#I’d be easier if I’d have a spark of motivation and joy for the work I still have to do

[kimtaegis]

What do you mean by "I keep prioritising the less important things"? 😕

e.g. running a blog is significantly less important to my future than writing my stupid thesis right now and doing my jobs 🥲 yet here I am constantly delaying or skipping work to make gifs on time, it’s not good. I just can’t seem to regulate this sense of obligation? I don’t know if it’s the right word for what I mean I’m sorry

[ladymdc]

I had a question for you! I recently got into fic writing and I admit that I am far from good, but I found it to be fun and two of my friends help edit it and help me out. Some people liked it and I really got into it. A week ago, I got a really long, nasty comment that basically told me I was a horrible writer and that I should never publish again, plus said I should get new editors. It was awful. I don't even really want to write anymore after the hateful things they said. I know I'm not great and have a lot to learn but it was really discouraging. Has that ever happened to you on your fics? Do you have any advice on how to bounce back?

This is going to be long, but I have Feelings™️ about this…

First, I want to say I’m sorry this happened to you. No matter how much skill or experience you have or don’t have, you didn’t deserve it. It makes me mad when readers feel the need to be cruel when this is a hobby for most of us & something we do for joy. It was this individual’s responsibility to simply click the back button & go find something else, not tear you down.

That said, I’ve had quite a few unpleasant fandom experiences from unwelcome critique to stealing/copying my work, & it’s hard to come back from, especially early on when you’re just starting to figure it out— but there are a few things that have helped me over the years:

Time is a given & so is being kind to yourself, so give yourself those things ♥️ Revisiting the work & pulling out things I like is a big help. It’s too easy to see the flaws after a nasty comment, so find what sparked joy in the first place. If the negative is too loud, turn it into what you would’ve done differently, but don’t beat yourself up either. I see things I would do different all the time. It’s just a part of growing. Stuff I know for next time! But the biggest help has been my friends.

I am lucky enough to have two friends who have been with me through most of my writing journey & I have picked up a few more along the way. But having them listen & support me & give a big “fuck that person” after stuff like this helps tremendously.

So, next, I’d like to say: fuck that person.

The ‘want to quit’ feelings they left you with are valid, but their actions were not. We can’t find our voice & style & all the things that piece us together as a writer without stumbling through the process. Here, my friends & I like to say that spite is a pretty solid motivator, & it is.

Don’t quit. Don’t let this person win. Tell your story. Grow. Write another chapter and dedicate it to them. And it’s okay to not be ready to do that yet, but I encourage you to do it. This shit gets easier to field as your skin gets thicker & it is *so freeing* when you get there, but it takes time, just like developing your craft. Things I wrote 7 years ago would be so different if I wrote it today. It’s just how it is.

I wish you all the best anon & I don’t know if any of this was helpful to you, but I hope it made you feel better— even a little— & that you keep writing. We all start somewhere ♥️✨

[emerald-chaos]

My beautiful, beautiful Sav.

I’m being entirely self indulgent, and you don’t have to write this if it doesn’t spark joy.

But can I please request CEO!Nick Fowler coming home from work to take care of the reader on a bad chronic fatigue day? I’d love to see the kinds of things he might do to try and help.

Oh sweet, Amber. You know how much I feel this. I think this is a gorgeous request, and I was so happy to write this for you and for all those out there who suffer along with us. I hope you enjoy 💜

Chronic fatigue often strikes like a microburst–suddenly and powerfully, leaving wreckage in its wake.

For those who don’t live with a “silent” illness, they have no idea what it’s like. Family, friends–they try to be sympathetic, but it’s impossible for them to understand what it feels like to battle your own body day in and day out. It’s much easier to explain why your arm hurts when it’s broken and far more difficult to explain how you could possibly be exhausted to the point of falling asleep after only a few hours upon waking.

“Maybe if you exercised more…”

“You know, i’ve heard it has a lot to do with diet…”

“Have you maybe tried a supplement?”

Over and over it was always the same. There was no physical fix for your ailment, so it must just be in your head or have a quick and simple solution.

Chronic fatigue makes you have some bad days. Days where you have no energy or motivation to do simple tasks due to the debilitating exhaustion you feel coursing through your veins. The amount of sleep you get doesn’t matter—2 hours or 12 hours, your body still gives up on you part way through your day.

It’s hard, really fucking hard, to live this way. To want so badly to be productive—to do something with yourself and feel helpful, useful, anything—only to end up crashing on the couch or the nearest soft surface as you try to take a break and regain energy.

A heavy sigh falls from your lips as you grab your phone to shoot a text to your husband.

“I got half of the laundry done, but I can tell I’m going down quickly. I probably won’t have dinner ready. I’m really sorry.”

As you placed the phone on the bedside table you curled up into the fetal position on top of your comforter.

Your husband was an incredibly dedicated and hard worker. Managing a multi-million dollar cyber technology company wasn’t easy, but the man never complained.

And you couldn’t even have fucking dinner ready on the table when he came home.

You closed your eyes tightly, hoping the sweet relief of sleep would wash over you quickly and allow you to calm the self-deprecating thoughts that were racing through your mind.

What felt like only a few moments later, a soft hand stroked your arm as you lay asleep on your side. Groggily, you blink open your eyes and peered off to the side table in an attempt to reorient yourself.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Nick spoke softly as his hand moved from your arm to your cheek, brushing his knuckles gently against your skin.

“S’okay.” You responded in a small, meek voice—still laced with sleep.

“Go back to bed. I just needed to make sure you were okay.” Nick continued to stroke his hand across your cheek as he looked down softly at you.

Finally beginning to feel grounded after your abrupt wake up call, you glanced over at the clock to see that it was 3:30pm. Nick normally would be home for at least another 4 hours, if not more. Your head snapped from the clock back to Nick’s gaze.

“What are you doing home? Is everything okay? Are you okay?” You eat up quickly, worried that something might have happened to make your husband come home from work early.

Nick chuckled and brought his other hand up so he could cup your face.

“Honey, relax. Everything is fine.” Nick’s low voice carried into your ears like a lullaby and your body began to relax almost immediately as he spoke.

“I left early. I got your text message and I was worried about you.” Nick frowned, smoothing a hand through your hair as he studied your face. “Bad day, huh?”

The way he looked at you made your stomach feel as though it was twisting in on itself. The concern and love in his eyes ever present as he looked you over. Nick knew better than anyone about your battle with chronic fatigue and you were lucky enough to be with someone who attempted to understand it as much as he did.

“Yeah. Bad day.” You spoke softly, feeling your body melt into his as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your crown.

“You know it’s better to not fight it, honey. We can have a relaxing day—maybe a hot bath, some tea, and even one of those trashy tv shows you seem to like for whatever fuckin’ reason.” It was impossible not to laugh into his chest as he teased you for your taste in television.

“How does that sound, hmm?” Nick pulled back slightly to look at your face.

You smiled up at him and felt the muscle in your chest tighten. While sometimes it felt as though no one could see you when you were at your worst, Nick was always there to help you back up.

“I think that sounds perfect.”

Nick flashed his award winning grin and pressed a small kiss to your lips, “I’ll go start a bath. Wait here.”

You watched with an overwhelming feeling of love surging through you as he lifted himself from the bed and walked into the bathroom, sending a wink your way before disappearing around the corner.

As Nick dropped the stopper into the drain and turned on the hot water, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Using his dry hand to retrieve it, he swiped up on his screen to see the notification that came through.

“It happens tonight.”

Nick swallowed hard as he felt his jaw tighten. Slipping his phone back into his pocket, he turned off the running water as it neared the top.

“Sweetheart, ready when you are.” Nick called out to you as he walked to the sink to dry his hands off.

Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, Nick sighed.

First, he was going to take care of you.

Then, he was going to take care of business.

[ghoste-catte]

I was curious what advice would you give to someone new to writing fics? I've been wanting to get back into it but haven't seriously written something since high school. I hope this isn't an annoying question or anything!

Not an annoying question at all! I'm just a little worried that I won't have terribly good or useful advice. To be honest, I also sort of stopped writing in earnest right as I finished high school, and didn't pick it back up until my late 20s. It's certainly an adjustment! But I think the few things that really helped me get back into writing fic as a hobby and something I spend quite a bit of time on would be:

Write for yourself first, then find your other motivations. My original inspiration in getting back into fic writing was that there just were not that many fics I liked for my favorite pairing, and I wanted more of them, and I especially wanted more with the tropes and characterizations I wanted to see. I think at the very core of anything you need that internal spark that drives you. At the same time, for me at least, if I just relied on my own drive, I would not get much done; I need some external guardrails. So having people send prompts, or writing for particular events, or writing stuff for friends really helps me to get my ass in gear and finish stuff. That may not be the perfect motivator for you, and that's fine! You just gotta figure out what is.

Be open to inspiration. Anything and everything can be spun out into a story with the right tweaking. Obviously stuff like music is a classic inspiration source, but I've also pulled ideas from poetry, from memes, from Reddit threads, from YouTube videos, from rambling conversations on Discord and from real life to make fics out of. So many times, someone will post a silly Twitter screencap, and I'll think, There's a fic in this. And a lot of the time, there is! Research is a wonderful thing, but so is serendipity. If you're out there actively looking for ideas, eventually one that you like will stumble past you.

Find your community. I can genuinely say I never would have finished more than one fic if I didn't have fandom friends to talk to about even stupid headcanons, to bounce ideas off of, and to encourage me (and to encourage them in turn!). Discord has been a godsend, and some of my closest online friends are people I met in the GaaLee discord server. As I've gotten more comfortable as a writer, I've also joined general writing servers and Reddit communities and have found them immensely helpful on both a motivational level (bingos, sprints, owe-me challenges) and on a craft level (plot workshopping and writing ethics and live grammar help). It's a lot easier to think about fic ideas and hash through problem moments when I have a constant stream of fandom-related chatter coming from the little people who live in my phone! Ao3 is an amazing website, and it's great as, well, an archive, but it isn't social media by design. If you want conversation and human connection and cheerleading, you've gotta forge out and find it.

Make it a habit ... If you want to produce anything longer than a couple hundred words, you really have to set aside time for it. And writing is just like knitting or dirt biking or painting little model figurines: the more you do it, the more easily it comes. When I was first getting back into the proper swing of things, I committed myself to 30 minutes of writing per week. Just 30 minutes. I didn't even hit that goal every week, but there were tons of weeks I got on a roll and went over that amount, and by the end of the year I'd written over 200,000 words. I used to spend an hour laboriously tip-tapping out 200 words, but now I can easily blow through 1k in a 50 minute sprint. It's all about training that muscle.

... But don't make it a chore. With fanfic, you aren't doing this as a job, and you aren't ultimately doing it for anyone other than you. That means you can take breaks when you need them, you can set deadlines and then fail to meet them, you can write stuff and then decide to never post it. When you start getting burnt out, when the practice loses the joy and energy, stop. There's no 'hustle' here. In our capitalist society we're so trained to push past our limits and keep going even when it hurts us, but the hobby you do for connection and relaxation and whatever else shouldn't be like that.

Ignore metrics. Sometimes stuff isn't gonna get hits, or kudos, or comments. There are some basic 'rules' as to the stuff that does and doesn't get traction, but every time you post something it's a roll of the dice. If you're focused on watching that kudos counter tick up, you will get bummed out fast. And any writer will tell you that the stuff you think is your best work will never be the stuff that gets the most accolades. So you have to find something else to give you a sense of success. For me, it's watching my wordcount go up in my stats and those occasional comments where someone has a lot to say and that one person who always leaves me a <3 emoji (and, shout out to @egregiousderp, having someone to have long one-on-one conversations with about the stuff that never made it to page).

Don't strive for perfection. It's really easy to want your first ever fic to be a complete showstopper, the best fic fandom has ever seen, hitting all the tropes and the ideas and the characterization that you just know fandom is missing and would be everyone's top favorite if only it was written. This is a trap. No one fic can be all things. Most people who want to write an epic as their very first venture will not see the end of that epic, because they haven't put in the practice hours to make something on that scale work. That's not to say you can't start out with a big, sprawling multichap, just don't expect it to be the greatest thing since sliced bread if you're just starting out, and be okay with abandoning it for greener pastures if you get to that point. Think of the first time someone makes a vase out of clay or bakes a loaf of bread. That's never their best vase or their best bread. If they keep up with it, they'll make more and better vases and loaves. Likewise, your first fic is probably not gonna be your best fic. See it for what it is: your launchpad.

You can't edit an empty page, but you can over-edit a full one. This kind of spins off of #7, but if the words aren't there, you can't fix them. Daydreams and headcanons are fantastic (and god, how many times have I wished for a speech-to-text engine that projected my falling asleep thoughts onto a Google doc for later perusal), but they aren't fic. If you want to write fic, you've gotta get comfortable with the idea of sloppy outlines and rough first drafts. You can't build a house without a frame and you can't build a man without a skeleton (I mean, you can, I guess, but he'd be one floppy man). The nice thing about fic is that it doesn't matter if that frame is structurally unsound or the skeleton has 18 too many bones, you can clean that up in the editing process. But you can't start hanging curtains and arranging furniture in something that doesn't even have walls. That's the process. But! Also know when to set down the editor's pen and say, "Okay, this is good enough for government work", and call it done. ("Done" doesn't have to mean "posted", but it does mean, "I'm done picking at this for now, and I'm gonna go write some more stuff".) Over-editing can make stuff seem laborious and forced, and it prevents you from actually improving. To continue belaboring the house metaphor, you can spend your whole life rearranging furniture in just one room, but the end result of that is a pretty narrow existence and a room with a lot of footprints and tracks in the carpet.

Write shit down. When you have ideas, jot them down--in a notebook, in a Google Doc, in the Notes app of your phone, in pen on the back of your hand. You think you will remember that brilliant line of dialogue or sparkling snippet of narration or genius plot that came to you in a dream, but you Will Not. Write it down. Write it down. Write it down! There have been so many times when a fic was completely saved by past!me having written down my shower thoughts about what happens next in the fic, that present!me had completely forgotten about and was floundering over.

Have fun with it! Try different stuff. Try stupid stuff. Try experimental stuff. Do stuff you've never done before that you aren't sure will work. It's important to get comfortable with your niche (for example, I know I'm never going to be the sort of person who writes intricate plots of intrigue or super long 100k epics or detailed battles), but you can't find that niche unless you explore lots of different niches! Figure out what you love and what you absolutely hate, and then keep doing the stuff you love.

Okay, so that was actually TEN things, but ... I hope you still found this helpful. Feel free to send another ask if any of this was confusing or unclear. Good luck with your fic writing and, if you want, send me a link to what you've written once you've written it! I'd love to read it.

[eruden-writes]

deep fic writer asks (4 of 4)

I’m answering 5 questions at a time from this list by soft4hardthings.  (The ones I answered before will be copy-pasted when they come up.) 

16. Do you re-read old fics? Is there a time in your writing you won’t go back to?

Occasionally I’ll re-read old fics. Or skim them, at least. Usually the older they are, the less likely I’ll go back to them as frequently as newer stuff.

The only stuff I’ve lost access to is my oldest stories, but that’s because they were on old computers, the files got corrupted, etc etc.

I vaguely remember having this story that took elements of Digimon, Dragon Ball Z, and Sailor Moon. Oh, and I was writing a spin-off of Robin Hood, involving his son and friends.

17. What’s the best engagement/interaction/feedback you’ve received from someone who’s read your work?

Back when I started posting stories online, one of my first stories had heavy reader participation. Like, I placed readers into the fic. It was a time when I talked to some of my readers on AIM and some legit became friends I spoke to for years.

But now, I just like any engagement!

Whether it’s people gushing or raging about what happened - or trying to guess what happens next - it’s fun to see the reaction to what I’ve written.

I’d like my writing to inspire conversation, discussion, analysis, and give people a sense of being represented/heard where it applies.

18. Do you only write when you’re inspired, or do you try and sit down at specific times and write no matter what?

Having inspiration and motivation obviously makes it easier to write. Sometimes, I do have to sit down and force myself to write, but I don’t keep to specific times.

