of “viral”, being shared at sites like Boing Boing, Lifehacker, etc.

A year later, I was still searching for a way to earn money on the side to help me dig out of debt. I decided that maybe I could earn a few bucks by starting a site about saving and investing. I actually thought mine would be the first personal-finance blog on the Internet! (Ha — little did I know! There were already dozens — dozens! — of other money blogs out there.)

On April 15, 2006, I launched Get Rich Slowly. It was successful from the start. For whatever reason, the stuff I wrote resonated with readers. They shared the site with their friends and family.

Within weeks, I had several hundred readers. Within months, the audience had grown to several thousand. Within two years, more than 500,000 people per month were coming to the site. It was crazy. It was completely unexpected. I was shocked. And grateful.

Those early days of GRS were a hell of a lot of fun. I was figuring this money stuff out in real time, and writing about my successes (and, yes, my failures) as they happened. I did some stupid, stupid stuff — but as time went on, I got better at managing my money.

Needless to say, writing about smart money management every day — for 1000 days — produces a lot of articles! Certain articles stood out as particularly popular — I think because they were particularly helpful. Anyway, here are some highlights from the first three years of the site:

In praise of the debt snowball (28 Sep 2006) — When I started Get Rich Slowly, I had over $35,000 in consumer debt. I lived paycheck to paycheck on a salary of over $50,000 per year. Basically, I was your typical American consumer. To get out of debt, I used Dave Ramsey's version of the debt snowball. A lot of folks want to complain that using this method is based on bad math, but so what? If math were the issue, I wouldn't have been in debt — and neither would many other people. The debt snowball works, and that's why I love it.

Are index funds the best investment? (24 Jan 2007) — At first, I was a bad investor. In fact, I was a gambler, not an investor. I took chances on random stocks in the hopes they'd shoot through the roof. Reading and writing about money quickly taught me that pros like Warren Buffett (and many more) actually endorse a simple investment strategy for average folks like you and me. For us, putting our savings into indexed mutual funds is the most reliable long-term investment.

Which online high-yield savings account and money market account is best? (21 Mar 2007, although this link is to a recent update) — As I started learning smart money habits, I realized it was dumb for me to leave my money in a big national bank that paid me no interest. But where should I save my money instead? To find out, I polled GRS readers. Whoa! Who knew this simple question would create such a huge response? Readers left over 1700 comments with suggestions about where to get the most bang for my buck.

Free at last! Saying good-bye to 20 years of debt (03 Dec 2007) — It took a lot of time and effort, but my new habits finally paid off. Three years after starting my quest, I wrote a check for the last of my consumer debt. From here, I could start building future wealth instead of repaying past folly.

A real millionaire next door (13 May 2008) — I used to live next door to an old guy named John. John was a retired shop teacher who had managed to build big wealth on a small salary. Now, in his 70s, he spent part of the year working on farms in New Zealand, part of the year on an Alaskan fishing boat, and part of the year puttering around his home in Portland. Later, I decided to interview him about what led to his financial success.

You can't always get what you want (24 Nov 2008) — Notes from a conversation with my cousin: It's okay to have something in your life that you hate. And it's okay to have something you want. It's natural. The problem is that once you get that thing, you're just going to hate something else, you're just going to want something more. It's not want that's the problem, but the habit of constantly satisfying wants.

So much happened in my life during these years, both good and bad. It seems odd to summarize that entire period in just a few articles, but I don't want to overwhelm you. (If you want to read more, check out the archives.)

Get Rich Slowly 2.0

While the early, heady years of GRS were carefree and fun, running the site eventually became work. A lot of work. Plus, all sorts of stuff was going on behind the scenes in my personal life. My best friend committed suicide. I was unhappy in my marriage. I struggled with my weight. It was all too much.

In early 2009, I decided to listen to the offers from people who wanted to buy Get Rich Slowly. Shortly after the site's third anniversary, I agreed to sell it.

When I sold, I became financially independent. (I was already on a path toward financial independence — or “FI,” as we say — but the sale helped me leap ahead several years.) My plan was simply to walk away and be done with writing about money. Turns out, I couldn't bring myself to do that.

You see, I love the GRS community. I didn't want to leave. I wanted to continue answering emails, sharing reader questions and stories, and documenting what I was learning about money. Instead of walking away, I stuck around for another three years as editor and primary writer.

During that time, we brought in other writers to help me manage the workload. I was always amazed at how each new voice added another dimension to the site. And our content changed in yet another way because I was becoming much more philosophical about money at this time.

I'd always stressed the importance of psychology; but as my financial philosophy matured, I became even more convinced that smart money management was all about mindset, not math. The math is easy. It's the emotional stuff that's tough. Some of the best articles from this era of GRS really get to the heart of these issues, and I hope that what I learned will be helpful to others, too.

The razor's edge: Lessons in true wealth (18 Jan 2009) — This is perhaps the most important article I ever wrote for Get Rich Slowly, although most people would never know it. In early 2009, my best friend took his own life. It had a profound impact on me. Here I wrote about what I learned from Sparky's life — and his death.

How to negotiate your salary (06 May 2009) — I don't think people spend enough time looking for ways to boost their income. There's a reason I mention this over and over and over again. Learning how to negotiate your salary is one of the best ways to improve your financial well-being.

Understanding the federal budget and The truth about taxes (August 2009) — We cannot have informed discussions about taxes and government spending if we don't have the baseline information. Because my own education on this subject was weak, and because I wanted GRS readers to be informed, I spent 12 hours researching a variety of tax topics. These two articles record my attempts to provide that baseline information. (I need to update these for 2019, don't I?)

Action not words: The difference between talkers and doers (30 Aug 2010) — If there's something you want to be or do, the best way to become that thing is to actually take steps toward it, to move in that direction. Don't just talk about it, but do something. It doesn't have to be a big thing. Just take a small step in the right direction every single day.

America's love-hate relationship with wealth (14 Nov 2011) — While writing about money, I've noticed that people in general (and Americans in particular) have a complex love-hate relationship with wealth. People want to be rich — but they're suspicious of those who already are. Why is that? How can we learn to be happy for the financial success of others?

A place of my own (16 Jan 2012) — The toughest blog post I've ever had to write: After months of hinting at things, I revealed that my wife and I were getting a divorce, and that I'd moved into an apartment of my own. This post explored some of the implications of that decision. (For the record: Kris and I continue to maintain our friendship.)

Eventually, after three years of lingering at GRS, I reached the point where I was willing to cut the cord. I gradually reduced my involvement until I was ready to walk away. I eased myself out of the site and into the life I'd been hoping to pursue.

The Quinstreet Years

I sold Get Rich Slowly in 2009 but stayed on as editor (and primary writer) for another three years. By mid-2012, it seemed that Quinstreet, the company that had acquired the site, was ready to run the site on its own. Plus, it felt like both the audience and I were both ready for me to leave.

So, I retired. Sort of.

Although I no longer had any active involvement in Get Rich Slowly, I still contributed articles from time to time. Plus, I wrote about money for other outlets.

In 2010, I published Your Money: The Missing Manual. (I'm proud of that book but it's sorely in need of an update.) From 2011 to 2014, I wrote the “Your Money” column for Entrepreneur magazine. In 2014, I released the Get Rich Slowly course. In 2015, I started a new site called Money Boss (which is now a part of GRS). And so on.

Plus, of course, Kim and I embarked on our awesome 15-month tour of the U.S. by RV.

I'll confess: I didn't pay much attention to Get Rich Slowly after I moved on. I checked in now and then, but mostly I ignored it. Looking through the archives, here are some of the articles that stand out during the Quinstreet years:

How to handle people who undermine your success (06 Jan 2012, by April Dykman) — April Dykman was always one of my favorite staff writers here at GRS. I loved learning from her progress. Here she shared some thoughts on how to handle haters in your life. As you work toward a better financial future, you will encounter people who think your choices are foolish. April — and the commenters — have some tips for coping with the criticism.