19. If you could write an ideal fic, what would it include?

It’s a little hard for me to dictate what I’d consider an ideal fic, since I like to write science fiction, fantasy, and modern stories.

I think an ideal fic would engage fans on some level, maybe even sparking discussions or analysis, and maybe inspire fanworks.

20. What’s the greatest gift you’ve gotten from your writing?

I get a lot of joy knowing people are enjoying my stories and that I can make readers feel a whole plethora of emotions.

There's a lot of catharsis when it comes to writing for me, as well.

When I was in middle school, I did enter a writing competition called Power of the Pen. Reached state level both times, but never really placed, from what I remember. BUT I did get to miss a day of school each year to go to the state level.

Oh, I did win a number of writing contests on Gaia Online, way back when.

I'd like the gift of one day be able to make a living off my writing, though. ;)

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Journey to Hogwarts - Chapter Six// Malfoy Manor and St. Mungo’s.

A/N: CHAPTER SIX! I’ve had a fun experience writing this with @kalimagik @obsessedwithrandomthings @heloisedaphnebrightmore and @firewhisky-kisses. This has so much of my love for Draco in it, I hope you all like! Chapter 7 will be out in a couple of days and I hope you're ready for drama!

Warnings: swearing, mentions of injuries.

Word count: 4.9k

MASTERLIST

Mel groaned, covering her eyes as the bright light of the sun peeked its way through the window. She pulled the duvet cover over head; the inevitable headache as a result

Memories flooded through her mind, chasing her from her bed sooner that she would have liked. She dressed slowly, pulling her arms through a dark green cardigan, pausing every so often to fight the wave of nausea that washed over her.

The curved staircase that led to the lower floor had Mel’s stomach turning once more as she descended into the dining room where Ellie was already sat, sipping at a cup of tea.

Mel dropped into a seat; cursing firewhisky and her status as a lightweight.

Ellie chuckled at the sight of her friend looking as hungover as one could be after multiple shots of firewhisky followed by bottle after bottle of butterbeer.

“I suppose you don’t want any tea,” Ellie offered; laughing again at Mel’s scrunched up face.

“You’re awfully chipper this morning? And you drank more than me.” Mel accused; an eyebrow raised as her Canadian friend.

Ellie beamed, shrugging her shoulders, “Blaise gave me a potion to help with hangovers the night we went out to the pub. I had some left.”

Mel dropped her head to the table; letting the coolness of the table work its wonders on her head. “I should have hooked up with a Potioneer; my life would have been so much easier as of right now,” She groaned.

Ellie laughed, “Healer is pretty close to Potioneer the last I heard.”

Mel groaned again, “I don’t even want to know what happened last night. I just know I made a fool out of myself.”

Ellie doesn’t get the chance to reply. The girls are joined at the table by the Malfoy family; all three glided gracefully into the room. Lucius sits at his expected seat at the head of the table; joined by Narcissa on his right and Draco to his left.

“I’m waiting for an explanation for the state that you returned home last night.” Lucius declared, folding his hands in front of him.

“All things considered; I don’t think we were very loud.” Mel muttered, bringing a hand up to rub her forehead.

“Regardless of that, you should have more decorum when conducting yourselves in public.”

Mel glared at the elder gentleman, “You’re kidding aren’t you? This isn’t the nineteenth century! I’m not walking around here in petticoats pretending to be seen and not heard.”

Lucius returned Mel’s glare with just as much venom, “We have a reputation to uphold. The Malfoy name is revered through wizarding society.”

“It was,” Mel muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Pardon?”

“It was. You’re not doing too hot right now, are you Lucius?”

Ellie stared at her friend; hangovers were not Mel’s friend and the pain lancing through her head was making her mouthy.

Lucius gaped at the young brunette. Mel rolled her eyes, “Your fall from grace was well documented, Lucius. And another thing – no, don’t interrupt me, I’ve got my gander up now -  this is very much the twentieth century; women have rights nowadays. And I can swear, drink, fight and argue just as much as I’d like.”

Lucius remained silent at Mel’s words. Narcissa watched her with something akin to pride glittering in her eyes. Draco’s repressed the urge to laugh at Mel’s words.

Ellie raised her cup; meeting her friends gaze, “Here here!”

Mel grinned at her friend, pushing herself back from the table. “If I may be excused,” she started, glaring at the patriarch, “I want to go sit in a quiet room and let this headache pass.”

“Of course, dear. I’ll send someone to check in on you soon,” Narcissa promised with a kind smile.

Mel left the dining room; adrenaline coursing through her veins. Draco and Narcissa had been the epitome of kindness through their time in the wizarding world; it was time for Lucius to remove the stick up his arse so he could finally see the damage he had caused and start hunting for a solution before he was left alone in this big, cold manor house.

Mel trapped herself in a small room just off the main living room. her headache was showing no signs of lessening, but she supposed it was karma for the way she acted last night. She groaned, rubbing her forehead – she knows she shouldn’t drink; her hangovers were always worse than the drinking was worth.

She sighed, standing from the table by the window. She had sat down upon entering, needing to stave off the dizziness and nausea. Now though, she hunted for a candle.

Her education in what she now supposed was muggle society to her had involved the research into history and lore of witchcraft. It had been a personal choice of hers to follow the stories of those executed in Pendle and West Yorkshire in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.

Through her research, Mel had read supposed grimoires, translating the old English to modern. Mel rooted through the draws in the room, yelping happily when she finds a candle for her to try with. The girls had mastered spell after spell; potion after potion. Passed their exams with exceptional grades, but Mel had researched this in her old life, and she wanted to know whether she could master the basic wordless spell of lighting a candle with a single breath of air.

An hour into her staring match, someone knocked on the door. Mel didn’t turn her gaze from the candle as she granted permission to whoever was outside.

“What has that candle done to offend you so badly?”

Mel jumped in her seat at the sound of Draco’s voice, “It’s nothing – don’t worry about it.”

Draco sat across from the brunette, “It isn’t though, is it?”

Mel flipped her hair over one shoulder, “Did Narcissa send you in here to check on me?”

“I volunteered for the job actually. Now, don’t change the subject – what’s wrong?”

Mel slumped in her chair, “I have been given the richest education I could ever receive. I have researched witchcraft since I was eighteen years old and I find out I have magic and I can wield it to make potions, cast charms and to grow magical plants – yet, I can’t light a single candle.”

Draco held his hand out for the candle; Mel passing it to him without question. They both pointedly ignored the spark of electricity that passed between them when their finger brushed against each other. Draco placed the candle back in the centre of the table. He blew on the candle; the wick caught and burned aflame.

“Show off,” Mel muttered, crossing her arms.

“Practice.”

“I have been!” She cried, “I work on everything from Hogwarts; going over the charms I have been taught. Magic and spell work are the same thing, Draco; they take power from the elements, yet I can’t harness fire. I bet the others aren’t having this much trouble with their magic.”

“Mel, breathe for a minute a listen. You’ve had magic for a few weeks; I’ve had magic all my life. It’s all down to practice.” Draco blew out the candle, “Now, take another deep breath and clear your mind, save for the action you want to complete.”

Mel leant forward, mind emptied, resting her head on her arms with her eyes closed as she loosened a breath from her lungs, sending it towards the candle.

“Mel, look.” Draco whispered.

Mel opened her eyes to see the wick of the candle aflame. Joy sparked through her at the sight of it, but something deeper caught aflame within her as she caught Draco’s eyes on her; something akin to pride and happened reflected in the bright blue of his eyes.

---------

Mel found that the longer she spent at the Manor, the more she enjoyed being in the company of Narcissa Malfoy. She had truly repented for her actions in the war; had donated a large amount of money to wizarding orphanages for children who had lost their parents in the war to make amends for the damage she followed blindly from youth had caused.

Every afternoon, Mel would join Narcissa in the gardens, walking among her prize-winning roses. Narcissa was very proud of them, and very knowledgeable on the meanings of flowers.

“Herbology was my favourite subject alongside Potions,” She had told Mel as they stood together by the yellow roses. “Yellow roses, for example, used to stand for jealousy – they’d be sent by jilted mistresses to the wives of their lovers. Now though, they represent friendship and joy,” Narcissa explained.

Mel reached out to touch the petals, her voice laced with sentimentality as she murmured, “We used to have yellow roses in the garden at home.”

Narcissa looked at her sympathetically, “Do you miss it?”

Mel nodded, “I do, but I’m enjoying my time here too.”

Narcissa smiled at the young woman, “I’m glad. Though I am sorry Lucius gave you a hard time the other morning, but I liked that you stood up to him. So few do.”

Mel frowned, “I understand what you’ve been through, or at least, I do to an extent. I won’t ever understand your motivations, but it isn’t for me to understand. I’d like to help though; you’re all healing from the events of the war but there are deeper scars, and I think Lucius is having trouble adjusting to the aftermath.”

Narcissa stared at Mel for a moment, “How would you help?”

Mel shrugged, “I’ve been told I’m a naturally warm person, I want to crack his cold exterior.”

Narcissa chuckled, “Well, I wish you the best of luck.”

Mel held her arm out for the matriarch of the family who had so graciously taken her and Ellie in, in their time of need. Narcissa took the offered arm, and the two picked up their walk around the garden where they left off.

--------

Mel rubbed at her eyes as she descended the now familiar curved staircase. She wasn’t sure what had awoken her; all she knew that was one minute she was dreaming of the eyes of a certain wizard and then she was wide awake.

Her stomach had grumbled until she pulled the covers from her body. A hot chocolate would work just fine at this time of night, so Mel made her way to the kitchen.

“Draco?” Mel asked; stepping closer to the slumped figure at the kitchen table.

Draco jumped up; eyes blinking rapidly. He yawned, “Mel? What are you doing up?”

Mel walked towards the fridge, pulling out the glass bottle of milk nestled between some juice. “I couldn’t sleep,” she shrugged, reaching for a pan and placing it on the stove, “Do you have any hot chocolate powder lying around here?”

Draco pulled himself up from his seat wearily. He opened a cupboard, grabbing the famous purple tub of Cadbury’s drinking chocolate. He handed it to the brunette before taking a seat back at the table.

Mel added the sweet powder to the now warming, stirring slightly before reaching for two mugs. She turned to tired man behind her, “Would you like one? I’ve made more than enough for two.”

Draco nodded; his words cut off by another yawn.

In a matter of minutes, Mel had poured the hot chocolate into the two mugs and had handed one to Draco. He sipped at it gently, watching the woman across from him.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He asked.

“I’m not sure. One minute I was fast asleep, and then I was awake. I thought hot chocolate would help.”

“You did?”

Mel nodded, “My grandmother made it when I couldn’t sleep. When I was small, I couldn’t pronounce ‘chocolate’ so I’d ask for ‘choc choc’.” She chuckled at the memory of her grandmother stirring the pan filled with the sweet concoction that had her eyes drooping within minutes.

“That’s adorable,” Draco uttered; eyes on the brunette.

Mel ducked her eyes, blushing. A change in topic was needed, she thought to herself, “How come you’re up?”

Draco ran a hand down his face, “I just finished work.”

“How long were you on?”

“Twelve hour days this week, it’s not so bad.”

“How was your shift?”

“You are inquisitive, aren’t you?”

“Oh hush, and answer the question, Draco.”

“It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Draco replied. Shaking his head, he sighed, “We lost two patients who had been there for a while. I’d formed a bond, you know?”

Mel nodded understandingly, “I’m still sorry, Draco.”

“So am I,” Draco stated; his blue eyes bright with unshed tears.

Mel stood from her seat. She wrapped her arms Draco tightly; letting him cry into her shoulder. He sobbed and sobbed for the patient he had lost but also for those he lost back in the war; the grief overtaking him.

They’re clutched at the other.

Time passed and Draco’s sobs quietened to sniffles. Mel attempted to step away, but Draco kept a tight hold on her arm, keeping her close to him. In the early hours of the morning, Mel stands over Draco as if she could protect him from feeling too much all at once.

In the early hours of the morning, the pair become aware that their relationship was set for a different course that once originally thought.

--------

Mel had raided the library on her third day living at the manor; collecting book after book on wizarding lore and history and smuggling them away in her room. She might not have been in the muggle world with her laptop and highlighters, but she was going to benefit as much as she could from this experience. And this was by learning their histories.

Draco noticed that as the weeks and months progress, more and more gaps appeared in the library shelves. He chuckled as he realised who the culprit could be, climbing the stairs to her room to prove his theory correct.

“You know, the purpose of having a library is to give the books back so others can read them.” Draco drawled, gesturing to the pile of books on her bedside table.

Mel grinned at the blonde-haired man, an eyebrow raised, “Thank you for your definition, I’ll be sure to return them once I’m done.”

Draco sauntered into her room, taking a seat on the edge of her bed, “What are you reading?”

Mel marked her page with a bookmark and held the book up for Draco to see the title. He laughed at the words on the cover, “The Tales of Beedle the Bard? I didn’t take you for a fairy tale fan.”

“I’m worried to know what you do take me for then,” She flirted, a smile aimed in the direction of the Malfoy heir.

“Romances, classics. All the muggle authors that fancied themselves experts on love and the gothic.”

Mel flushed; she held the book of fairy tales to her chest, “I do like those books, but I had a hard time finding them in your library.”

Draco’s eyes twinkled, “That’s because you weren’t looking in the right places,” He held out a hand to her, “I’ll show you where to look.”

-----

Draco led Mel through the maze of shelves; he stopped only to point out how the room was organised.

Mel continued to be amazed at the room. Books were very much a life source for her; they had been there for every part of her life. For when she felt upset or vulnerable, she had a book that she could read for comfort. For when she needed to pass time, a book was always her first choice.

Draco turned right at an aisle; pulling Mel with him. He hasn’t let go of her hand since they entered the library, she was trying her best to quash the emotions blooming at the feel of his touch. He’s showing you the way, what is wrong with you?, her mind admonished her.

Draco stopped at the end of an aisle and knelt down to the final shelf, “Here they are, we only have the classic I’m afraid – Dickens, Bronte, Wilde, Carroll.”

“Carroll?”

“Lewis Carroll,” Draco clarified, “As in Alice in Wonderland.”

“I know who he is,” Mel chuntered, “I just didn’t think you did.”

“I’m full of surprises, clearly,” Draco laughed, the copy already in his hands.

Mel took the book from him, flipping through to the first few pages, her mind eager to meet the familiar characters once again. She crossed her legs on the floor and leant back against the sturdy shelves, happy to remain there with the small collection of muggle works.

Draco tapped her knee, “Come on, you can’t sit on the floor and read, we have comfier couches at the front.”

-----------

The pair sat in the library for well over an hour; sitting together on the couch where every now and then they would show the other a quote they loved from their respective book.

They shared secret smiles over the bindings of their books. Mel’s heart raced from the attention the blonde-haired boy was giving her. Her mind raced into overdrive at what everything he did could mean – the lingering touches, the late night conversations, how he helped her with her magic. He went above and beyond for her, and Mel was terrified of her feelings for the Malfoy heir in case she was reading too much into them as she had often done in the past.

A crashed resounded through the Manor. It pulled Mel from her worrying and Draco from his reading. The pair rushed out of the library to find Ellie crumpled at the bottom of the stairs.

“Ellie!” Mel shouted, running over to her. Draco followed close behind.

Ellie groaned as she sat up, her hand stretched out towards her ankle that had already started to turn multiple shades of purple, “I think I hurt my ankle.”

Draco’s fingers nimble examined Ellie’s ankle. He apologised at her wince of pain but soon frowned, “It sounds like a sprain. I don’t have what I need here to heal it. We’re going to have to take to you to St. Mungo’s.”

Mel folded her hand into Draco’s and in a single, nauseating moment, they landed in the emergency room of St. Mungo’s.

----------

Blaise entered the emergency room with a harried look on his face; eyes searching for Ellie and Ellie alone. His face calmed as he reached her bedside, but his eyes can’t hide the panic he felt at seeing her hurt. Blaise’s hands hover over her as if terrified she’ll break if he touched her even once.