The power of personal transformation: Change yourself, change the world (16 Jul 2012, by J.D. Roth) — In July 2012, I spoke at World Domination Summit. This is the written version of that speech, which was all about overcoming fear, finding focus, and taking action. I argued that by finding the courage to change what's wrong in your own life, you'll not only improve yourself, but improve the world around you. (This material has become the psychological core of my financial philosophy.)

Romanticizing poverty and learning financial independence (03 Jan 2013, by Kristin Wong) — Kristin Wong was another great GRS writer. In this piece, she talks about different perceptions of wealth and poverty — and how those perceptions influence our choices. Her articles always led to great discussions.

All you need to know about saving for retirement (15 May 2013, by Robert Brokamp) — Before I left GRS, I brokered a deal with the Motley Fool that brought regular contributions from the hilarious (and smart) Robert Brokamp. He contributed many terrific pieces over the years, but I particularly like this crash course in retirement savings. If you're wondering where to start, start here.

You are the boss of you: How to find success with money and life (01 Aug 2013, by J.D. Roth) — I've always said that nobody cares more about your money than you do. But I've come to realize that nobody cares more about you than you do. The key to success — in every area of life — is to understand that you control your own destiny. If you want to be successful with money and life, you must act as your own boss.

How to track your spending (and why you should) (24 April 2014, by Holly Johnson) — Holly is another one of the great staff writers that GRS hosted during the Quinstreet years. (I'm excited because she's promised to give me a guest post soon about some of her home improvement fiascos. Should be fun!) I like this article, in which she takes a friend to task for not tracking his spending. He and his wife make a lot of money but they're constantly broke. Why? Because they have no idea where there money goes.

29 Ways to build your emergency fund out of thin air (18 Jan 2016, by Donna Freedman) — Donna has contributed a lot of great articles to GRS over the years. (And I hope that at some point in the future, I'll be able to afford to hire her to write here again.) I liked this piece, which provides tons of tips for boosting your saving rate. Saving more isn't just for building an emergency fund; it's also important for digging out of debt and, eventually, pursuing goals like homeownership and financial independence.

During the Quinstreet years, the GRS audience dwindled. This was in part due to the way they managed the site. They had good intentions (and lots of smart people behind the scenes), but they didn't have the same passion for personal finance that I did. Plus, they tended to make decisions that favored short-term results instead of long-term growth. I can't fault them for their choices — they did what was right for them — but I'm sad that the community eventually collapsed.

Not all of the collapse was due to blog management, though. Even if I hadn't sold the site, it likely would have faded eventually, and for a number of reasons: the rise of social media, the “death of blogs”, and increased competition from awesome new sites on a variety of niche subjects.

Get Rich Slowly 3.0

In 2015, I “unretired” from blogging. I founded Money Boss, a site where I posted long, meaty articles about managing your money as if you were the CFO of your own life. I had fun. The site didn't grow as quickly as GRS had nine years before, but after eighteen months, the site had acquired several thousand dedicated followers.

Then, in the spring of 2017, Quinstreet approached me. They asked me if I wanted to re-purchase Get Rich Slowly. Looking at the numbers, I realized it probably didn't make much financial sense to do so — but I didn't let that dissuade me. In October 2017, I bought Get Rich Slowly.

In the eighteen months since my return, I've published a lot of articles that I think are especially good. Here are some highlights:

What the rich do differently: Habits that foster wealth and success (18 Dec 2017) — I'm fascinated by the differences between rich people and poor people. Are the differences mostly a matter of class and economic mobility? Are people born to wealth and poverty and destined to remain there? Or are there observable differences in attitude and action that tend to lead people to specific levels of affluence? From my experience, it's some of both.

Start where you are (04 Jan 2018) — My main message to family and friends who find themselves at forty or fifty and feel behind the curve is: Don't panic. All is not lost. You're not too late. This isn't a contest. Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.