“B,” Ellie murmured, “I’m okay.”

Blaise wasn’t entirely convinced by Ellie’s promise. She caught Draco’s eye; a silent plea passed between them.

Draco wandered over to Blaise, a hand placed on his shoulder, “Ellie’s fine, Blaise. She fell down the stairs but managed to only sprain her ankle. We had it healed in no time.”

Ellie smiled, “Draco had me healed in expert time. I’m not in any pain now.”

“Do you need anything else?” Draco asked.

Ellie shook her head, “I’m all good. Thank you, Draco.”

Draco nodded at the both of them; happy to leave them to continue their conversation. Draco had always hoped that Blaise would find someone like Ellie to share his life with; Blaise was reserved, had walls built around him and he never socialised much through his time at Hogwarts. Draco treasured their friendship; Blaise having been the voice of reason more times that Draco could count on both hands. It made him happy to see that Blaise had fallen in love with a woman as determined and kind like Ellie.

Draco watched his friend take the arm of the woman he loves. Blaise holds Ellie’s hand tight as he manoeuvred her from the bed. Ellie tested her ankle for second before she deemed it healed enough to walk on with her full weight. Ellie beamed up at Blaise, her arm wrapped around his as he led her from the emergency room for a tour of the counterpart of the muggle medicine Ellie has studied for most of her life.

Draco shook his head fondly as he walked back over to where Mel waited by the admit desk. “Ellie is going to be okay, isn’t she?” She asked worried.

“Ellie will be just fine; she has Blaise after all,” Draco stated, leaning against the admit desk.

Mel nodded, “That’s good. That she has Blaise; they’re perfect for each other.”

“They are,” Draco agreed easily, “You’ve been here a while now, has no-one caught your eye?”

Mel smiled up at the blonde-haired man, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Draco chuckled; eyes shining with mirth. “Come on you, I’ll take you on a tour.”

Mel grinned widely; eyes crinkled at the corner with happiness, “I knew I kept you around for a reason.”

Draco held Mel’s hand in his as he pulled her to the next floor, pausing outside the door. “This is where we keep the more serious cases, similar to your ICU floors.”

Mel nodded in understanding; remaining silent as she watched families interact with their loved ones. Her mind flashed back to her last visit to a hospital; saying goodbye to her grandfather. She didn’t know how Draco did it; how he surrounded himself with death and sadness day in and day out. She had seen how the hard days affected him, but he made it look like he was doing fine. Mel saw through the façade. She had sat with him as he let a few tears fall in memory for the patient’s he couldn’t save.

They bonded over that time together; Draco seeking Mel out after a long shift. Mel searching for Draco before the exams at Hogwarts. They bounced off each other; becoming closer as Mel’s time in the wizarding world continued.

Draco continued his tour of St Mungo’s. Mel followed behind him; her hand still held tightly in his. Mel watched the blonde-haired man in front of her; attempting to pinpoint the exact moment she had fallen in love with him – was it the candle? Or was it earlier today in the library? Or had she always been in love with some aspect of him? Draco was he favourite character in the series; it made sense to her at least, that she would fall in love with the real thing.

Draco dragged Mel into an empty exam room, grinning wickedly as the sound of her yelp. “You’ve been distracted this entire tour; did you hear a word I said?”

“Of course I did. We started at the ICU where the permanent residents reside before moving down a level to the floor where you treat potions and plant poisoning. We were heading down another level, but you’ve dragged me into an empty room. Why?”

“I kept looking back at you, you didn’t seem like you were paying attention.”

“So you dragged me into an empty room?”

Drag shrugged, “I want to know what’s on your mind.”

Mel chuckled, “Nothing overly interesting, I promise you that.”

Draco stepped closer to the brunette; Mel took a step backward, her back now pressed against the cool white wall. “You see,” Draco began, “I think it is interesting. I normally get a good read on people, but I can’t get a read on you.”

Mel thanked her lucky stars. Draco leaned in closer to Mel; his hands made their way onto her waist. She bit her lip at the feeling of his hands on her.

Then Draco did the inevitable; he ducked his head to press his lips to hers.

Mel pulled away from Draco, breathless, “Draco… we’re in a hospital.”

He hummed, nosing her cheek, “So we are.”

“And it’s your place of work,” Mel reminded as Draco’s hands grip her waist tighter.

“So it is.”

“We can’t do this here,” Mel whispered, a hand on his chest.

“Who says we can’t?”

And with those words, Draco pressed his lips to Mel’s. He kissed her gently, but the kiss soon shifted into something more; something deeper. She gasped against his mouth; Draco took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Her hands made their way into his hair. A low groan sounded in the back of Draco’s throat and he pulled Mel against him; arms circling around her.

Mel lost herself in him; he invaded her senses. All she felt was him; all she smelled was him, and all she tasted, was him.

One kiss and she was a goner; entirely addicted to him.

It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, but they both had to come up for air. Draco pulled away first, but he pecked Mel’s lips one more time before he did. Their chests heaved; Draco’s arms remained tightly wrapped around her waist.

“What does this mean, Draco?” Mel asked, savouring the feel of his arms.

Draco pressed kiss after kiss to her face, starting with her nose. “It means that I want to be with you, Mel.”

“Even though I prefer fairy tales and gothics?”

Draco laughed, throwing his head back. He grinned down at the woman who had stolen his heart in such a short amount of time, “Even though you prefer fairy tales and gothics, yes.”

Mel beamed at Draco; taking the opportunity to fist her hands in his shirt, dragging him in for one more kiss before they needed to return back to reality.

-------

They returned to the Manor even more wrapped up in each other than they were before they left. Draco pulled Mel back to the library, though he paused multiple times on the way to drag her into a kiss.

She laughed at the man she had fallen for in the short time she had been in the wizarding world. Mel hadn’t ever given much thought to her love life in the muggle world; she had had crushes and been on dates but none of them ever really meaning anything. She watched Draco from her place a step behind him; his long legs no match for her short ones. She watched him push open the doors to the library, thinking to herself that she hadn’t ever met a man like Draco, and she wasn’t bothered by the timeline; she’d fallen in love with Draco Malfoy.

Draco turned to face Mel; their books from earlier in his hands. He sauntered over to her, “Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”

Mel placed a hand on her heart, laughing, “As mad as the March Hare, Draco?”

“Only for you, my dear,” Draco gasped dramatically; embracing Mel.

----------

The dinner party was Draco’s idea. He sent the invitation to Blaise before letting Mel know their plans for the evening.

Mel threw a cushion at Draco’s face which he caught with a laugh.

“Want to tell why I deserve a cushion to face?” He asked.

“I have to find an outfit for a dinner party!” She cried, throwing her arms up in the air at the impossibility of it all – she knew she was being overdramatic, but she felt underprepared for something such as a dinner party.

Draco hushed her worries; pulling her into his arms. He rocked them both side to side, “It’s Blaise and Ellie, love. They won’t care what you wear.”

“I suppose not,” Mel chuntered into Draco’s chest.

He chuckled at the brunette, kissing the top of her head, “Whatever you wear will be fine; don’t overthink this – let’s just enjoy the evening.”

----------

The atmosphere in the room was light and joyful as the couples ate and drank their way through the late afternoon into the early evening. Blaise’s hand remained a staple on Ellie’s thigh through the meal as Draco’s arm remained seated on the back of Mel’s chair.

The girls shared a knowing glance; both their men oddly territorial but utter sweethearts when in private.

The dinner was interrupted by a sudden knock at the door. Narcissa entered the room with an apologetic aimed at the two couples, “I’m sorry, love, but this just arrived for Draco. It must be urgent coming this late.”

“Thank you, mother,” Draco answered, taking the envelope from his mother’s hand. Narcissa departed with a smile; leaving the four of you alone once again.

Blaise and Ellie are wrapped in their own cocoon of happiness as Draco reads over the letter. Blaise tucked a piece of Ellie’s hair behind her ear, and she smiled up at him, face full with happiness and love.

Mel kept her eyes on Draco as he read the letter, watching as his body grew more tense with every word written on the piece of parchment.

“Draco, what is it? What does the note say?” Mel asked.

Draco cleared his throat before answering, “It’s a note from Ron.”

“What’s happened? Has something happened to Ana?” Ellie asked, already stood up, grabbing Blaise’s hand ready to apparate to the Burrow.

The note is handed to Blaise, “Ron’s asked us to come to the Burrow. Arthur overheard something at work, and he wants to tell us in person.”

The girls looked at each other in worry; anxiety already having settled deep within their guts. If Arthur had overheard something at the Ministry regarding them, then what they had to hear could not be positive.

Draco held his hand out for Mel. She doesn’t argue as she takes hold of his hand; she doesn’t say anything. She started into his eyes, committing the blue to her memory.

In a single second, both couples have apparated to The Burrow.

**********

Journey to Hogwarts taglist: @jenniweaslee​ @just-an-outstanding-auror​ @the-hufflefluffwriter​ @ravenclaw-member​

[kindofcashton]

𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕  •  chapter 16  (Calum Hood AU)

MY LIFE WAS a never-ending paradise.  For the first time in months, I woke up with a smile on my face that lasted until I fell asleep again that night.  Never had I experienced such tranquility, such persistent joy as I felt now.  It was nearly impossible to worry about anything, feel sad about anything.  Not when he was next to me, near me, with me.  Calum and I spent nearly every night together, our hands perpetually entangled, our bodies constantly connected.  We woke up together, went to bed together, spent the day dreaming about one another.  Being away from him, even for something I enjoyed like work or shopping with Hannah, became a nuisance.  I spent all my time thinking about him and the next time we could be together.

But the thing is, we weren’t together.  There was no label slapped onto whatever relationship we’d formed.  I didn’t consider him my boyfriend, and I certainly wasn’t his girlfriend.  We spent the nights together, and then when daylight came we were elusive lovers, dancing around each other so as not to alert the others.  Hannah I had told, of course.  She knew every detail of my affair with Calum, and squealed over how “romantic” it was.  I firmly told her there was nothing romantic or emotional about it; we were merely two adults sleeping together and having fun.

As for the guys, I’m sure they’d caught on to something.  Seeing me emerge from Calum’s room or him from mine was definitely a dead giveaway.  But when we were downstairs, Calum and I rarely interacted beyond hastened smiles and loaded glances.  Occasionally his hand would grace mine in the kitchen, reminding me of where his fingers had been the night before.  Just a single look from him sparked butterflies like I’d never known before, and I had to bite my lip to keep from grinning.

When we were really at our best was when we slept together.  The chemistry our bodies shared was unparalleled, and I’d never experienced such passion with anyone before.  Calum knew my body like he’d spent his whole life mapping it out, knowing all my favorite places and secret spots.  I knew every curve of his back, every stretch of skin and cluster of moles.  We explored each other until nothing was foreign territory, every part of ourselves bared for the other to glimpse.  But we didn’t grow tired of each other; every night was a new discovery, the excitement never waning.  If I could, I’d spend the rest of my life in bed next to him, our bodies naked and pressing together.

Neither of us let emotions complicate things.  Despite my bold display of breaking up with Nick for him, I knew that was no indication of a deeper relationship with Calum.  We were barely even friends, as we didn’t hang out together outside of the bedroom.  And as for exclusivity, there wasn’t really any.  If a guy flirted with me at work, I flirted back.  I’m sure Calum did the same when he disappeared during the day.  For me, I knew I’d never consider sleeping with anyone else, but just the idea of having the option was comforting; exclusivity was suffocating, and the last thing I wanted was to ruin the carefree fun Calum and I were having.

His normally brooding, mean personality actually turned out to be different than I thought.  Calum’s sense of humor was dark, not mean.  He wasn’t brooding, just thinking hard.  Now I enjoyed his snarky remarks, the way he’d tease me with a smirk.  Things that used to infuriate me now fired me up, and I giggled at his scowls.  I hoped he felt the same about me, that I wasn’t annoying or stubborn but dedicated and organized.  Seeing a new perspective of him was refreshing, and I looked at him with hungry new eyes.  I couldn’t keep a smile off my face when I was with him, and I saw his usual smirk twist into a crooked grin.

One morning, I stood up out of bed a little earlier than normal.  After a long night in my room leaving us both blissfully exhausted, I wanted nothing more than to sleep all day, but I had something important to do.  I’d been in touch with an advisor at the local community college, and today we’d be meeting to discuss my possible enrollment.  I felt secure enough at the cafe to start planning to go back to school, and I was both nervous and thrilled about the upcoming discussion.  I hoped it would be seamless, an easy process that wouldn’t strain my nerves or my wallet.  Things were going so good lately, I would hate for something to ruin it.

Calum groaned from the bed, and naturally my lips spread into a smile.  I was fishing through my closet, wearing only panties and his tee shirt that I’d hastily put on to cover up.  It smelled like him, and I almost wished I could wear it to the meeting for good luck and comfort.  

“What’re you doing?” he asked, voice gruff from sleep.  I glanced back and saw his ruffled hair and tired eyes.  He looked about ready to fall back to sleep, but when he looked over at me his eyebrows raised approvingly.  Clearly me in his shirt had pleasantly surprised him.

“I have an interview,” I explained, turning back to find the right clothes.  I wanted to look professional and mature, but not too stuffy.  After all, this was a community college, and my transcript spoke for itself.  I opted for a white skirt and matching blazer, then pulled a black turtleneck to wear underneath.  This was probably my nicest outfit, and I chewed my lip contemplating which heels to wear.

“Where at?”  Calum yawned and stretched his long arms, chest bare as the blankets fell around his waist.  I began to undress, pulling his shirt over my head so I could put on a bra.

“The community college,” I answered, but he seemed too distracted by my body to care.  I rolled my eyes as I hooked the bra clasp, shimmying into the skirt and fighting with the zipper.  Calum whistled as I stood only in the skirt and my bra, leaning on his forearm with a smirk.

“You expect me to let you leave looking like that?”  His suggestive tone made me flush, and I pulled the turtleneck over my head with a shy smile.

“I’m actually really nervous,” I admitted, fiddling with my hair and wondering how much makeup I’d need to cover the dark circles under my eyes.  Calum leaned back onto the disarrayed pillows that we’d strewn about during last night’s antics.

“You have no reason to worry, you’re like the smartest, most collegey person I’ve ever met.”  Although his eyes were closed and his tone was breezy, I took his words to heart.  It touched me that he saw me so highly, and for a second I wondered if this is what it felt like to have him as my boyfriend.  Someone supportive who helped me achieve my dreams, someone to come home to after a long day to unwind and just be with.

Shaking my head, I forced these thoughts out of my head.  Calum was not my boyfriend, and I didn’t want him to be.  He was just saying what I wanted to hear, and his voice was breezy because he didn’t really care.  Swiping on some mascara and enough concealer to brighten my complexion, I exhaled deeply.  You’ve got this.

Not wanting to seem clingy or overly invested, I simply stepped into my black heels and grabbed my bag, giving Calum a distracted goodbye before leaving him behind.  As I descended the stairs I missed him already, yearning for his touch and his gaze.   

Hannah caught me before I left, piece of toast in her hand as she hugged me, careful not to get crumbs on my crisp blazer.  

“You’re gonna kill it, Scar,” she declared.  “Seriously, this college is gonna be begging just to have you enroll.”

I nodded, letting her words give me some encouragement.  “I hope so.  I hope I’m not a desperate, fumbling mess.”

She straightened my blazer and flattened my hair with a smile.  “You don’t look like a mess from the outside.”  I gave her a grateful hug before hurrying out the door, making sure to get to the bus stop on time.  I’d contemplated asking Calum to drive me, since it was easier, but that approached boyfriend territory.  So instead, I took a seat on the crowded public bus and braced myself for the upcoming meeting.

The campus was smaller than my other school, but that was to be expected.  The groundskeepers clearly did their best trying to spruce up the boring landscape with sculpted bushes and brick paths.  The buildings were plain but architectural, with lots of windows and glass roofs.  For such a small, cramped college it could have been a lot worse.  I felt slightly embarrassed to be downgrading so much from the fancy university I’d previously attended, but then I reminded myself that a degree was a degree.

I found the building I was meant to be in and located the advisor’s office rather quickly.  A plump, kind-faced secretary told me Ms. Price would be with me in a few minutes, and I took a seat by a big window.  Some students were milling about below, and I imagined myself here.  Just the prospect of getting back to school was exciting, no matter where I went.  

Five minutes passed by in a flash, and then I was seated in front of Ms. Price herself, crossing my legs to fight off my nerves.  She was a middle-aged woman with short, wispy red hair and leathery skin.  I watched as her eyes scanned my records, glancing over the notes about my parents’ death and my subsequent bankruptcy, but all this information did was make her brows lift slightly.

Her unreadable expression deterred me, and for a second I panicked that she was going to reject me.  But then she snapped the file closed and laced her fingers together, thin lipstick-rimmed lips tilting into a polite smile.

“Well Miss Mercer, your transcript speaks for itself.”  I smiled slightly as she confirmed my earlier estimate.  “Your grades are immaculate, and I’m surprised you’re such a put-together young woman after everything you’ve been through.”

I smiled graciously.  “School was my motivation through it all, really.  I just want to get my life back on track, and that means finishing my degree.”

Ms. Price nodded.  “A wise decision.  An education will do you well later in life.  I assume you have a career path laid out for yourself?”

“Yes, I’d like to become a social worker.  My degree is in psychology, but I have a focus in counseling.”  Bringing up my future goals reminded me how desperately I wanted to achieve them.  Even though my fling with Calum was fun, I also wanted my professional life to start as soon as possible so I could settle down.  

Sifting through a few papers and peering over her glasses, Ms. Price was quiet for a moment.  I took her long pauses to just be results of her no-nonsense, blatant disposition.  She wasn’t going to shower me in praise, which was fine.  All I needed was confirmation of my enrollment.

Finally, she said, “You have your finances in order?  Community college is less expensive, but still an expense all the same.”

I nodded.  “Yes, I have a steady job that should help me pay for it.”  I could even afford to move out with Hannah, if I wanted to, but that was still a huge proposition that I was not all that inclined to take. 

Ms. Price gave a final nod of her head, and set down the papers in her hand.  “Well then, Miss Mercer, I don’t see why we can’t admit you for the next semester.”

Pure jubilation flooded through me, and I tried to keep my wild grin contained and professional.  Reaching out to shake her hand, I thanked Ms. Price profusely.  “This means the world to me, ma’am, truly.  I won’t let you or the college down.”

My exuberance must have cracked her resolve a little, because she gave me an amused expression.  “I’m quite sure of it, dear.”

It was all I could do not to skip out of the office.  I felt on top of the world, and I whipped my phone out to spread the good news.  For a second my finger hovered over Calum’s number, and I wished I could call him up to gush about my success.  But then I kept scrolling and called Hannah instead.  She picked up instantly and I practically screamed the news at her, causing her to scream herself.  I wandered through campus with a stupid smile on my face, rushing my words as I tried to articulate my excitement.

“We have to celebrate tonight,” I insisted.  “After my shift, we should do something.”

“Totally,” Hannah confirmed.  “I’ll rally the troops.”

I hung up and sighed, thinking about how I would celebrate with Calum specifically.  I let the stupid grin shine on my face as I stared up at the bright sky.  Things were better than good right now; they were damn near perfect.

- - - - -

Roger gave me the biggest hug I’d ever received when I told him about getting into community college, and even Mack emerged from the back room to congratulate me.  He jokingly warned me not to prioritize school work over my work here, and I vowed nothing would ever be more important than making coffee.  I also filled Roger in on my recent activities with Calum, and he swooned with each story.  Roger insisted we were made for each other and needed to just get married already, and I always waved him off.  That comment was too close to Hannah’s soulmate explanation, and I refused to get my hopes up.

The shift ended quickly, thankfully.  I was so excited about the night out that time seemed to fly by unusually fast.  I sprinted home and burst through the door, finding Hannah in the kitchen and giving her a tight hug.

She pulled back and pretended to get choked up.  “I’m just so proud,” she said emotionally, wiping an invisible tear from her eye.  “My little girl off to college--again.”  We laughed, and I tentatively smiled at Luke over her shoulder.  He shot me a thumbs up, and my anxiety lessened.  I think I was finally back to normal with Luke and Michael after a rocky few weeks, and I was grateful.  I loved them as friends, and wanted to celebrate as a group.

I was surprised to see Ashton in the living room, and even he managed to offer up a sincere congratulations.  I sent Hannah a glance, full of wordless questions that she pursed her lips at.  One tilt of her head towards the basement told me she’d fill me in later.

“So, are you joining us tonight?” I asked Ashton after the excitement over my news died down.  “You’re more than welcome to come, I want everyone to have a good time.”

Ashton nodded, not looking at Hannah.  “Yeah, should be fun.”

I followed Hannah downstairs to start getting ready, throwing off my blazer before crossing my arms with an expectant look.  “Well?  When the hell were you gonna tell me about Ashton?”

Hannah fell onto the pullout bed from the couch, shrugging with a small smile.  “There’s nothing to tell, really.  We...talked, recently.  Decided to be civil.”  She shrugged again.  “I don’t know if it’ll ever be the same, but at least now we can be in the same room again.”

I knew she was secretly overjoyed at being on speaking terms with Ashton again, but it was smart not to get her hopes up.  We had both worked on this, now careful and cautious instead of overly optimistic.  We got ready to go out together, curling each other’s hair and critiquing outfits.  The dress I wanted to wear was up in my room, so I padded upstairs with my hair and makeup done.

Emerging into my room, I saw the bed had been sloppily made and the pillows rearranged.  I smiled; it was a thoughtful gesture from Calum.  I slid the white skirt down my legs, tossing off the turtleneck and breathing in relief as the restricting fabric was finally off.  I found the dress I’d been searching for, pulling it out triumphantly.  It was made of a royal blue crushed velvet material that hugged my body perfectly.  I’d bought it recently with Hannah, and was excited to show it off tonight.  I hoped one person in particular noticed it, or more importantly how good I looked in it.

As I fumbled with the zipper, there was a knock at my door.  Calum peered in, and I smiled.  “Perfect, get over here.  I need your help.”

He shut the door behind him, taking in my appearance as he approached.  I turned around so he could reach the zipper, inhaling sharply as I felt his fingers at the base of my back.  He stood very close to me, breath washing over my neck as he gently pulled the zipper up.  His knuckles grazed my exposed skin as the dress began to cover it, and when he finished he ghosted his fingers across my shoulder and down my arm.

“I heard the news,” he murmured into my ear.  “Congratulations.”  I turned to face him, resting a hand on his chest.  His brown eyes sparked slightly, and his full lips were upturned in a small smirk.  I leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips, and I felt him smile into my mouth.  Just like always, heat spread out from our point of contact, and I felt my fingers tangle into his curls.  His large hands cupped around my waist, pulling me close until I broke the kiss off.

“This is new,” I commented, running my fingers over the army green fabric of his bomber jacket.  The color complimented him well and I admired the way it fit his broad shoulders.  

He rolled his eyes at my obvious ogling.  “I do go shopping, you know.”

I laughed.  “Really?  Most of your tee shirts have holes in them.”

Calum’s smirk transformed into a smile, making the butterflies flutter in my stomach.  “You don’t seem to mind the holes when you’re wearing them,” he said darkly, and I felt a familiar heat building in my stomach.  I gave him another kiss, dragging this one out slightly longer.

“Maybe I could wear one later tonight,” I suggested, hinting at another round of late-night antics.  Calum snorted, squeezing my bum lightly.

“You can’t tease me like this when we’re at the club, you know,” he informed me, and I sighed.

“Fine.  I guess I’ll save all the teasing for after, then.”  At my seductive wink, he groaned, and I ducked away from his attempt at a kiss, giggling at his frown.  We joined the others downstairs, and I saw Hannah and Ashton awkwardly standing next to each other.  Hannah’s shoulders were stiff due to their proximity, but even with her tight posture she still looked good in her blush pink dress.  Ashton was clearly trying not to look at his ex in such a short dress, and cleared his throat when Calum and I entered.

“Can we go, already?  I’ll drive Luke and Scarlett, you take Michael and Hannah.”  Ashton signaled to Calum, who nodded curtly.  Already our bodies naturally drifted away from one another like they always did in public.  I didn’t mind riding separately since we weren’t supposed to be dating and the guys thought we didn’t care.  I watched Calum head for his mustang and already missed his warmth, but pushed away this feeling as I climbed into Ashton’s car.

I chatted with Luke about our shifts at work, me relaying a story about a crabby customer and him complaining about his boss.  Ashton chimed in every now and then, which I appreciated.  I really did like Ashton, despite being on Hannah’s side in their civil war.  I just hoped he would forgive her soon, because I knew how much she was still hurting.

We tried out a new club tonight, this one bigger and grander than the ones we’d previously been to.  It was mobbed, and I had to hold Hannah’s hand to keep from losing track of her.  I wanted Calum to grab my hand too, but didn’t let the disappointment get to me that much when he didn’t.

Michael ordered a round of shots and dedicated a toast in my honor.  We all knocked back a shot and I felt the fiery liquid blaze down my throat.  I managed not to cough, and instead grabbed another.  Calum was to my left, and he watched me take a second shot with sparkling eyes.

“Easy, killer.  I don’t want to have to carry you home.”  He was joking, but his hooded eyes gave me a different impression.  I could tell he was savoring my appearance under the roving lights, watching me down shots and smile carelessly.  I licked my lips, tasting a hint of alcohol, and gave him a coy wink.

“Maybe that’s exactly what I want,” I purred, causing his jaw to clench.  “But for now, I’m gonna go dance.”  I knew Calum wasn’t a fan of dancing, but I knew watching me from a distance would kill him.  I grabbed Hannah’s hand and wove through the crowd until we found a good spot on the dance floor.  Hannah threw her arms around my neck with a grin, and we danced to the loud remix playing over the thundering speakers.  Our hips swayed and our feet jumped, throwing our hair back as we let ourselves succumb to the night.

I felt multiple pairs of eyes on us, and glanced around to check who was looking.  To my surprise, Ashton had his eyes glued on Hannah, and I whispered this in her ear.  Immediately, a stupid grin spread onto her face as she let out a laugh.

Calum was also watching me, but his eyes were much darker than Ashton’s.  His fingers were tight around a scotch glass, and his tense posture told me everything I needed to know.  He wanted me, and the distance between us was driving him crazy.

With an evil grin, I told Hannah I’d be right back and began to move toward the bathroom.  Without even looking I knew Calum was following me, and my grin only widened when we both entered the small bathroom alone.  The click of the door locking made the hair on my neck stand up, and I sat back against the sink.  Calum stayed by the door, brows low over his eyes as he smirked at me under the dim lighting.

I shook my head, making a tsk tsk sound.  “For someone who’s trying to keep our fling under wraps, you sure can’t keep your eyes off of me.”  I knew mocking him was dangerous, but I loved making him squirm.

Calum pushed off the door and came closer to me, hands sliding up my sides as he sighed.  “What can I say?  Seeing you like this does things to me.”

He leaned in to kiss my neck, and I let my eyes close as I exhaled in bliss.  He sucked at a point below my ear, causing my hands to grip at his biceps.  I angled my lips toward his ear, whispering, “And what things would that be, exactly?”

I heard a small groan rumble in his throat, and he pulled back to meet my devilish eyes.  His fingers closed around my wrist, pulling my hand down his front all the way to his pants.  I felt the mound growing there, grinning as he sucked in a breath when I pressed against it gently.

“Ah,” I responded.  “That thing.”  I lifted off of the sink and used one hand to push Calum back until he was against the far wall.  His breathing was hard, brow furrowed in slight confusion as he anticipated what I would do.  Grinning, I took his ear lobe gently between my teeth and tugged, eliciting another groan.

My hands, now experts at working his belts, toyed with the buckle until it released.  I then undid the button of his jeans, leaving a trail of wet kisses along his jaw as I did this.  I placed a chaste kiss on his lips before looking through my lashes into his eyes, dropping to my knees and causing his eyes to spark with lust.

Delicately, I pushed his jeans aside and revealed his straining boxers, smiling slightly as I kissed down his stomach and gradually bringing my lips lower.  I pulled the elastic band down, revealing a soft trail of hair before running my hand along the smooth skin, springing his erection free.  I admired his long, stiff length, touching my fingers ever so slightly to the warm skin.  Gently grabbing hold of it and bringing it towards my lips, I let a warm breath wash over the throbbing tip.

Calum groaned at the sensation, and when I glanced up I saw his eyes were shut with pleasure.  I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock, feeling it twitch with excitement.  Leaning down, I slid my tongue up the side of his shaft, earning a muted growl of satisfaction.  Reaching the tip, I closed my lips around the head of his cock, beginning to swirl my tongue around the warm skin.  

“Shit,” Calum breathed when he felt my mouth on him.  His hands wrapped into my hair as I sank my mouth lower onto him, taking as much of him as I could.  He hit the back of my throat, and his hiss echoed in my ears as I used my hands to work the part I couldn’t reach.

I dragged his cock in and out of my mouth, tongue massaging as I went.  My lips formed a tight O around him as I moved my lips, bobbing my head rhythmically.  Carefully I used my tongue to lick at his slit, and his hips bucked forcefully.  Grinning, I pulled him out of my mouth and used my hand for a second, licking around his tip teasingly.

“Holy--” Calum started, gripping my hair tighter.  His cock was rigid and trembling now, telling me he was close to finishing.  I licked the flat of my tongue back up his length, then took all of him in my mouth once again.  I moved faster this time, focusing on getting as much of him as I could.  Swear words echoed in my ears as he unwound above me, fist banging against the wall to keep from moaning too loudly.

I pushed him against my throat particularly hard, and when I heard his strangled cry I knew he had been pushed over the edge.  His cock twitched in my mouth, shooting out a sticky liquid that I promptly swallowed.  I slowly took him out of my mouth, kissing his swollen tip before rising off of my knees.

Without hesitating, Calum smashed his lips to mine, not caring where I’d just been.  He kissed me with a fervor, and I felt waves of gratitude rolling off of him.  I grinned into the kiss, happy to have pleased him so much.  When he pulled away to redo his belt, I sucked at his neck and kept my hand on the side of his face.

He caught my eye and smirked at my triumphant expression.  “You’re evil,” he growled, squeezing my hips and earning a chuckle from me.  I pushed at a bit of hair that covered his forehead, marveling in his spectacular brown eyes.

“Only for you, baby,” I drawled.  The smirk on my face faded as I saw something flash across his face.  It was there for only a brief instant, but I saw the change nonetheless.  His lust-filled eyes had warmed for a second, his expression more than just pleased that I’d gone down on him.  The way he held me in his arms communicated more than he would ever say, and when his lips parted my heart stopped.

“We should go.”

Those were not the three words I was expecting.  Anger at myself and humiliation at getting so excited over nothing pricked at my mind, and I couldn’t help but frown.  What was I thinking?  What about this situation was romantic?  It was dirty, and hot, and definitely more than a little bit fun.  But that’s all it was; I shouldn’t have been so stupid to look deeper into it. 

He kissed me one last time before taking my hand and leading me out of the bathroom, and when he faced away I dropped my fake smile and took a shaky breath.  

Calum and I separated for the rest of the night, like we normally did.  We both tried to appear nonchalant, coming up with different excuses for where had just been.  I danced with Hannah more, giggling when Luke and Ashton joined us.  I danced with Luke while I spied on Ashton and Hannah, who were closer to each other than they’d been in weeks.  Ashton’s hands were awkward on her hips, careful not to roam, and she looked stiff beside him.  But I also detected a bit of optimism in her eyes when she gazed up at him, and I prayed he didn’t break her heart again.

When it was time to leave, I rode home with Calum this time.  Hannah had asked me to switch in a hushed voice, and reading her wide eyes I knew she’d had a decent night.  I was glad to switch, since it meant more time with Calum.  I refused to let my slip up in the bathroom shake me, and instead met Calum’s eyes in his rear view mirror as Michael drunkenly explained something I couldn’t quite make out.  Calum’s eyes were light and joking, and he pretended to nod along with Michael’s story.  I leaned against the window and stared out at the dark night sky, pleasantly buzzed and positively exhausted.