The plight of the poor: Thoughts on systemic poverty, fault, and responsibility (28 Feb 2018) — There are very real differences between the behaviors and attitudes of those who have money and those who don't. If we want ourselves and others to be able to enjoy economic mobility, to escape poverty and dire circumstances, we have to have an understanding of the necessary mental shifts. The problem, of course, is that it's one thing to understand intellectually that wealthy people and poor people have different mindsets, but it's another thing entirely to be able to adopt more productive attitudes in your own life.

The forever fallacy (11 Jul 2018) — The forever fallacy is the mistaken belief that you will always have what you have today, that you'll always be who you are today. The truth is that everything changes. You change. Your circumstances change. The people around you change. Nothing is forever. The challenge then is to balance this concept — everything changes — with living in the present. You must learn to enjoy today while simultaneously preparing for a variety of possible tomorrows.

The boots theory of socioeconomic unfairness (26 Oct 2018) — Last October, I spent a week exploring the relationship between cost and quality. Quality tends to come with a price. While there are ways to mitigate some of these higher costs — buy used, wait for sales, etc. — if you want to buy new quality items, you're going to pay a premium. Because of this, quality is often something reserved for the rich. Like so many things in life, this is fundamentally unfair. But that's how things are.

Why frugality is an important part of personal finance (31 Jan 2019) — Depriving yourself of certain “standard” choices now means you don't have to lead a life of deprivation when you're older. When you choose to spend less, you're not just boosting your bottom line. You're also gaining the time and freedom that would have been required to earn that money. Thrift isn't deprivation. It's wealth.

Saving regret — and how to avoid it (27 Feb 2019) — Very few people regret saving money. In fact, research shows that less than 2% of people would save less if they could re-do their earlier life. On the other hand, two-thirds of people wish they'd saved more when they were younger. Poorer people tend to regret not saving most of all. The bottom line: To avoid regrets when you're older, save more now.

I won't lie. While I'm glad to be back and I've enjoyed the past eighteen months, it's also been tough. I have lots to say, but I've struggled to figure out exactly how to say it. Blogging has changed. Expectations are different. I am different than when I started this site.

I'm constantly wrestling with questions like: How often should I write? (Once a week? Three times a week? At random intervals?) Should I share only new stuff? Or should I republish updated material from the archives? In the olden days, I used to share tons of things from other sites. Should I continue to do that? Or should I focus on my own thoughts? How long should my articles be? (A few hundred words? Or…a few thousand?) What topics should I cover?

If you walk through the GRS archives, you can see how I've struggled to find a rhythm for Get Rich Slowly 3.0.

My publication pattern for the past year has been…well, irregular. There are some months where I write and publish a ton, both from myself and others. There are other months — like this one — during which I publish little. (Real Life has been distracting me lately. I have plenty I want to write about, but no time to do it.) And my articles are all over the place.

I'm not worried, though. I know I'll figure things out. In the meantime, I'm having fun. I hope that you are having fun too. And, as always, if you have any suggestions and/or requests for things you'd like to see around here, please let me know. I want GRS to be a useful resource for you — for all of you.

The post This blog is now a teenager: Thirteen years of Get Rich Slowly appeared first on Get Rich Slowly.

from Finance https://www.getrichslowly.org/get-rich-slowly-anniversary/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[sarahtree93]

Wow. Two Years. Apparently I am seriously failing at keeping this blog up to date. I would like to try to make an effort to do better though so here goes attempt number…I don’t even know. 3, I think? My third attempt at keeping this blog current.

I guess I can update anyone who reads this on what has happened in these two years. I assume the only people reading are my friends and family so you all probably know anyways but on the off chance my blog is actually getting out there in the world, I’ll share!

As you know, the last time I had posted, I was recently engaged to my best friend. That was such a happy time. I had also just met and held hands with Tom Felton so, you know…that’s pretty sweet. I was working for the Ministry of Social Services as an Administrative Assistant and planning a wedding…that’s pretty much it!