It was no surprise when Calum and I went into the same room.  Tonight it was his, since we’d stayed in mine the night before.  We didn’t have a set routine, but we were so in sync we did the same thing anyway.  He helped me unzip my dress, once again igniting sparks where his fingers touched.  Neither of us had enough energy to do anything but sleep, and my eyes were already heavy.

As Calum pulled on sweatpants, his top half bare like usual, he tossed me one of his shirts.  I caught it with deft hands and smiled, gladly diving into the dark fabric and inhaling the scent of him.  His open arms invited me into bed as I crawled across the mattress, sighing into his skin and resting my head on his chest.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said after a few minutes of quiet.  It was dark, and I could barely make out the tattoos on his skin.  I smiled drowsily.

“Anytime.”

I could sense he wasn’t ready to go to bed yet, and shifted so I was looking at him.  Even in the dim lighting I knew exactly what his face looked like, the angle of his jaw and the curve of his mouth.  I reached a finger out to trace his lips, enjoying his soft breath on my hand.

“What are you going to do in the future?  You know, after college?”  I was surprised at his question, and my finger stalled in its movement.  I felt his lips purse into the pad of my index finger, the gesture causing an odd squeeze of my heart.

I rolled over to lay next to him, hand spread out across his abdomen.  “I would have said find a job, buy a house, settle down.”  I fidgeted with the ends of my hair, staring up at the black ceiling.

“‘Would have’?” Calum repeated, and I could hear the frown in his voice.  “You don’t want to do that now?”

I shrugged, my shoulder brushing his.  “I don’t know.  I used to have all these plans, I swear I knew exactly what I was gonna do down to the week.”  I paused, remembering the old me who used to love writing in her planner.  “And then my parents died and I left school.  It seemed like life was telling me to stop making plans and just...live, you know?”

I wished I could see his face, gauge his reaction.  All I heard was a small sigh.  “I hate planning,” he replied.  “It just opens up more opportunities to be disappointed.”

Surprisingly, this made a lot of sense to me.  The dejection I felt whenever a plan fell through was tiring, and lately it seemed that was all that was happening.  Without any expectations, I couldn’t be hurt when they didn’t work out.  I realized Calum’s carefree attitude inspired this change in me; he opened my eyes to a different lifestyle, one I found myself enjoying.  It was nice not knowing what we were, not having to conform to any boundaries or boxes.  We could just be, whatever and whenever we wanted.  

Laying beside him, our hearts beating in tune and our bodies in perfect harmony, I curled into his side and he draped an arm around me.  I buried myself as deep into him as I could, closing my eyes as another realization hit me: maybe Calum wasn’t the one in love.  Maybe it was me.

[noctisfishing]

2020 Wrap-Up and 2021 Wishes

I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to do this or not, but I decided, why not? Even though this year was pretty wild for everyone in various ways, I want to celebrate my writing progress and accomplishments, and share with you what I wish for in 2021.

I’ve already posted a similar post on Reddit, although this one has a more detailed breakdown and includes my fic titles! I won’t link any of the fics mentioned, but you can visit my FFN or AO3 pages to find them. You can also click through my Welcome Post or find them all listed here (if you’re on desktop) (*every project I talk about can be found somewhere on my Tumblr :D)

Click below for some nice Fic Stats!! (mostly wordcounts and rambling!!)

Preview: I wrote a good amount of words, got some nice progress on some long fics, churned out dozens of ficlets!! Plus: What’s on my fic mind for 2021, and a short bit about other personal wins.

Before I ramble with numbers, I think we can all agree that we should say goodbye to 2020 this way:

Now, the numbers you’ll see are close approximations to how much I’ve written this year. I’m including works that I’ve published on AO3, FFN, Tumblr, and Reddit, and also works unpublished (and will post probably next year).

So, here it is:

Total Wordcount: 107,662 words!

Dang, I wrote a lot more than I thought. I think there was one year that I wrote 200,000 in a year and I’ve always set that number as my standard. But I’m still pretty happy with this year’s number! I think I’ll make 100K my “soft goal” for 2021 given how topsy-turvy life can go but it would be awesome to hit 200K again :)

And now, we break it down:

Completed Works (54,432 words)

2 Multi-Chaptered Fics (10,353 words) 

Both happen to be Sorato! I posted the last chapter of The Sound of His Goodbye back in March (I started the fic late 2019), and I posted all of The Last One Wins towards the end of November. Both gave me reminders earlier and later on in the year that I can complete fics, haha! It’s possible!!! \o/

38 Ficlets/Scenes (19,667 words) 

“Ficlets” don’t typically have a wordcount but are generally less than 1,000 words. I’d have to say that the impact of quitting my job, moving back home, and the pandemic brought on major changes and responsibilities that I had to adapt to. Simpler, smaller scale ideas were easier on my basket case of a mind and kept me writing, and that is most likely why for most of the year my inspiration was more drawn toward different little scenes. I got to write for and explore six new fandoms outside of Digimon which is cool!

When I say “scenes,” I mean those that either didn’t fit in the (slightly) larger works I’ve published, or those for future projects (which technically shouldn’t be counted as “complete” but I had to stick them somewhere :P).

9 One-Shots (24,412 words)

Day 6 Prompt of Takari Week just barely made it to be counted as a One-Shot, but the rest in this category are all Taiora: six for Taiora Week, as well as The Princess and the Dragon, and Colors in Distance. The Color Shot was actually sitting unfinished in my drafts for a few months so I’m glad I found the motivation to finish it before the year’s end. The other fics were inspired by prompts with deadlines - this was the first year I’ve participated and completed those and I’m happy I did them! 

Works in Progress (53,230 words)

I’ve posted one new chapter each for Digital Recovery (4,770 words) and  Tsukiakari (2,292 words) and I had the hope of working more on both of these this year! But you know, this year was tough (see also why I threw so many ficlets at my readers). I had three huge ongoing longfics and I made the decision to set these aside and put my main focus on one of those so as not to overwhelm myself. These fics are mostly planned out. They just need to be written more! We’ve got a long way to go with both of these.

Just One Drink (10,131 words) was.. probably my most popular fic this year, lol. I don’t see this one being too long (I would be surprised if it goes past 50K) but I see myself continue to update this next year. ;) 

And let’s talk about The Spark of Dawn (DoreDore Adventure Part II) (24,316 words). This was my chosen longfic to focus on this year, as evidenced by the wordcount, and even the number of chapters I’ve posted - three with 10,659 words total. This fic also carried me through July’s Camp NaNoWriMo where I reached my word count goal of 12,000 words. I think two chapters from that event ended up being posted, and there are still 13,657 words’ worth of content yet to be published. Overall, I think half of this story has been written out (including the content I haven’t posted yet) but that being said, this fic remains as one of my priorities to finish before moving along to my other WIPs!

Here’s a list of the rest of my unpublished works:

Untitled Taiorato Fic (1,433 words)

More Taiora Snapshots (2,454 words)

The Girl Who Stands Out (7,834 words) - This one is a Mimato, and should show up really soon. ;)

2021 Wishes: My main wish is for me to *keep writing*!

I’m already making some pretty elaborate spreadsheets for myself to help track my personal writing and reader stats. Hopefully they help motivate me in my writing progress in 2021! 

Toward the end of the year, I felt the need to “clear out” my plot bunnies folder and realized that fics from few ideas weren’t going to be as long as I initially thought. That’s where The Last One Wins came from, as well as The Girl Who Stands Out. I think once the latter is all written out, I will work more on DoreDore and see where it goes.

I want to tackle my “Write Your Melody” prompts, because since I’ve written them I feel obligated to. XD I’m sure there will be room for more ficlets and one-shots in next year’s endeavors; while it’s ideal to work on one big longfic until it’s done, I know for a fact that I’ll need writing breaks along the way.

Other Personal Wins (Not Writing-Related): This year, left a job and living situation that took a toll on my mental health. I also started to learn R and SQL programming languages. I was asked to be a moderator of one of my favorite communities! I made new friendships and a few of my friendships grew. And I found joy and comfort in things I hadn’t been able to in years’ past. I had a fair share of rough moments this year, but looking back at my small wins gave me reminders of the good I have. <3 

If you made it to the end of this post, GO YOU. I’m optimistic that next year will bring more good things. I hope to continue remembering to take time to breathe and rest, and keep talking to my friends and loved ones. Many of my wishes are for long-term goals/projects in general, but rather than setting year-end deadlines, I want to focus on just working on them, my efforts varying between chipping away at them little by little, or hardcore-drop-everything-and-spend-the-weekend.

Anyway, thank you for reading! I wish you all the best as we head toward a new year. <3

[teatimewithlennon]

I Know The Way There [John Lennon] - Part 6

~~Lydia gets a talking to...again. This time she asks for it, well one of them.~~

Part 1 l Part 2  l Part 3 l Part 4 I Part 5

We vibin’ to Ten Years Gone this time

Word Count: 1818

{I thought querentine would make me write more, but it turns out that it just takes away all my motivation. So I’m sorry it’s been a literal month. I hope you still want to read it. This one is a bit longer so I hope that makes up a little bit. I also feel like I can see my writing slowly getting better, which is really what I want to get out of writing.}

“He chased you?!” The twins exclaim.

“Yeah,” I look up waving my hands around, “not like in a creepy ‘I’m gonna murder you’ way. At least I don’t think so…”

Cole eyes me over his glasses, “You don’t think so? That’s not exactly comforting Lydia.”

“Fine. I know he’s not a murderer.”

“You think your funny don’t you?” Cole points at me.

I smile widely, “Yes, yes I do.”

The conversation tapered off from there. Devolving into the normal backstage talk. I felt lucky that they dropped the conversation where it was, I’ve never been very good at lying. Cole could usually tell when I did anyway.

Our show was pretty good, other than the fact I was thinking about John the whole time and kept fucking up; playing the wrong chords and missing my ques. I’d never been like this before. My brain was so clouded. Something is wrong with me.

I rush backstage after the show, getting my guitar into its case. My instinct is to grab a bottle from the fridge. I go and take the last bottle of whisky but just as I’m closing the door to the fridge, Sam grabs the bottle from my hand.

“Hey!” I reach for the bottle, “That’s mine!”

He opens the bottle and takes a swig of the dark amber liquid. “You think I’m gonna let you drink after that?” He cocks his eyebrow.

“Just give me the bottle Sam,” He goes and holds the bottle above his head. Even in heels, my five-three is no match for his six-two.

“I’ll give it to you when you explain yourself,” He takes another drink then returns the bottle to its position above us.

I look up at Sam, his bright blue eyes have the same spark of mischievous joy they did the day I met him. It seems like an eternity ago to me, but it was only five years ago. Time moves so much slower when you have so much of it to spare. I feel like we both should be old and withered, but here we are, still too young and pretty for our own good. Though I still so clearly remember the older boy cheering me up during my freshman orientation. He had found me crying and having a panic attack in a stairwell. And being the kind soul he is thought that giving a fourteen-year-old a cigarette and a pat on the back was the best course of action. It worked, so I guess I can’t harp on him too much. Since then, he’s always had my back.

But I still can’t be truly honest with him, not about this.

“You wouldn’t get it.” I turn away from him, going to get my purse and coat.

Sam’s shoulders lower and the bottle falls to his side. “I just want to help, Lyds,” He sounds sincere, with a hint of sadness.

I guess that’s going around tonight.

“Listen, Sam,” I quickly spin to face him, “I don’t want your help.” I make my way to the door.

“I’ll be here when you do.”

I freeze in the doorway, sighing deeply, and make a half turn before shaking my head and walking away. Right past the others; Cole trying to stop me. I hear Lexi telling him to leave it be.

The back halls are filled with people as the night is starting to really get started. It’s making it hard to keep my head cool. When I find the backdoor, I pause again. Maybe I should go back and apologize for being a bitch.

Why do I always cover up by being a bitch?

I throw my hood up and exit the building, into the wet Seattle night. It feels so much like the moment I was outside The Cavern. This is the type of weather I’m used to. Wet and cold, even in the midsts of summer. There are still a lot of people out here, how very Seattle of them. I begin my walk in the rain, not really sure where I’m headed.

I don’t think I can go back to the house, it would just feel weird right now.

I could go to dad’s place, but I don’t really want to be asked any more questions.

But I do need to talk this out…

“Guess it’s time to go see mom.”

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I’ve been gone not five minutes and momma Cole is already calling me. Silencing my phone, I try to find a secluded place to jump. That’s not exactly easy at this time of night, in this part of town. Maybe I should go back to the venue, I could definitely find a closet or office to jump in, but I’m already pretty far away. I look again at my phone, if I hurry I can make it to the Seattle Center and find a place in the Armory before it closes. Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I start a quick-paced jog toward the towering monument of the city.

When I reach the heart of the city, I am completely drenched. At least I can be inside for a bit. Pulling open the door I’m greeted with the smells of all kinds of foods, most predominately, pizza. The warmth of the crowded galleria envelopes my shivering body as I quietly make my way through the food court. It’s nice to be inside again. I pass the stage, where some sort of show is happening, it appears to be an amateur play. Part of me wants to stay and watch, but like always, I’m trying to be seen the least amount possible. Anyway, the last time I tried to get close to an interesting performance I ended up completely blowing the whole “anonymity” thing.

I pass behind the small audience of the show, to the back where the bathrooms are. Just from the slight separation of the bathroom’s hall, it’s much quieter. And much more secluded, but there are still people around. So I quietly sneak myself up the stairs, looking for cameras as I do. When I find a blindspot I lean against the wall and take a deep breath, closing my eyes, preparing myself for the jump. This is the most amount of times I’ve done this in such a small period of time, and I don’t know how much more my body can take.

My body releases the tension it’s holding, and when my eyes snap open I’m collapsed on the wet ground heaving for air. Clutching my chest, heart on the verge of bursting, I try to get my breathing steady. It takes a few minutes before I regain myself.

As I stand, I find myself in rain again, this time with the added bonus of it being nearly impossible to see three feet in front of me. The darkness surrounding me is almost hypnotizing. The only light coming from the moon. In the distance, I hear the howling of what I assume is a coyote. A familiar, crude, path of stone stretches into the darkness at my feet. I hop from one slab to the next, having done this a hundred times.

At the end of the path, I’m faced with a standing stone on a cliff. Okay, well it’s less of a standing stone and more of a taller than average stone with smaller stones stacked on top of it. All around are unlit lanterns and wildflowers. I grab a lighter out of my purse, illuminating the candles in the lanterns as I approach the monument. With each candle, the aura of the quiet cliff becomes warmer. More comforting. As the last wick is ignited, I sit down cross-legged next to the makeshift obelisk.

“Hey, mama,” it comes out quiet.

“Hey, sweetie. I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“I know, it’s been a while. I’ve been meaning to come by,” I shrug, placing my hand behind my head

“Your father said that when he was here last.”

“I’m glad to see dad’s been here recently, these candles seem pretty fresh. So does the gardening,” my whole body is tense.

“Yeah, it’s nice, but how are you doing? You seem distraught.”

“Yeah, things have been pretty awful lately,” my voice quakes.

“What’s been going on?”

I don’t want to admit it out loud, “I’m sinking back into my old ways. The drinking, the partying, the pushing everyone away.”

“Well, that’s no good.”

“Yes I know that’s not good. Why do you think I’m talking to you about it?”

“You’re right, but I’m just trying to be light.”

“This is more than just the normal angst, mama. It’s about the time travel. It’s about a boy. It’s about my expectation of life,” I lower my head.

“A boy?”

“Why is everyone so focused on the boy?”

“Because here, we’re just supposed to be a normal mother and daughter.”

“Right this is supposed to be normal talk. No superpowers,” I sigh.

“So go on, no time travel though.”

“This one’s gonna be hard to work around that bit.”

“Is it Sam? Did you tell him yet?”

Huffing, “No, it’s not Sam,” this can be so exhausting.

“Well, tell me who it is already!”

“Okay fine, his name is John. And I felt a spark,” I gingerly touch my hands together. “A real one, like how you describe it with dad.”

“Is this like when you felt a ‘spark’ with Grace, or Jake?”

“I swear it’s not like all the other times,” A blush creeps across my face. “It is new though, but I just know that it feels right.”

“You should go for it then.”

I look into my lap, “It’s not going to be that easy.”

“Why not?”

“Well, he’s famous.”

“Okay.”

“And he has a girlfriend,” I mumble

“Oh…”

“And he’s from the past,” It comes out barely a whisper.

“Oh, God.”

“Oh god indeed. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” I put my head in my hands.

“I don’t know…”

“This would be so much easier if I could actually ask you,” I choke back a sob. “It’s all gonna work out. That’s what you would say,” tears flow freely, my body shaking with sobs. “I wish you were here mama.” I smile down at the framed photo sitting in front of me.

I sat there in the rain. Letting it soak into me as I choked on my breaths for the fifth time today. The torrents of water drowning the lanterns, leaving me in darkness. The rain eventually had to let up. Like the rain, my tears had to stop eventually, I could cry no more. There was nothing left. And I was left in the silence of the night.

I’d made up my mind. I was going to see John again. I had to try and get him, even if it can only end poorly.

[onewaywardwitch]

Just A Typo (11/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Hacker!Reader

Summary: It was a simple challenge between a very competitive group of friends. A challenge that ended very differently than anticipated.

Warnings: A cliché trope and a lot of shouting

Word Count: 2106

A/N: I promise the gif is accurate for this part.

“I don’t get why you can’t just ask him out,” Becca whined as she glared at me across the table. We were sitting in Angie’s apartment which was a refreshing change from the high-tech atmosphere of the tower. After begging and pleading and annoying Tony for nearly eleven hours straight, he finally agreed I could leave for a few hours, provided I was brought there and back. He didn’t seem to appreciate me persistently hanging around his lab.

We were talking about Bucky. Again. It's not as though I was the one to bring him up. Since Becca visited me in the tower last week, she’s been more determined than ever to make something happen between Bucky and I. Somehow, she managed to convince Angie to join her on her mission. So now I had to deal with the pair of them constantly inserting themselves into my love life. Or lack of.

“I can’t do that,” I scoffed. “It's Bucky. He’s not looking for anything like that. I'm just grateful he talks to me at all. He’s pretty quiet with most people.

Angie clapped her hands together. “There, you said it yourself. He doesn’t talk to many people, but he talks to you. He clearly likes your company, judging by what Becca said happened last week.”

“Oh please,” I waved her off. “Becca exaggerates everything- “

“Hey!”

“- nothing happened. He was just curious about what I was doing on my laptop, so I showed him. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that, for a very empty corridor, you both were sitting awfully close to each other,” Becca replied, smirking at my flustered face while I struggled to come up with an excuse.

“Why don’t you just focus on your own love life?”

“Oh I am, trust me.” She grinned proudly, nodding in Angie’s direction who just gave me an exhausted look.

“Becca’s decided to join my gym,” she explained. “She picked me up last week and has now fallen head over heels for another woman who goes there.”

“We’re soulmates! I can feel it,” she defended. I simply rolled my eyes. This wasn’t unusual for Becca. She caught sight of a woman in the grocery store or in the bank and promptly fell for them. It was endearing how passionate she could be, but it didn’t make it any easier when the relationship ended and Angie and I were left to help her move on.

“But for once Y/N's life is more interesting than mine so that’s my current priority.” Before I had the chance to interrupt and disagree with her, she went on. “Look, you're clearly a mess and have no idea what to do with all your feelings- “

“Oh dear God, are you about to give me the talk?”

“- so why don’t you write it down.”

I rolled my eyes at Angie who shrugged in reply, not bothering to hide it from Becca. “What?”

She grabbed my laptop from the bag I brought with me and opened it up. After a few moments of her messing around on it, she looked up at me and cooed, “Aw, you have his email.”

“What are you doing,” I questioned, trying to sneak a peek at my laptop but she moved and sat away from the pair of us.

“Ok, say we write an email to him. But we don’t actually send it, of course,” she added quickly, noticing how I was about to interject from her first statement alone. “That way you can get everything out there so you know what to do. You can practice how to ask him out.

I laughed nervously, chewing on my bottom lip and glancing at Angie for support. “I mean, it couldn’t hurt.”

“Great!” Becca clapped her hands in glee. The pure joy that was radiating off her was shocking. She loved playing matchmaker a bit too much. “We’ll start it off simply. ‘My dearest Bucky, my loins burn in your presence- “

“What the hell!” “Why would you write that!” Angie and I yelled at the same time. I stared at Becca incredulously. “I want a date with this guy, not a restraining order.”

“Then tell me what you want me to write.”

That’s how the next hour or so went; with me baring my heart and soul while Becca told me I sounded like an idiot and needed to rephrase. Angie chimed in every so often with a “Becca, shut the hell up” or a supportive “that sounds great!”

Together, we broke everything down. We went through it step by step, word by word. It wasn’t uncommon for me to start blabbering before stopping myself and telling Becca to delete everything I just said. I was surprised with how helpful I found it. Admitting to myself and my friends that there was a slight possibility there was a spark between Bucky and I was almost therapeutic. And definitely healthier than the whole ‘lock it in a box’ schtick.

“And I was wondering if you drink? Well, obviously you do. Y’know, you’d be dead if you didn’t drink water. But other drinks. With people,” I rambled on and rubbed a hand over my face. “Scratch everything I just said, that was so dumb. Just end it with ‘I’d like to get a drink with you sometime’.”

“And that’s that,” Becca announced, mockingly wiping a tear from her eye. “I'm so proud that not all of that sounded moronic.”

“Gee, thanks for your undying support,” I replied sarcastically as she rolled her eyes.

“So, all you have to do is say to him everything you said here. You’ve already done it once. The hardest part is honesty. Now you’ve been honest with yourself, you can be honest with others.”

“If I'm being honest, Angie, you need to stop reading those motivational books. You're starting to sound like you swallowed a few dozen of them,” I commented. I turned to Becca. “You can shut the laptop off now. I think I should just go talk to Bucky while I'm in the right head-space.”

She shot me a thumbs up and went to exit our work. I was putting on my jacket when I heard the ping from the laptop.

It was like a scene from the most cliché movie ever. We all turned to stare at one another at the exact same moment, mouths agape in horror. Becca was glancing from the screen and back to our alarmed faces. She did this several more times before any of us did anything.

“Wha- please, please, please tell me that was not what I think it was,” I managed to sputter out. Angie clutched her scarf as though it was the only thing tethering her to the ground. I appreciated her dramatics on my behalf.

“I am so sorry,” Becca whispered. “I thought it was the delete button.”

“NO!”

I rushed over to where Becca was cowering and looked at the open email that now had a little ‘sent’ button in the corner. I quickly scrolled through, hoping it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. It was worse.

“Wait, you didn’t even delete the stuff I told you to cut out!”

Oh, it was much worse.

“Maybe it's not that bad,” Angie offered.

“Well, Bucky’s gonna see that I said, ‘shall I compare thy ass to a summer’s day?’, so that’s not ideal,” I exclaimed, giving Angie a pointed look.

This was horrible.

“Don’t forget the whole ‘burning loins’ part.”

It was this moment I decided I hated my friends.

Angie sensed that I was about to throw Becca out the nearest window and rushed over, struggling to think of how to console me. “  It's going to be alright. First things first, does he check his emails often?”

I snorted. “He’s like a hundred years old. I think he forgets he has an email half the time.”

“Great. So we just hack into Bucky’s phone and delete the email. Simple,” Angie said as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Becca and I shared a look. It did sound pretty simple when she put it like that. Technically, cyber security was what I did for a living now. And this was technically a cyber threat. To my happiness. How hard could it be to delete an email?

“The only thing is, Tony set up all the tech in the tower to be much more difficult to breach ever since what happened with us. I helped him make every electronic more secure. You have to be in the building and have whatever it is you're hacking into in your possession.”

“Field trip to the tower to save your relationship. Yay,” Becca said quietly, waving her hands slightly in mock excitement. She was still hiding behind a cushion, scared that the second she came out I would attack her.

She wasn’t wrong.

~~~~~

We somehow managed to make it inside the tower without anyone being suspicious of our behaviour. We all seemed to realise that we would we terrible spies; we couldn’t lie for shit. At least, Becca and I couldn’t. Angie was a lot calmer, acting like her true neutral self. She was able to whisk me away from a colleague who had said hi to me and I replied with a very loud “I work here!”

It wasn’t that difficult to get Bucky’s phone. I was just glad we didn’t bump into anyone on the way to the gym. While I was distracted watching him with the weights, my ever-faithful friends snuck over to take his phone which was lying on the bench. His hair was tied up in a bun, which was a style he hadn’t tried before but damn, it was definitely working for him.

“Hey, you still don’t want that restraining order, right,” Angie hissed, snapping me out of my trance and beckoning me to leave with them.

~~~~~

“We should be good here,” I told them, closing over the door to Tony’s lab. We headed towards the back where we would be less likely to be seen. “Pepper’s been giving out to Tony about the lack of breaks he takes from work, so she’s dragged him away for a few hours at least. I think my nagging earlier might have had something to do with it too.”

We hooked the phone up to my laptop and, with three expert hackers working on it, we unlocked it quickly.

“That wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be,” I said, cringing as I saw the first line of that email once again while deleting it.

I could only imagine Bucky’s reaction if he had seen it. That email was unfiltered madness and I wished I could do more than just delete it. I'd rather burn it from screen. If Bucky had even got a glimpse of it, I would have been ruined. His stupidly perfect eyes would glare at me in horror while I took one of the quinjets to an uncharted planet not in our solar system.

As we were leaving the lab, we froze when we heard Bucky shouting, and nearly tripped over each other when Sam came running past us in a panic.

“He’s gone mad!” He panted, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds as he paused to speak with us. “He says he’s sick of me taking his stuff. He flexed his metal arm at me! I don’t even know what he’s taking about!”

I went to comment, but he was gone before I could help him with his unfortunate situation. Becca stifled a giggle and Angie and I turned to her with a questioning gaze.

“I slipped Bucky’s phone into Sam’s back pocket,” she cackled. I grinned at her. She was a pain in my ass half the time, but Becca really did lighten up every shitty situation.