As of now, I am still in the same job – though I am on the hunt for something new as I’m ready to start learning new things and hopefully getting myself into a career that I love and can do forever. Unfortunately, government work is not that long-term dream job so I do hope to find something new soon.

I did successfully plan my wedding and on August 5, 2017, Tyler and I said I do in front of about 150 of our friends and family and it was SUCH a beautiful day. I’ve included pictures. We were clearly blessed that day as in Saskatoon, it was raining, but just 15 minutes south of the city at Beaver Creek Camp, there was not a drop to be found. It was not too hot and while it was a little breezier than I would have preferred (picture my veil flying haphazardly around my head), it was more perfect than I could have ever imagined. We had such a fun time with our loved ones and I would honestly do that day over and over again if I could, it was just that perfect. I also did not feel stressed at all which is a rarity for me so I’d love to revisit that! The one downside – sequined Toms are super stiff so though I chose what I thought were comfortable shoes for this special day, my feet were definitely beaten up by the time we left for our suite. Oh well – as far as wedding disasters go, mine was EXTREMELY minor and I’ll take blistered feet over thunderstorms and fainting bridal party members any day.

Tyler and I moved into our first and second homes in the past 2 years. A month before our wedding, I moved into our apartment and we lived there for almost our entire first year of marriage but we moved June 15th into a basement suite that is much more affordable. It’s small, but so far we still love each other so we can squish.

One of the BEST things that happened to us in our first year of marriage was a new addition to our family – our cat, Albus! He’s such a lovable little brat. He isn’t the kind of cat we intended to get but we couldn’t have picked a better one. Actually, he picked us – we went to the SPCA just to look (I know, rookie mistake) and we thought he was really cute so we took him out to play with and he walked all over Tyler’s shoulders and then held my face in his paws and gave me a kiss. I was done after this – we filled out the adoption application that night and got the call the next day that he was ours! These days, he’s much bigger and also much brattier but we still love him – just slightly less when he wakes us up at 5:30 a.m.

In May, I traveled to Ontario to be maid of honor (I guess I’m actually a matron now – weird) in my best friend’s wedding. Tyler and I traveled with our dear friends Jessica and Markus since Jessica was also in the wedding party and we had such a blast. We went to the CN Tower, Ripley’s Aquarium, and Wonderland, among other things. The wedding was BEAUTIFUL and Alicia made such a radiant bride. I was so happy to be a part of her day! One of the highlights of the day – Jessica and I surprising Licia with a dance to Spinning Around by Jump 5, the same dance Licia and I came up with when we were about 8 years old. It was so awesome to surprise her with that!

A couple weeks ago Tyler and I celebrated our first anniversary by seeing Merry Wives of Windsor at Shakespeare on the Saskatchewan which was hilarious. We followed this with a delicious dinner at Hudsons (deep fried pickles are my other true love), ice cream at Cold Stone Creamery, and a relaxing evening at the Delta Bessborough which was free thanks to my brother! We discovered a room decorated with rose petals and candles and a bottle of sparkling juice, as well as a gift card for room service for the next morning, all courtesy of my in-laws – they are so sneaky and lovely! It was such a perfect anniversary and we ended it off with some Pokemon duels using the cards we gave each other as anniversary gifts. It’s the paper anniversary and this was our perfect way of honoring that tradition!

Nowadays, I’m spending my time working, job hunting, reading a lot more (currently working on a biography about Freddie Mercury – fascinating), and spending a lot of time on volunteer work with my church. I recently took over our Sunday morning children’s time as well as overseeing our Sunday School programming and I just made our outline for the curriculum for the year. I’m also going to be auditioning for a local choir called Eclipse in a couple weeks so that I have another outlet for my singing. I’m super excited to hopefully be a part of a choir again!

I hope I can actually do a better job of keeping up with this – feel free to hound me if I slack off again. Until next time, I hope you enjoyed this little recap of my last two years and I look forward to sharing more of my life with you!

Long Time Wow. Two Years. Apparently I am seriously failing at keeping this blog up to date. I would like to try to make an effort to do better though so here goes attempt number...I don't even know.