Bucky came thundering down the hall, a murderous look on his face. The three of us just pointed in Sam’s direction. He grunted in reply and we scurried down the opposite direction.

~~~~~

“Y/N, can we talk for a minute.”

I felt my blood run cold as I heard Bucky’s voice. Angie and Becca’s eyes grew wide from where they were sitting on the sofa.

“And, uh, what do you want to talk about,” I asked, facing his general direction but refusing to look him in the eyes.

“Um, I got a really weird email from you…” He trailed off, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Something about my ‘intoxicating smell’?”

My two ‘friends’ bolted from the room before Bucky had even finished his sentence.

‘Just A Typo’ Taglist (open):

(if there’s a strike through your name it means I couldn’t tag you)

(if I forgot to tag you just send me a message)

@amybarter15 @imperialoath @mamaraptor @marbleowl @lydklein1 @wantingtobekorra @winter-scolder @uhholyhazza @ladymelissastark @sarcasm-n-insomnia @foxylupines @myrabbitholetoneverland @amazingficsthatididnotwrite @markusstraya @padfootormoose @worldofchoices @just-some-stuff-in-life @colie87 @catsandbooksinafarawayplace @littleblackdressxx @thequirkypeach @astronomicparker @asguardiansoftheavengers @awesome-alysia @sebbystanlover-vk @unknownwonder @wowstiless @d-eracine @nattie0010 @bloodyproudpotterhead @waddupmydood @jjlevin @libbymouse @piscesbarnes @yourwonderbelle @pinnedandneedled @otterlockholmes @wandressfox @chybay22 @my-nonexistant-romance @cap-just-said-language @pinkbubblegumuniverse @forsaken-letters @mywinterwolf @izzyisavengersupernaturaltrash @ur-mom-24-7 @yourpal-yourbuddy-yourbuckyy @viioletdelights @moli1497 @glitterypinkkkitty @borkystank @eyeliveinabook @andreagf956 @doctoranon @gracefull-life

[jessicakehoe]

How A Year of Shopping Abstinence Gave One Compulsive Consumer Clarity

Before online shopping, I never thought I had an addictive personality. I feel indifferent to recreational drugs, drink wine primarily to learn about grapes and am far too risk-averse to gamble. Yet show me a seasonal sale and I’ll show you a person who is in too deep to see it: a frenzy of tabs opened, eyes blurry from scrolling, a pallid face illuminated by a computer screen. Saying no to vices, all things considered, was easy. Saying no to a better dressed, more impressive, idealistic vision of myself? Impossible.

Five years ago, I went into debt because of this obsessive behaviour, having filled my life with raw-silk dresses from L.A. and architectural coats from Denmark in an effort to disguise a lukewarm self-image. I lied to those around me about it, concealing shopping bags from my partner and waiting until he was out of the house to remove the tags. I knew I had a problem, and over the years, I chipped away at it, denying myself a purse here, returning a necklace there. Slowly, my bank account recovered and my fixations subsided.

But the impulse stayed—simmering beneath the skin, always threatening to come to a full boil. I wanted to study it and get to know the anxieties that fuelled it, but to gain such a perspective required distance. So when I made the resolution to stop shopping for a year, it wasn’t as a monastic last resort but a deliberate decision to take a step back and condition myself into being a more mindful consumer. It wasn’t about taking away my choices but about making one.

Not everything triggered my compulsive instinct for acquisition, so I kept the ban limited to the things that did: clothing, jewellery and shoes.

Not everything triggered my compulsive instinct for acquisition, so I kept the ban limited to the things that did: clothing, jewellery and shoes. The benefits, I reasoned with myself, were manifold. By not mindlessly browsing the internet for things to fill my closet, I would save a lot of time. By not purchasing them, I would save money. And by not creating more demand for the fashion industry, I would save the planet. (Admittedly a stretch. But I would be, at the very least, less complicit in the environmental impact of clothing production.) The most salient argument of them all: By learning to take the impulsive emotion out of shopping, I would eventually save my mental health.

I started the ban on a Thanksgiving weekend. “Brave,” said a friend with whom I’d shared the news so as to be held accountable. “You’re going to get so many emails.” She was right. They came like a deluge, each offering a sale more enticing than the last. Deleting them unread would have been easier, but I didn’t want to spend a year playing ostrich, so I decided to confront my inbox. Like a one-woman study on the efficacy of exposure therapy, I opened the emails one by one. To my surprise—and to my credit—the force of sheer willpower triumphed. I survived Black Friday. Then came Cyber Monday. Then Boxing Day. On my 30th birthday, I bought nothing to “treat myself”—a historical first.

On occasion, I would feel the familiar restlessness re-emerge, the squirrelly desire to get my hands on something new. It would be triggered by an Instagram photo, say, of a woman draped in luxurious fabrics captured as she walks past the camera. There would be movement in the photo and amazing light. Maybe she’s in Montmartre… or SoHo. Wherever she is, it’s the perfect portrait of elegance and grace, and if I were to acquire the cashmere sweater in the photo, I, too, could have it all. Or… I could keep scrolling.

What I really wanted was rarely the item itself but the acquisition of it: a shiny new object to fill a void.

Refraining from acting on these feelings, however challenging at the time, eventually gave me the mental clarity to observe them. What I really wanted was rarely the item itself but the acquisition of it: a shiny new object to fill a void. The void came in many forms: insecurity, anxiety, depression, impending burnout. Like an itchy throat heralds the arrival of a cold, my compulsion to shop always revealed itself to be symptomatic of a deeper discontent.

Thankfully, dopamine comes in other forms, too: taking a long, unhurried walk; learning to make a complicated dessert; calling someone just to hear their voice. It’s the joy of novelty without acquisition—therapy without the retail. When I’m reading books, I’m not buying books. By that, I mean the more I spend my time living deliberately, the less I get caught up in the need to embellish my life with stuff.

They say creativity thrives under constraints, which proved true throughout the ban. I was forced to confront the things I owned and find new contexts for them. I learned to create the spark of novelty by putting two old items together for the first time. I learned to see their usedness not as a strike against them but as a testament to their quality. Most importantly, I learned that the ability to abstain from shopping for a year isn’t a lesson in deprivation but one in abundance—the privilege of having what you need and wanting what you already have.

This is not to say that I will never shop again but that I now question my instincts when I do: Am I using this purchase to distract myself from something else happening in my life? Am I trying to signal value or success or dress myself up as someone I am not? Like the choice between different lenses at the optometrist’s, these questions help provide clarity as to what motivations are truly at work. And some questions are reserved for the item, too: Is it comfortable? Is it durable? Is it something I will honour by wearing it frequently and with enthusiasm?

A year later, I have emerged on the other side of the ban less impulsive and more informed.

A year later, I have emerged on the other side of the ban less impulsive and more informed. And the way I engage with fashion has also changed. The fast-fashion retailers that used to flood my algorithm have largely been replaced by local consignment shops, vintage stores and ethical fashion resale communities.

Having abstained for this long, I don’t feel right about reverting back to buying cheap, disposable clothes—or about simply replacing them with more ethical counterparts. After all, the most sustainable approach to the way we dress is not to shop sustainable brands but to refrain from supporting the resource-intensive world of textile manufacturing when we can. So, for now, I am prioritizing taking care of what has already been made: extending the longevity of the garments I own and giving other people’s clothes a second life. Maybe I’ll start another year-long ban. This time, no new clothes.

As Vivienne Westwood famously advised, “Buy less, choose well, make it last.” What doesn’t last is desire—the glimmer of getting what you want that dulls when the transaction is over. But knowing that you can live without something—a new outfit, a temporary boost of confidence, a more photogenic life—is what stays with you. That’s what sets you free.

The post How A Year of Shopping Abstinence Gave One Compulsive Consumer Clarity appeared first on FASHION Magazine.

How A Year of Shopping Abstinence Gave One Compulsive Consumer Clarity published first on https://borboletabags.tumblr.com/

[wineanddinosaur]

Appleton Estate’s Joy Spence, the First Lady of Spirits, Wants to Get Rum Into Whisky Drinkers’ Hands

When Joy Spence joined Jamaica’s Appleton Estate 40 years ago as chief chemist, it was a fitting start for someone whose name is Joy. From her research job next door to the Appleton distillery in Kingston, she couldn’t help but notice how much more fun it looked than what she was doing: “I’d see that everybody looked happy and busy and I said, ‘You know, that’s a happening place to work!’” She sent her resumé, interviewed for a position, and became Appleton’s first chief chemist, a role created specifically for her. (One minute in her infectious presence makes this turn of events entirely believable.)

With those auspicious beginnings, then-master blender Owen Tulloch quickly noticed Spence’s exceptional sensory capabilities. In 1997, she succeeded Tulloch as Appleton’s master blender, a position no woman had ever held for a major spirits brand. (Similarly, no woman had the title of master distiller until 2006 when Joanne Moore became master distiller for gin’s G&J Distillers.) Once appointed, she set a precedent for the spirits industry at large.

Over her 24-plus years as master blender of the Campari-owned rum brand, Spence has been responsible for more bottlings than she can remember: “Do you know what? I’ve never counted it, there are so many!” she says, and laughs. Under her direction, the Appleton Portfolio currently includes five releases — a Signature blend and four age-statement expressions — and a rotating cast of limited-edition labels, including the eponymous Joy blend she created to commemorate her 20th anniversary in her role in 2017. New expressions in 2021 alone include 15-Year-Old Black River Casks; a reimagined and repackaged 21-Year-Old Nassau Valley Casks; and a bottling to be released later this year honoring Spence’s 40th anniversary with Appleton.

Spence recently spoke with VinePair about the importance of chemistry in rum, the current climate for women in the spirits industry, misconceptions about premium aged rum, and bringing joy to everything she does.

1. Your background is in chemistry and you almost pursued a Ph.D., and had interest in medical school. What sparked your interest in the spirits industry?

I was actually lecturing in analytical chemistry at Jamaica’s College of Arts, Science, and Technology, and decided I wanted to get some industry (field) experience — and so, I actually started at Tia Maria—the coffee liqueur—as a research chemist. Then [later] Appleton created a new position for me: chief chemist. My role at the time was to take the laboratory to first-world standards. I became totally fascinated by the world of rum, and realized I could use my sensory skills while applying my strong chemistry background to create a new profession for myself.

(Owen Tulloch, then master blender) recognized that I had all the necessary talents to be an excellent blender, so he took me under his wing and said, “I’m going to tutor you.” And it has never changed since; my love, my passion for the spirit has now become a part of my DNA.

2. In a recent interview you said that Appleton Estate got flack when they appointed you, a woman, as master blender for the brand in 1997. Do you think those attitudes still exist today for women in rum or spirits in general?

No, absolutely not, because there are so many women as master blenders in the industry now and that whole view has changed. It is recognized that women have brought a different dimension to the industry. So, it is much easier now for a female to get appointed master blender.

3. Did you have any women role models in the spirits industry when you were coming up as a future master blender?

It took a long time before other women were appointed master blenders, but at the time I remember that there was a Women in Spirits Forum in the United States, and Dr. Rachel Barrie (another chemist) from Scotland was part of it at the time, and I was so fascinated with Rachel and her expertise. She really encouraged me to continue along my path. At that time she still was not appointed master blender, but she was well known in the whiskey world.

4. What would you say to women who have aspirations for top blending or distilling positions in the spirits industry? As a pioneer and role model do you feel a sense of responsibility toward mentorship of other women?

My advice for women who want to enter the field is that they should really focus on their craft, and eliminate any negativity because you’re going to have some difficulties along the way, although the road is much easier now. You must be passionate about your craft, and most importantly, remain humble. I now spend a lot of time doing motivational talks in all-girls high schools, encouraging them to think outside the box for their careers, and to look at the wonderful career that I have had, not only using chemistry but my sensory skill.

5. Tell us about the process for helping to establish a GI (geographical indication) for Jamaican rum. How did that affect the quality and perception of the spirit?

It has been a long road developing the GI for Jamaican rum. I was really responsible for the technical side. I worked a lot with the Swiss Intellectual Property Organization, so they made several trips to Jamaica working with the rum producers here, and we are in the process now of doing a little tweaking to the GI. That process is underway and we are waiting for approval from the Jamaica Intellectual Property Organization. It’s created much more focus on Jamaican rum and people are much more careful now about declaring “Jamaican rum” on the label only if it meets those GI requirements. And it helps establish a perception of quality for the category outside of Jamaica.

6. What do you think is the biggest challenge for placing premium, aged rums such as Appleton bottlings as sipping alternatives for whiskey drinkers?

I think we have two big challenges. The first is lack of awareness from dark-spirit drinkers on premium aged rum. Because most of the time whiskey drinkers don’t include premium aged rums in their drinking repertoire. And it is something we’re working on changing by actively engaging with these consumers, showcasing the excellence that lies behind our rums.

The second biggest challenge is dispelling this misconception that rum is not premium or meant to be sipped, but just simply to be had in cocktails. This, coupled with the fact that we really don’t have a clear, defined rule for aging in the rum industry, creates this cloudiness in people understanding what aged rum is all about. But once we introduce a dark- spirit drinker to our premium aged rum category, they’re immediately converted. They are so fascinated with the complex flavors and notes, the craft and history. We cannot be compared to any other spirit. And tropical aging is very important because spirits would have to be aged three times longer on the continent to get the same flavor profiles that we get here in Jamaica.

7. What do you think are the biggest areas for opportunity for premium, aged rums in the future?

We have actually established what we call a Rare spirits group in Campari [the Rare division], so we’re focusing on our 21 Year Old, for example, and having a different type of consumer education in our Rare category. Education is extremely important, spending time with those dark-spirit drinkers who don’t understand what premium aged rum is all about. I find that the young professionals are being converted to premium aged rum, and so we need to spend more time with them, and help them understand how complex a spirit it is, and that you can enjoy it in the same way you would a fine Scotch or Cognac.

8. Which is your favorite Appleton expression to drink, and what is your favorite way to drink it?

I always say it depends on the occasion — and we have a rum for any occasion! But when I’m at home sitting in my garden, just looking at the doctor birds fly around, with my orchids, I tend to drink 8-Year-Old Reserve, but on those very special occasions it would be 21-Year-Old Nassau Valley Casks.

9. What is the best part of your job?

I’d say the best part of my job is engaging with consumers and spreading the word about premium aged rum and what makes Appleton Estate so unique and different from other rums, and just watching [consumers] enjoy our rums and [seeing] that they’re so fascinated that a rum can be so complex and sophisticated. To me, that is gratitude. That’s the joy of rum.

10. After 40 years, any plans to retire?

No plans to retire just yet! I still have some work left to be done.

The article Appleton Estate’s Joy Spence, the First Lady of Spirits, Wants to Get Rum Into Whisky Drinkers’ Hands appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/joy-spence-appleton-estate-rum/

[rivaco]

What a vacation can teach you about life, happiness, and your career

Lily Tomlin rightly said, “For fast-acting relief, try slowing down.” Taking a vacation taught me new life lessons that led to a change in careers and a lot more.

Learning life lessons on vacation…

Three years ago, I was having the time of my life. Managing a social media care team at an ambitious tech startup meant 12-hour workdays, quite a bit of travel, and very little sleep. It was crazy, but I was loving it.

I’d just made the switch to marketing after 10 long years in sales and tech support, and it was my first startup experience. Surprisingly, adjusting to the new workplace was easy. I was working with a great bunch of people, and even the long hours were fun. My first startup job was off to a great start!

https://medium.com/media/d6346103664196c3116ccbe8219688bb/href

Fast forward 10 months and I wasn’t feeling the love any more. The daily commute was too long, and I was working late evenings on most days. We were growing fast — from 30 to 500+ people in a year — and yet, work was piling up. I’d be working in the cab on the way to the office, on my way back, and some more at home. It was exhausting.

Left with no time for family, friends, and myself, the pressure of being always-on was getting to me. I was so frustrated that I wanted to quit.

Vacation, all I ever wanted

I had to get away, so I took a vacation instead, and it changed my life. The catalyst? A family of digital nomads that I met on the beaches of Gokarna, India. Ann and Lavie were traveling the world with three kids. They were working full-time jobs, being full-time parents, homeschooling the kids, and traveling all the time! I soon realized that while it wasn’t as easy as they made it look, I could learn a lot from them. My experiences from that vacation helped me put things in perspective, reassess my priorities, and achieve a better work-life balance.

Here’s what that impromptu vacation taught me about life, happiness, and my career:

No job is worth your health, really

Good mental health unlocks a new you

Happiness is in the now, not the distant future

No job is worth your health, really

A paycheck is important, of course, but stressful jobs can cause harmful health disorders and more. Hectic workdays meant I got by on just five to six hours of sleep and skipped meals without batting an eyelash. Not a big deal, until I started feeling tired and depressed all day, every day. Recurring migraines made me less productive, so I put in more hours to get things done, worsening the situation. Taking a vacation gave me a much-needed break to re-assess these habits and observe how they were impacting my health.

I tried to take better care of myself after the vacation. I talked to my manager about the situation, got better at delegating work, and tried to stop letting work follow me home. Years of slouching in a chair had unfortunate side-effects on my waistline, so I followed a friend’s advice to do a little cardio every day.

Taking lunch breaks with colleagues helped avoid the temptation to skip meals. The hardest part was getting out of work on time, but by doing that I could go to bed early and get at least 8 hours of sleep every day. Surprisingly, I found myself being more productive even though I was working fewer hours than I used to.

Good mental health unlocks a new you

A healthy mind in a healthy body simply does better work. Moodswings, anxiety, and depression are invisible productivity-killers, so managing mental health should be a top priority. Good mental health gives us a sense of purpose and the ability to deal with everyday challenges — at work and at home. It’s as important as physical well-being and unlocks the best version of ourselves.

Long work hours, bad eating habits, and little sleep had turned me into a grouch with a very short fuse. The vacation was a chance to de-stress and relax, and Ann’s passion for meditation turned out to be infectious. Before long, I was meditating every day to get my thoughts in order after a long day’s work. The best part? It helped me become more self-aware, so I was now more motivated and less anxious at work every day.

Try it for yourself with apps for guided meditation like Calm or Headspace.

Happiness is in the now, not the distant future

Pursuing happiness is all well and good, but it’s important that we focus on being happy in the now. Being miserable now is not a magic bullet to future happiness; I’d been chasing a vague idea of what success might look like while losing sight of the why.

At that point, I’d been working for about a decade, transitioning from sales to tech support to marketing. I’d moved cities half a dozen times and the last move was just a year ago! This vacation was the first time I stopped to take stock and I had a lot to be happy about. But I wasn’t… and I wasn’t sure what I could do to fix it.

There was no easy or instant solution. Lavie and I chatted about how he adopted a minimalist backpacker lifestyle and gave up a comfortable job to travel the world as a freelance photographer, but I knew that wasn’t for me. I like my comforts and I love shopping too much. ;) But I did learn from them how less can be more, and I saw for myself how a better work-life balance could lead to a happier, more fulfilling life.

A lazy afternoon on Om Beach, Gokarna

We talked about how I wasn’t happy with my job. Lavie’s response was to ask me what was stopping me from changing things. In his own words, “Take some more time off, find something you love to do, and turn it into a paying job. When work is fun, it’s easier to be happy — even on a bad day!”

“When work is fun, it’s easier to be happy — even on a bad day!”

Well, it was not easy, and it took me a while, but that’s exactly what I ended up doing.

Finding happiness after all

Back to the daily grind, I spent a lot of personal time figuring out what makes me happy. I rediscovered the simple joy of spending time with family and friends. I like traveling, so I went on weekend trips to nearby attractions. One step at a time, I was reclaiming my life.

At work, I was writing ad copy for some of our marketing campaigns and I thought writing would be fun to do full-time. That idea kickstarted a Medium blog where I published a few short stories and haikus. Writing made me happier than analyzing spreadsheets or running ad campaigns on Facebook, and that sparked a job hunt that made me change careers (again) and become a content marketer at Flock!

Taking some time off for a vacation led to a lot of realizations that ultimately helped me achieve a better work-life balance. It could happen to you too.

When did you last take a vacation?

What a vacation can teach you about life, happiness, and your career was originally published in Flock Blog on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

[dickie-gayson]

(1)So I’m kind of late, but I’m here to review Me and the Devil. And scream about parts I liked. Also this got awfully long, so I hope you don’t mind being spammed. Its been a while, so I re-read the first couple chapters of Me and the Devil. I may be repeating things from my last review but oh well. First off, man do I enjoy the lines about how Talon finds the sheer amount of emotion Jason gives off fascinating due to his own inability to feel much of anything. And wow, Dick is fully gone.

(2) I’m particularly fond of the line where Talon reflects about how much Dick Grayson enjoyed jumping between rooftops, and how its just mechanical at this point. Honestly thats one of the truest signs showing that the Dick we know and love is gone. Like that joy he finds is so vital to who he is and that line says so much about his current state in so few words. Though I obviously hate what they did to Dick, the way the Court of Owls got brought down is so poetic. They spent so long

(3) controlling Gotham that they tried to control something they had no hope of containing. I’ve always thought making him a Talon was an objectively bad idea, because no one can really control him forever. Dick’s always been tricky like that, even though quite a few people have tried, which was good when he had strong morals. Now he has no morals.“At first he thought it was Nightwing, back from wherever he disappeared to.” Oooo boy he doesn’t even KNOW how right, and how wrong he is dammit.

(4) Also just softly saying confess is terrifying. Jason is still Jason (albeit in his most damaged phase). Comments on how stupid the mask is first, worries about the killer part after. Also I know this is terrifying and all but I laughed at how Jason’s sitting their like “its just too many knives. Who needs that many knifes”.Talon allowing Jason to choose the fate of his attacker is an interesting look into whatever tiny bit of code Talon has left.I’m really enjoying the commentary

(5) and thoughts of the guys working for the Arkham Knight. I loved how much his militia respected him in the game, and how they honestly seemed to like him. However Jason and Talon spin their new working relationship, it would be super cool to see the underlings perspective. I live for people meeting Talon (which is why I liked that scene with Carmine Falcone so much, as well as the second one where the men get to witness Carmines description of Talon and his possessiveness).

(6) Now onto the third chapter. It hurts how much Jason is being reminded of the Joker in this chapter, and hurts even more when Talon starts to use this against him and confirm his fears about still being controlled by the Joker. The parallel is beautiful and painful, as Talon is trying to give Jason the same sense of power and freedom he had when utterly destroying the court of owls. The amount of possessiveness that practically drips off of every word Talon says is wonderful. The worst part

(7) is that being protective over his siblings is a 100% Dick Grayson thing. Talon would almost be easier to stomach if his motivations in this story were completely unlike the Dick we know. But seeing his protectiveness twisted and malformed almost beyond recognition is horrifying. Oh jeeze I’m so scared and so ready to see what on have become. I’m not sure how far you plan on taking this, but like the amount of people who care about these two, it would destroy them. At least you can still

(8) see Jason in the Arkham Knight. But Dick is gone, and I honestly can’t wait for the reaction to that. Final notes I have are that I really enjoy your writing style overall. Comparing your various fics, you can write vastly different tones with the same level of excellent quality. I died laughing at some of you humour fics, and this has a super dark tone that actually does that aspect properly, which I think is awesome. Sometimes I find that when happier characters go dark in fics I often

(9) take a step back and think “okay, thats too far”. But your Dick has enough in his past and the right connections to his past characteristics and his behaviour feels right for this state. I also appreciate how even in this, you manage to work in a few happier tone humour lines in a way that feels smooth to me, and them quickly switch back to the darker tone without the tone switch being super bumpy or catching the reader off-guard. I’m also a fan of how your style flows. Like honestly thank

(10) you so much for writing this. I look forward to whatever comes out next. (I’m also a huge fan of More Shej, but thats for another day) Anyway, thats definitely enough for now. Catch you later *finger guns*

u dont know fear until u get on Tumblr and see 10 messages waiting for u. 

BUT SRSLY, MY HEART. THANK YOU SO MUCH!

Reading all the stuff you enjoyed just made my night, no joke. Hell, it made my month. I’d be writing a more eloquent response but my mind is kinda just repeating various screeching noises of joy lmfaoo (ngl i’ve been staring at and re-reading this for like 3 hrs) I also thought The Court trying to convert Dick was always a Bad Idea for those same reasons! Bruce could barely get Dick to follow orders without getting into a fight, the Court wouldn’t be able to keep him reined in for long. He’s just too stubborn lmfao

I also loved how his men treated him in the AK game (at least before the end lol) and was highkey thinking of doing a mini-series from their pov of either Me and the Devil or just the random going-ons of being one of The Arkham Knight’s men.

I’m p excited to get to the others meeting Talon, especially Bruce and Alfie. I’m such a sucker for the twisted way that Talon Dick could be and very much enjoy playing with the possibilities. 

I could sit here all night and keyboard mash over my joy at this message as well as talk about the things you pointed out.  THANK YOU SO MUCH AGAIN. These reviews give me life and really help keep me motivated to write.

[dudewrath-the-exalted]

some thoughts

I’ve been living”on my own” for about a month now. In all honesty, it’s been some of the most fun I think I’ve ever had. It’s exhilarating to be this free and stunning that I’m getting by without my parents’ covering me. The thick cloud of apathy and depression that felt like it was going to swallow me seems to have passed. That said- I’ve stripped away all the excuses living under my parents had afforded me, but I am by no means as productive as I hoped I’d be. At long last I am confronted by my own flaws for what they are. I chug along through my day job perfectly well, it’s a dispassionate pursuit, but the work gives a kind of regularity to my life and makes it easier to co-exist with my roommates without feeling like some kind of bum (it is a personal paranoia completely on my own part). But my art, my ART. In the joy of finally overcoming this seemingly impossible hurdle, my wildest dream to create was rekindled. But now, it is a hard flame to keep alight. I read in my magazines and in books about the creators striving from their basements out of love of the medium, and it is invigorating, but I fear I have none of the same passion for my own endeavors, taking more interest in wandering around the cities. Thinking to myself, I can think of a few causes. Firstly is the nature of my art as both a source of personal amusement and a serious ambition. I feel perpetually dissatisfied when I try to take my work seriously, as if it isn’t good enough to be “The Real Deal”. Every portfolio I’ve tried putting together begins and ends at my insistence to dive into some art style I’m unfamiliar with to make the pieces a notch above my normal work. Secondly, my dissatisfaction with my art in general is a factor. I strain to understand what I am missing, Perhaps it is just some pedestrian laziness. I feared this, I still fear it. I don’t want to simply settle into my life’s routine because the animal in my brain just wants comfort. When I lived in the suburbs, it felt like I was losing days and weeks of time swimming in a thick mud. Now, just as the pieces of my new life fall into place, that feeling returns. Perhaps that mud is simply the comfort of a life lived passively or reactively. In the month before my move finally succeeded, I remember doggedly pursuing jobs, e-mailing and applying what felt like constantly. I was proud of myself, like I was some lean animal chasing desperately after what I wanted, my will felt as clear as ice and as strong as the tight sinews of some kind of predatory animal. I want that again. I admit it was, more than anything, desperation that inspired that sense within me. And THAT is the third thing; nothing in this world demands I clear the next hurdle, there is no repercussion. I could go the rest of my life never drawing without consequence, really. I find myself tempted to try and force myself into an art job and quitting my day job purely out of the need to recapture that desperate animal energy. I hate that threatening my own comfort and survival is the only motivator I have. I wish I was truly, deeply passionate about things, that I cared in some real, live-wire, enrapturing kind of way about my art, about people, about anything. God, I envy that. To work long hours or study intensely and to strive and strive with the faith that your ideas were worth sharing, or simply that you genuinely wanted to share them. I wonder if I lack something in my core a person needs to be a creator or a driven person. Listening to Murakami in one of his books, I see the notion that this writer’s talent in an inherent- of sometimes nascent and inert- resource within a being. I detest the thought that some people will simply be doomed never to find that spark. I want to create something that moves people, or perhaps something that moves myself. I want to meet face to face with all the ambition-brimming souls of this world with my own creations in tow, I want to show people a world of my creation. Creative endeavors have sustained my hopes and joys in this world in the face of everything that discourages and despairs me, I want to be able to do that for people, too.

[db-best]

45 Training, Fueling, and Mind Hacks to Get You Through Your First Marathon - runnersworld.com

Hero ImagesGetty Images Running your first marathon can be intimidating. Between learning how many miles to log, what to eat, and what training routine works for you, there’s a lot to get down. On top of all that preparation that goes into it, the uncertainty of race day itself can be nerve-wracking, too. Don’t worry: All marathoners have been there. And as they’ve continued crossing races off their lists, they’ve developed a solid arsenal of tips that get them through each one. To help all first-timers out this marathon season, we asked readers in a Facebook post to share what they learned after running their first marathon—and what they wish they would’ve known leading up to the race. Here are 45 things to help you feel better prepared to toe the line for the first time and to finish strong. Advertisement - Continue Reading Below Focus on Fuel “That three egg McMuffins aren’t a good prerace meal.”—James Howe “Nutrition! I wish I had realized how important race nutrition is during the run. I bonked at mile 19 because I ran out of calories. Now I take a Hammer gel every 40 minutes.”—Ben Dilla “Refuse the chocolate candy along the way. BIG mistake eating it.”—Maiya Maiya I wish I had known to eat a light breakfast the morning of the marathon. I also wished I knew to began hydrating early during the marathon instead of waiting until I was thirsty at mile 19.”— Frankie Ybarbo “This is new territory (for most) and it’s going to hurt...like really bad. If the course you’re running offers pickle juice and your legs are cramping...DRINK THE PICKLE JUICE.”—Megan Shilling Cross-Train “I wish that I had prioritized weight resistance training a little higher as a cross-training activity.”—Patrick Williams “How much a difference cross-training can make !! Adding a swim and bike or two.”—Richard Adrian “Strength work is even more important than the runs. It’s going to be hard. Really hard. And you will want to quit. That is normal. Running 26.1 miles is not normal. It will be super hard on your body.” —Dee Swartz Put in the Distance “My race performance went up when I started focusing on the quality of the 16 and 18 mile runs.”—Stephanie Petersen “I wish I knew that I was supposed to run at least one 22-26 mile training run. The most I ever ran in my training was 13 miles. I still managed to finish my first and only marathon in 4:58. First half was 2:15, second half was nearly 2:43. What powered me through the last four miles were the sugar wafer cookies that the Marines handed out in the Pentagon parking lot. I ran the Marine Corps Marathon in 2001 one month after 9/11.”—Barbara Henderson Parks “Training involves more than the runs—it’s stretching, icing, strength-training, yoga, fueling and rest!!”—Stephanie Zeka Mallory “Lay a foundation of miles, core and strength training down. Then begin training for the marathon. Hit the gels before you feel fatigued, everything after mile 20 is mind over matter. Be ready for the pain. Beer tastes even more amazing at the finish line.” Jay Mooney Know Your Gear “Footwear! Invest in a great shoe and replace at an appropriate time.”—Gina Bolanos Saunders LPC “Don’t try or wear ANYTHING new on race day—my biggest injury was a huge blister from a fancy new belt!”—Fiona Leigh “Never, ever, under no circumstances wear shoes that are not at least a half-size bigger than ‘snug fit.’”—Anders Thelemyr “The importance of the right socks. I might have not lost three toenails.” —Rebecca Bentley Poire Trust Yourself “I was so nervous about not finishing and hitting the dreaded wall. When it never came, I realized how much mental energy I wasted worrying about it throughout the race. I spent too much time not trusting the process and not truly believing in myself after training and preparing for the miles. Big mistake. Next time I am going all in mentally and physically and plan to enjoy the hell out of it! 2020 NYC!” —Anna Diolosa “I was well prepared for my first marathon. I knew what to expect pretty much at every point in the race. And despite all that, I was still surprised at every step right until the finish. A marathon is like parenting, no amount of preparation truly prepares you.” —Sam Reynolds “Focus more on your body and how your runs feel during training rather than sticking so strictly to a plan. I trained way harder for my first marathon than I did for my second and I PR’ed my second by almost 20 minutes. Listen to your body and ENJOY the race.”—Andy Decker Recovery Is Key “Take recovery after the marathon seriously. I struggled with postmarathon blues and probably started back up with training too soon. I ended up with IT band pain,”—Jennifer Stephens “Not to commit to my wife that I would help lay 10 pallets of sod when I got home.”—Jim Peterman “I should have eaten more in the few days after. I felt great muscle and joint health wise, but struggled with some major fatigue.”—Holly Bergum “I wish I hadn’t taken such a long recovery and maintained a type of ‘marathon maintenance’ running routine. I was in the best running shape of my life training for 26. After, I slipped back into half/10K level.” —Jennifer Spark You Might Feel Down After “I wish I would have known how depressed I would feel after an amazing marathon. It was weird, I was completely happy after my first marathon and then got depressed in the weeks after. Maybe because I wasn’t running as much as I recovered.” —Jabber Jawz “That postrace depression is real. Google ‘posthike depression’ for info.” —Mel Wittmaack “When I was preparing for my first marathon, I was pretty psyched/stressed out and thought I’d so happy once this whole thing was over. I remember reading in Higdon’s book about postmarathon blues. I thought NO WAY. After an awesome experience running the race I was surprised by how ‘blah’ I felt for weeks afterwards. It wasn’t exactly depression, but it was kind of an emptiness. It was like a void, or a blank place where there was once all this focus, energy, thought, etc. And now it’s done. It’s not devastating, but I was definitely surprised.” —Geoff Haas Run With Friends “Take advantage of running groups if they’re available near you! I’ve been running solo for years out of intimidation and finally joined one this year in time for my second marathon. It’s only been a month or less since I joined, and the motivation and support have given me huge boost in my training and overall attitude about it. There are a lot of different groups for what runners might be looking for, so you don’t always have to be a certain pace or experience level to join.” —Kayla Giacin “I wish I would have done it with a friend. Some of the marathon miles got pretty lonely that first race. Now I always race (not always train) with a buddy or join a pace group.”— Hollie Reina Find Your Pace “The importance of pacing, especially the first half, so you won’t spend the last three miles walking and asking yourself, ‘Why did I do this?’”—Craig Sheppert “Ditch the pace device on race day, go by feel, and trust it! I start with a pace that feels slower than I want to run.”—Kim Ehrlich Geisler “Be fast at the end, not the beginning.”—Per Hel “It’s okay to walk.”—Catherine Hiles “Good pacers are angels on earth.” —Jenny Schweinert “Pace, pace, pace...pay attention to your pace.”—Kelly Bloom Barbieri Give Yourself a Break “I wish I knew how to be easier on myself for a missed workout or a bad training run. It’s what I tell everyone training for their first that the schedule is simply a ‘guide.’ That guide doesn’t know what’s happening in your life or at work that particular day. It’s such a long commitment, there’s no reason to fight yourself along the way.”—Will Wilson “It’s okay to focus on YOU. It’s okay to be, dare I say, selfish. There are going to be many times where you have to put your training first, whether it be passing on a night out with your friends because you have an early morning long run or missing brunch because you’re out running. If your friends and family support you like I’m sure they do, it’s all going to be okay.”—Lisa Christine “I wish I had a coping strategy for when things got tough. I hit the wall big time at 35K in the Edinburgh marathon and just fell to pieces physically, but totally lost it mentally. Last 7K took an hour, and because I’d missed my target time, I forgot about what I’d actually achieved in getting to the starting line and then finishing a marathon.”—Paul Stewart Mind Over Matter “Bad runs are the best mental training. Remember how it feels and how you pushed through it. It will give you so much confidence when you hit mile 24 and you already have experienced gritting your teeth and getting the job done. I am always weirdly pleased when a run doesn’t go to plan, as I think it prepares me much better for races which will always throw a curveball at you.” —Debs Thorne “Marathons start at mile 20. And the mindset and mental toughness required to complete one is equally or more important than the physical preparation is.”—Nick Malfitano “Enjoy the whole distance. The starting line is exploding with excitement, anticipation, and nerves. The finish is thrilling and exhilarating. Unless you’re in it to win it, say ‘hi’ to people along the way. Cheer each other on. Say something nice to a volunteer. It’s an amazing experience; help make it one.”—Maranatha Poirier You’ll Love It “I wish I had known just how awesome it is, before I was 37.”—Dwayne Steele “I ran my first marathon 2.5 weeks ago and it was one of the best things I’ve ever done. I wish I had known how amazing the whole experience (training all the way to race day) would be. Also, how addicting it is! Already want to run another.”—Niki Neumann “I wish I’d have known how much joy comes with running with a bunch of strangers of all shapes and sizes who set their fears and doubts aside and who encourage one another like only family and close friends normally do. If I could have known that I’d be brought to tears seeing grandfathers running hand-in-hand with their grandchildren, runners fearlessly and selflessly pushing for 26.2 miles the wheelchairs of their mobility-challenged friends, and family and rows-deep bystanders cheering the field on to the final runner, I would have started running marathons way sooner in my life.” —Casey Jones “I wish that I would have known how amazing it was to cross the finish line. Life-changing feeling that can never be taken away.” —Debbie Armstrong “The finish line feels even more amazing than you imagined. Enjoy it, because every marathon finish is awesome, but the first 26.2 feels the best.”—Michael Mahan Lawlor Jordan Smith Digital Editor Her love of all things outdoors came from growing up in the Black Hills of South Dakota, and her passion for running was sparked by local elementary school cross-country meets. Advertisement - Continue Reading Below Read the full article